44 C O N T E X T 1 4 4 : M A Y 2 0 1 6 Book reviews Hot gossip Victorian Turkish Baths Malcolm Shifrin, Historic England, 2015, 366 pages, 173 colour illustrations, 234 black and white illustrations, ISBN 978 1 848022 30 0, £70 The Turkish bath has a history which can be traced directly to the Romans, through the fall of the capital of the eastern empire, Constantinople, to the Ottomans in 1453. Victorian observers were rarely admirers of the Ottoman Empire, which they were prone to characterise as ‘the sick man of Europe’, but an aspect of eastern life that was usually accepted as an advance over the practices of the west was an enhanced attitude towards personal hygiene. As smaller schoolchildren are so delighted to learn, our western ancestors tended to be grubby and probably slightly smelly. Even if you entertain private doubts about their oft-reported degree of filth, the personal cleansing regimes of the past certainly provided room for improvement. Malcolm Shifrin’s magisterial and frequently surprising book charts the rise and fall of the Victorian Turkish bath movement from the very first establishment in County Cork in 1856, quickly spreading across Ireland to northern England, then onward to the whole nation and the furthest bounds of the former British empire. It is not an exaggeration to describe it as a movement. Turkish baths were constructed as commercial speculations, as philanthropic provisions and, eventually, by municipalities for the health and invigoration of the working man, but they show little sign of ever having been very profitable and a significant number in smaller towns failed early. The men who established them appear to have been enthusiasts first and businessmen second. Perhaps it is unsurprising that medical practitioners were early adopters and vigorous proponents of Turkish baths – but it is most surprising that they were occasionally provided in workhouses (although, with the honourable exception of the Poor Law Commissioners of Kings Lynn, mostly in the southern counties of Ireland) and quite often in asylums as well. While there is an optimal layout for a proper Turkish bath, dictated by the necessary arrangement of hot, warm and cooler rooms, Shifrin describes an enormous variety of different buildings, large and small, across Britain and Ireland, sometimes purpose built but frequently converted. Later installations also included Russian baths – which differ fromTurkish by employing steam – as well as slipper baths or swimming pools. They were very often designed in a middle-eastern idiom frequently described as ‘Saracenic’ in their time, although the integrity of their detailing could vary between the scholarly and the gimcrack. Internally they were usually tiled, but the quality and ambiance of rooms would depend on budget and the intended audience. Architects well remembered today designed Turkish baths, such as Cuthbert Brodrick, although his magnificent scheme for Leeds was diluted in execution. The baths attained an even coverage across the nation. It would be easy to assume that Calvinist Scots or Ulstermen might shy away from such warm, hedonistic pleasures, but the Victorians were keen to emphasise the invigorating nature of the process. As we know, cleanliness is next to Godliness. Andrew Carnegie, famous for his philanthropic libraries, provided not one but two Turkish baths for his home town, Paisley. The broadest value of this book is to shine a light on aspects of Victorian society that we, burdened by preconceptions, might never imagine. From the very beginning, some Turkish baths were provided with a separate entrance, to strictly separate rooms, for women, although women do not appear to have adopted them as keenly as men. Is this attributable to sisterly modesty or because women enjoyed less disposable income? We shall probably never know, but use by both genders meant that husband and wife teams were often employed to run the facilities. Some facilities became the reserve of local worthies, keen to make use of languid afternoons cultivating business contacts and making deals. The Cheltenham baths were frequented by jockeys, who could lose a useful few pounds before a race; consequently they became popular with bookmakers, alert to catch the racing gossip. Depending on the fee, others were frequented by working men, perhaps the sort given to pursuits of an improving nature, temperance or evenings spent at the Mechanics’ Institute. Some, such as the GWR Baths at Swindon, or the LNWR Baths at Crewe, were provided by paternalistic employers. Although there was a minor revival in the inter-war period, Turkish baths entered an accelerating spiral of decline after the second world war. The businessmen headed for the golf course, and the working men decided to save their sixpences and use the bathrooms in their new council houses. Only a handful of Turkish baths survive in their original form and use. A whole world has been lost, but Malcolm Shifrin is to be commended for bringing it back to vivid life. Michael Scammell, a conservation officer for the South Downs National Park Authority Scottish connections The Architectural Landscape and Constitutional Plans of the Earl of Mar, 1700-32 Margaret Stewart, Four Courts Press, 2016, 448 pages, 186 illustrations, ISBN 978 1 846825 75 0, hardback, £50 Margaret Stewart’s biography of the sixth Earl of Mar is a long-awaited account and rigorous appraisal of a key figure in Scottish political and architectural history. Stewart sets out the
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