As the Osmanli ladies very seldom enjoy the excitement and bustle of a crowd, they consider the occasion of going to bathe as one of the greatest festivity; and they always carry with them every article necessary for comfort or luxury, the Hamamgy not furnishing mattresses, towels, etc., as in the case of the gentlemen.
Besides the opportunity of displaying embroidered cushions, napkins, etc., they find rare and ample amusement in the discussion of scandal, moral and political, as well as general domestic gossip.
The tout ensemble of a lady’s bath is one altogether peculiar, and of course more enchanting to the eye than the ablutions of their lords and masters.
The following description of a visit to a bath by a lady long a resident in Constantinople, may be interesting as the result of personal observation and experience.
“My first Turkish bath—shall I describe it, dear?—We were a large party. The mother, her three daughters, three maids, and my humble self. You would have supposed we were arranging our wardrobes for a long season of travel—except that the garments would be rather unpresentable on ordinary occasions. Very peculiar nappy towels, large as sheets, issued forth from their repose in the vast closets, white and colored, embroidered and fringed; head-gear of the same style; curious-looking yellow woollen mittens, to rub with, they told me; innumerable shining bowls; tremendous stilt-like clogs for the feet, great bars of soap, precious packages of dyes, paints, capillary antidotes, perfumes, essences, mirrors in embroidered frames, and a thousand other etceteras of Oriental toilette, in due order entered the vast bundles which were in preparation. Next appeared a beautiful rug or carpet, a rich silken mattress and cushions, and a large piece of crimson woollen, shaggy material, to envelope the cushions, such as I have frequently seen spread in the beautiful cayiks. Really one would have supposed we were to be deposited in some unfurnished dwelling with all this paraphernalia.
“Then came the private wardrobe of each individual neatly folded in a separate envelope—and last but not least; the most refreshing array of fruit, sherbets, and a curious machine, some five stories high, in whose different compartments were packed various specimens of Turkish cookery. I began to wonder if we were ever to return from this bathing pic-nic, so vast were the preparations; but every one was gay, and nothing was tiresome. Besides we always go to bathe in this style, at least once a month.
“Our carriage waited at the door, a grand spacious one, covered with crimson shag, the ends trimmed with deep fringes of gold—no seats, but plenty of cushions, and two milk-white oxen were our steeds.
“Having duly veiled ourselves, that our ‘ornaments’ or charms might not be displayed to the eyes of the unprivileged, we ascended the steps at the end of our araba, and were seated according to our respective ranks. The old lady and myself occupying the honorable places in the front, just behind the tails of the oxen, which were fortunately looped up, so that they could neither switch us, nor themselves. There is a decided advantage in this seat, the view being unobstructed by any coachman, as that dignitary always walks before the head of the animals. Next to us were the three Hanums, behind whom were the maids and bundles, and the large pannier was slung underneath full of its creature comforts.
“I felt as if I had suddenly been transformed into a houri, as they all declared that the Yashmak converted me into a real Circassian beauty. In due time we arrived, and descended from our airy vehicle. As we entered the outer hall of the bath, each one made a polite temennah to the Hamamgy-Kadun, or the lady proprietress, who was squatting on her cushions in a corner. This salutation she returned, to all genuine Turkish ladies (myself included) with the same polite gesture—but the unfortunate giavours only received a slight nod, no matter how profound their selams. It is well to be queen somewhere, even of a bathing establishment.
“The maids, Eleny, Maria, and Sophy, spread out our cushions in one of the niches upon the elevated platform, and as they modestly held up a towel as a screen, we proceeded to reduce ourselves to a state of nature. Enveloped from head to feet in our bathing habiliments, which hung about us in just such folds as they drape the statues—we willingly thrust our pedestrial extremities into the great clogs, inlaid with mother of pearl, entered the antechamber of the bath, and sat down on the marble platform to acclimate ourselves. Here we take a coup d’œil of the strange scene.