The cradle is a massive wooden concern. It consists of a hammock or shallow box, suspended at either end from a longitudinal bar supported on uprights, so that it will swing from side to side. When the child is asleep every breath of air is excluded by thick curtains, which fall from the bar over the sides of the cradle—and this in a hot climate. What could I say? We differed in almost every detail; there was no common ground to start from.
The Sultana had expressed her desire that the European doctor should attend the Prince medically. I saw a cheerful future before me, for I found that the nurses would diverge, not in the slightest degree, from the customs of their ancestors. It is possible to move a mountain—granted time and a sufficient amount of blasting material—but no amount of blasting will move an Oriental woman out of the rut that ages of custom has made.
The Sultana did not nurse her child. A nurse therefore was sought for to rear the little Prince.
Before the Hakims left my house the fat one expressed his deep sense of gratitude that I had granted him my friendship, and he ended a polite speech by asking me to see a patient of his. I ought to have remembered the poet’s lines:—
“I know a Hakim fair to see,”
(Only he was dark and fat, but that does not matter)—“Beware!
He can both false and friendly be—Beware!
Trust him not he is fooling thee.”
I went to see the patient: he was one of the Chamberlains, Nasir Courbon Ali. He was exceedingly ill with malarial fever, and his skin was yellow, which was bad. I thought there was a chance of saving his life if vigorous remedies were used. I returned home and directed the compounder to prepare a mixture and deliver it himself. I visited the Nasir three times that day, but he did not seem to be improving. The next day he was worse. I had to go on to the Hospital, but when I returned home I said to the compounder,
“You sent the Nasir’s medicine this morning?”