“I was three days ago at one of the finest in the town and had the opportunity of seeing a Turkish bride received there. All the she-friends, relations, and acquaintances of the two families meet at the bagnio, several others go out of curiosity, and I believe there were that day two hundred women…the virgins very hastily threw off their clothes and appeared without other ornament or covering than their own long hair braided with pearl or ribbon…
She was a beautiful maid of about seventeen very richly dressed and shining with jewels but was presently reduced to the state of nature. Two others filled silver pots with perfumes and began the procession…In this order they marched round the three large rooms of the bagnio. ‘Tis not easy to represent to you the beauty of this sight, most of them being well proportioned and white-skinned; all of them perfectly smooth and polished by the frequent use of bathing.”
-Turkish Letter XLII, 1718, Lady Mary Wortley Montague to the Countess of —
Opposite is the Hamman of Sultan Inal [Bayn al-Qasrayn Quarter], now called the Hammam al-Sultan, all that remains of a large palace built in 1456 and still in use as a public bath. The superstructure is modern but the interior is of interest with a great domed steam room and marble reclining slabs.
-Blue Guide to Egypt, Itinerary 5, Bab al-Futuh to Maydan al-Azhar
Jean-Leon Gérôme and all the other late 19th C. orientalist painters who imagined the inside of the ladies’ bath must have read Lady Mary’s letter from a Constantinople bagnio written some 150 years earlier. Threw off their clothes…hair braided with pearl and ribbon…shining with jewels but reduced to a state of nature…well proportioned…white skinned and perfectly smooth and polished- it absolutely makes the mind race.
My experience was a bit different. It was men’s night, Thursday, and a few fellow students decided to try out an old hammam in the even older Fatimid city. It was Alan’s idea but we all went along. Was it in the quarter of Gamaliyya, Batiniyya, Darb al-Ahmar, or Bayn al-Qasrayn? I can’t remember. It well may have been the 15th C. Hammam of Sultan Inal.
We were about four in number and entered the hammam to find a dingy cold central reception room with a dingy cold floor. We were shown to our changing alcove, open to the main area but for a half-size swinging double door, with a bench, a stack of towels, and wooden shower clogs. We each wrapped one towel around our waist and draped another over our shoulders and headed to the steam room. The temperature was barely tepid in what the Romans would have called the caldarium. I shudder to think what it was like in the tepidarium.
There were a few other men in there, all dimly lit, some I presume cleaning themselves extra well for the next day’s prayer, maybe a few because they had no water at home of any sort. Around the heated pool at center, which no one was in because to me it looked green and dark, were side niches with stools and faucets out of which came cold water. We sat around and waited for it to get warmer.
Then Alan decided to try the pool so he threw off the towels and slid in. It was very hot, he said, in fact almost too hot. And then he froze, went rigid, and started trembling. It was the second time I’d seen him do this, have an epileptic seizure. The first time I was walking beside him along the Nile corniche with traffic speeding by. I caught him then before he fell to the ground and cradled him. He went to sleep in my arms and after some minutes opened his eyes and looked very calm and got up and we walked slowly back.
This time Alan was half submerged in green water. We pulled him out, laid him down on our towels, so we were all fully naked by then. Someone cupped his head in their hands so he would not bang it on the marble floor. The temperature seemed to be heating up, but maybe it was from our insides, not the outside. When he opened his eyes, we asked if he wanted to get out of there, go back to the changing room, and he said yes, so we each grabbed a limb and carried him out of the steam room, laid him on the alcove’s bench, and covered him with towels. Tea is always served after a bath, so we sat around, still mostly naked, sipping our tea and waiting for Alan to feel better. When he did, we got dressed and walked slowly back to our dorm.
I remember the Fatimid city, usually Cairo’s busiest, noisiest part, as being very dark and quiet that night. It was after midnight, but very eerie for more reason than that.
Great Bath at Bursa, Jean-Leon Gérôme 1885