Although the main purpose of the Baths and Wash-houses Acts was to encourage the provision of washing and laundering facilities for those who neither had them nor could afford them, the early Turkish baths were commercial ventures rather than municipal ones because the acts were not mandatory. It has been shown, by plotting the location of London's baths on Booth's Poverty Map, that there was a tendency for the majority of baths to be opened in the better off areas which needed them least. A number of attempts were made to ameliorate this situation. Other categories of bather were constrained by location, either necessarily or by choice, and these were also catered for, including those in hospitals and asylums. Although an American prison is reported to have had a Turkish bath, they were not provided in prisons in the United Kingdom, though some thought this would be beneficial. For wealthier bathers, Turkish baths were available in hotels, hydros and 'members only' clubs. Those travelling by sea could find them on ocean liners, while those preferring to stay at home could have their own baths designed and built for them. Although animals formed a quite different category of bather, Turkish baths were also provided for farm animals and urban workhorses.
Victorian Turkish baths for the working class and the poor Both Barter and Urquhart made free of charge provision for their staff to use a Turkish bath—Barter, in one built specifically for workers on the St Ann's estate, and Urquhart, by allowing his domestic servants to use his own bath. In 1859, when Barter's first public bath opened in Grenville Place, Cork, the charge was two shillings during the day, and half price from six o'clock till ten o'clock, morning and evening, with shampoos sixpence extra. But even a shilling was far too expensive for most people. The following year Barter set up Working Class Turkish Baths in Belfast under a manager, Thomas Coakley. It was located, with its own entrance, at the back of First Class baths, then still under construction. But a working-class bath still cost sixpence or ninepence, and the baths got off to a slow start. Nevertheless, three years later, in 1863, Barter opened a second similar establishment, the Turkish Baths for the Destitute Poor (known as The People's Turkish Baths) in Maylor Street, Cork. This was partly financed by an initial charitable appeal. Once open, Turkish baths became available for a penny or twopence and, in some cases—usually after a doctor's recommendation—free of charge Dr Barter died in 1870 and his son, also named Richard, took over St Ann's and his various Turkish bath interests. In 1872, despite poor results in Belfast where Coakley reported that the baths were not even covering expenses, Mr Barter opened The People's Turkish Baths in Thomas's Lane, Dublin. Here the cost was sixpence, These seem to have performed better, and the charge was still the same twenty years later. No long-lasting Turkish baths set up along these lines is known outside Ireland, though Richard Metcalfe ran one for about eighteen months some time around 1861 in Notting Hill, London. Members of the Rescue Society (later renamed the
Temperance Society) had set up their first Workmen's Hall and Reading Rooms in Portland Terrace as an alternative to the public house. Metcalfe had been allotted space for a hydropathic dispensary and had converted part of it into a small Turkish bath, but it was not much used and was soon abandoned. In Wales there were no Turkish baths specifically for the poor, and the Cardiff Baths in Guildford Street charged 2s or 1s. Even the latter was too much for most women but the Cardiff Branch of the Ladies' Sanitary Association came to an arrangement with the baths company whereby the association could provide tickets to the women's sessions to 'deserving cases' at 'nominal prices'. In England, the approach was different again, with a number of companies providing Turkish baths for their employees. The smallest of these was the bath for the male employees of the Wimbledon Theatre, London, which was used between 1910 and the theatre's wartime closure. This is the only theatre known to have had such a bath. Three large companies were in a different category altogether. In the 1860s, the Great Western Railway in Swindon and the London & North Western Railway in Crewe were located in what were effectively railway company towns, while Titus Salt's alpaca mill was in a purpose-built village,
Saltaire, named after himself. Each of these companies provided Turkish baths (and many other facilities) that would soon cater for all the residents of their area, whether they were employees or not, at low prices. In Ireland there seems to have been more compassion than elsewhere for the very poor. Peter Higginbotham records five workhouses in the south of the island which had, on the advice of their medical officer, installed Turkish baths for their residents; in England the only one was in King's Lynn.
Victorian Turkish baths in hospitals and asylums Hospitals In July 1858, less than a year after Urquhart opened England's first public Turkish bath in Manchester, a bath was opened in the Newcastle upon Tyne Infirmary—the first in any hospital. The Infirmary's House Committee, heavily influenced by Urquhart's political followers, George Crawshay and
John Fife (a surgeon at the hospital and Crawshay's father-in-law), commissioned famous local architect
John Dobson to design the bath. So early in the development of the Turkish bath, Dobson had no body of professional expertise upon which to draw and, copying Barter, opted for a hypocaust for heating purposes. Although the temperatures were lower than in a commercial bath, the medical staff and the House Surgeon, Dr Andrew Bolton, were pleased with it. 11,891 baths had been given during its first year and it was noted that it been used without ill effect on patients with heart disease. The following year the number of bathers was not given as a total but split into three groups: in-patients (1,720), out-patients (1,778) and 'casuals' (9,489). These would probably have included members of staff and paying members of the public. It was stated to have been specially beneficial in cases 'of a rheumatic character'. After a serious accident when a bather fell onto the hot floor, the hypocaust was quickly replaced by a system of hot air ducts around the walls and placed under the seating. This was also abandoned and replaced by a hot air circulation system devised by Dr Bolton's brother, Dr John Adams Bolton, for a Turkish bath he had opened in Leicester. In his annual report for 1864, Dr Bolton stated that after a three-year trial the new air circulation system was 'superior in every respect' to the methods previously used, that the Turkish bath had been favourably received by the medical profession, and that it would soon be adopted by hospitals, asylums, and workhouses generally. In this Bolton was over-optimistic. Nevertheless, large city hospitals in Belfast, Denbigh, Dublin, Huddersfield, Liverpool and London followed suit installing Turkish baths, the most recent being at the Royal Infirmary in Edinburgh in 1900. And as early as 1864, a bath was installed at the huge military hospital at
Netley.
Asylums The close proximity of the Cork District Lunatic Asylum to St Ann's Hydro was a major factor influencing the building there of the first Turkish bath for asylum patients. The resident physician, Dr Thomas Power, had been impressed by the therapeutic results achieved at the hydro and in 1860, with Dr Barter's help, persuaded the asylum governors to install a bath there—a decision which needed approval by the Privy Council. Though not completed until February 1861, the bath was already in use the previous December. After being prepared for two or three days beforehand under the supervision of Dr Barter and Inspector-General Hatchell of the Dublin Office of Lunatic Asylums, sixteen patients volunteered to use the bath. All enjoyed it and wanted to use it again. Though initially a simple single room bath—used at different times by men and women—a second hot room had been added by 1889, allowing both men and women to use the baths throughout the day. Power's report to his governors in May noted that, since January, 124 patients had used the bath. Of these, ten had been discharged cured and another 52 had 'improved or were improving'. The medical journals pointed out that this was not a controlled experiment and the results should be treated with caution. In his second report Power was more careful, writing that patients were now allowed more than one bath per week and that between fifty and eighty patients a day were currently using the bath, some for remedial purposes and a larger number for personal cleansing, but even the latter had resulted in healthier patients. This time
The Lancet was more supportive, suggesting that Power's experience 'may well be recommended to the consideration of the managers of other public and private asylums.' In England, the Medical Superintendent of the Sussex District Lunatic Asylum at Haywards Heath, Dr
Charles Lockhart Robertson, was, like Power, a member of the Medico-Psychological Association (later, the
Royal College of Psychiatrists). He would have known about Power's Turkish bath from its inception, and was one of several medical practitioners who had been introduced to the bath at
George Witt's home in Knightsbridge. Robertson determined to install one at Haywards Heath. Even before it was completely finished, he included a plan and description of it in a review of Erasmus Wilson's book
The Eastern, or Turkish bath which he was writing for the
Journal of Mental Science. Built as a lean-to against a new wash-house, the total cost was £50 including piping in water for the showers. But improvements made during the following couple of years would have added to this. Robertson did not make Power's mistake of claiming cures for the new bath. Responding in 1863 to a letter from Urquhart asking about it, he noted that it had been helpful in cases of melancholia, with patients who had been refusing food, and in restoring regular menstruation in young women. But not least important was the general improvement in health gained from the cleansing effects of the bath. The largest asylum in England was The Second Middlesex County Asylum, commonly known as Colney Hatch, and by 1863 it was able to hold 2,000 patients. Dr Edgar Sheppard, long a supporter of hydropathy and, since its reintroduction, an advocate of the Turkish bath, became Medical Superintendent of the Male Department in 1862. After a visit to Dr Power's bath at Cork, he decided to invite Urquhart and Robert Poore (both directors of the London & Provincial Turkish Bath Company Ltd) to visit the asylum and ask for their advice on providing a bath at Colney Hatch. Concerned that the asylum's board would be wary of an expensive new facility which catered for only a few patients, Urquhart proposed a large bath costing £500 based, for ease of supervision, on the plan of
Jeremy Bentham's
Panopticon prison. To maximise its use, he proposed that bathers could be arranged in 'relays from six in the morning till eight at night' and so 700 patients a day could use the bath. Like Bentham's prison, these baths were never built. After rejection by the board on account of cost, a more modest bath was built costing £300. It opened in July 1865, was mentioned several times in the asylum's annual report as being a success, and confirmed as such in the following year's report. This contrasted well with the asylum's toilet provision and normal washing facilities. These were considered unacceptable by the Commissioners in Lunacy and, 'It was not until 1883 that every patient was bathed in fresh water.':p. 146 In 1868, the bath was used 600 times by 104 patients. This was a very small percentage of the total, as noted by the Commissioners, in effect confirming Urquhart's preference for a larger building. The bath was still in use in the 1880s inspiring the construction of a bath at Claybury Asylum, Woodford, in 1893. Influenced by these early baths, several other asylums installed Turkish baths, often for use by staff as well as patients. Another member of the Medico-Psychological Association, Dr George Turner Jones, was responsible for the one at the North Wales Counties Lunatic Asylum, Denbigh, in 1871. In the same year,
James Crichton-Browne installed a Turkish bath at the West Riding Pauper Lunatic Asylum, Wakefield. Uniquely, it was built by a group of patients who, as skilled artisans, worked to an extremely high standard. Its six rooms had
'Moorish' style arched doorways, frosted glass windows and encaustic tiles. Crichton-Browne was especially concerned about asylum hygiene and drainage, ensuring the provision of a wide range of showers, baths, and steam cabinets. Privately funded asylums were not without Turkish baths either.
The Retreat in York, founded in 1792 by Quaker philanthropist
William Tuke, was then considered a more humane asylum in its minimal use of restraint, and its rejection of physical punishments. Yet fifteen years passed after the installation of Power's Turkish bath in the Cork Asylum before The Retreat followed suit, although its Superintendent, Dr John Kitching, was also a member of the Medico-Psychological Association. Kitching eventually wrote a paper proposing the installation of a Turkish bath, arguing that provision for a life in which monotony and
ennui were reduced to a minimum would, in time, be considered, 'as effectually parts of the treatment of the insane, as the taking of medicine.' But it was his successor, Dr Robert Baker, who worked with the Retreat's architect, Edward Taylor, in bringing to fruition the plan recommended by the sub-committee set up to consider Kitching's proposal. Taylor's bath consisted of two hot rooms, the air being heated by a boiler in the basement below the shampooing room. There was also a cabinet vapour bath and, uniquely in an asylum bath, a hydropathic area. Here, wet sheet packing (when the patient was wrapped in cold wet sheets for varying periods of time) could be provided. In 1889, Baker gave a paper on ten years' use of the Turkish bath at The Retreat. Although packing was popular in hydropathic establishments for several years, it is not mentioned in Baker's paper. This was almost certainly due to the fact that the Commissioners in Lunacy felt it necessary to include wet sheet packing among their deprecated forms of mechanical restraint. The Turkish bath itself was considered a success and continued to be used by men and women patients, as well as by staff and paying members of the public, until at least 1908. Less well-known asylums like Caterham Imbecile Asylum and the Holloway Sanatorium in Virginia Water also installed Turkish baths. Dr Adam, Medical Superintendent at Caterham, only gained approval in 1874, on a second request to his managers. His appeal carried weight because he spoke from experience in its use, having previously worked as Assistant Medical Officer at Colney Hatch.
Holloway Sanatorium was designed for paying middle class patients of both sexes, and built as a gift to the nation by
Thomas Holloway from the profits of his eponymous pills. On the advice of the Commissioners in Lunacy the architect was chosen by competition. This was won by
William Henry Crossland, with John Philpot Jones and Edward Salomons. Among the judges advising on the technical side of the building was Dr Robertson who had installed the bath at Haywards Heath. The plans, which were publicly exhibited in 1872, showed separate baths for men and women in the basement, with vapour baths in addition to the Turkish baths. But when the sanatorium opened in 1885, the vapour baths had been omitted. However, in common with the rest of the building, the standard of the baths was high, with 'marble seats and wall linings, while a shampooing room had a marble basin and pedestal'.
Victorian Turkish baths in hydropathic establishments and hotels Hydropathic establishments The first hydros opened in Europe, especially in Germany and Austria, in the 1820s. They soon appeared in London, Malvern, and other places in the south-east of England, before moving north to smaller locations like Ilkley and Matlock. In 1843, after a visit to Ireland by
Richard Tappin Claridge (known as the father of hydropathy in the British Isles) Barter and James Wherland independently visited Malvern and other English hydros and then opened their own in Cork. Similarly, after Claridge's visit to Glasgow, also in 1843, hydros opened in Scotland, where there were eventually more than anywhere else in the kingdom. Most hydros which opened before the late 1850s added Turkish baths sooner or later, while most new hydros included them as a matter of course. But only a few, including Lochhead and Bridge of Allan (in Scotland), Llandudno (in Wales), and Blackpool Imperial (in England), built them as separate buildings. The larger establishments incorporated their Turkish baths in extensive baths departments, which included rows of hot and cold baths,
sitz baths, and a variety of showers. Allsop's standard work on baths in hydropathic establishments includes plans of such departments at
Smedley's hydro in Matlock and in several Scottish hydros, such as Dunblane. At Ben Rhydding, Macleod's choice of the gentler Ling's massage and the use of lower temperatures than those preferred by his predecessors, together with his later ending of the temperance regime normal at hydros, softened the rigour which predominated at the first establishments. Additionally, the length of a recommended hydropathic treatment, resulting in patients' separation from their families for extended periods, gradually led to the increasing provision of recreational facilities for them such as swimming pools and tennis courts, thereby also courting the patronage of non-patients and families. As hydropathy became less fashionable so the larger hydros morphed into hydro-hotels, and those that closed were often converted by their new proprietors into ordinary hotels. Having to counter this trend were the traditional hotels which, not wishing to lose custom to the hydros, also had to change.
Hotels During the latter part of the 19th century and the early part of the 20th, many hotel proprietors felt the need to add Turkish baths to their facilities in order to stay competitive. This affected hotels of all sizes including the large railway hotels such as the
Midland in Manchester and the Adelphi in Liverpool, smaller independent ones such as the Windsor Hotel in London or the Cockburn in Edinburgh, those at the seaside such as the
Granville in Ramsgate and the Metropole in Brighton, together with numerous ordinary small hotels in towns around the British Isles and abroad. The size of a hotel was not necessarily an indication of the size of its Turkish baths or of the facilities they comprised. Records of what was included in the smaller hotels are especially difficult to find. The Midland Hotel, lavishly designed by
Charles Trubshaw, for example, though 'replete with every convenience and luxury' was 'smaller than other similar places' in Manchester. The unusually named Romo Thermæ Baths at the Windsor Hotel, which advertised widely but briefly, only described some of its facilities when it re-opened following its 1888 refurbishment. Noted were three hot rooms at 270 °F, , and , with a cooling-room at . There was a shampooer 'always in attendance', a 'swimming pool', and the constant availability of ordinary hot water baths. A separate advertorial refers to the cooling-room being decorated with ferns and rockwork, and 'strewn with Persian rugs'. This establishment was, in effect, little different from a standalone Turkish bath but housed in a hotel rather than a converted house or shop. The most impressive Turkish baths in London, after the wartime destruction of the Jermyn Street baths, was that designed by
Fitzroy Doll in the basement and sub-basement of the extension to the Imperial Hotel in Russell Square. Opened in 1913, it was one of three London establishments where the men's baths were open all night. It closed in 1966 and was demolished with the rest of the hotel. Open to non-residents, the baths had a separate entrance from the street as well as access from the hotel. Shoes and other outdoor clothing were deposited in a cloakroom just outside the main entrance, before entering an inner hall leading into the main open area of the baths. This was a long 'great hall' best described as 'a nave of nine bays formed by octagonal piers.' Towards the top of these were terracotta figures in elaborate niches, a few of which have been placed in the courtyard of the current hotel. On either long side of the 'nave' were aisles, and above them galleries—mostly divided into rest areas furnished with beds surrounded by red curtains. At either end of the hall was a 'mean staircase' starting as a single flight, and dividing into two, each at right angles to the first, and leading up to one of the galleries. Painted coats of arms decorated the Jacobean style ceiling, from which were suspended rotating fans, and 'spiky' lights. Halfway between the two aisles was a decorative fountain and, two-thirds of the way along the hall, 'like a Black Mass chancel screen, a wall of wandering stained glass reptiles lit up from within' divided the first part of the room, the
frigidarium, from the
tepidarium beyond. In the centre of the room, continuing under the screen, was a plunge pool allowing swimmers to pass beneath it from one area to the other, while in the aisles there were doors for non-swimmers. The sofas on the dry side gave way to deck chairs of canvas and wood on the wet side. To the right of the
tepidarium was an electric light bath, and to the left, through the waiting room with its three needle showers, was the shampooing room with marble slabs and basins for five masseurs. Finally, at the far end of the hall, behind the staircase, was a small Russian bath and three hot rooms. Their walls were faced with tiles of elaborate 'Moorish' design, their mosaic floors almost completely covered with thick red Turkish carpets, and their white marble seats furnished with white canvas slab cushions and canvas hanging backs, to protect bathers from being burned. Outside London, also impressive, but quite different in style from Doll's Turkish baths, were those in the Hotel Metropole in Brighton. These, like the hotel itself, were designed by the eminent Victorian architect
Alfred Waterhouse for Gordon Hotels Ltd, and opened in 1890. The spacious light-coloured stonework eschewed eastern keyhole arches and, like other large Victorian Turkish baths, its plunge pool passed under a screen into the first hot room—this plunge, however, was filled with cold sea water. Women guests fared badly, the bath initially only being available to them on Tuesday afternoon and evenings, though by 1906 a similar period on Thursdays had been added. In 1959, the hotel was sold to AVP who appointed London's Savoy Turkish Baths to manage the hotel baths for them. Nevertheless, as part of a major redevelopment, they were soon replaced by a health club and swimming pool. Little information is available to indicate how the numerous smaller hotels advertising Turkish baths were fitted up, or what facilities they offered. But the Granville Hotel in Ramsgate, designed by
Edward Welby Pugin, was an exception. Their 'Saline and Mineral Spa Baths' were widely advertised. The Turkish bath, with sea water plunge, could be taken with needle douche and shampooing as optional extras. Other extras included iron, sulphur, soda, seaweed or iodine baths, and it was claimed that the saline spa waters were 'most efficacious in all cases of relaxed throats, bronchitis, and consumption'.
Victorian Turkish baths in clubs In the latter part of the 19th century, Victorian Turkish baths were occasionally installed in clubs, with the result that they were only available for use by members of those clubs and their guests. Such clubs were of two types, with slightly different emphases. The majority comprised clubs set up, especially in Scotland, specifically to provide swimming pools for its members, to which Turkish baths, gymnasia, and other facilities might later be added. But swimming was not always the primary interest. Sometimes, as in the
Boston Athletic Association clubhouse, and in the socially exclusive
Prince's Racquet and Tennis Club in London, other sporting activities were the ''raison d'être'' of the club, and the addition of a swimming pool and Turkish baths was already seen at the planning stage to be a natural complement to the club's main activities. The remaining few were typically English "gentlemen's clubs" providing accommodation, dining rooms and bars, writing and smoking rooms, possibly a library, and additionally, though only rarely, a swimming pool and Turkish bath. In Scotland, where there was no legal requirement for local authorities to provide both first and second class baths, eight companies were set up to provide swimming pools for the better off who did not wish to use the 'invariably dirty' public pools where 'the spittoons were never clean' and their changing rooms overcrowded. Two of these were in Edinburgh, five in Glasgow, and one in Greenock. In Glasgow, both the Arlington and Western baths clubs, with their Victorian Turkish baths, are still open. In Edinburgh, the Drumsheugh Baths Club is also still open, but its Turkish bath was closed some time during the 1970s.
The Arlington Baths Club The Arlington, opening in 1871, was the first such club in Scotland, and has now had women members for many years. Although
John Burnet's original building (now Category A Listed) did not include a Turkish bath, the club quickly built a simple one in the basement, and installed a permanent one in 1875 in the first of the building's extensions. The T-shaped baths were headed by the
frigidarium with benches round its walls and easy chairs in the centre. Double doors and a short curtained passageway led to the large square
tepidarium, with its high domed ceiling pierced with 'Moorish' star-shaped stained-glass openings and, at the centre of its tiled floor, a shallow octagonal pool fed by a small decorative fountain. Inside the
tepidarium, opposite the entrance, a wall comprising three large arches and a doorway led to the
caldarium. The lower portion only of each arch was filled with plate glass which, in the central arch, was pivoted so that it could be opened. Other double doors led from the entrance passageway to the shampooing room. Further on was the washing room, and a small plunge pool connected, through an opening in the wall, directly with the main swimming pool. Above the water, the opening was covered with plate glass allowing bathers to swim underneath from one area to the other. Today, the hot room temperatures are lower than the original 144 °F–210 °F range, there is no plunge pool, and the arches enclosing the
caldarium are now fully glazed, so that none swivels. Otherwise, apart from the stoves, and the decorative fountain, later replaced by a drinking fountain, the baths remain largely as they were when built. The Arlington Baths Club was the inspiration behind Greenock's West End Baths Club, and also for The Bath Club in London, which persuaded Mr Robertson, the Arlington's second Bath Master, to move to London to manage it.
The Royal Automobile Club When the recently renamed
Royal Automobile Club moved into its new Pall Mall premises in 1911, its male-only members were all motoring enthusiasts or connected in some way with the motor industry or
motorsport. It is best known for establishing the RAC roadside assistance service, though this is no longer owned by the club. Gradually the membership broadened until it is now predominately a social and athletic club, with additional premises near Epsom. The main London clubhouse was designed in the Beaux Arts tradition by the Anglo-French partnership of
Charles Mewès (1858–1914) and the Englishman,
Arthur Joseph Davis (1878–1951), architects of
The Ritz Hotel, which had opened in nearby Piccadilly five years earlier. Sports facilities in the basement include a modern gym, squash courts, the Victorian-style Turkish baths, treatment rooms, and the full-sized Pompeian-style swimming pool. The entrance to the baths is down a passageway leading from the main vestibule into the large irregularly shaped
frigidarium with its marble clad walls. Curtained changing cubicles, with couches for relaxation, originally lined the long sides of the room. Even looked at from an early 20th-century perspective, it is surprising to find that the only way from the
frigidarium to the
tepidarium was through the alcove set aside for smokers—though state-of-the-art air-conditioning probably relieved any non-smokers' discomfort. A three-panel glass screen at the far end of the
tepidarium originally allowed bathers to observe the main swimming pool. From the
tepidarium, bathers could progress either to the
caldarium and
laconicum or, turning right, try the Russian vapour bath, take a cold plunge in the narrow long pool, or be given a shampoo on one of the six slabs in the shampooing room. The rooms were heated by passing clean filtered air over high pressure steam tubes, raising it to the required temperature. In the majority of Victorian Turkish baths, the hot air then passes through each room in turn, cooling on its way. But at the RAC, this was considered objectionable. Instead, each room had its own fresh-air inlet near the ceiling, and an extraction grating on the opposite wall near the floor. Towards the end of World War I, the club was requisitioned for use as war offices, but after much discussion the baths were allowed to remain open for use by 'officers on short leave'. The Turkish baths remained open day and night and over 74,000 baths were taken, officers knowing that 'when they could not find a bed anywhere, they could always come to the Turkish bath at the club.' At the end of the 1990s, the Royal Automobile Club—now totally divorced from RAC Motoring Services—undertook a major refurbishment of its building. An initial suggestion that a large corridor should, in effect, cut the Turkish bath in two was defeated after members went public with their objections. As a result, with one or two exceptions, the baths now look little different from how they appeared when first opened. Behind the scenes, changes have been far-reaching, with pool equipment, drainage, and heating systems all utilising modern technology. More visibly changed is the plunge pool with its modern sauna and adjacent shower. In the
frigidarium, three walls are now lined with relaxation cubicles instead of the original two, and much of the earlier furniture and fittings survives. The smoking area has, of course, disappeared and the once transparent panels at the rear end of the
tepidarium have been replaced with frosted glass, so there is no longer a view over the swimming pool. Temperatures in Turkish baths today are generally cooler that those aimed for in Victorian and Edwardian times. Here the original
laconicum temperature of has been reduced to a maximum of 154 °F. No longer a male-only preserve, men and women each have one day in the week for single-sex bathing when, except in the
frigidarium, nude bathing is still permitted. The other days are mixed sessions where costumes are mandatory.
Victorian Turkish baths in ocean liners The
White Star Line was the first to provide Turkish baths for passengers on one of its liners—the
Adriatic—in 1907. It was soon followed in 1913 by the
Hamburg America Line (HAPAG) on its
Imperator, and in 1930 by the
Canadian Pacific Line on its
Empress of Britain. White Star was proud of its innovation and the baths were mentioned in most of its publicity.
The Adriatic The Turkish baths comprised hot and temperate rooms, a cooling-room, two shampooing rooms, and a plunge pool with an all-round needle douche. In addition to the rugs, couches, and seats in the cooling-room, there was also a mirrored dressing-table and a weighing-chair. Placed as close as possible to the hot room was the thermo tank containing coils of steam-filled pipes over which air was blown to heat it on its way through the hot rooms. Complementing the Turkish baths, and separated from them by a corridor, were three electric baths. Tickets for the Turkish or electric baths had to be purchased at the ship's enquiry desk. Either type of bath cost five shillings and sixpence, or one dollar twenty-five cents. The baths were available to men and women at separate times, though fewer hours were allocated for women's use than for men's. Both company and passengers must have been satisfied with the well-planned baths because when the ship was refurbished after World War I, and again in 1928 when it was converted to a cabin class liner, there were relatively few changes made. Because the electric baths had previously been under-used, one was converted into a dressing room, while space was made for a chiropodist in another one. Otherwise, apart from adding curtains round some of the couches, a larger dressing-table, and a more sophisticated weighing-chair, little else was altered.
The Olympic and Titanic The midsummer issue of
The Shipbuilder was a special number devoted to the two sister ships. The journal’s description of the Turkish baths and their adjoining swimming pools applied, in all but the smallest detail, to both ships, though most of the images which survive are actually of the
Olympic. Although the actual layout of the various rooms differed, each Turkish bath comprised a cooling-room, temperate and hot rooms, and two shampooing rooms with slabs and circular needle douches. There was no plunge pool such as the one on the
Adriatic because of the adjacent swimming pool but, complementing the Turkish baths, each had a steam room and an
electric bath. By all published accounts, confirmed by the images of the
Titanic brought up by
James Cameron's 2012 dive to
the wreck on the ocean bed, the cooling-room was one of the most extraordinary rooms in the ship. Tickets for first class passengers wishing to take either Turkish or electric baths cost four shillings or one dollar, and were available for separate men's or women's sessions. Passengers on the
Titanic were looked after by a team of three men (J B Crosbie, W Ennis, and L Taylor) none of whom was to survive the voyage, and two women (Annie Caton and Mrs Maud Slocombe), both of whom were more fortunate. It seems fair to deduce that most passengers who took Turkish baths on the two liners were satisfied, hence the decision to include them later on the two Queens.
The Berengaria (originally the Imperator) In 1913, the Hamburg America Line (HAPAG) brought its showpiece liner SS
Imperator into service. But in 1919 it became part of the Cunard Line as compensation for the sinking of the
Lusitania during World War I and was renamed RMS
Berengaria. The Turkish baths adjoined the ship's two-storey high Pompeian-style swimming pool. This was designed by
Charles Mewès and inspired by a similar pool built in 1907 for the Royal Automobile Club, of which Mewès was also one of the architects. The Turkish baths comprised three hot rooms, a resting (or cooling–) room, dressing rooms, and two shampooing rooms. Complementing the Turkish baths were a number of electric cabinet baths, though it is not known exactly what type of electric baths these were. The
Berengaria's first Turkish bath supervisor was Arthur Mason, a professional masseur who had trained under
Sir Robert Jones. Mason's young assistant in 1935, fifteen year old John Dempsey, later wrote a book about the Turkish baths on the White Star and
Cunard liners in which he had worked. On the
Berengaria, part of Dempsey's job was to show bathers to the changing cubicles and take them to the first hot room. Each was provided with towel, jug of drinking water and a glass.:pp. 5–11 Next to the hot rooms was a shower with big-jet hose pipes. Stimulating and therapeutic, the jets were sprayed onto the bathers following their Turkish bath, after which they were helped to dry off, returned to their cubicle, covered with towels, and told to relax prior to their massage. The massage room had a central table, and raffia brushes were used to soap the bathers before their massage. Many well-known males, including the Prince of Wales, took advantage of the facilities on the
Berengaria. They included Johnny Weissmuller (the screen Tarzan), comedian Phil Silvers, actor George Arliss, Noël Coward, and H G Wells. There was no Turkish bath for women passengers.
The Queen Mary After the installation of Turkish baths on the
Berengaria and the first two 'Olympic' Class ships,
Olympic and
Titanic, White Star Line included them as a matter of course on the
Britannic.:p. 230 But the third ship never welcomed paying passengers as it was taken into service as a hospital ship shortly after the beginning of World War I, and was sunk in November 1916.
RMS Queen Mary sailed between 1936 and 1968, mainly across the Atlantic Ocean. It was owned by the (now merged)
Cunard-White Star Line until 1949, when ownership passed to the new Cunard Line. Arthur Mason was moved from the aged
Berengaria to become the masseur on the new ship, and he soon asked for John Dempsey to become his assistant again. The Turkish baths were on C Deck, with the main entrance opposite the First Class dining room, and a second smaller one from a balcony overlooking the two-deck high swimming pool. The large
frigidarium had eight cubicles, each with a bed, a locker with hangers, and large plush curtains which could be pulled across for privacy. Beyond the last cubicle, the shampooing room had two armour plated glass massage slabs, together with wash-basins and a shower. A passageway with a drinking-fountain at the end led to the three interconnected hot rooms on the pool side of the baths. These were maintained at temperatures ranging from to , and had glass windows in their doors so that the attendants could check if anyone seemed unwell. Complementing the Turkish baths were a Russian steam bath, an electric lamp bath, and an electric therapy room in which bathers could obtain ultra-violet, infrared, or diathermy treatments under the supervision of the nursing sister or dispenser. Following the practice now prevailing on other liners, there were separate Turkish bath sessions for male and female passengers. But, as in most public baths, the hours were not evenly distributed. During World War II, the Queen Mary was requisitioned as a troop carrier. For some years after the post-war refit and relaunch in 1946, it seemed as though things would soon be back to normal. But by the 1960s, the liner's usage figures were being examined very closely as travellers increasingly considered the advantages of speedy air travel.
The Queen Elizabeth In March 1940, the newly built
RMS Queen Elizabeth went into service as a troopship for the duration of World War II. In 1946, after a post-war refit, the liner sailed, mainly across the Atlantic Ocean, until 1968. It was initially owned by the merged Cunard-White Star Line until the company was succeeded in 1949 by the Cunard Line. John Dempsey was appointed to run the Turkish baths from the outset. The facilities within the Turkish baths were similar to those on the
Queen Mary but the layout was different, with the various areas on either side of a long corridor. This was around ten foot wide and was, in effect, the
frigidarium. On the left were eight compartments which could be separated by curtains for privacy, each containing a bed, a combined mirrored dressing-table with cupboard below, and a bench seat. The modern shower had jets of hot or icy cold water, and the shampooing room was fitted with two up-to-date tables with chrome surrounds and a two-inch armoured glass surface. There were three hot rooms: the
tepidarium at , the
caldarium at , and the smaller
laconicum at . Complementing the Turkish baths, and within the same area, were a Russian steam room, and a room with an electric lamp bath. The latter was so little used, however, that it was soon converted into a linen room. The baths were open each day from 7.00am until 10.00am, and from 2.00pm until 7.00pm for the male passengers, and from 10.00am until 2.00pm, under the direction of Mrs Wilson (the masseuse) for female passengers. Passengers who used the Turkish baths usually booked for the whole voyage and, most often, at the same time every day.
Financial realities By the beginning of the 1960s, the idea of leisurely trips across the Atlantic was increasingly affected by the growth of fast travel by air. Passenger numbers fell, and Cunard examined the costs of every aspect of their liner operation. On the
Queen Mary, a Turkish bath with an alcohol rub cost 10s. A bath and rub on each of the three full days of the voyage cost only £1 5s 0d. (19) A memo from Cunard's head office, dated 6 May 1963, noted that on the
Queen Mary, the cost of the Turkish baths staff (two males, one female, and a boy) exceeded the receipts by £2,298 5s 0d; this was even more than the £1,971 5s 0d loss (with the same complement of staff) made on the slightly newer
Queen Elizabeth. The writer, Mr T Laird, asked if overtime was being worked, and whether losing one member of staff and raising prices would improve the situation. Takings continued to decline for a further year. It is not known whether any changes were actually made to the level of staffing or to the basic price of a Turkish bath, but by this time Cunard would already have been considering whether to continue the liners in service. When new ships were built to cater for 21st century holiday cruises, none included Victorian-style Turkish baths. Sauna, steam room and wellness spas had become the new essential facility. ==The Victorian Turkish bath today==