Turkish and Other Baths: A Guide to Good Health and Longevity

Opposite the glass doors is an immense sheet of plate glass; through it are seen marble steps, and in the aqueous depths to which these steps descend, is the reflection of the morning sun. Here he may court the rays of Phoebus, smiling through festoons of roses to visit the deepest pool of his bath. Here he can swim while the sun glistens in the crystal drops that linger on his skin, or makes mimic rainbows in the spray that he dashes before him in his plunging revel.

The author passes on through a door by the side of the immense barrier of glass. This door closes behind him, then onwards through a second door to be greeted by a delightful atmosphere, and experience tells him that no place of terrestrial existence save the bath can yield that warm, soft and balmy aether. Two steps down and then a platform. Two steps more, the heat increases, and he has reached the tropical line of the bath. But the hottest room was enveloped in scarlet hangings, a fiery tent, where the temperature stood at from 240 to 250 degrees.

On a divan at a later stage of the hath, under a less degree of heat, he spends many minutes of genuine enjoyment. Just overhead is a plug to withdraw in order to admit a breath of fresh air if desired, and this delicious gush of ambrosial air comes to him, perfumed with the sweet breath of flowers over which it has been contrived that it shall pass.

Then comes a deeper descent of four steps, with a still warm but lower temperature, where on the clear marble edge of the Lavatorina he seats himself, while his host plies the soft pad of gazul over his head and back and sides. Then basin after basin of warm water, rinses the gazul and the loosened epidermis from the surface, and he rises from the bath to recommence his observations, visiting in turn all the soft, the warm, the perfumed, the hot, the cool and the cold nooks he can find, and thus the time flies by and the breakfast hour draws near; but before he can quit the bath, it is necessary that the pores of the body, which all this time have been filtering the waste fluids of the body through their numberless apertures, should be made to close, and with this intent he descends into the marble pool or piscina, whose waters in summer are cooled with ice, and crouches under the tap, and lets the cold current encircle him, then a pail of hot water rushes on him like an avalanche, followed immediately by one of cold, and this is many times repeated.

Upward now, to the Frigidarium, with a mantle round his shoulders after being rubbed down with soft Turkish towels, therein, reclined on a softly cushioned sofa, to enjoy half-an-hour’s suggestive and instructive conversation, before going to breakfast with an appetite like – like a man.

Sir Erasmus does not tell us how much he enjoyed that breakfast, but we can easily fancy that part of the performance. We can easily believe, that his manly onslaught upon the viands set before him, would have been highly appreciated by Christopher North himself, with Tickler and the Shepherd “settling down to serious eating.”

But it is not merely as a luxury that, in this little work of ours, we venture to recommend the Anglo-Turkish bath to our readers although taken simply for the sake of enjoyment, a man never fails to cherish the memory of his first bath, as does a maiden that of her first ball. But our recommendation has a far wider scope than this. We look upon the bath as the best means mankind has: —

One. – For maintaining the body in a state of perfect health.

Two. – For averting the many ailments incidental to life and —

Three. – For the cure of not a few diseases.

Few there are in our own country, or probably in any other, who enjoy really good and robust health, constantly. Apart from inherited illnesses, the wear and tear of life, end the worry that naturally attends the struggle for existence is very hard upon most of us, and if it were not for weekly periods of rest, the average span of our existence would be a much shorter one than it really is. And, alas! as a rule, our periods of rest seem far too short, our one day’s toil seems hardly well over, until another one begins, and thus our existences are fretted away. To many amongst us life seems one long drawn-out weariness; from year’s end to year’s end the back must ache, and the temples throb, till the very heart grows “tired of its own sad beat, and yearns for rest.” But to live like this, or in any way akin to it, is not to be in a state of health. If a man be really healthy, he is reasonably happy, if he does not feel reasonably happy, he is not in a condition of health. In health there is a complete freedom from ache or pain, from bruise or blemish, from heat or cold; every joint is supple, every muscle capable of contraction and extension. And the mind should feel as light and buoyant as the body, a healthy man should feel a pleasure in merely living, he should be capable of taking an interest in everything that goes on around him, in all he sees, in all he hears, in all he reads, and in all that concerns the well-being of his fellow creatures, and honest toil itself should be an enjoyment to him, and not a worry, not a penance.

It is the custom in England, and a terribly wrong and fatal one it is, to fly to stimulants for the relief of temporary-exhaustion; that is, at the very time when our bodies are tired, and nature courts a brief rest, we dig in the spur, we wield the whip, and keep her at it invariably to her detriment. The very fact that the amount of stimulant taken requires to be increased after a time proves how deleterious is this plan, the modest glass of sherry, or mildest ale, needs after a time to be replaced by fiery brandy or heart-corroding gin. This last is putting an extra thong on the whip, and it is no wonder if, after a time, some important internal organ gives way, and one more is added to the list of incurable invalids.

How much better would it be if tea and coffee took the place of dangerous stimulants, and the balance of health was sought to be retained by the daily use of the morning tub, and a bi-weekly indulgence in an Anglo-Turkish Bath. It is not too much to hope for, and it certainly is not too much to pray for, that public baths upheld in a great measure by Government, may yet be one of the institutions of our beloved land. What a blessing these would be to hard working men, and to the tired and weary among all classes. I venture to predict, that if people were to make a habit of using the Turkish Bath, say on the Saturday afternoons only, gin palaces and dram saloons that now reek with filth and disease would lose many a customer. Persons would find out that there was no real way consonant with the acknowledged rules of health and hygiene of banishing fatigue, of dispelling aches and pains, of calming the nervous system, and preparing the mind for the perfect enjoyment of that day of blessed rest called Sunday.

As a prophylactic against innumerable diseases, we have recommended the use of the Anglo-Turkish Bath. It is almost unnecessary to enlarge upon this head, but a word or two may not be thrown away. Two, then, of the great causae norborum, or disease inducers in this country are cold and indigestion. Now, so long as the skin is a healthy one, and in good working order, it is next to impossible for any one to catch cold through it, if he only takes care to clothe it not heavily but judiciously in warm woollens or light soft silks. It stands to reason that an organ, an instrument or machine – call it what we may – which is perfect in workings, is not so easily thrown out of gear or out of order as one not so perfect. We could fill a volume with cases of people who are constantly in the habit of using Baths, who can stand exposure to both cold and wet with but little inconvenience; and we also know a vast number of votaries of the Bath who do at times catch cold like other people, being probably constitutionally susceptible to its influence – but who get clear of their colds in quite a remarkably short time. The reason undoubtedly is that they have the power to “throw them off,” as the common saying is.

Well, now, as to indigestion. As the reader knows, the whole internal surface of the body is lined with a mucous membrane, which is analagous to the skin or external covering, and as the one is so will the other be; mucous indigestion, therefore, it may be clearly perceived is averted by the use of the Bath. But indigestion may proceed from loss of nerve power, or from a badly acting liver or spleen, or from weakness of the heart, etc. And the Bath strengthens and tones the nervous system far more than any tonic we wot of, moreover its constant use makes the work which the liver and spleen have to perform, mere play, so to speak; and if the Bath invigorates muscle – and we know it does – it must act as a roborant or tonic to the heart itself, which is composed for the most part of muscular tissues.

Many people produce a species of irritable indigestion, by the use of stimulants, for this the Anglo-Turkish bath is an almost certain cure, as it relieves internal congestions, steadies the nerves and produces refreshing sleep.

Many poisons are generated in the system, to which if free vent be not given by means of the pores of a healthily acting skin, mischief is sure sooner or later to arise, such mischief for instance as gout and rheumatism, to which reference has already been made. But the condition of the kidneys is seldom or never studied by anyone and yet if they do not act sufficiently well to expel urea from the blood, a more or less injurious effect is caused upon the brain and nerve centres. This the periodical use of the Anglo-Turkish bath, would tend to remove.

We all know the demoralising effect that the first glass of spirits is said to have upon a man inclined to the abuse of intoxicants; it so affects his brain that he no longer knows, or he disregards right form wrong as far as his health is concerned. But a similar demoralisation of brain tissue, may be produced by poisons positively generated in the system; at least this is our opinion. Those, for example, who have been given to alcohol, often keep “steady” as they phrase it for a month or months, then suddenly or gradually, as the case may be, break out again. This is doubtless caused by the play of some accumulated system-propagated poison on the brain and nerves. This poison may be urea, or it may be some acid, it matters not, it is in the blood and it ought to be eliminated and we earnestly advise those, who would be abstainers but who find it difficult to long remain so, to fly at once for relief to the hot-air bath, whenever the “tempter,” as platform orators call it, seems to urge them to take once more to stimulants.

We think it highly probable, that many inherited diseases such as consumption, scrofula, etc, may be kept at bay by the constant use of the bath under consideration, if only for the simple reason that the blood poisoning is thus constantly being driven off, before it has power to accumulate in quantities large enough to do mischief; not to mention the fact that the bath causes healthful activity of all the secretions.

The diseases which the Turkish bath may be the means of curing or alleviating, are really too numerous to mention. Among them may be enumerated gout, rheumatic gout, rheumatism, acute and chronic, colds and coughs, indigestion in some of its worst forms, bowel affections, piles, chronic liver and spleen ailments, kidney complaints, incipient delirium tremens, melancholy and depression of spirits, nervousness, irritability of temper, sleeplessness, ennui, the diseases of sedentary and also of fashionable life, adiposity, etc. That condition of body and mind generally caused by indiscretion of some kind, and usually known by the expression “out of sorts,” or “out of condition,” when weariness and depression are predominant, when sleep is unrest, and every duty of life is performed with a feeling of extreme irksomeness, and when the nerves seem given as a punishment, is almost invariably cured by a course of Turkish Bathing taken in conjunction with some nervine tonic, and an occasional well-chosen aperient.

Diseases and debilities of the reproductive organs, are by the same means equally benefited, but in these cases galvanism in some form is often required to effect a complete cure.

Chapter Four.

The Turkish Bath: In Theory and Practice – The Portable Turkish Bath

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.

Referring to (Plate One) they say: —

“This illustrates our Apparatus as used under the chair, for giving a hot-air bath only, or hot-air and vapour combined, also for either a Medicated or Mercurial bath.

“At the back of the top rail of chair is fixed a socket, with a set screw, a square rod slides up and down this socket, and a folding ring fits into the top of the rod.

“By this arrangement the hoop for keeping the cloak extended, can be raised or lowered to be either level with the shoulders leaving the head exposed, or, if preferred, raised sufficient to cover the head.

“The person about to take the bath puts the apparatus ready for use under the chair, and placing the cloak lightly over the hoop, sits down, slips the two ends of the hoop together, draws the cloak round, tying it down the front with the strings provided, and adjusting it round the neck, may take the bath comfortably from fifteen to forty minutes, according to inclination.”

But it is possible that the bather may prefer to recline while enjoying this calming and luxuriant bath. This is easily done, and if the reader will glance at Plate Two, he will see the modus operandi. Nothing could be more simple, nothing more effective.

We are not, however, the first to have discovered the merits of Messrs Allen’s luxurious invention. It is in general use now all over the country, and medical men are constantly in the habit of recommending the bath to their patients. So also is the professional press, and among these such well-known Journals as “The London Medical Record”; “The Medical Times and Gazette”; “The Medical Examiner”; “The Medical Press and Circular”; “The Lancet”; and “The British Medical Journal” are loud in their praises of the apparatus.

It will be especially observed by the intelligent reader that Allen’s bath may be used entirely as a dry hot air bath, or as a mixed hot air and vapour bath. Well, this in our opinion is a capital idea, because one can use it as either. We, ourselves, perspire freely, and therefore use only the hot air, but as Sir Erasmus says: “The great purpose to be arrived at, so far as temperature is concerned, is to obtain one which shall be agreeable to the sensations.”

The following is what Messrs Allen and Sons write me themselves concerning their bath: —

“Our idea is, that the hot air and vapour bath combined is the truest approach to the Eastern Turkish bath, in which, after the bather has been in the heated room some little time, and begins to feel somewhat oppressed, they (the attendants) come round, sprinkle the heated floor with water; this produces a vapour, and it is almost immediately after this that the body begins to perspire freely, the vapour also relieves the breathing very much with some. There are those who will not perspire in the hot-air bath at all, but do with the hot-air and vapour bath, which, mingling with the hot-air, produces a moist heat, softens the skin, and produces perspiration much more quickly.”