The diseases which the Turkish bath may be the means of curing or alleviating, are really too numerous to mention. Among them may be enumerated gout, rheumatic gout, rheumatism, acute and chronic, colds and coughs, indigestion in some of its worst forms, bowel affections, piles, chronic liver and spleen ailments, kidney complaints, incipient delirium tremens, melancholy and depression of spirits, nervousness, irritability of temper, sleeplessness, ennui, the diseases of sedentary and also of fashionable life, adiposity, etc. That condition of body and mind generally caused by indiscretion of some kind, and usually known by the expression “out of sorts,” or “out of condition,” when weariness and depression are predominant, when sleep is unrest, and every duty of life is performed with a feeling of extreme irksomeness, and when the nerves seem given as a punishment, is almost invariably cured by a course of Turkish Bathing taken in conjunction with some nervine tonic, and an occasional well-chosen aperient.
Diseases and debilities of the reproductive organs, are by the same means equally benefited, but in these cases galvanism in some form is often required to effect a complete cure.
Note 1. See—“The Eastern Bath,” published by Messrs J. and A. Churchill, New Burlington Street.
Chapter Four.
The Turkish Bath: In Theory and Practice—The Portable Turkish Bath.
Let us now endeavour to explain the theory of the Turkish Bath, and the why and wherefore of the different operations the bather subjects himself to therein. If he be a person who has bathed many times and oft, he steps across the threshold of the great natural Sanatorium with a light heart and a step as springy as though he were entering a ball-room, for well he knows that all his care and trouble whether mental or bodily, will melt away in the glorious atmosphere of the calidarium or hot room, and that when he comes out again he will feel so new a man, that a giant refreshed would have no chance with him.
He parts with his ticket or half-crown with pleasure, feeling in his inmost heart that he has the best of the bargain. And so he enters his little sanctum and begins to undress. He would fain hurry off his garments: he longs to be free but he remembers that everything ought to be done leisurely for his good. But now the last article of apparel is laid carefully aside and he smiles to himself—a happy smile—as he dons the cummerbund, or cotton pyjamas, and issues forth to enter the calidarium.