“You are led a step or two and seated, the shoulder-cloth is taken off, another put on, the first over it; another is folded round the head; your feet are already in the wooden pattens; you are wished health; you return the salute, rise, and are conducted by both arms to the first or outer chamber, where the concluding act takes place. The platform round the chamber is raised and divided by low balustrades into little compartments, where the couches of repose are arranged, so that while having the uninterrupted view all round, parties or families may be by themselves. This is the time and place for meals. The bather, having reached this apartment, is conducted to the edge of the platform, to which there is only one high step. You drop the wooden patten, and on the matting a towel is spread, anticipating your footfall. You now recline on a couch in the form of the letter W elongated, and, as you rest on it, the weight is everywhere directly supported. Every tendon, every muscle is relaxed—the mattress fitting, as it were, into the skeleton. There is total inaction, and the body appears to be suspended.”
We shall not easily forget the sensations we ourselves experienced on first reclining on such a couch, after emerging from the Turkish bath (as revived by Dr. Barter at his far-famed hydropathic establishment near Blarney), enjoying a luxurious, balmy, and quiet repose, followed by an elasticity of body and mind such as we had never before felt.[8] We must here extract from a note in Mr. Urquhart’s pamphlet the following description of the feelings induced by reclining, after the bath, on these delicious couches:—
“On trouve alors des lits delicieux; on s’y repose avec volupté, on y eprouve un calme et un bîenetre difficile à exprimer. C’est une sorte de régénération dont le charme est encore augmenté par des boissons restaurantes et surtout par un café exquis.”—D’Ohsson, t. vii., p. 63.
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Another writer thus describes it:—
“When all is done, a soft and luxurious feeling spreads itself over your body; every limb is light and free as air; the marble-like smoothness of the skin is delightful; and, after all this pommelling, scrubbing, racking, parboiling, and perspiring, you feel more enjoyment than you ever felt before.”
The object to be attained by the proceeding last described is to allow the body to cool down after the perspiration produced by the bath, and to encourage the free absorption of oxygen through the skin, the body being fully exposed to the action of the air when the pores are in the best condition to inhale it. We would here observe, that the Turks have given up the cold immersion of the Romans, which succeeded the last washing with warm water in the third or inner chamber, after which the bather was again conducted to the hot room for a few moments previous to his finally emerging into the first or cooling chamber. For this immersion the Turks have substituted the fanning of the body by a boy armed with a napkin or feather-fan, which, setting the cool air in motion, rapidly cools the body; whilst, with the same view, Dr. Barter uses, in some cases, the cold vertical and horizontal douches, or simple plunge bath,[9] according to the strength and powers of the individual, each mode realizing, however, the same end—namely, the preventing the breaking out of a second perspiration.
Mr. Urquhart thus finishes his description of the process:—
“The body has come forth shining like alabaster, fragrant as the cistus, sleek as satin, and soft as velvet. The touch of your own skin is electric. Buffon has a wonderful description of Adam’s surprise and delight at his first touch of himself. It is the description of the human sense when the body is brought back to its purity. The body thus renewed, the spirit wanders abroad, and, reviewing its tenement, rejoices to find it clean and tranquil. There is an intoxication, or dream, that lifts you out of the flesh, and yet a sense of life and consciousness that spreads through every member. Each breastful of air seems to pass, not to the heart but to the brain, and to quench, not the pulsation of the one but the fancies of the other. That exaltation which requires the slumber of the senses—that vividness of sense that drowns the visions of the spirit—are simultaneously engaged in calm and unspeakable luxury; you condense the pleasures of many scenes, and enjoy in an hour the existence of years. But this, too, will pass. The visions fade, the speed of the blood thickens, the breath of the pores is checked, the crispness of the skin returns, the fountains of [[46]]strength are opened—you seek again the world and its toils, and those who experience these effects and vicissitudes for the first time exclaim, ‘I feel as if I could leap over the moon.’ Paying your pence according to the tariff of your deserts, you walk forth a king.”
Having now described the bath, as we hope, in a form intelligible to our readers, we would make some observations on its physical and moral effects: and, first, as to its physical. For cleansing the blood from all impurities there is nothing equal to its effects. Sarsaparilla may hide its diminished head. By the principle of endosmosis and exosmosis, a principle well known to chemists, the serum containing all the morbid portions of the blood, on passing off in perspiration, is replaced by water, and the fountains of life are cleansed. This benefit will be appreciated when it is recollected how many of “the ills that flesh is heir to” are derived from a diseased and morbid condition of the blood. As an instance of the purifying effect of the Turkish bath we may mention, that where mercury exists in the system, the gold ring of the bather has been turned to the colour of silver, owing to the mercury amalgamating with it on its exuding from the skin. Mr. Urquhart observes:—