Having now observed on the physical effects of the Turkish bath, we shall quote Mr. Urquhart’s opinions regarding its moral aspect:—
“Next are temperance and sobriety. At first sight the connection will not appear so immediate. It will, however, be unquestionable to those familiar with countries where the bath is in use. I know of no country, in ancient or modern times, where habits of drunkenness have co-existed with the bath. Misery and cold drive men to the gin-shop. If they had the bath, not the washing-tub, but the sociable hâmam, to repair to, this, the great cause of drunkenness, would be removed; and if this habit of cleanliness were general, restraints would be imposed on such habits by the feelings of self-respect engendered. The poor of England have never had an opportunity of knowing the comfort which is derived on a cold day from the warmth imparted by such an atmosphere. How many of the wretched inhabitants of London go to their chilly homes in the winter months, benumbed with cold, and with no means of recovering their animal warmth but by resorting to spirits and a public-house fire! The same six-pence which will only procure them a quartern of the stimulant, which imparts but a momentary heat, would, if so expended, obtain for them at once warmth and refreshment.
“Do not run away with the idea that it is Islamism that prevents the use of spirituous liquors—it is the bath. It satisfies the cravings which lead to those indulgences, it fills the period of necessary relaxation, and it produces, with cleanliness, habits of self-respect which are incompatible with intoxication. It keeps the families united, which prevents the squandering of money for such excesses. In Greece and Rome, in their worst times, there was neither ‘blue ruin’ nor ‘double stout.’ ”
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This opinion of Mr. Urquhart’s is further supported by the following extract from Lord Stanley’s address to the National Association for the Promotion of Social Science, as quoted by Dr. Haughton[12]:—
“All men know and deplore the destruction of life and property by intemperate habits in England; but not all men know (though it has been repeatedly proved) that one of the strongest predisposing causes to intemperance is that sense of depression, and general weakness, demanding and seeming to justify the use of stimulants, which, itself a disease, attacks those who live in undrained and unventilated localities.”
The Turkish bath supplies this stimulant, the desire for which prompts intoxication, and so becomes, as Mr. Urquhart argues, a powerful engine in the promotion of temperance; by improving the general health, it also removes the desire for the stimulus.
Having now dwelt on the numerous advantages of the Turkish bath, its beneficial effects in preserving health and curing disease, we cannot refrain from expressing our astonishment that the year 1857 should find our noble city destitute of so valuable an institution.[13] Shall we any longer allow this state of things to continue, and permit barbarians to enjoy a source of comfort and of health which we deny to ourselves? Shall we any longer practise this self-denial, and any longer be content to lag behind the civilization of the East? Is it not astonishing that our medical practitioners should have hitherto overlooked the wonderful curative agency of this Turkish bath? and through its want have permitted cholera, and other diseases[14] equally fatal, to roam unchecked through our city, carrying off thousands of our countrymen. Shall the sufferer from sciatica longer submit to the cupping, blistering, and mercurial dosing of the Allopathic physician, undermining his constitution and ruining his health, when he might obtain certain relief from the delightful and health-restoring bath?
We will not fatigue our readers by following Mr. Urquhart into his calculation regarding the probable cost of erecting a [[50]]Turkish bath in this country, but we believe that an expenditure of about £800 would prove sufficient for the purpose; and dull indeed must we be in perceiving our own interests if we hesitate, for this trifling outlay, to secure to ourselves so great a blessing—at once a luxurious indulgence, a purifier of the blood, a preservative of health,[15] and a remedy against disease.
It must not be supposed that we seek here to advocate the Turkish bath as a better means of maintaining health than that of exercise to perspiration,[16] the means ordained by nature for promoting a healthy activity of all the functions of life: no—we can never improve on the laws of nature, which have been pre-eminently adapted by a beneficent Providence, for the accomplishment of their specific ends: it is only when those laws have been outraged and neglected by the “over-working-brain and under-working-body” habits of a 19th century, that art steps in, in the shape of the Turkish bath, and proposes to produce those beneficial effects on the system, without injury to it, which nature had meant to be produced by active exercise. The Turkish bath is, in short, an antidote for the unwholesome lives we live,[17]—a peace-offering to outraged nature for our non-compliance with her laws. To ladies, to invalids, and men of business, whose sedentary occupations preclude the possibility of healthful exercise, the Turkish bath presents an inestimable boon.
We strongly recommend the perusal of Dr. Barter’s lecture at Bradford to our readers, as a masterly exposition of a subject by the only physician in the kingdom who has practically studied it.