In 1448 the city council of Avignon again tried its hand at regulating the vapor baths at the bridge; but the golden days of debauched women had long before passed away, and the previous century had witnessed the acme of the courtesans’ fortunes. The sojourn of the Popes at Avignon had gathered together from all over the Globe a motley collection of pilgrims and begotten a frightful condition of libertinage; we have the authority of Petrarch in saying that it even surpassed that of the Eternal City, and Bishop Guillaume Durand presented the Council of Vienna with a graphic picture of this social evil.

According to the proclamation of Etienne Boileau, Mayor of Paris in the reign of Louis IX., barber bath keepers were forbidden to employ women of bad reputation in their shops in order to carry on under cover, as in the massage shops of the present day, an infamous commerce, on penalty of losing their outfit—seats, basins, razors, etc.,—which were to be sold at public auction for the profit of the public treasury and the Crown. But we know full well that the Royal Ordinance of 1254, which had for its object the reformation of public debauchery, was only applied for the space of two years, and that the new law of 1256 re-established and legalized public prostitution which offered less objectionable features than clandestine prostitution.

The use of public baths and hydrotherapy lasted until the sixteenth century. At this epoch, and without any known reason, the public suddenly discontinued all balneary practices, and this was noticeable among the aristocratic class as among the common people. A contrary evil was developed. “Honest women,” says Vernille, “took a pride in claiming that they never permitted themselves certain ablutions.” Nevertheless, Marie de Romien, (Instruction pour les Jeunes Dames) in her classical work for the instruction of young women, remarks: “They should keep clean, if it be only for the satisfaction of their husbands; it is not necessary to do as some women of my acquaintance, who have no care to wash until they be foul under their linen. But to be a beautiful damoyselle one may wash reasonably often in water which has been previously boiled and scented with fragrants, for nothing is more certain than that beauty flourishes best in that young woman who not only looks but smells clean.”

In an opuscle published in 1530, by one called De Drusæ, we observe that “notwithstanding the natural laws of propriety, women use scents more than clean water; and they thus only increase the bad smells they endeavor to disguise. Some use greasy perfumed ointments, others sponges saturated in fragrants”

“Entre leur cuisses et dessoubz les aisselles,

Pour ne sentir l’espaulle de mouton.”

This horror of water did not last long, however, and at the commencement of the seventeenth century the false modesty of women ended with the creation of river baths, such as exist to-day along the banks of the Seine.

Was this restoration of cleanly habits due to medical advice? This question cannot be answered, but it may not be out of place to cite that remarkable passage from the “Essays of Montaigne” on the hygiene of bathing, which he recommends in certain maladies:

“It is good to bathe in warm water, it softens and relaxes in ports where it stagnates over sands and stones. Such application of external heat, however, makes the kidneys leathery and hard and petrifies the matter within. To those who bathe: it is best to eat little at night to the end that the waters drank the next morning operate more easily, meeting with an empty stomach. On the other hand, it is best to eat a little dinner, in order not to trouble the action of the water, which is not in perfect accord; nor should the stomach be filled too suddenly after its other labor; leave the work of digestion to the night, which is better than the day, when the body and mind are in perpetual movement and activity.

“I have noted, on the occasion of my voyages, all the famous baths of Christendom, and for some years past have made use of waters, for as a general rule I consider bathing healthy and deem it no risk to one’s physical condition. The custom of ablution, so generally observed at times past in all nations, is now only practiced in a few as a daily habit. I cannot imagine why civilized people ever allow their bodies to become encrusted with dirt and their pores filled with filth.”[9]