At the Court of the Amîr: A Narrative

by John Alfred Gray

I need not say that, though a couch, covered with silk and gold embroidery, had been prepared for me, I did not lie down. I had supper, which was brought silently by the chief cook: and then, at intervals during the night, stole in to look at the Royal patient. Exhausted by suffering and want of rest, and relieved by the action of the medicines, he slept soundly for three or four hours.

In the early morning His Highness woke: he expressed himself as nearly free from pain, and was most grateful to me. I administered the medicines, again applied the fomentations and regulated His Highness’s diet.

Everyone made much of me, from Prince to Page boy. Daily I was required to send a written report of the Amîr’s condition to Her Highness, the Sultana, and to Prince Habibullah.

Illness of the Sultana.

The next day, I was called to the Harem Serai, for the Sultana was very ill. The Amîr directed me to attend Her Highness.

I, therefore, left the Amîr’s Pavilion and, by His Highness’s order, was accompanied by the Priest-doctor, to the Harem Serai. The great gates were opened by an old white-bearded man, and we were admitted into a covered portico. The old man left us a moment, and on returning, he ushered us into a large paved quadrangle surrounded by high white buildings. No one was to be seen. We crossed the silent quadrangle, and passing up some steps entered a building on the north side.

An open door led from the lobby at the top of the steps into a long corridor, curtained and carpeted, but otherwise empty. At the end was a door, to enter which we ascended three steps. We now found ourselves in a large room at right angles to the corridor, and lighted by a window at the end. Towards the other end of the room a thin crimson silk curtain was stretched entirely across. The room was furnished very like an English drawing-room. A carpet was on the floor, curtains by the windows, pictures on the wall, and several tables by the side of the wall, on which were vases, candelabra, and china ornaments. In nearly the centre of the room there was standing on the floor a large and very ornamental glass candelabrum, about six feet high. There were three or four little Page boys in the room, about nine or ten years of age.

As we entered, a voice from behind the curtain pronounced the usual Persian salutation of welcome. It was the Sultana speaking. She had a deep, musical voice. I bowed and advanced. A chair was placed for me near the curtain, and tea and cigarettes were brought. After I had tasted the tea, Her Highness requested me to smoke. Accordingly, I lit a cigarette, and I heard from behind the curtain the bubble of the chillim. The Sultana then commenced describing her symptoms, but the Hindustani Priest-doctor had an imperfect knowledge of English, and he asked that an Interpreter might be sent for. A messenger was at once sent for the Armenian, who presently entered saying, with a bow, “Salaam, Aleikoum.” He took his stand near me.

The Sultana raised the curtain sufficiently to pass her hand underneath, and I examined the pulse. It was rapid (133), and weak. I perceived that she was lying on a couch—and that the hand was white, and was that of a young woman. I described the use of the clinical thermometer, and handed it to her. When she returned it to me the indicator marked a temperature of 105 degrees Fahr.

She complained of cough, and with some little difficulty I managed, by asking her to stand, to listen to the sounds of the chest through the curtain, using a straight wooden stethoscope. Not knowing the height of Her Highness, I nearly struck her in the face in endeavouring to find the position of the chest, and she cried out: however, she laughed when she heard of my difficulty.