Leadership Research Findings Practice and Skills 8th Edition Dubrin Test Bank

Leadership Research Findings Practice
and Skills 8th Edition DuBrin Test Bank

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Leadership Research Findings Practice and Skills 8th Edition DuBrin Test Bank
True / False
1. The trait approach to leadership is based on the idea that effective leaders are made of the "right stuff."
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
RATIONALE: According to the trait approach to leadership, “Leaders do not have to be great men or
women by being intellectual geniuses or omniscient prophets to succeed. But they do need to
have the ‘right stuff’ and this stuff is not equally present in all people.” See “The Strengths
and Limitations of The Trait Approach.”
POINTS: 1
DIFFICULTY: Easy
LEARNING OBJECTIVES: 2.5
NATIONAL STANDARDS: United States - BUSPROG - Analytic
STATE STANDARDS: United States - OHIO - DISC: Leadership Principles
TOPICS: The Strengths and Limitations of The Trait Approach
KEYWORDS: Bloom's: Knowledge
NOTES: Digital story: Engage
2. According to one authority cited in the leadership text, humility adds value to leadership.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
RATIONALE: Great leadership is manifested or articulated by people who know how to understate it. There
is leadership value in humility, the leadership that comes from putting people in the limelight,
not yourself. See “Personality Traits of Effective Leaders.”
POINTS: 1
DIFFICULTY: Easy
TOPICS: Personality Traits of Effective Leaders
3. Telling the truth consistently is considered an important trust builder for leaders.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
RATIONALE: Telling the truth consistently is considered an important trust builder for leaders. See
“Personality Traits of Effective Leaders.”
POINTS: 1
DIFFICULTY: Easy
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4. A synthesis of research studies suggests that when workers trust their supervisor, work satisfaction tends to be higher.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
RATIONALE: A synthesis of research studies suggests that when workers trust their supervisor, work
satisfaction tends to be higher. See “Personality Traits of Effective Leaders.”
POINTS: 1
DIFFICULTY: Easy
5. An assertive leader finds the right balance between being pushy and being passive.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
RATIONALE: An assertive person is reasonably tactful rather than being aggressive and obnoxious. A
leader with good sensitivity, or emotional intelligence, knows when assertiveness crosses the
line into aggressiveness, such as insulting subordinates or making unreasonable demands.
See “Personality Traits of Effective Leaders.”
POINTS: 1
DIFFICULTY: Moderate
KEYWORDS: Bloom's: Comprehension
NOTES: Digital story: Connect
6. A key part of being an authentic leader is to be passionate about your purpose.

a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
RATIONALE: A key part of being an authentic leader is to be passionate about your purpose. See
POINTS: 1
DIFFICULTY: Easy
7. An effective form of humor by the leader is to poke fun at the problems and limitations of group members.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: False
RATIONALE: Aggressive humor can be used to victimize, belittle, and cause others some type of
disparagement—and will lead to negative outcomes such as stress and counter-hostility
among group members. See “Personality Traits of Effective Leaders.”
POINTS: 1
DIFFICULTY: Easy
8. Leaders are likely to acquire more power if they use humor to build themselves up.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
RATIONALE: Leaders are likely to acquire more power if they use humor to build themselves up. See
POINTS: 1
DIFFICULTY: Easy
9. A recommended way of building passion into a business is for the leader to tell a story about its creation.
a. True
b. False
ANSWER: True
RATIONALE: One of the ways for an entrepreneur to inject passion into a business is to tell a creation-of-
the-enterprise story. The story should inspire people to understand how your product or cause
will make the world a better place. See “Personality Traits of Effective Leaders.”
POINTS: 1
DIFFICULTY: Easy
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This chief of luxuries is common, in a barbarous land and under a
despotism, to every man, woman, and child; to the poorest as to the
richest, and to the richest no otherwise and no better than to the
poorest.[42] But how is it paid for? How can it be within the reach of the
poor? They pay according to their means. What each person gives is put
into a common stock; the box is opened once a week, and the distribution
of the contents is made according to a scale: the master of the bath comes
in for his share just like the rest. A person of distinction will give a
pound or more; the common price that, at Constantinople, a tradesman
would pay, was from tenpence to a shilling, workmen from twopence to
threepence. In a village near Constantinople, where I spent some months,
the charge for men was a halfpenny,[43] for women three farthings. A
poor person will lay down a few parahs to show that he has not more to
give, and where the poor man is so treated he will give as much as he
can. He will not, like the poor Roman, have access alone, but his cup of
coffee and a portion of the service like the rest.[44] Such rules are not to
be established, but such habits may be destroyed by laws.
This I have observed, that wherever the bath is used it is not confined
to any class of the community, as if it was felt to be too good a thing to
be denied to any.
I must now conduct the reader into the Moorish bath. First, there was
no bath linen. They go in naked. Then there is but one room, under
which there is an oven, and a pot, open into the bath, is boiling on the
fire below. There were no pattens—the floor burning hot—so we got
boards. At once the operation commenced, which is analogous to the
glove. There was a dish of gazule, for the shampooer to rub his hands in.
I was seated on the board, with my legs straight out before me; the
shampooer seated himself on the same board behind me, stretching out
his legs. He then made me close my fingers upon the toes of his feet, by
which he got a purchase against me, and rubbing his hands in the gazule,
commenced upon the middle of my back, with a sharp motion up and
down, between beating and rubbing, his hands working in opposite
directions. After rubbing in this way the back, he pulled my arms
through his own and through each other, twisting me about in the most
extraordinary manner, and drawing his fingers across the region of the
diaphragm, so as to make me, a practised bather, shriek. After rubbing in
this way the skin, and stretching at the same time the joints of my upper
body, he came and placed himself at my feet, dealing with my legs in
like manner. Then thrice taking each leg and lifting it up, he placed his
head under the calf, and raising himself, scraped the leg as with a rough
brush, for his shaved head had the grain downwards. The operation
concluded by his biting my heel.
The bath becomes a second nature, and long privation so increases the
zest, that I was not disposed to be critical; but, if by an effort of the
imagination I could transport the Moorish bath to Constantinople, and
had then to choose between the hamâm of Eshi Serai or my own at
home, and this one of the Moors, I must say, I never should see the inside
of a Moorish bath again. It certainly does clear off the epidermis, work
the flesh, excite the skin, set at work the absorbent and exuding vessels,
raise the temperature, apply moisture;—but the refinements and luxuries
are wanting.
A great deal of learning has been expended upon the baths of the
ancients, and a melancholy exhibition it is—so much acuteness and
research, and no profit. The details of these wonderful structures, the
evidences of their usefulness, have prompted no prince, no people of
Europe to imitate them, and so acquire honour for the one, health for the
other. The writers, indeed, present not living practices, but cold and ill-
assorted details, as men must do who profess to describe what they
themselves do not comprehend. From what I have said, the identity of
the Turkish bath, with that of the Romans, will be at once perceived, and
the apparent discrepancies and differences explained. The apodyterium is
the mustaby or entrance-hall; after this comes the sweating-apartment,
subdivided by difference of degrees. Then two operations are performed,
shampooing, and the clearing off of the epidermis. The Romans had in
the tepidarium and the sudatorium distinct attendants for the two
operations; the first shampooer receiving the appropriate name of
tractator; the others, who used the strigil, which was equivalent to the
glove, being called suppetones. The appearance of the strigil in no way
alters the character of the operation. They used sponges also for rubbing
down, like the Moorish gazule. They used no soap; neither do the Moors;
—the Turks use it after the operation is concluded. The Laconicum I
understood when I saw the Moorish bath, with the pot of water, heated
from the fire below, boiling up into the bath. I then recollected that there
is in the Turkish baths an opening, by which the steam from the boilers
can be let in, although not frequently so used, nor equally placed within
observation. Many of the Turkish baths have, doubtless, been originally
Greek. The change in respect to the use of cold water is compensated
for[45] by the cold air of the outer room, into which the Turks come, and
is preserved in the partial use of cold water for the feet. The hot-water
reservoirs, the labrum and solium, are still to be seen in the private baths;
they are in those of the Alhambra. When used, the character of running
water, an essential point among the Turks, is given to them, by a hole
being left below, which is unplugged, and a stream kept running in above
from a cock. It would appear that the Romans followed the same method.
The piscinum of the Romans is found in the Moorish gardens. In the use
of depilatories, or the shaving off the hair, the practice of the Turks is
exactly that of the Romans; the parts of the bath appropriated to that
purpose being the same. The olearea are alone wanting. The
Mussulmans would consider this smearing of the body with oil or
ointments not as a part of the bath, but a defilement, for which the
purification of the bath was requisite.[46]
The Romans used the bath to excess, taking it daily; the Mussulmans
restricted its use to once a-week. The Romans entered the bath naked;
the Mussulmans have introduced a bathing costume; the Romans
allowed the two sexes to enter promiscuously, the Mussulmans have
wholly separated them. Preserving the good, they have purified it from
excesses, which, to a people of less discrimination, might have appeared
to constitute its essential characters, or to be entailed as its necessary
consequences. Our studies and learning have furnished us with no such
results. These very excesses have been assigned as a reason for the
disuse of the bath by the early Christians. If the explanation were true,
the difference between the Christians and the Mussulmans would amount
to this, that the first could see and reject the evil, the second perceive and
select the good.
There is one point connected with the bath on which I must say a few
words, especially as in this case our usages do not present any obstacle to
the adoption of a good habit, and I have repeatedly had the gratification
of finding that the suggestions which follow were of use.
Those who wash the rest of their body, often except the head;—the
practice of smearing it with oil almost universally prevails. The Easterns
do the reverse—they shave it. A greater comfort there cannot be than a
bald pate. Washing the head is in no case prejudicial. Unless you wash
the head, the washing of the body is neither complete nor satisfactory:
the refreshment of washing the head may often be procured when it is
impossible to wash the body. Soap and water are injurious, not to the
hair, but to the hair-dressers. The men in the East have no hair to show,
but if soap and water injure the hair, whence comes the luxuriant
abundance of that of the women? The hair of the head, like the fur of
animals, is made to bear rain and wind, and to be a protection against
them. You cover it up! The fur of animals thickens and strengthens when
exposed to air and wet. Your hair falls off, and you oil it. If it grows
weak, change its habits. If it is not washed, and if it is oiled, begin to
wash it, and leave off oiling it.
Every week an Eastern lady has her hair thoroughly washed at the
bath. It is first well soaped and rubbed. They are very particular about
soap, and use none but that made of olive oil. The Castile soap, which in
this country is sold at the apothecary’s, is the soap the least injurious to
the skin. This is twice repeated. After the soap, they apply a paste of
Armenian bole and rose-leaves. This is rubbed into the roots of the hair,
and left to imbibe all the grease of the head; it is then, like the soap,
washed off with bowls of hot water, and leaves the locks perfectly clean
and silken. From time to time they dye it. On these occasions an
attendant mixes up a handful of henna-dust in hot water, and thoroughly
smears with it the hair, which is then turned up into a ball and bound
tightly with a napkin. In this state they go through the bath. When the
napkin is removed, and the henna-paste washed out, the hair, if before
black, will have become of a bronze auburn, and if grey, red. The bath
occupies from three to four hours, with the smoking, chatting, music, and
dancing, which accompany it, in an atmosphere that excludes every
unpleasant sensation. The women are not, like the men, contented with
the bathing-linen and apparatus, which they find there; but are followed
by female slaves, who bear bundles of towels in silk and satin wrappers,
boxwood pattens, incrusted with mother of pearl, silver basins and
bowls, or sometimes enamelled ones, and aloe-wood and ambergris to
perfume both the apartment and their coffee. This finery is less than what
they indulge in in their private baths.
The Romans and Greeks, in like manner, were accompanied by their
slaves, and did not trust to the service of the thermæ. Each person
brought his strigil and his anointing vase (strigilis et ampulla, λήκυθος
καὶ ξύστρα),[47] or sent them by his slave. The practice furnishes the
familiar metaphors which express the different conditions.[48] The strigil
was the sign of comfort, and also of sobriety and industry. It was,
according to Cicero, necessary to the happiness of the Roman citizen; it
had to do with the fortunes of the Roman state. Rome was indebted to
her strigil as well as her sword for the conquest of the world.
This constant washing occasions, it may be supposed, an enormous
waste of water. A Turk uses less water than an English gentleman. It is
true, every Turk, high and low, uses the same quantity, and washes in the
same manner; but the utensils and conveniences are differently adapted.
There are no wash-hand basins and ewers in bedrooms, no foot-pans,
hip-baths, shower-baths, &c. They do not dabble in dirty water, defiling
a great quantity. They wash under a stream of water, running from a
fountain, urn, or ewer. A handful serves to moisten the soap and to rub
with it, and a couple more rinse it completely off. The fountains are
placed in the passages, staircases, &c. By the mosques, and in the streets,
they are so arranged that, by sitting on a step, you can wash the feet and
the head. When you wash in a room, one attendant brings the basin, laen,
with its pierced cover and kneels before you; another the ewer, ibrik,
with its long, narrow neck to pour the water.[49] In the bath, steam and
perspiration cleanse, and two or three large saucerfuls suffice for rinsing;
—fifty persons may be bathed with the water that serves to fill our
trough for washing one.
What a difference it makes in domestic comfort to be certain that
every person around you, and every thing you touch and eat are
absolutely clean! After this manner of life, the habits of Europe are most
painful: you are constantly oppressed with the touch, or sight, or
knowledge of things which, by the European, are not considered clean,
and submitted to as unavoidable. It would but faintly describe my
impressions to say, that I felt as if passing from a refined to a rude
condition of society. Neither do we know how to cultivate or handle the
body. One of the first thoughts was, “What shall I do in sickness?” All
Europe’s seductions and luxuries put together will not make up for this
one.
The European is clean, in so far as he is so, for appearance; he has
clothes and shoe-brushes, blacking, starch, smoothing-irons, &c.; in
these consist his neatness.[50] The clean shirt is put upon the dirty body;
the hands and face being alone open to the air and sun and the eyes of the
neighbours, are washed. Nothing is filthy that is unseen.[51] The Eastern
has no brush or blacking; no care is expended or expense incurred for
neatness. He has his religious ablutions for prayer.[52] He will not tell
you that he washes for his comfort or his health, but because it would be
a sin not to do so.
Whatever proceeds from the body is impure; to touch anything with it
is sinful, were it even a beast. To spit on a dog is wicked.[53] If by act or
accident the Mussulman is rendered unclean he has to wash himself. The
soiling of his carpet may entail the ablution of the whole body; while it
remains unperformed he is ipso facto excommunicated—can take part in
no ceremony, say no prayer. He is strictly in the scriptural sense
“unclean.” All injunctions of the same sort are in like manner enforced.
These are the first lessons taught the child, and become a second nature;
and, re-acting on the belief from which they spring, give to it that
surprising hold over the mind. They pass through life, generation after
generation, without probably a single instance of the infringement of
rules brought into operation every hour of the day.
Following the instinct of the dog, and obeying the injunction of the
ceremonial law,[54] their canon law inhibits defilement of the public
roads, the streets, water-tanks and courses, fruit-trees, and any places
which serve for resort, shade, repose, or retreat.[55] In “Hadji Baba” is a
ludicrous account of the perplexities of a Persian in one of the modern
adaptations of civilization to cleanliness—his ineffectual attempts to get
at the gushing water, his inability to work the machinery or comprehend
the purpose. In that part of their house there is a water-cock for use. The
flooring is of marble—the water falls and runs, and high wooden pattens
are used. The outer cloth garments are left outside—the ample sleeves
are tucked up. If there be no fixed pipe a ewer is at hand, and a servant
waits outside with basin, ewer, and napkin. In consequence of the offices
attached to every mosque, their cities do not present offensive smells,
disgusting filth and revolting indecency. One hand is set apart for noble,
the other for ignoble service. The left hand on its dying day has not so
much as touched the mouth; the right is in equal ignorance of other parts
of the body. This is the natural sense of the words: “Let not thy right
hand know what thy left hand doeth.”[56]
I have not hesitated to allude to matters which our false refinement
forbids to mention, and thus the sensibility given us to put away what is
impure is diverted merely to its concealment. The reader must fill up this
faint sketch from his imagination, and when he has done so, he will
understand why an Eastern cannot endure Europe, and why Christians
amongst Mussulmans are called “dogs.”[57]
Why should the ladies of the East have enjoyments from which ours
are debarred, and sensations too of which they know nothing? It may be
said the Turkish ladies so make up for their “exclusion from society:”—
they have no balls or operas, morning concerts or fancy fairs, and
therefore they take up with these merely sensual indulgences. They
would no more exchange their bath for your balls, than you would your
balls for a Yankee camp-meeting. There is no necessity for exchange.
Why not have both? Would it be no comfort, no pleasure, no benefit to
an English lady, on returning from a ball, and before going to bed, to be
able, divested of whalebone and crinoline, and robed as an Atalanta, to
enter marble chambers with mosaic floors, and be refreshed and purified
from the toil she has undergone, and prepared for the soft enjoyment of
the rest she seeks? The hanging gardens of Babylon were devised by the
love of Nature of a Median woman; the palaces and groves of the Azahra
laid out by the taste of a Numidian:—why should not England owe to the
delicacy of an Englishwoman[58] the restoration of the thermæ?
Our intercourse with the lower orders is broken off by there being no
settled occasion on which we are in contact with them, and by the want
of cleanliness in their persons. Here both classes are constantly brought
into the presence of each other. Contempt and distaste are removed on
one side, degradation and irritation on the other: they know one another:
the intercourse of various ranks requires and sustains a style and
demeanour which strike all Europeans, who are astonished that the
bearing of the peasant is as courtly as that of the Pasha: he is as clean as
the Pasha. Think of a country where difference of rank makes no
difference of cleanliness! What must Easterns think of us where the
difference of condition can be traced—in speech, manner, and washing.
The bath is of as great value to the society as to the individual. A
political economist, glorifying his age, exclaims—“Augustus in all his
splendour had neither glass for his window nor a shirt to his back.” The
slave and the beggar in Rome were daily in the enjoyment of luxuries
which no European monarch knows.
There is an impression that the bath is weakening. We can test this in
three ways; its effects on those debilitated by disease, on those exhausted
by fatigue, and on those who are long exposed to it.
1. In affection of the lungs and intermittent fever, the bath is
invariably had recourse to against the debilitating nightly perspirations.
The temperature is kept low, not to increase the action of the heart or the
secretions; this danger avoided, its effect is to subdue by a healthy
perspiration in a waking state the unhealthy one in sleep. No one ever
heard of any injury from the bath. The moment a person is ailing he is
hurried off to it.
2. After long and severe fatigue—that fatigue such as we never know
—successive days and nights on horseback—the bath affords the most
astonishing relief. Having performed long journeys on horseback, even
to the extent of ninety-four hours, without taking rest, I know by
experience its effects in the extremest cases.
A Tartar, having an hour to rest, prefers a bath to sleep. He enters as if
drugged with opium, and leaves it, his senses cleared, and his strength
restored as much as if he had slept for several hours. This is not to be
attributed to the heat or moisture alone, but to the shampooing, which in
such cases is of an extraordinary nature. The Tartar sits down and
doubles himself up; the shampooer (and he selects the most powerful
man) then springs with his feet on his shoulders, cracking his vertebræ;
with all his force and weight he pummels the whole back, and then
turning him on his back and face, aided by a second shampooer, tramples
on his body and limbs: the Tartar then lays himself down for half an
hour; and, perhaps, though that is not necessary, sleeps. Well can I recall
the hamâm doors which I have entered, scarcely able to drag one limb
after the other, and from which I have sprung into my saddle again,
elastic as a sinew and light as a feather.
You will see a Hammal (porter), a man living only on rice, go out of
one of those baths where he has been pouring with that perspiration
which we think must prostrate and weaken, and take up his load of five
hundred-weight, placing it unaided on his back.
3. The shampooers spend eight hours daily in the steam; they undergo
great labour there, shampooing, perhaps, a dozen persons, and are
remarkably healthy. They enter the bath at eight years of age: the duties
of the younger portion are light, and chiefly outside in the hall to which
the bathers retire after the bath; still, there they are from that tender age
exposed to the steam and heat, so as to have their strength broken, if the
bath were debilitating. The best shampooer under whose hands I have
ever been, was a man whose age was given me as ninety, and who, from
eight years of age, had been daily eight hours in the bath. This was at the
natural baths of Sophia. I might adduce in like manner the sugar-bakers
in London, who in a temperature not less than that of the bath, undergo
great fatigue, and are also remarkably healthy.
The Romans furnish another example. Unlike the Arabs, who restrict
its use to once a week, they went into it daily. The temperature was
gradually raised, until in the time of Nero it came to be excessive. Their
habits in other respects were not such as to be conducive to health, and
must have disqualified them for enduring the bath: if it did debilitate, it
served therefore as an antidote to their manner of life, and relieved the
excess of the Patrician, as it does to-day the fatigue of the Tartar.
Life is chemical and galvanic, but both these agencies result in, and
depend upon, motion: the vessels are constructed for conveying fluids,
the muscles for generating power. Thus, shampooing exerts over the
human body a power analogous to that of drugs administered by the
mouth. A blow which kills, a posture which benumbs;—pressure, which
in long disease becomes a chief obstacle to recovery, exercise which
gives health and strength—are all evidences of the influence of motion
over our system.
Who has not experienced in headaches and other pains, relief from
the most unartful rubbing? You receive a blow, and involuntarily rub the
part. Cold will kill; the remedy is brandy and friction. The resources of
this process surely deserve to be developed with as much care as that
which has been bestowed upon the Materia Medica. Where practised,
human suffering is relieved, obstructions are removed, indigestion is
cured, paralysis and diseases of the spine, &c., arising from the loss of
muscular power, are within its reach, while they are not under the control
of our medicines. Here is a new method to add to the old. Wherever it
can be employed, how much is it to be preferred to nauseating
substances taken into the stomach; how much must the common practice
of it tend to preserve the vitality of the whole frame! Even if disregarded
as an enjoyment of health, it offers a solace which ought to be invaluable
in the eye of a medical man, as of course it must be of the patient. We
have all to play that part.
Where the practice is familiar, it is used not merely in the bath, but
upon all occasions. It is to be found without the bath, as among the
Hindoos, some Tartar tribes, the Chinese, and the Sandwich islands:—
the latter presents one of the most remarkable of phenomena. The
different ranks are those of different stature. The chiefs are sunk in sloth
and immorality; and yet it is not they, who, like the grandees of Spain,
are the diminutive and decrepit race;—they are shampooed.[59] A
practice which our epicures and our stoics, our patients and our doctors,
would turn up the nose at, counteracts the consequences of gluttony,
intoxication, debauchery, and sloth, and supplies the place of exercise
and temperance; and a people which can boast no school of philosophy,
whose nostrils have never been regaled by the compounds of
Beauvilliers, and whose pulse has never been stretched out to a Halden,
is able to combine the health of the Brahmin with the indulgence of the
Sybarite, and the frame of the gymnast with the habits of the hog.
Turner in his Embassy to Thibet, (p. 84), describes the gylong or class
of priests, as “more athletic” than their countrymen, although they “lead
a life in an extreme degree sedentary and recluse.” They perform
ablutions in which their compatriots do not join. The physical superiority
of the aristocracy of England may be owing to a similar cause,
cleanliness being with us a mark of station.
In Denmark, shampooing has recently been hit upon as a scientific
process, and a college has been instituted, as I understand, with
considerable success, for the practice of what they are pleased to call
medicina mechanica.
What am I to say of our medical science, what of our medical
practitioners, what of our philanthropy, what of our selfishness, in not
having the bath as a means of curing disease?[60] Never was a people
more heroically self-denying or extravagantly insensate. We must love
the racking of pain, the flavour of drugs, and the totals of apothecaries’
bills; for with our classical acquirements and love of travel, we cannot be
ignorant, that all maladies, with the exception of epidemical ones, were
less common in Rome than in modern London, notwithstanding our
many advantages from the improved state of medical knowledge; and
that several painful diseases common amongst us were exceedingly rare
amongst the ancients, and are almost unknown in Mahometan countries.
There are those who are of opinion that contagious disorders, “dreadful
scourges of the human race, might never have taken root, nor if they had,
would now be spread so widely, had the hot bath been in use amongst
us.”[61]
The human body is formed for labour, and requires it, and this labour
is accompanied by perspiration. It is the safety-valve for the heart, the
sewer for the secretions; the scavenger for the skin. Those who are
thrown repeatedly into perspiration, possess, however seldom washed,
many advantages over those who have not to undergo severe bodily toil,
however often they may use soap and water to the surface.
The bath substitutes an artificial and easy perspiration, and this
explains the extraordinary fact, that the people who use it do not require
exercise for health, and can pass from the extreme of indolence to that of
toil.
The functions for carrying on life are of the nature of a steam-engine,
and a chemical apparatus: lethal gases are given forth as from a furnace;
poisons are produced by every organ; from every function there is
residuum, and the body, while soiled by labour, is rusted by repose. This
rust, this residuum deposits on the skin.
The extremities of the vessels become charged with unctuous matter;
the deadened cellules of the epidermis are covered with a varnish, which
is partly insoluble in water, and this internal accumulation and external
coating prevent the skin from performing its functions, which are not
confined to those of shielding the body, but are essential to the chemical
processes within. The skin has analogous duties to those of the lungs,
supplying oxygen to the blood at the extremity of its course, and when
most completely in need of it. It has to aid at the same time the action of
the heart. In its health is their health, and its health is cleanliness. Unlike
the two other organs, it is placed within man’s reach, and confided to his
care; and curiously interspersed through it are glands secreting peculiar
odours, that the touch and sight shall not alone warn, but a third sense be
enlisted in this guardianship, crying aloud on every remissness, and
charging and reciprocating every neglect.[62]
The Russians come out of a bath of 120° to roll themselves in the
snow. This we explained by the fervour of the circulation, which enables
them to withstand the shock. If so, the strong and healthy might bear it—
not the weak and suffering, the octogenarian and the child. The sudden
passage from a Russian bath[63] to a glacial atmosphere, is attended by
neither shock nor danger; and far from the oppression that would result
from the absorption of vital action in the efforts of the heart to overcome
the violent contraction of the circulation, by the cold, there is a sense of
ineffable relief. You seem to take in and throw forth your breath in mere
playfulness, no longer dependent upon it momentarily for life. In fact,
the lungs and heart are discharged in part from the toil of that unceasing
labour, which, beginning with the cradle, ends with the grave. Of what
service must it not be to aid a machine, the efforts of which, in the most
delicate girl, are equal to a steam-engine of fourteen horse-power?[64]
Who can reflect on this, and be content with mere wonder, nor
bethink himself of the means by which the purposes of Nature can be
aided, and the gifts of Providence enjoyed?[65]
The bath has the effect of several classes of medicines; that is to say,
it removes the symptoms for which they are administered; thus, it is a
cathartic, a diuretic, a tonic, a detersive, a narcotic; but the effect is
produced only when there is cause. It will bring sleep to the patient
suffering from insomnia, but will not, like opium, make the healthy man
drowsy; and relieve constipation without bringing on the healthy—as
aloes would—diarrhœa: it is thus a drug, which administers itself
according to the need, and brings no after-consequences.
The opium-like effect has often been remarked, and I have repeatedly
experienced after the bath sensations like those it produces. If it has not
the same power in relieving bodily pain, it has unquestionably that of
assuaging mental suffering. It is quite as natural an impulse amongst
Easterns, to seek the bath when they are labouring under affliction as
when disposed to give way to gladness. And this may be considered as
one part of its curative virtues, having the faculty of calming the
disturbed spirit without extinguishing, and indeed while increasing, the
dispositions to cheerfulness.
Reader! consider that this is not a drug in a shop, to be exhibited by
prescription after a visit to a patient. It would be something if I suggested
a new simple, or an improved plan of administering a known remedy in
any one disorder. It would be much by such a suggestion to diminish in a
few cases the pains of sciatica or of rheumatism, the tortures of gout or
stone; what I suggest, is a habit, one which shall become, when adopted,
that of the whole people.
A bath might be had for one quarter of the price of a glass of gin; for
we have water in more abundance, and at a cheaper rate than at Rome.
To substantiate this estimate, I prepared some calculations, but having
visited the baths and washhouses recently established, I find the case
illustrated to my hand by practice, and affording an entire confirmation
of all, and more than all, that I have said. It is not long since that there
was not a hot bath to be got in London under two shillings; what would
then have been said if any one had had the hardihood to advance, that hot
baths might be got for two-pence? and that bathing establishments,
charging from one penny for cold baths up to sixpence, should become
profitable concerns? Such nevertheless is the fact. There is here no new
idea, no new process, no new demands: it has simply been suggested to
build larger establishments, and to throw them open at a smaller sum; so
that we have hitherto been deprived of these advantages through the
partial blindness of those who have, in as far as they do see, deplored the
blindness of others, not thinking that probably other films intercepted
their own sight.
I will therefore take the result obtained in these baths and wash-
houses, as the basis of the calculation which I wish to establish. For a
thousand baths, the charge for water varies from twenty to twenty-eight
shillings; the coals for fuel from fifteen to thirty shillings; the other
charges from fifteen to twenty shillings. In all these cases, the lower sum
is of course above what the charge will be when experience has pointed
out improvements and economy. Taking the most economical of these
establishments, we have baths at the rate of fifty shillings a thousand,
that is, at a little more than a halfpenny a piece. The allowance of water
for each bath is forty-five gallons; fuel enters for one-third into the
charge: reducing these charges to what would be incurred in the Turkish
bath, there would be a saving of eight-ninths for the water, and probably
five-sixths for the fuel, and an entire saving for the charge of attendance
for the poorer classes, (the σεαυτοὺς βαλνεύσουντες); thus we should
have on the thousand baths, the charge for water and fuel reduced from
thirty-five to five shillings; and the charge of attendance being
withdrawn from the poorer classes, the expense incurred would amount
to one penny for sixteen baths, or four baths for a farthing.
Here I am going upon the data supplied by these bathing
establishments, where the water is furnished to them at a very low price,
namely, fifteen shillings for the one thousand barrels, of thirty gallons,
and where the coals consumed are of an inferior quality, at nine shillings
a ton; and these are the points in which England and its capital possess
such great advantages. In these establishments they can furnish between
one and two thousand baths a-day, at an outlay of 15l. or 16l. a-week;
and as the experiment has so far so well succeeded, two hundred of them
would supply London, at the rate of a bath to each person, weekly, for
which the weekly expenditure would be 3000l. or 150,000l. per annum,
which would occasion a daily use of 126,000,000 of gallons of water. In
the Turkish manner, the expenditure of water would be 15,000,000; and
taking the proportionate saving in fuel, there would be a saving of one
half the outlay, or 75,000l. a-year; but, as the facility thus afforded, and
the habits so engendered, would lead in our climate, and in our
circumstances, to a much more frequent use of the bath than once a-
week, and as it would constantly be had recourse to by the lower orders,
without their going through the whole process, the establishments would
have to be proportionately larger, and the expenditure greater. At all
events, it is now no longer a theoretical matter: these baths are in use,
and are extending; and the question is, whether we shall introduce a
perfect instead of a defective method—an economical instead of an
expensive one. But, if this new charge be incurred, we have, on the other
side, to look forward to the possibility of retrenchments in consequence
of the altered habits of the people. The one that first presents itself is the
diminution of maladies, doctors’ and apothecaries’ fees and drugs, loss
of time from sickness, and attendance;—and here, to say nothing of the
different value of life, the saving for London alone will have to be
reckoned by millions. Next are temperance and sobriety. At first sight the
connection will not appear so immediate; it will, however, be
unquestionable to those familiar with countries where the bath is in use. I
know of no country, in ancient or modern times, where habits of
drunkenness have co-existed with the bath. Misery and cold drive men to
the gin-shop: if they had the bath—not the washing-tub, but the sociable
hamâm, to repair to—this, the great cause of drunkenness, would be
removed; and if this habit of cleanliness were general, restraints would
be imposed on such habits by the feelings of self-respect engendered.
Gibbon has indulged in speculations on the consequences for Europe
that would have followed, had Charles Martel been defeated on the
plains of Tours. One of these effects would have been, that to-day in
London there would be no gin-palaces, and a thousand baths.
In London and its suburbs there are nearly two millions of
inhabitants; of these, one million and a half at least cannot afford those
baths which we use.[66] Deducting a fifth for infants under forty days old,
and persons confined to bed, there would remain twelve hundred
thousand, so that two hundred thousand bodies, which now carry their
filth from the cradle to the grave, would be daily washed. Judging by the
scale of prices at Constantinople[67] or Rome, the cost of a bath might
begin from one penny or twopence, and range upwards to five shillings;
striking the average at sixpence, we should have 5000l. daily, or
1,500,000l. per annum. An ordinary bath will accommodate two hundred
persons daily. At Constantinople, for a population of five hundred
thousand (Turks) three hundred are requisite. In Cordova, there were
nine hundred; in Alexandria, when taken by the Arabs, there were four
hundred. One thousand baths would be required for London, and each
would have for its support 1500l. a-year. The cost of erection would be
provided, as for hospitals, churches, &c., by foundation, donations,
bequests, subscriptions, or municipal charges.
The poor of England have never had an opportunity of knowing the
comfort which is derived on a cold day from the warmth imparted by
such an atmosphere. How many of the wretched inhabitants of London
go to their chilly homes in the winter months benumbed with cold, and
with no means of recovering their animal warmth but by resorting to
spirits and a public-house fire. The same sixpence which will only
procure them a quartern of the stimulant, which imparts but a momentary
heat, would, if so expended, obtain for them at once warmth and
refreshment.
Do not run away with the idea that it is Islamism that prevents the use
of spirituous liquors; it is the bath. It satisfies the cravings which lead to
those indulgencies, it fills the period of necessary relaxation, and it
produces, with cleanliness, habits of self-respect, which are incompatible
with intoxication: it keeps the families united, which prevents the
squandering of money for such excesses. In Greece and Rome, in their
worst times, there was neither “blue ruin” nor “double stout.”
The quantity of malt consumed in former days is referred to as a test
of relative well-being. This I do not deny; but there can be no question
that pure water is the most wholesome drink,[68] as it is unquestionable,
that if London were Mussulman, the operative, as the rest of the
population, would bathe regularly, have a better-dressed dinner for his
money, and prefer water to wine or brandy, gin or beer. The bath,
therefore, would secure at once cleanliness and temperance.
Where Christianity first appeared, cleanliness, like charity or
hospitality, was a condition of life. Christ and the apostles went through
the legal ablutions. When the relaxation took place at the first council of
Jerusalem, in favour of the Gentiles, these points could never have been
raised or called in question, for in this respect the habits of the nations
were in conformity with the Jewish law. Reference is made to it in the
fathers,[69] not as a practice only, but as a duty.[70] In the primitive
Church of England the bath was a religious observance: the penitent was
in some cases forbidden its use; but then cold bathing was enjoined.
Knighthood was originally a religious institution, and the conferring of it
is a church ceremony. The aspirant knight prepared himself by the bath.
The second distinction which it is in the power of the Sovereign of
England to bestow, is entitled “The Order of the Bath.” Now, the
Sovereign who confers, and the knights who receive the title, never saw
a real bath in their lives.[71]
When tesselated pavements of Caldaria, or fragments of Laconicum
and Hypocaust come to light in our streets or fields, the modern Goth
gazes with the same stupid wonder, without the same respect[72] with
which the barbarians of this land look upon their fathers’ works;—you
can tell them the date of their ruins; they could explain to you the use of
yours. The Romans could recall the time when their fathers only washed
their hands and their feet;[73] the Turks, the time when their fathers
washed neither. We have to recall the times when our fathers knew what
it was thoroughly to be washed, and to be wholly clean; and, reversing
the experience of these people, and combining in our progress their
points of departure, we have arrived at washing hands and feet only, or
washing neither.
Britain received the bath from the Romans, Ireland from the
Phœnicians,[74] Hungary from the Turks, Spain from the Saracens[75]—
everywhere it has disappeared. In Greece it was as common as in Turkey.
Greece became independent, and the bath took wing.[76] Everywhere
throughout Europe the point of departure is cleanliness, the result of
progress is filth. How is it that a habit so cleanly, associated with edifices
so magnificent, leading to intercourse of the classes of society so useful
to the state, and conferring on the poorer orders so large a measure of
comforts and enjoyments, should have disappeared, wherever light,
learning, taste, liberality have spread? When abstractions have got
possession of the brain of a people, you can no more reckon upon its
tastes, than upon its acts.
“What ruler in modern times can make a comparison otherwise than
degrading to himself between the government over which he presides
and those of ancient Greece or Rome? Can he reflect, without taking
shame to himself, that the heads of the republics of Athens and Sparta,
the tribunes, ædiles, consuls, censors, and emperors of Rome, thought
they had not rendered the condition of the poor tolerable, unless they had
afforded them the gratuitous enjoyment of baths, theatres, and games, to
make them forget for some hours of the day the hardships and privations
which poverty brings with it? The boasted happiness of the English
common people (if, indeed, any one can be hardy enough to vaunt it
now-a-days) is infinitely lower than was that of the plebeians of Greece
or Rome.”[77]
The evils of our system do not spring from the violence of passion,
but from fallacies. We, of course, cannot grapple with our own fallacies;
therefore all that philanthropy and science can do, is to try to heal, one
by one, the sores which legislation engenders wholesale. The bath is an
idea which the simplest mind may grasp; it is a work which industry, not
genius, is required to accomplish. We found hospitals for the sick, we
open houses of refuge for the destitute; we have recently been engaged in
finding nightly shelter for the homeless; wash-houses have even been
established. How many are anxious to find some sort of holiday, or
innocent recreation, for the classes, whose commons we have enclosed,
and whose festivities we have put down;—how many seek to raise the
lower orders in the moral and social scale? A war is waged against
drunkenness, immorality, and filthiness in every shape. Here is the
effectual weapon!—here is an easy and a certain cure! It is no
speculation or theory; if it were so, it would easily find apostles and
believers.
The good-will and means that run to waste through our not knowing
how to be clean, are enormous. A small town in the New Forest, with
Roman daring, planned a bath as a work of public utility, but built it with
English coin, of which it took 8000l. There are steam-apparatus,
reservoirs for sea-water,[78] &c. It was a model bathing establishment. It
is now selling as bricks and old iron! Close by there are large boilers for
evaporating salt, over which, at the cost of a few planks, a Russian
vapour-bath might have been had. The use of the vapour was not
unknown. There were persons who repaired thither for cutaneous and
other disorders, and were cured.
Consider the heat and steam throughout the manufactories of
England, which the instinct of a Russian boor, or Laplander, or Red
Indian would apply for the benefit of the miserable population engaged
in those works, and now allowed to run to sheer waste. The filthiest
population exists, with the most extensive means of cleanliness. A nation
that boasts of its steam, that is puffed up with its steam, that goes by
steam, does not know how to use steam to wash its body, even when it
may be had gratis.
The people that has not devised the bath, cannot deserve the character
of refinement, and (having the opportunity) that does not adopt it, that of
sense. Servility, however, we do possess, and any person of distinction
has it in his power to introduce it. That which all despise, when only a
thing of use, will be by all rushed after when it becomes a matter of
fashion. The sight of a bath of a new fashion, and enjoyed by another
people, has impelled me to make this endeavour to regain it for my own.
Is Europe ever to remain on the map the black spot of filth? Can she owe
the bath only to the Roman sword or Moorish spear? Must she now await
the Cossack lance? After ridicule for warning, the day may come that I
shall suffer reproach for deprecating the event, and it will be said to me,
“These barbarians, who, Providence-like, have come to compose our
troubles; Roman-like, to teach us to be clean.”
[17] A bronze statue of a bather by Lysippus was removed by Tiberius from the baths
of Agrippa to his own palace, and placed in his bedroom. The Roman people “infested
the emperor with reproaches and hootings whenever he appeared in public, till their
Apozymenos was restored to them.”—P ’ Nat. His. b. xxxiv. c. 35.
[18] “Nisi ad illam vitam quæ cum virtute degatur ampulla aut strigiles acceperit.”—
C , De Fin. l. iv. sec. 12.
[19]
Balnea, vina, Venus consumunt corpora nostra,

Sed faciunt vitam balnea, vina, Venus.—M .
Returning on one occasion to Europe by Belgrade, I brought some Turks by the
[20]
steamer up to Vienna to show them a little of Europe. After a night on board, my levée
proved an awkward business. In a Turkish household all the servants attend their master
while he dresses. That is the time to prefer petitions and make complaints. Every one is
there, and may say what he likes. On the morning in question, they were mute as
statues; knowing the cause, I dared not look at them. They had seen the Europeans
wash. Silence being at length broken, they began to narrate what they had seen. Among
other jottings for a book of travels they would have mentioned, that a priest had taken
water in his mouth, and then slobbered it over his face. I told them that these were not
my countrymen, and asked them if they had not seen the two English officers wash (I
had observed from the single cabin on deck, which the captain had given up to me,
canteen dishes, soap, towels, &c., going down for them); after a pause one of my Turks
said, “Zavale belmester. The unfortunates! they don’t know how!”
Under the Jewish dispensation the body of man was held unclean, but not that of
[21]
beasts. The observances of the ceremonial law were directed to awaken our sensibilities
to expel the impurities attendant on every function.
In the Jassi of Tchengis Khan, washing of the clothes was forbidden, and of the
[22]
hands or person in running water: he denied that any thing was unclean.
[23] Pliny, urging on Trajan the repairing of the bath of Brusa, says, “The dignity of
the city and the splendour of your reign require it.”—l. x. c. 25.
[24] The Turkish is the poorest language in vocables; the most powerful in
construction. The verb not rules only, but sustains the sentence: it is dramatic philology.
[25] One of the luxuries of the Roman baths consisted in their brightness, the
command of the prospect around, and in various strange contrivances. By one of these,
the bather, while swimming in warm water, could see the sea; by another, the figures of
the bathers within, were seen magnified without. “They were not content unless they
were coloured as well as washed,” says Seneca (Epist. 87).
Multus ubique dies radiis ubi culmina totis,
Perforat, atque alio sol improbus uritur æstu.
S . lib. i.
This excess of light in a bath, savours of indecency (See Suedon. Apoll. lib. ii. epist.
2). It was not the early practice of Rome, nor certainly of those from whom the Romans
took the bath. “Our ancestors,” says Seneca, “did not believe a bath to be warm unless
it was obscure.”
“Redde Lupi nobis tenebrosaque balnea Grilli.”—M . i. 60.
[26] The Roman expression, “quasi locus in balneis,” was equivalent to “first come,
first served.”
[27]The bathing-men give signals for what they want, by striking with the hand on
the hollow of the side.
[28] “Let the air of all the rooms he neither particularly hot nor cold, but of a proper
temperature, and middling moist; which will be effected by plentifully pouring
temperate water from the cistern, so that it may flow through every room.”—G .
Therap. Meth. lib. x.
[29] “Percurrit agili corpus arte tractatrix manumque doctum spargit omnibus
membris.”—Mart. iii. 82.
The tractatrix was the female shampooer.
[30] “Et summum dominæ femur exclamare coegit.”—J , S . vi. v. 422.
[31] These basins are the pelves of the Romans.
[32] “The strigil was used after bathing, to remove the perspiration. The hollow part
was to hold oil to soften the skin, or to allow the scraped grease to run off.”—D ,
vol. ii. p. 426.
[33] Whenever our writers touch on these matters, they fall into inevitable confusion.
“In the baths of the East, the bodies are cleansed by small bags of camels’ hair
woven rough, or with a handful of the fine fibres of the Mekha palm-tree combed soft,
and filled with fragrant saponaceous earths, which are rubbed on the skin, till the whole
body is covered with froth. Similar means were employed in the baths of Greece, and
the whole was afterwards cleansed off the skin by gold or silver strigils.”—Manners
and Customs of Ancient Greece, J. A. S . J , vol. ii. p. 89.
[34] Nut of the palm, and consequently hard and not fit to use on the person. The
Moors, though they do not use soap in the bath, always use their soft liff with their soft
soap, which practice the Turks have imperfectly followed.
[35] “Toutes les femmes Mahometanes sont dans l’habitude de s’épiler, et cela encore
par principe religieux. Elles y emploient une argile très fine (oth) d’une qualité
mordante, les hommes en font de même. Le plus grand nombre cependant se sert du
rasoir.”—D’O , vol. ii. p. 62.
[36] The Romans had the same practice, “Pilos extirpare per psilothri
medicamentum.”—P . The terra Media was used, Dioscorides tells us, for
depilation.
[37] The duretum introduced by Augustus at Rome: “On trouve alors des lits
delicieux: on s’y repose avec volupté, on y éprouve un calme et un bien-être difficiles à
exprimer. C’est une sorte de régénération, dont le charme est encore augmenté par des
boissons restaurantes, et surtout par un café exquis.”—D’O , t. vii. p. 63.
[38] “Strange as it may appear, the Orientals, both men and women, are passionately
fond of indulging in this formidable luxury; and almost every European who has tried
it, speaks with much satisfaction of the result. When all is done, a soft and luxurious
feeling spreads itself over your body; every limb is light and free as air; the marble-like
smoothness of the skin is delightful; and after all this pommelling, scrubbing, racking,
par-boiling, and perspiring, you feel more enjoyment than ever you felt before.”—
C H ’ Library of Travel.
[39] Galen (Method. Therap. l. x. c. 10,) says, “Let then one of the servants throw
over him a towel, and being placed upon a couch let him be wiped with sponges, and
then with soft napkins.” How completely this is the Turkish plan, one familiar with the
bath only will understand: explanation would be tedious.
[40] If you desire to be awakened at a certain hour, you are not lugged by the
shoulder or shouted at in the ear; the soles of your feet are chafed, and you wake up
gently, and with an agreeable sensation. This luxury is not confined to those who have
attendants, few or many; the street-porter is so awakened by his wife, or child, or
brother, and he in turn renders the same service. The soles of the feet are exposed to a
severity of service which no other muscles have to perform, and they require indulgent
treatment; but with us they receive none.
[41] Motto of the Vizir of Haroun el Raschid, when required by his master to find one
which should apply at once to happiness or adversity.
[42] Volney once entered a Turkish bath, and in horror and dismay, rushed out, and
could never be induced to enter one again. Lord Londonderry was more submissive,
and endured its tortures to the end; but rejected the coffee, and pipes, and civilities then
proffered. He has given us a detail of his sufferings, which appear to have been
notional. Sir G. Wilkinson, in his work on Thebes, cites them at length, and this is all
that he deems it requisite to tell the strangers who arrive in Egypt, on the subject of the
Hamâm.
[43] The charge at Rome was a quadrat, or one farthing; children paid nothing.
“Nec pueri credunt, nisi qui nondum ære lavantur.”
J , Sat. ii. v. 152.
In some baths it would appear that even grown persons were admitted gratis.
“Balneum, quo usus fuisset, sine mercede exhibuit.”—J . Capit.
[44] A poor man will go to the shambles and cut off a bit of the meat that is hanging
there, and the butcher will take no notice of it. If he goes to have a cup of coffee, and
has not five parahs (one farthing), he will lay his two or three on the counter, instead of
dropping them into the slit; the next customer will lay down ten and sweep them in
together.
[45] “On entering, they remain in the hot air, after which they immerse themselves in
hot water, then they go into cold water, and then wipe off the sweat. Those who do not
go from the sudatory at once into cold water, burst out on returning to the dressing-
room, into a second sweat, which at first is immoderate, and then ceases and leaves
them chilly.”—G , Method. Med. l. x. c. 2.
[46] While it is essential to cleanliness to clear away the oily matter that exudes from
the skin, the oil afterwards applied to the cleansed body, seems to be beneficial, and to
keep open instead of closing the pores.
[47] The two instruments were slung together. The guttus was round, and from its
round flat orifice, the oil distilled. Guttatim tenticulari forma, terite ambitu, pressula
rotunditate.—A . On coins, vases, and bas-reliefs, it has been mistaken for the
pomegranate, for a bulbous root, or a lustral vase. A curious Greek papyrus, in which a

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Balnea, vina, Venus consumunt corpora nostra,

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