Treatises and disquisitions sufficient to form a library of no inconsiderable dimensions have been written during the last three centuries on the subject of baths: boiling, freezing, variously medicated—including tar-water, steam, and spray; milk, whey, broth, mud, sand, and even earth-baths—in which the patient for hours together was buried up to his neck in a fallow field—have all had their exponents and upholders; then there is the vapour-bath of the Russian, the dry, hot air or Turkish-bath, besides the cold air-bath recommended by Franklin, and those who like it may follow the example of the elder Pliny who used to indulge in a bath of sunshine. Now-a-days it is a common practice, on the shores of the Mediterranean, for many of the inhabitants, during the hot months, to pass a considerable portion of their time sitting on chairs placed a few feet from the shore, the calm water, without even the nuance of a ripple, reaching to the neck, while the head is protected from the scorching sun by an immense grass hat.

The inference may be too hastily drawn that what is advocated in this Sketch is unnecessary, being simply what everyone now-a-days practises in one form or another—cleanliness; on consideration, however, this will be found to be hardly the fact. We are a cleanly nation, or at any rate more cleanly than we were, but bathing with hot or cold water as ordinarily practised is not so enjoyable and luxurious as it might be, and moreover, to the weakly, is often harmful in its action.

Perhaps the very acme of luxurious bathing is reached in the Soap-bath, an application of hot water and soap to the whole body, followed immediately by a cold plunge, or a sponge-bath. A bath is at once a necessity and a luxury, and in order to obtain the greatest number of benefits, including increased health, appetite, vigour, and good spirits, the Soap-bath is the most effectual, and moreover the pleasantest and least trying to the weakly or over sensitive constitution.

It is a simple and invigorating luxury as compared with the self-inflicted half-painful ordeal the cold bath is to many, which latter is too often taken, not for its own sake, but for the good supposed to follow its use. After a Soap-bath, however, one is ready for the duties or pleasures of the day: duty in fact becomes a pleasure, and pleasure itself is intensified.

The Soap-bath obtains a rapidly increasing number of adherents, and when once the habit of taking it is formed, it will not readily be abandoned, as it forms one of the pleasures, if not the pleasure of the day, and moreover, can be indulged in all the year round.

The fair sex will find the Soap-bath vastly superior to any cosmetic: it renders the skin as soft as an infant’s, and, with increased health, the complexion will appear more delicate and clear, tinged with a healthy colour beyond the power of art to produce.

It appears from the evidence obtained by modern scientific research, that hot water destroys the germinating power of malignant contagious diseases, and that soap chemically poisons it. These germs or spores are carried about by every wind that blows: and when it is borne in mind that, roughly speaking, a million of such germs will lie on a threepenny-piece; the value, as a preventive of contagion, of a thorough daily ablution with soap, may be estimated.

The Romans, according to Pliny, raised the temperature of their air baths to almost boiling point, and they were apparently well acquainted with the grateful and invigorating after-application of cold water.

It is no slight recommendation of the Soap-bath, that while being an absolute luxury both for the feeble and robust, it cannot be resorted to as a mere indolent indulgence: the lungs and muscles are called into full action, a moderate though pleasant shock is encountered, and the bather has the satisfaction of knowing that all the pleasure and advantages gained are actually earned.

The application of the Soap-bath is very simple: the bather is armed with a large lump of good ordinary yellow soap, and a loose washing glove (the white and very soft “Turkish” is the pleasantest, or if a hard glove be preferred, the “Baden” may be used) big enough to come over the wrist, and standing dÉcouvert in front of the washing basin containing hot water, quickly and vigorously covers the body from head to foot with a thick and abundant lather. By using hot water, chills are avoided, and the body is kept sufficiently warm to avoid the unpleasantness, and often harm, following repeated applications of mere handfuls of cold liquid.

The soap application may take about three or four minutes at most; the very robust may use tepid water, but most persons will find warm or hot more agreeable; and more delicate persons whose finger-tips have the unpleasant habit of turning numb and white upon the application of cold water, will find in the Soap-bath an agreeable means of bathing otherwise perhaps unattainable.

Cold bathing promotes vigour in the young and healthy, and the Soap-bath has the same effect in an intensified degree, with the further inestimable advantage—except where there are positive indications of lung or heart disease—of being alike suitable to the robust and weakly.

With the body thoroughly warm comes the plunge into cold water, which must be got over quickly—once, twice, or thrice, overhead—but a couple of rapid dips are sufficient to remove every particle of soap.

A Plunge-bath sunk below the surface of the bath-room, lined with white glazed tiles, and nearly full of clear water, into which one can take a header, and clamber out by the aid of a rope and gently sloping ladder, is perhaps the best and most luxurious form; it is to be regretted that there are few such baths in modern houses.

There are persons who habitually bathe in tepid water, and remain splashing about for a considerable time, but much greater benefit is to be derived, and the body becomes infinitely more refreshed and invigorated by a shorter immersion in water of a lower temperature.

The head must remain uncovered and receive the full benefit of the cold water. This may be a serious consideration for ladies, but there is no choice: the penalty for keeping the head dry will usually be a violent headache with the probable complaint that “baths don’t suit me,” but whether, in the absence of wetting the head, headache follows or not, the health must suffer.

The momentary shock of the cold dip is succeeded by a delightful feeling of vital internal warmth—a delicious triumphant glow. It is highly unadvisable to be leisurely over this part of the bath, however one may dawdle in dressing: the coldness of the water would gain upon the warmth of the body, but without waiting for this, the bather at once quits the cold bath, and proceeds to make ample use of dry towels.

Some bathers with tough cuticles affect the use of towels bearing to the touch a strong resemblance to rasps or wire brushes, and affirm that everyone ought to use the very roughest that can be procured: there are others, on the contrary, possessing an outer epidermis so delicately soft and velvet-like, that very rough towels would, if used, cause insufferable agony, and almost flay them alive; what would be thought a rough towel by one, producing after use a full glow, would have no effect upon another.

The use of the flesh-brush, after a thorough rub down with towels, is to be commended for producing a more vigorous reaction; there are many persons, however, whose skins are too delicate to allow of the application of the flesh-brush, but this is of little moment, as a moderately rough towel will with them produce as strong a reaction, or as great a glow, as the flesh-brush would with those possessing less sensitive skins.