The horse is the throne of the Sultan of Morocco, who is the descendant and representative of the prophet Mohammed and of those Kaliphs who, rallying from the deserts of Arabia on their swift horses, conquered such vast and fair portions of Africa, Asia, and Europe.
The fact of the Sultan having mounted a milk-white horse is meant to be emblematic of peace and goodwill. When His Majesty is displeased he rides a black horse, and according to the royal humour he is said to vary the shade of the steed he mounts.
July 28, 1861.
We have not made much progress in negotiation, for the war party is strong here, and the Sultan feels very strongly his past humiliations. I have had one or two battles with the chief Uzir, and he now openly declares that he takes my view of the whole question, whatever may be the decision of the Sultan.
We continue to be feasted, and are rather bored thereby, for they fix on the late hour of 10 p.m. to commence festivities, and there is a great monotony; illuminations, Moorish music, tea and cakes.
The houses are most beautiful, fountains bubble all around, and the scene is a fairy one.
Princely honours are paid me everywhere, the population being compelled to stand up as I pass, in fact I am exceedingly bored by all these attentions and forms.
We have our prayers on Sunday; it is perhaps the first little gathering of Christians that ever prayed together at Meknes.
July 30.
I have just returned from a long private interview with the Sultan. He has not conceded Spanish terms, for he has not the money, and, therefore, to say he would give what he has not, would only make matters worse; but he agrees to send an Ambassador to Madrid to treat. To persuade him to do this was one of the chief objects of my mission.