A RIDE IN THE BATHING MACHINE
Going for a swim is one of the few things in our world that is still pretty simple. You just put on a swimsuit and walk down to the water, slowly wading in until you’re comfortable with the temperature, maybe splashing around a bit with the partner, friends and/or kids, and eventually going in as deep as you like.
It was a whole lot more elaborate in the nineteenth century. If you were an even relatively respectable lady, you were taking a bathing machine into the water. Queen Victoria’s bathing machine went on display a few years ago, and they’ve turned up in a lot of recent historical productions. They sound elaborate, because they were: little shacks on wheels where ladies (and sometimes gentlemen) took off their street clothes and put on bathing suits, if any, before the machine was wheeled out into the deeper water.
Once you were out there, you took the little steps from the back down into the water. Well, unless you happened to have a particularly unkind “dipper.” Basically the matron of the bathing machine, she was responsible for getting you safely and modestly into the water and back to dry land and respectability. Some of them weren’t above giving shy ladies a healthy shove into the water.
Which would NOT have felt good. We’re talking about the ocean or a big lake, remember, not the lovely heated indoor pools that modern wimps like me prefer. If you’ve ever jumped or been thrown into a natural body of water, it’s pretty chilly, even on a really hot day. There’s a pond at the dam in my Western Pennsylvania hometown that pretty much explains why I vastly prefer man-made swimming holes, thank you!
But our respectable ladies had no real choice. If you wanted to enjoy the health benefits (not to mention the fun) of sea-bathing, you were stuck with the machine and the dipper…and hope she was in a good mood. Once in the water up to your neck you could paddle around to your heart’s content. If you were at a ladies’ only beach, you didn’t even have to worry about the boys roughhousing, the way they’ve done since the first two cavemen wandered into the water together.
Speaking of the fellows. I bet you’re still wondering about that “bathing suit, if any” comment back there. Yup. For a long time, the guys bathed in their birthday suits, and by themselves. Ladies, of course, didn’t want to look at that (or so they’d have you believe) and stayed delicately away, leaving the boys their own beaches for naked frolics of whatever sort.
Eventually, somebody figured out that it might be fun for everybody to share the beach, and the boys decided that they were willing to put on a few clothes for the privilege of enjoying some female companionship with their surf and sand. That was the beginning of the end of the bathing machine. If you’re willing to allow a man to see you in the water, you’re probably not going to care much longer about whether he sees you getting into it.
Besides, people of all genders were starting to realize that swimsuits were comfortable and fun…and that a lot of their fellow bathers are pretty nice to look at, even in a few layers of wet cotton and wool. Still are!
Got a Throwback Thursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
It was a whole lot more elaborate in the nineteenth century. If you were an even relatively respectable lady, you were taking a bathing machine into the water. Queen Victoria’s bathing machine went on display a few years ago, and they’ve turned up in a lot of recent historical productions. They sound elaborate, because they were: little shacks on wheels where ladies (and sometimes gentlemen) took off their street clothes and put on bathing suits, if any, before the machine was wheeled out into the deeper water.
Once you were out there, you took the little steps from the back down into the water. Well, unless you happened to have a particularly unkind “dipper.” Basically the matron of the bathing machine, she was responsible for getting you safely and modestly into the water and back to dry land and respectability. Some of them weren’t above giving shy ladies a healthy shove into the water.
Which would NOT have felt good. We’re talking about the ocean or a big lake, remember, not the lovely heated indoor pools that modern wimps like me prefer. If you’ve ever jumped or been thrown into a natural body of water, it’s pretty chilly, even on a really hot day. There’s a pond at the dam in my Western Pennsylvania hometown that pretty much explains why I vastly prefer man-made swimming holes, thank you!
But our respectable ladies had no real choice. If you wanted to enjoy the health benefits (not to mention the fun) of sea-bathing, you were stuck with the machine and the dipper…and hope she was in a good mood. Once in the water up to your neck you could paddle around to your heart’s content. If you were at a ladies’ only beach, you didn’t even have to worry about the boys roughhousing, the way they’ve done since the first two cavemen wandered into the water together.
Speaking of the fellows. I bet you’re still wondering about that “bathing suit, if any” comment back there. Yup. For a long time, the guys bathed in their birthday suits, and by themselves. Ladies, of course, didn’t want to look at that (or so they’d have you believe) and stayed delicately away, leaving the boys their own beaches for naked frolics of whatever sort.
Eventually, somebody figured out that it might be fun for everybody to share the beach, and the boys decided that they were willing to put on a few clothes for the privilege of enjoying some female companionship with their surf and sand. That was the beginning of the end of the bathing machine. If you’re willing to allow a man to see you in the water, you’re probably not going to care much longer about whether he sees you getting into it.
Besides, people of all genders were starting to realize that swimsuits were comfortable and fun…and that a lot of their fellow bathers are pretty nice to look at, even in a few layers of wet cotton and wool. Still are!
Got a Throwback Thursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
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