Читать книгу: «The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 20, No. 579, December 8, 1832», страница 2

BATHING—ANCIENT AND MODERN BATHS

Perhaps neither of the exercises that are indispensable to the health and comfort of man has so kept pace with his progressive improvement as bathing; and though of late years this effectual promoter of cleanliness has not in some parts of the world been sufficiently attended to, yet the custom is by no means on the decrease; nor can any fear be entertained, with propriety, that so excellent and so natural an expedient should ever be suffered to decline, from want of consideration of its benefits and advantages. But it must be owned, that while bathing in many countries is resorted to as a matter-of-course affair among all classes, in England it is in a great measure disregarded by most of the middle classes, and almost entirely so by those in the lower station of life, who perhaps require this exercise more than their richer neighbours.

A medical writer of the present day observes, with some grounds for complaint, that while "in almost all countries, both in ancient and modern times, whether rude or civilized, bathing was a part of the necessary and everyday business of life, in this country alone, with all its refinements in the arts which contribute to the happiness or comfort of man, and with all its improvements in medical science and jurisprudence, this salutary and luxurious practice is almost entirely neglected."⁷ But in many countries, particularly in the east, bathing is as much resorted to as ever; and its really powerful effects in invigorating the frame and promoting the porous secretions, (without which life itself cannot be long continued,) require only to be once known to be persevered in.

Among the ancients, bathing was far more generally practised than at the present day. In the city of Alexandria, there were 4,000 public baths; and the height of refinement in this luxury among the Romans is almost incredible. In addition to the private baths, with which almost every house was supplied, public baths were built, sometimes at the public cost, and often at the expense of private individuals, who nobly conceived their wealth to be laudably expended in giving each of their fellow-citizens the means of procuring, free of expense, bodily cleanliness and comfort. These baths were generally very extensive, and fitted up with every possible convenience;—the passages and apartments were paved with marbles of every hue, and the tesselated floors were adorned with representations of gladiatorial engagements, hunting, racing, and a variety of subjects from the mythology. In the Thermæ at Rome, ingenuity and magnificence seem exhausted; and the elegance of the architecture, and the vast range of rooms and porticos, create in the beholder surprise and admiration, mingled with feelings of regret for their neglected state. A quadrans (about a farthing) admitted any one; for the funds bequeathed by the emperors and others were amply sufficient to provide for the expensive establishments requisite, without taxing the people beyond their means. Agrippa gave his baths and gardens to the public, and even assigned estates for their maintenance. Some of the Thermæ were also provided with a variety of perfumed ointments and oils gratuitously. The chief Thermæ⁸ were those of Agrippa, Nero, Titus, Domitian, Caracalla, and Diocletian. Their main building consisted of rooms for swimming and bathing, in either hot or cold water; others for conversation; and some devoted to various exercises and athletic amusements. In some assembled large bodies to hear the lectures of philosophers, or perhaps a composition of some favourite poet; while the walls were surrounded with statues, paintings, and literary productions, to suit the diversified taste of the company.

Eustace describes these Thermæ at some length:—"Repassing the Aventine Hill, we came to the baths of Antoninus Caracalla, that occupy part of its declivity, and a considerable portion of the plain between it and Mons Cæliolus and Mons Cælius. The length of the Thermæ was 1,840 feet; breadth, 1,476. At each end were two temples, one to Apollo and another to Esculapius, as the tutelary deities of a place sacred to the improvement of the mind, and the health of the body. In the principal building were, in the first place, a grand circular vestibule, with four halls on each side, for cold, tepid, warm, and steam baths;⁹ in the centre was an immense square for exercise, when the weather was unfavourable to it in the open air; beyond it a great hall, where one thousand six hundred seats of marble were placed for the convenience of the bathers; at each end of this hall were libraries. The stucco and paintings, though faintly indeed, are yet in many places perceptible. Pillars have been dug up, and some still remain amidst the ruins; while the Farnesian Bull and the famous Hercules, found in one of these halls announce the multiplicity and beauty of the statues which once adorned the Thermae of Caracalla."

Before they commenced bathing in the Thermæ, the Romans anointed themselves with oil, in a room especially appropriated to the purpose; and oil was again applied, with the addition of perfumes, on quitting the bath. In a painting which has been engraved from one of the walls in the baths of Titus, the room is represented filled with a number of vases, and somewhat resembles an apothecary's shop. These vases contained a variety of balsamic and oleaceous compositions for the anointment, which, when ultimately performed, prepared the bathers for the sphæristerium, in which various amusements and exercises were enjoyed. The subsequent operation of scraping the body with the strigil has given way to a mode of freeing the body from perspiration and all extraneous matter, by a sort of bag or glove of camel's hair, which is used in Turkey; while flannel and brushes are substituted in other parts.

The vapour-baths now used in Russia resemble very much those among the ancient Romans. These are generally rudely built of wood, over an oven, and the bathers receive the vapour at the requisite heat, reclining on wooden benches,—while, more powerfully to excite perspiration, they whip their bodies with birch boughs, and also use powerful friction. They then wash themselves; and, as these vapour-baths are often constructed on the banks of a river, throw themselves from the land into the water; or sometimes, by way of variety, plunge into snow, and roll themselves therein. This violent exercise and sudden transition of temperature is almost overpowering to persons unhabituated to the custom, and will oftentimes produce fainting,—though the patient, on recovering, finds himself refreshed, and experiences a delightful sense of mental, as well as bodily, vigour and energy. The enervating effects of the extreme luxury and refinement practised in the Greek and Roman baths are obviated in the Russian mode: to which may partly be ascribed the power which the latter people have in undergoing fatigue and the various hardships of their rigorous climate. Tooke says that without doubt the Russians owe their longevity, robust health, their little disposition to fatal complaints, and, above all, their happy and cheerful temper, mostly to these vapour-baths. Lewis and Clarke, in their voyage up the Missouri, have noticed the use of the vapour-bath in a somewhat similar contrivance to the Russians among the savage tribes of America;—so it appears that this effectual promoter of cleanliness is one of the most simple, original, and natural, that can be employed for that paramount duty.

C.R.S.

The Sketch Book

RECOLLECTIONS OF A WANDERER

An Incident on the Coast

Towards the close of an afternoon in the dreary month of December, a small vessel was descried in the offing, from the pier of a romantic little hamlet on the coast of –. The pier was this evening nearly deserted by those bold spirits, who, when sea and sky conspire to frown together, loved to resort there to while away their idle hours. Only a few "out-and-outers" were now to be seen at their accustomed station, defying the rough buffetings of the blast, which on more tender faces might have acted almost with the keenness of a razor. Though the evening certainly looked wild and stormy to an unpractised eye, still to those who "gauge the weather" it was unaccompanied with those unerring symptoms which usually usher in a gale. However, the appearance of the night was so uninviting, as to have induced the local craft to run some time before along shore for shelter; and the movements of the strange vessel were consequently a matter of speculation to those on land. There is something to our minds exceedingly interesting in a solitary vessel at sea—it is a point on which you may hinge your attention—a living thing on the desert-bosom of the main. For sometime her movements were apparently very undecided, but though the weather seemed to be looking up, she suddenly put about helm, and ran without further wavering right for the shelter held out at Lanport. In less than twenty minutes she was safe alongside the pier. She was one of the larger class of fishing vessels and was well manned. The attention of the bystanders was now directed to an individual who seemed to be a passenger, and who immediately landed after conversing for a short while with the master. The gentleman brought ashore an immoderately large carpet-bag, and forthwith marched for the chief street of Lanport. When we say chief, we, perhaps, ought to add that it was the only assemblage of buildings in the village, which by the comparative uniformity of their arrangement, could lay claim to such a title. On reaching the foot of the declivity, the traveller, who was evidently much jaded with his marine excursion, espied with symptoms of satisfaction, the antiquated sign-post of an "hostelrie" swinging before him in the breeze. Without further investigation, but with "wandering steps and slow," he decided on taking up his quarters at the "Mermaid Inn and Tavern, by Judith, (or Judy as she was called by some) Teague." This determination of the traveller would, however, have turned out to be "Hobson's choice" had his eyes wandered in quest of a rival establishment, for here Mrs. Judy Teague reigned supreme amongst "licensed victuallers," no rival having hitherto been found bold enough to enter the field against her. The leisurely advance of the traveller up the street, had given all the old gossips and that numerous class who esteem other people's business of infinitely greater consequence than their own, full opportunity to remark on his dress and appearance; in which as faithful chroniclers we have not gathered that there was anything remarkable—save and except the enormous carpet-bag aforesaid, about which its owner seemed as solicitous as the traveller in Rob Roy. A stranger was, at the period we are describing, a rara avis in terris indeed at Lanport; and it may be conceived that the news of this arrival was discussed round every hearth in the place within half an hour at the utmost. Mrs. Teague is recorded to have advanced to the door with unwonted rapidity (bearing in mind that she had halted a little since she was on the wrong side of forty, from a rheumatic affection,) to meet such an "iligant-looking guest;" and certain it is that he had not been two hours in the house, before it was evident that both parties were on an excellent footing together. The old lady was seen to come from the best—the parlour we mean to say—of the Mermaid, with very unusual symptoms of good humour on her countenance, considering (as Betsy the "maid of all work" whispered to "Jack Ostler,") that her visage had generally a "vinegar cruet" association; though we would not take upon ourselves to assert that brandy had not a greater share in its composition.

The strange gentleman continued in close occupation of the parlour during the entire evening. The mysterious carpet bag was secured in an upper room, and its owner chased away the damps and cold of the season by unusually liberal potations; in short, Mrs. Judith declared to the numerous party of customers who had assembled from chance or curiosity on her hearth, that he was the most liberal gentleman that had ever crossed her threshold in the way of business, since Julius O'Brien (commonly called the tippling exciseman,) had unexpectedly departed this life by mistaking the steep staircase of the Mermaid for a single step, one night when his brain was more than usually beclouded. The arrival of the stranger, however, had nearly caused a schism between the hostess and her leading customers; for the former had whilst he honoured the Mermaid with his presence, engaged the parlour for his exclusive accommodation—an arrangement contrary to all the rules of Lanport etiquette; and he might have experienced rather a rude reception had not Mrs. Judy given up her sanctum sanctorum for the temporary use of the "elect."

Next day, the morning had passed away, nay, the sun was fast careering towards the western horizon, and yet the stranger exhibited no inclination to explore the locality of Lanport. Night at last set in, but still he remained in close quarters as before.

This appeared the more strange, as the situation of Lanport was singularly wild and interesting. The prospect from the wooded and rocky heights of the coast was of great and commanding beauty; and the inland view presented many scenes and objects highly calculated to invite the attention of the lover of nature or the curious traveller. It was evident that the stranger was deficient in both these points.

The history of the next day closely corresponded with that of the preceding. There he sat. That night there was again a strong muster around the capacious hearth of the Mermaid. If the stranger was deficient in that inherent passion of the human mind—curiosity—not so the villagers. But one sentiment seemed to pervade the assembled party, and that may be summed up in the words "Who is he?" An echo responded "Who is he?" Conjecture was literally at a fault. His very appearance was unknown to all except the fortunate few that had beheld him in his march from the pier; the fishing boat had put to sea before any one thought of making inquiry as to the freight it had delivered, but every one agreed that there was something of an extraordinary character about the said freight. Ever and anon the parlour door opened, and a lusty ring of the hand-bell summoned the hostess into that now mysterious room: and the volley of questions which assailed her on her return were enough to overturn the very moderate stock of patience which she possessed, had it been centupled. She declared that "the jintleman was like other jintlemen, and barring that he seemed the b'y for the brandy," she saw nothing amiss in him. In the midst of this excitement in walked the officer commanding the preventive service of the district. He was soon closeted in the sanctum, and after a due discussion of the singular proceedings of the stranger, on the part of each member of the Lanport smoking club, the worthy lieutenant declared "it was not only d–d odd, but very suspicious;" and that he would beard the foe who had so unceremoniously taken possession of their own proper apartment, face to face, even though he should turn out to be Beelzebub, in propriâ personâ. This determination was received with a vast and simultaneous puff of exultation from every pipe in the room, so that the cloud was for a short space so great as completely to envelope the ample proportions of Mrs. Judy Teague, who had been an unnoticed witness of this bold proposal. The lieutenant was striding onwards in full career towards the parlour, which lay at the opposite side of the intervening kitchen, when he somewhat roughly encountered the fair form of Mrs. Teague, which was extended halfway through the doorcase with a view to prevent his egress.