WATER ON THE BRAIN.
Some interesting revelations have been published in The Daily Mail on the tonic effect of the bath on our greatest workers, notably stockbrokers, novelists and actors.
Mr. Arthur Bourchier declared that he read plays in the bath and that the best results were obtained by those selected either in the bath or on a long railway journey. "A man," he added, "is always at his best in his bath." Again, Mr. Charles Garvice, the famous novelist, said that he always felt intensely musical while having his bath, though the ideas for his stories came chiefly while he was shaving.
We are glad to be able to supplement these revelations with some further testimony from the élite of the world of letters.
Mr. Clement Shorter, in the course of an interesting interview, spoke eloquently on the daily renewal of the bath. From the day when he first became a Wet Bob at Eton he had never wavered in his devotion to matutinal and vespertinal ablutions. In fact, his philosophy on this point might be summed up in the quatrain:—
A bath in the morning
Is the bookman's adorning;
A bath at night
Is the bookman's delight.
His ideal form of exercise was a ride in a bath-chair, just as his favourite diet was bath-chaps and bath-buns. For the rest he found that the ideas of his best pars came to him while he was using a scrubbing-brush which had belonged to Posh, Edward FitzGerald's boatman.
Mr. Laurence Binyon, the poet and art critic, confessed that some of his choicest lyrics had been composed when he was using a loofah. But it must be applied rhythmically, to the accompaniment of a soft hissing sound such as was affected by stable-hands when grooming high-mettled steeds. Mr. Binyon added that it was a curious thing that while frequent references abounded in the classics to drinking from the Pierian spring, no mention occurred of bathing in it. But the divine afflatus no doubt worked differently in different ages. Diogenes lived in a tub, but there was no evidence that he ever took one.
Mr. Percy Fitzgerald, in reply to a request for his views on the subject, said that he considered soap and water to be an invaluable intellectual stimulant. Dickens was a great believer in it; so, too, was Lady Macbeth and the famous Bishop Wilberforce, known as "Soapy Sam" from his excessive addiction to detergents. Charles Lever, again, whom he knew intimately, had a passion for washing and, so he believed, started a soap factory, which was still in existence.
The Baroness Orczy pointed out to our representative that there was a natural harmony between different sorts of baths and different styles of composition. For heroic romance, cold baths were indispensable. For the novel of sensation she recommended champagne with a dash of ammoniated quinine. Similarly with regard to the use of soaps. Thus in any of her stories in which royalty, played a prominent part she found it impossible to dispense with Old Brown Windsor.
Mr. Max Beerbohm contented himself by cordially endorsing Mr. Arthur Bourchier's statement that he was (if ever) at his best in his bath.