He will not have long remained here until beads of perspiration appear on chest and brow, and arms, gradually extending downwards until limbs and even feet are covered with a warm moisture. A mouthful or two of cold water will cause the drops of perspiration to accumulate and increase in size, until uniting, they trickle “in burns”—as the Scotch call it, from the body. He has very likely assumed a reclining position on a wooden cane-bottomed settee. Here he may read if so minded, he will hardly care to talk, if he does he ought not to. A strange dreamy kind of happiness steals over him, not wild exciting thoughts like those of the opium-eater. No, his is now indeed the dolce far niente; he has eaten the lotus leaf, all worldly cares, if he has any, are for the time being forgotten, he even wonders that he permitted anything sublunary to worry him.
And so the time passes all too quickly away. Perhaps the attendant now warns him it is time to retire, or to enter even a hotter room in which he will stay a shorter time, then thence to the lavatory. How pleasant the trickling of the warm shower bath, how delightful the soap shampoo, that removes every bit from top to toe of the unhealthy, or at least superfluous scarf skin.
Every particle of impurity may be said to have exuded from the blood, which is now pure as the constitution of the bather can permit it to be, and every particle of impurity has been washed by shampooing from the outer surface. The warm shower completes the cleansing. But now the gaping pores must be made to contract, their fibres are relaxed they must be closed. But however cold the water douche may be, by which this operation is performed, to the bather it seems most pleasant and delicious.
Wrapped in a sheet from head to heel he once more passes through the calidarium, on his way to the cooling room. He may linger here for a few moments if so minded but not for long, only just to restore a gentle warmth to the surface of the body. In the cool room he will remain reclining and enwrapped in his sheet for about a quarter of an hour and probably the attendant will come and knead every muscle of the body getting back the lagging blood, if indeed it does lag, heart-wards and rendering the whole body as supple and pliant and elastic as life.
Then to dress most slowly. And while dressing, to leisurely imbibe a cup of warm, not hot, tea or coffee.
When he emerges at last from the Sanatorium and goes bounding along the street, he—well he does not feel inclined to change places with anyone he meets, not even if the Lord Mayor’s carriage rolls past him.
We have thus stated briefly, the various operations a bather goes through in the ordinary Turkish bath of our towns and cities. Leisurely undressing, especially necessary if there has previously been a brisk walk, (thus the heart has time to tone down ere subjected to the excitement of the calidarium) the repose in the hot room with frequent small draughts of cold water to encourage the flow of the perspiration, the gradual softening of the scarf skin and thorough opening of every pore, the warm shower and shampoo by which every obnoxious particle is removed from the outer surface as it has already been from the inner, the cold douche to contract the pores, and thus prevent subsequent danger from cold. The gradual cooling down, the leisurely resumption of ordinary wearing apparel lest perspiration should again be induced, and last, but not least, the calm and comforting cup of coffee or tea.
And after all what is this Turkish bathing? Is it something so very new? Nay, new in its processes probably, but it is but carrying out an old, old law, old as the days of Moses himself, the law of perfect cleanliness and perfect cleansing.
We have visited a large number of the hydropathic establishments and Turkish bathing sanatoria, and there is much to be praised in all we have seen and little to be blamed. Some are of course, far more luxuriantly fitted up than others, and these are the baths we prefer to visit. Could we, however, have such a splendid thermal temple as that of Riverside attached to our own home, we would certainly never wander away from it to worship at another shrine.
