Let us now endeavour to explain the theory of the Turkish Bath, and the
why and wherefore of the different operations the bather subjects
himself to therein. If he be a person who has bathed many times and
oft, he steps across the threshold of the great natural Sanatorium with
a light heart and a step as springy as though he were entering a
ball-room, for well he knows that all his care and trouble whether
mental or bodily, will melt away in the glorious atmosphere of the
_calidarium_ or hot room, and that when he comes out again he will feel
so new a man, that a giant refreshed would have no chance with him.
He parts with his ticket or half-crown with pleasure, feeling in his
inmost heart that he has the best of the bargain. And so he enters his
little sanctum and begins to undress. He would fain hurry off his
garments: he longs to be free but he remembers that everything ought to
be done leisurely for his good. But now the last article of apparel is
laid carefully aside and he smiles to himself--a happy smile--as he dons
the cummerbund, or cotton pyjamas, and issues forth to enter the
calidarium.
He will not have long remained here until beads of perspiration appear
on chest and brow, and arms, gradually extending downwards until limbs
and even feet are covered with a warm moisture. A mouthful or two of
cold water will cause the drops of perspiration to accumulate and
increase in size, until uniting, they trickle "in burns"--as the Scotch
call it, from the body. He has very likely assumed a reclining position
on a wooden cane-bottomed settee. Here he may read if so minded, he
will hardly care to talk, if he does he ought not to. A strange dreamy
kind of happiness steals over him, not wild exciting thoughts like those
of the opium-eater. No, his is now indeed the _dolce far niente_; he
has eaten the lotus leaf, all worldly cares, if he has any, are for the
time being forgotten, he even wonders that he permitted anything
sublunary to worry him.
And so the time passes all too quickly away. Perhaps the attendant now
warns him it is time to retire, or to enter even a hotter room in which
he will stay a shorter time, then thence to the lavatory. How pleasant
the trickling of the warm shower bath, how delightful the soap shampoo,
that removes every bit from top to toe of the unhealthy, or at least
superfluous scarf skin.
Every particle of impurity may be said to have exuded from the blood,
which is now pure as the constitution of the bather can permit it to be,
and every particle of impurity has been washed by shampooing from the
outer surface. The warm shower completes the cleansing. But now the
gaping pores must be made to contract, their fibres are relaxed they
must be closed. But however cold the water douche may be, by which this
operation is performed, to the bather it seems most pleasant and
delicious.
Wrapped in a sheet from head to heel he once more passes through the
calidarium, on his way to the cooling room. He may linger here for a
few moments if so minded but not for long, only just to restore a gentle
warmth to the surface of the body. In the cool room he will remain
reclining and enwrapped in his sheet for about a quarter of an hour and
probably the attendant will come and knead every muscle of the body
getting back the lagging blood, if indeed it does lag, heart-wards and
rendering the whole body as supple and pliant and elastic as life.
Then to dress most slowly. And while dressing, to leisurely imbibe a
cup of warm, not hot, tea or coffee.
When he emerges at last from the Sanatorium and goes bounding along the
street, he--well he does not feel inclined to change places with anyone
he meets, not even if the Lord Mayor's carriage rolls past him.
We have thus stated briefly, the various operations a bather goes
through in the ordinary Turkish bath of our towns and cities. Leisurely
undressing, especially necessary if there has previously been a brisk
walk, (thus the heart has time to tone down ere subjected to the
excitement of the calidarium) the repose in the hot room with frequent
small draughts of cold water to encourage the flow of the perspiration,
the gradual softening of the scarf skin and thorough opening of every
pore, the warm shower and shampoo by which every obnoxious particle is
removed from the outer surface as it has already been from the inner,
the cold douche to contract the pores, and thus prevent subsequent
danger from cold. The gradual cooling down, the leisurely resumption of
ordinary wearing apparel lest perspiration should again be induced, and
last, but not least, the calm and comforting cup of coffee or tea.
And after all what is this Turkish bathing? Is it something so very
new? Nay, new in its processes probably, but it is but carrying out an
old, old law, old as the days of Moses himself, the law of perfect
cleanliness and perfect cleansing.
We have visited a large number of the hydropathic establishments and
Turkish bathing sanatoria, and there is much to be praised in all we
have seen and little to be blamed. Some are of course, far more
luxuriantly fitted up than others, and these are the baths we prefer to
visit. Could we, however, have such a splendid thermal temple as that
of Riverside attached to our own home, we would certainly never wander
away from it to worship at another shrine.
We ourselves may be over fastidious, but we think the following are
among some of the drawbacks to the general run of Turkish bathing
places. They are usually in out of the way places, so that one is not
always able to find the time to get there when he wants to. The weekly
expenditure incurred by taking a course of baths would certainly be a
consideration with many; and on the other hand, there is a lack of
privacy which renders such establishments distasteful as a rule. But
the benefits that accrue from a course of Turkish baths, depend in a
great measure upon the regularity with which they are taken. And it is
this regularity which is often so difficult to keep up. The Sanatorium
is at a distance. Something intervenes to prevent the intended visit,--
business--a call from home in another direction--bad weather, or any one
of fifty other things. And so a visit comes to be omitted, or may be
two, there is accordingly a hole in the hygienic ballad, a step or two
wanting in the ladder that would have led upwards to health.
It is some two or three years now since we first came to realise the
fact, that one might enjoy the luxury and reap the benefits of a Turkish
bath, without going a step beyond the confines of the bedroom and
dressing-room. We had received by the railway carrier a box.
A box! Whatever could it be, we wondered. It was not the season for
sending anything particular from the country. Christmas was a long way
ahead, and grouse shooting not begun. We undid the outer covering and
exposed it to view. It was shaped liked a spirit-case, but it could not
be that. "That box may contain," we mused, as we gazed on it, "untold
luxury in the shape of tea, or a new patent photographic apparatus, or a
magic lantern, or an English concertina, or--yes--or--or--or a land
torpedo sent by a Fenian, that will explode when we lift the lid, blow
the roof off the house, and send us sailing away skywards, accompanied
by the furniture and things."
We clapped a cautious ear to the lid and listened. There was no
suspicious ticking audible within, so we summoned up courage and--opened
the box, and lo! and behold, Allen's portable Turkish bath.
Since then we have visited public baths but seldom. We are content, for
the portable bath as we use it, serves every useful purpose.
As the Messrs. Allen have lent the blocks to embellish this chapter, it
will be nothing more than courteous to let them describe it in their own
way.