As the Sultan drew near, the troops of Rabát, with the Governor at their head, approached, forming a most brilliant line, in dresses of all the colours of the rainbow adorned with gold and silver. His Majesty wheeled his horse, broke through the lines of infantry, and rode towards the newcomers. Down went the Mussulmen with their heads in the dust, the Governor playing fugleman, and then raised themselves, crying, ‘Long live our Lord and Master!’
The Sultan raised his hands towards heaven, and called a blessing on his townspeople of Rabát.
We stood a little to the right of the Rabátin: His Majesty, instead of awaiting our approach, and to the astonishment of all fanatics, turned right back and rode towards us. We advanced until I was close to His Majesty, my suite a little behind, and the Minister for Foreign Affairs by my side. Down went his Excellency in the dust, and I took off my hat and made a bow. The Sultan, who is the ne plus ultra of stammerers, tried to make a gracious speech, but stuck at the word ‘Mahabábek’ (welcome). I took pity and made him a short speech, which he received with a smile such as the Rabátin declare he never bestowed on them.
This ceremony being over, His Majesty again took up his position in the procession, and the march was resumed.
I should mention that several bands of the disciplined troops were playing European marches; some, really well.
The Minister for Foreign Affairs then suggested that we should keep away from the crowd; but His Majesty dispatched another of his Ministers to invite me to enter his cortège—and to give a wigging to our chaperon, the Foreign Minister, for not having asked me what I should prefer to do. The scene was so interesting, and indeed the most picturesque and strange I had ever witnessed, that I gladly accepted the offer, and we rode in the cortège to the palace. As the Sultan entered the palace doors, we could hear the ‘lu, lu, lu’ (the hallelujahs) of the women. I had a short interview with the Uzir, and then took my leave.
The Mohammedans are much surprised at the Sultan’s gracious reception of me in the midst of his wild troops. I believe it was a political move as well as an act of courtesy, and that, in entering Rabát with his hordes, where several of the Foreign Representatives are expected, he desired to set them an example of how to treat the Nazarenes. It has had its effect, for we have not even overheard the word ‘kaffer’ (infidel) muttered. Strict orders have been given, and due punishment threatened, I hear, for any offence towards a Christian.
The Uzir has returned my visit of ceremony, and now my work begins. As I told the Uzir, I come to see them as a friendly doctor, to offer advice for health and happiness, but that like most medicines, mine are bitter and unpalatable. We shall see what I shall be enabled to do.
This country is in such a rotten state that though the Sultan be a clever and good man, anxious for reform, he has not the courage nor the men about him to carry it into execution. To give you an idea of his intelligence, an English engineer, Fairlie yclept, who is in His Sultanic Majesty’s service, tells me he lately erected a steam-engine in Marákesh. The Sultan watched him at work, and after one lesson told Fairlie to have fires lit and direct everybody to go away. Fairlie could not imagine what was going to happen, for he saw carpets and cushions and paniers of food pouring into the building where the engine-room was. The next morning he learnt that His Majesty had invited all the royal ladies to a picnic, set the engine working, and had some fun with his harem, terrifying them by turning off steam, &c. Fairlie says the man is naturally an engineer—he is certainly as black as any stoker.
We expect the French and Spanish Ministers, frigates, &c., so Rabát will, I fear be for a time a focus of intrigues.