A Fashionable Bathhouse for Sea-Bathing: 1893

Bathing Machines, Ostend, c. 1910-1915 Library of Congress.

SEA-BATHING A LA MODE

The Interior of a Lady’s Bathhouse at Long Island.

As we all know, decorous Britishers of both sexes refuse to frolic in the big sea informally and in jovial fellowship as do the unconventional American “brethren and sisteren.” Mr. and Mrs. John Bull or the Misses Bull have little movable rooms, inside of which are the conveniences we enjoy in our seaside bathhouses, says Demorest for September. The rooms are on wheels. Enter Mrs. John Bull with a bathing-suit and a number of towels on her arm; a little pony is hitched, by primitive harness to the room, and when Mrs. J. B. gives a sign at the window of her queer little house the pony is driven down to the beach, even out into the water as far as he can go, is unhitched and trotted back to the shore. Out then, by the back door of her little room, comes Mrs. John Bull, arrayed for the sea, into which she hops and, so long as she wishes, enjoys a dip. The bath over she enters her wheeled room, the pony is sent down and hitched on, and the protean mermaid inside is brought back to terra firma. When the public seen her again she is clothed in the common garb of civilization.

Now this whole idea so pleased a friend of the Van Kortlandts, who went abroad for the first time last summer, that on settling down in her Long Island home she quite made up her mind to have a bathing-machine like those at Brighton. She had a little gable-roofed box built about 5 by 5 feet and at least 8 feet from floor to roof. Outside it is painted a clear sea green and it is swung on two big black wheels. There is a window in the roof and a door and pair of steps at the back.

Inside, madam’s imagination has worked wonders that would make Mrs. John Bull turn green with envy. The interior is all done in snow-white enamel paint, and one-half of the floor is pierced with many holes, to allow of free drainage form wet flannels. The other half of the little room is covered with a pretty green Japanese rug. In one corner is a big-mouthed green silk bag lined with rubber. Into this the wet bathing-togs are tossed out of the way. There are large bevel-edged mirrors let into either side of the room, and below one juts out a toilet shelf, on which is every appliance. There are pegs for towels and the bathrobe, and fixed in one corner is a little square seat that when turned up reveals a locker where clean towels, soap, perfumery, etc. are stowed. Ruffles of white muslin trimmed with lace and narrow green ribbons decorate every available space. When the mistress steps out of this bathing machine her maid dries and airs it, then ‘tis securely locked and wheeled high and dry behind the humble bathhouse of ye vulgar American.

The Morning Call [San Francisco, CA] 3 September 1893: p. 11

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire:  Ah yes, “the maid dries and airs” the bathing machine.  Mrs Daffodil shudders at those “ruffles of white muslin” decorating every available space. The lace and ribbonry required hand-washing and goffering and a heavy starch to keep them from going limp in the sea-breezes. A delightful effect, but scarcely a sea-side holiday.

Charming as is the description of the white-and-green bathing machine, Mrs Daffodil suggests that it exists primarily in fantasy. The reality is below:

MARINE EXCURSIONS.

We consider the essentials of a watering-place may be alliteratively summed up thus:— Sea, salt, sun, sand, shrimps, shells, sailors, and shingle…

A bathing-machine is an aquatic caravan, containing respectively two towels, two ricketty hat-pegs, a damp flooring, a strong smell of sea-weed, and a broken looking-glass, exhibiting the phenomena of oblique refraction. Though this last cannot be exactly considered the “glass of fashion,” it frequently exhibits the “mould of form” about to have a dip.

The Traveller’s Miscellany and Magazine of Entertainment, 1847

This post was originally published in 2013.

A story of a bathhouse scandal is found in The Bathing Machine Mystery part 1 and  part 2.  And the inside story of The Great Grampus Bath-House Tragedy is found here.

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdotes

You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.

 

Shoes for the Surf: 1879-1922

From Mermaids: with Other Tales Piscatorial and Pictorial, Charles Henry Ross, 1886

 

At present most American ladies prefer a striped stocking to any slipper that can be devised, but now and then, when a beach is pebbly, a pretty foot is badly cut, and its owner wishes that its delicate covering had been more substantial. The French slippers have hemp soles with canvas tops and are fastened on the feet by ties matching the trimming of the dress. As a rule, an anchor is embroidered on the toe, and cork soles are placed inside. The French plates representing ladies clothed in the most approved style show these slippers fastened by means of enough cross-gartering to satisfy Malvolio himself, but this style is not likely to be adopted at American watering places. Cincinnati [OH] Enquirer 7 June 1879: p. 11

Bathing-slippers should not be forgotten, nor their immediate purchase neglected, particularly if the shore be a frequented one, for then there will certainly be an ample store of broken glass, besides the usual sharp flints, oyster shells, and pebbles, to cut or bruise your feet. At many seaside places they may be procured, being made of plaited straw or of felt. In either case they need some embellishment, which may be given by the small expenditure of a piece of scarlet braid, and the turning of it into rosettes or bows, and sandals which cross over the foot and ankle, and are tied above it in a bow and short ends. These bathing-shoes and slippers may also be made by clever amateur hands out of felt or blanketing, or of very coarse flannel, embroidered in coarse crewel-work, and bound neatly with worsted braid. They may be soled also with a pair of cork soles, to be found everywhere, which should first be covered on both sides with flannel. Another method of making a bathing-slipper is to take a pair of old boots or shoes, cut them down to the required shape, and to cover the fronts—the only part left—with flannel to match the bathing-dress, trimming with worsted braid, and attaching sandals of the same to them, to keep up the heel. The Girl’s Own Outdoor Book, edited by Charles Peters, 1889

Those who are truly thorough in this revival of an ancient mode are appearing on the beach without stockings, having their slender ankles and well-shaped calves crossed and recrossed with the canvas ribbons of their bathing sandals. Sometimes these are all white, though oftener you see gay colors looking pretty and effective against the gleaming white skin of which one gets scarcely more than a glimpse….Those who find this fad too much of an innovation compromise by wearing very thin lisle or silk stockings, so thin are they in fact that one could scarcely consider them as a real covering. The Washington [DC] Times 29 June 1902: p. 3

1915 “tango boot” bathing shoes. http://fidmmuseum.pastperfectonline.com/webobject/CC92C388-51B6-4D21-A994-353968120055

Although the assortment of shoes and boots is more limited, many changes may be achieved by the addition of silk laces to correspond in shade with the garment. Of course, there are the high laced boots of canvas, which are very trim and neat, finished by the silken string and tied in dainty bows; then some of our fair sisters may selected the prettily embroidered sandal with the crossed ankle ribbons that were worn many years ago, and still have a fascinating touch, particularly upon a small or well-shaped foot. Lastly, there are the plain little sandals with absolutely very little to them besides the sole and a strap to hold it on, and many of the bathers do not wear any shoes at all, but have the finest silk hosiery made to match the color of the bathing dress or its trimmings. To return for just a moment to a few suggestions regarding the hosiery, it might be well to know that some of the daintiest silken affairs worn are embroidered in small floral designs scattered at intervals and giving a touch of inconspicuous color to a dark ground, while others are woven in fine lace patterns and smart openwork stitches that reveal a hint of a white ankle peeping through the mesh. Ottumwa [IA] Tri-weekly Courier 21 June 1904: p. 2

1910 bathing boots http://collections.lacma.org/node/186868

NEW BATH SHOES

High Strapped Boots now Worn When Swimming.

Canvas lace and strap bathing boots that reach half way to the knees, are the latest novelty of the season added to the already complete list of accessories, and are particularly popular with women, because of the support they afford to the ankles, as well as for the good background they make for wearing elaborate hosiery.

Made in white, brown and black canvas with a heavy hand sewed cork sole, these new styles boots are decidedly attractive looking. The edges of the top are prettily scalloped, and the nickel buckles through which the straps pass that hold the boot in place make the fronts ornamental. If laces are used instead of straps, the boots are even prettier, with red, blue or yellow silk lacings zigzagged in diamond shapes across the front of the stockings.

These bathing boots are not lined and as a result are not warm, and the fronts are open except for the lacings or straps that do not interfere with the freedom of the muscles in swimming, while the height acts as an ankle support.

Soleless Shoes.

Many women prefer braided soleless swimming sandals, which are also new this year. They are made exactly like bed slippers with no sole and are fitted bout the foot with a draw string. They are made of white and black cotton stripes that look like shoe strings when braided into the slipper. These low bathing shoes are made with a long lap, or upper, and high sides, so that when pulled up the foot is incased to the ankle as if in a mitten. They are loosely woven and are cooler than the styles made with soles. They cost 49 cents.

Besides these novelties the old cork sole low cut style of bathing shoes in black or white duck or canvas, with one strap and buckle or lacings, are still the most popular with bathers, because of the cost. They may be purchased for from 22 to 50 cents a pair. The Washington [DC] Times 10 August 1905: p. 7

Striped cloth bathing shoes, c. 1900 http://fidmmuseum.pastperfectonline.com/webobject/B50BAF94-F7F7-4A63-8470-924511556119

Bathing Shoes.

Bathing shoes for any member of the family may be easily and cheaply made at home, says Mothers Magazine. They are strong enough to protect the feet from the little stones on the beaches, and so light that you will hardly feel them at all. Many swimmers object to the regular bathing boots as being somewhat in the way, but these homemade ones are so very light as to cause no inconvenience. Take an old pair of stockings (if they match the bathing suit so much the better.) and cut them off just below the knee. If they come higher they are apt to hinder a swimmer’s movements. Hem the top edges and cut and buttonhole little slits all around, about one inch below the hem. Buy a pair of cork or loofah soles (or if you have an old pair of light slippers you can use the soles) and slip into the feet of the stockings, fastening them on well. Then, run a wide tape, or ribbon, if you prefer, though the slits at the top and tie around the leg, and you have a pair of really good bathing boots for no cost at all. The Oregon Daily Journal [Portland OR] 12 July 1913: p. 7 [And, Mrs Daffodil would add, of no style whatsoever.]

1915 bathing boots http://collections.lacma.org/node/187050

Brilliant Bathing Boots Please Paris

Silk on Velvet Footwear Impracticable, of Course, of It Wouldn’t Be Attractive

Paris Fashionable shoemakers are already being besieged with orders for the new bathing boots which have been the rage at the Riviera and Monte Carlo baths. These silk and velvet boots are brilliant in color, the most conspicuous being orange boots lined with purple, white lined with red, and green lined with yellow.

In accordance with the theory that whatever is fashionable must be unpractical these boots are not laced, but are of the slip-on kind, so that once in the water they are sure to slip off.

Bootmakers contend that the bathing boot must be wide and baggy around the leg, so as to permit freedom of movement, while fitting the foot like a glove, and while the impartial spectator may agree with their arguments he is obliged to doubt the practicability of the principle. Wisconsin State Journal [Madison WI] 26 March 1920: p. 10

http://risdmuseum.org/art_design/objects/5298_womens_bathing_shoes

All-Rubber Bathing Slippers

One of the surf bathing shoes made popular last Summer is made of colored rubber without fabric, and cured on a perfectly-modeled last. The stock is calendered with an imitation leather grain. The sole and vamp are of the same quality of rubber; the inner surface of the sole is faced with white rubber. The trimming strips also are of white rubber.

Evidently the shoe was not designed by a shoemaker, or the upper would have been joined with a heel seam, rather than in the center of the vamp where faulty workmanship more easily mars the appearance of the goods.

These bathing slippers are made in six different colors, in sizes from child’s No. 11 to men’s No. 11.

Rubber Soled Bathing Shoe

Another shoe for the surf that is being made for Summer swimming is of a mercerized fabric, and has light rubber sole, thick enough to keep the feet away from the pebbles of the beach, but not heavy enough to stop the wearer from having a good swim. Both Roma and American patterns are used. Some of the Roman sandals, of colored fabrics, with white straps, are fascinating. Some one-strap pumps are of red, blue, green and black fabric, and have white bindings.  Boot and Shoe Recorder 15 April 1922: p. 132

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: Unless one is extraordinarily hardy, bathing boots are an essential accessory for a sea-side holiday. The beaches of Britain are stony and unforgiving, which is why we build piers. If a bather wishes to be coddled, rather than braced, they should try the south of France.

There were always controversies about the correct stockings to be worn with bathing costumes.

Some young women are bold enough to venture upon the beach in sandals to match their bathing suits but without stockings of any kind. While the idea is sensible from the swimmer’s point of view, for certainly both shoes and stockings hinder one’s movements in the water, it is not a fashion which recommends itself for use in public. The girl who likes a good swim and prefers wearing a sensible costume must enjoy the sport where spectators are few. The Washington [DC] Times 6 July 1902: p. 3

The notion from 1904 that “many of the bathers do not wear any shoes at all, but have the finest silk hosiery made to match the color of the bathing dress or its trimmings” seems an appalling waste of stockings, which would be instantly torn to pieces on beaches littered with stones and shells.

Silk stockings are not necessary for bathing unless sandals are worn. The fashion would prove too expensive for the average woman. Fine lisle thread are every bit as good and even if they last but little longer they can at any rate be more easily replaced. Open-work hose are never worn with a bathing costume.  With an all blue or red gown the stockings should be of the same shade, unless there is considerable black braiding, in which case the black hose is effective. With a black costume the stockings should be of the same color. From time to time sandals appear and for a while are thought absolutely necessary, but almost as suddenly they will be disappear and for a while will be quite forgotten. This year at least one pair has already been provided with each smart bathing suit, which looks very much as though this were a sandal season. The sandals now fashionable look much like heelless pumps, with a little strap across the instep, and if the beach is at all rough it is of inestimable service. The swimmer, of course, has no use for this little slipper, which is quite useless in deep water and only retards and renders swimming unnecessarily difficult. Los Angeles [CA] Herald 25 June 1905: p. 33

Those shell-studded beaches made cork soles seem an admirable idea. However, they, too, had their perils.

Mermaid With Cork Soles

[Salt Lake Letter in Ogden Pilot]

Writing of the lake reminds me to say, for the benefit of my Ogden sisters, be warned in time and don’t do when you go bathing as one of my lady friends did. She said the pebbles on the lake bottom hurt her feet, so she had a pair of sandals made with cork soles. She put them on and went into the water. She’s not a vain woman, but she has a pretty foot, and she showed it that day with less effort than she ever did before in her life. Her feet went up and her head (heavy, of course, with the weight of a brain that could originate cork soles for sea-bathing) went down—on somebody’s broad shoulders—or I might have been under the painful necessity of elaborating on ‘another case of strangulation from sea-water.” Cincinnati [OH] Enquirer 24 September 1881: p.12

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdotes

You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.

The Lake-Going Tea-Tray: 1912

THE LAKE GOING TEA-TRAY

If you’re hungry while taking a dip in the surf all you need to do is to make a sign and a couple of garcon persons’ll set the food ship afloat. Standing waist deep in the cool ocean it’s a cheery sight to see a tray loaded with sandwiches and cakes and cups of hot tea or broth come sailing out. The idea originated with a new York society belle and it is almost as popular as swimming. A five o’clock tea served in this way is called at the beaches a two-bells, keeping to ship lingo.

 

With Lake Erie’s nice, firm, strong waves right at her own door, shall Cleveland’s society maid be deprived of the joy of giving the newest form of social function—a tea party on the water?

She needn’t be, for a New York girl has tried out an ocean tea party, and all that is necessary to its success is a nice seaworthy tray and plenty of water on which to launch it. The guests wear bathing suits, quite naturally, seeing that the function takes place far from shore, and according to reports the initial affair was a success.

It is the very latest summer fad—a tea party on the waves.

It’s surely more inspiring than monkey dinners, dog luncheons and “reversed” repasts, to mention only three diversions of the smart set. And hygienically considered it is a fad that will win praise from all quarters. It is safe and sane, and moreover it is a fad that can be taken up by bathers all over the country. All that is needed for it is an ocean going tea tray. And such a craft can be built by even an amateur carpenter in a couple of hours.

The originator of this new fad is Miss Charlotte Van Cortland Nicoll, a New York society girl, and a niece of De Lancey Nicoll, the famous lawyer. Miss Nicoll, who is spending the summer at Long Beach, gives a tea party in the ocean every Friday afternoon for her friends, and from the attention it has attracted it is evident that her idea will be widely copied.

The fad originated in a very simple manner. Every time Miss Nicoll went in bathing she noticed that the salt water and the exercise increased her appetite. As it took a long time to dress after coming out of the water before she could get something to eat she thought it would be a good plan to eat while she was in the ocean. Two or three dainty sandwiches, a cup of tea and a few little cakes would make her dip far more enjoyable and as such a repast on the beach would attract attention she conceived the idea of an ocean going tea tray. With such a craft she could have her tea far out in the water.

Miss Nicoll outlined her idea to the hotel carpenter, who built a seaworthy craft with a high poop deck to hold the teacups and commodious deck space forward and amidships for plates of sandwiches and cakes. The afternoon its keel was laid it was launched with appropriate ceremonies.

Miss Nicoll dispatched notes to several of her young friends inviting them to her first ocean tea party the following afternoon. Chaperoned by Mrs. S. Morris Pryor, Miss Ina Pryde, Miss Ruth Boomer, Miss Bertha De Forest and Miss Nicoll had tea in the ocean just as Miss Nicoll planned.

The fact that there was a high sea and that a wave washed over the bow of the tea tray did not interfere with the success of the affair. The sandwiches needed a little salt anyway. The high deck protected the tea and the craft outrode the storm with ease.

Miss Nicoll and her guests swam around for about half an hour before the ocean going tea tray was carried down to the beach by two hotel waiters and launched by the life guards.

Life guards launching the tea-tray

Their appetites were exceedingly good, for when the craft was towed in to shore she was floating very high. The first ocean tea party was such a success that Miss Nicoll decided to make it a weekly affair, and throughout the summer she will entertain her guests that way.

The Plain Dealer [Cleveland, OH] 18 August 1912: p. 1

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: But what of those admonitions, constantly drummed into the ears of the young to never go into the water directly after eating?

A monkey dinner was given at Newport by Harry Lehr, court jester of the Gilded Age. A trained chimpanzee named “Consul” was the guest of honour. He also held a “dog’s dinner,” where the pampered pets of the wealthy came dressed in formal clothes and were fed and tiny tables.  His practical jokes, hoaxes, and excesses were widely reported and were the source of much unfavourable comment. A “reversed” repast was one which began with the coffee and cheese was and finished with soup or consommé.

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdotes

You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.

 

 

Swimming on Dry Land: 1900

SWIMMING ON DRY LAND

Lewis Stevens

It sounds paradoxical to assert that swimming may be learned on dry land, yet such, according to many eminent authorities, is undoubtedly the case. It has been found, after long experience that men and women, and even children, who have studied the various movements of swimming while upon the dry land have become far more proficient in the art than those who commenced by floundering about in the water. This strange theory of learning how to become a successful swimmer was first propounded ten years ago by the English Royal Life Saving Society. The idea was laughed at, and dismissed without any serious consideration whatever. The London School Board was approached, but the theory was too novel and so altogether opposed to accepted ideas that the offer was declined, although the Amateur Swimming Association sent a deputation to the School Board Committee supporting the claims that were advanced.

But, strange to say, although the system has not received the official recognition of the Board, it is in one of their schools that children are being taught upon the dry land to swim in the water.  Miss Kingston, an organizing teacher, with controlling power over certain board schools in the district of Hackney, made a study of all known systems of learning to swim, and she came to the conclusion that the new theory was well worth putting into practice.

She introduced the system, and by dint of perseverance has brought it to perfection, so that now there is not the slightest doubt that the water is not the place in which to learn to swim.

How well the system has worked is shown by Miss Kingston’s report, issued last year. She says: “The swimming and life-saving drill has already proved a great help to the acquisition of the art of swimming. I have visited many schools in the district, at the request of the head teachers, to impart instruction to those children who intended to visit the bath this summer. It is not only an effective and beneficial form of physical exercise, but it materially helps to shorten the amount of time spent by the children in the water in learning the movements.”

French children, it is interesting to note, have for many years past been taught to swim upon dry land in accordance with the new theory. The little ones lie face downward on small stools raised about a foot from the ground, and in this position are taught the movements of swimming.

Breast stroke, first movement.

We publish a number of photographs [Mrs Daffodil has not published all of them.]showing the method in which the classes are conducted, and the movements through which the children are put. Those who understand swimming will readily appreciate the first three pictures, which show the positions and actions of the arms, shoulder, and breast in moving through the water. The fourth illustration shows how the children learn the side stroke.

Breast stroke, second movement

The exercises depicted in the fifth and sixth photographs are very useful, and can be explained much more fully upon shore than in the water. In the seventh, the children are being taught how to release themselves from the clutch of a dying person, whilst in the eighth picture they are practising the method of carrying an insensible person in the water—one, for instance, who has met with an accident or who has been seized with cramp.

Of course, in connection with the swimming lessons, the children at Miss Kingston’s school are taught how to induce artificial respiration in a drowning person who has been brought to shore, and the method of “turning” such a person in the way most likely to aid in restoring consciousness.

All the children who have been through the course of swimming lessons as arranged by Miss Kingston have turned out remarkably successful swimmers, far more so, indeed, than if they had studied in the old orthodox manner. Many other schools and night classes are adopting the system under Miss Kingston’s direction, and an exhibition given not long ago led all those who were present on that occasion, and favored the old system, to come to the conclusion that, after all, there was something in learning to swim upon the dry land. Perhaps the greatest advantage of the new system is that all children—the timid as well as the daring—have equal opportunities in learning to swim. Under the old regime many children became terribly frightened upon finding themselves in the water, and it was next to impossible to teach them any of the movements. But by going through the various exercises upon the dry land, in a quiet and thorough manner, the children master every detail of the art, and thus, when they at last enter the water, they have infinitely more assurance than they possibly could have did they not know how to support and propel their bodies.

Another advantage of learning to swim upon the dry land is the great saving in time and trouble which is effected; the lessons in this very useful art have been so inadequate on account of the inconvenience entailed by a visit to the swimming baths. Few schools possess baths of their own, and thus it has been necessary, when a lesson in swimming was to be given, to proceed to some public bath. Such a visit would at least occupy a whole morning, and naturally the lessons have not been so frequent as to give them the value they might otherwise possess. Now the school hall or the gymnasium takes the place of the swimming bath, and thus lessons may be conveniently given two or three times a week.

Swimming on dry land is an occupation for the whole year round. It is as much a winter as a summer exercise, and, in fact, the somewhat violent drill is perhaps better suited as a recreation for cold weather than for those months when outdoor bathing is most attractive. We heartily recommend this system to the public schools of America, having no doubt that it will ultimately be adopted.

Everybody’s Magazine, Volumes 1-2, 1900

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: This method has been touted as being far more sensible than throwing a young person overboard (with or without a rope) and letting them flounder their way into sinking or swimming. Fair enough, but Mrs Daffodil can only imagine that it is the first step on the primrose path to Rhythmic Dance.

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdotes

You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.

 

The Bathing-Machine Mystery, Part 2: 1893

 

Posing on a bathing-machine, Ostend. Library of Congress image collection.

[See part one here. After straying into the wrong bathing-machine, our hero tries to explain his presence to its fair occupant.]

And he told her everything. She recovered her senses by degrees; her eyes indicated attention at first, then confidence in the sincerity of the guilty man.

When he had finished she looked at him with an air of despair that would have brought tears from a stone, and passing from tears to sobs, which she restrained with heartrending efforts, she said: “So, sir, because it has pleased you to satisfy your insulting curiosity, here I am lost, dishonored forever. And I, who have done nothing, who do not even know your name, I shall bear through all my life the opprobrium which you have needed but a moment to attach to it!”

At these words Gaston comprehended the enormity of this fault which, by its consequences, assumed minute by minute the proportions of a crime. He fell on his knees and implored pardon. Through the tears that dimmed her eyes she let fall on him one of those glances which can in a moment of danger give to a man the power of a god. The poor child, kneeling, and her hands joined as in prayer, looked at him with the most supplicating air in the world, and the confidence of the weaker being, who awaits her rescue by the stronger, shone in her pretty eyes.

Here Gaston gave the measure of what was to be expected of his coolness and lucidity in moments of peril.

“Before everything, madame,” said he, “let us begin by seeing how matters are outside. I do not see how I am going to conceal myself in these bare walls, but in desperate straits the first thing to try is that which is most simple, and I want to see if I can not simply open the door and walk away.”

But Gaston, applying his eye to the keyhole, saw a spectacle, or rather a scene, which left him no hope from that side. He sat down on the bench with a despairing shake of the head to his companion in captivity.

Outside, or rather around, were groups, seemingly posted by chance, evidently surrounding and guarding No. 13.

There was at that time in Mareville a retired Parisian milliner, who had married herself in some unknown way to an old beau in the last extremity, and who called herself the Baroness de Longuepine. She passed her life sowing evil reports and reaping scandals.

When the Pichard woman returned from opening for the fair bather the door of No. 13, the Baroness de Longuepine had come down to the beach to pick up the gossip of the day. The Pichards’ two children, a little boy and a little girl, who aided their parents in the service of the bathers, came up at this moment, and declared that they had seen a gentleman bather go into No. 13 a few minutes before the lady came out of the water and that he had not come out again. Severe cross-questioning failed to shake them in their belief, and their story, deftly aided by the baroness’s sharp tongue, soon worked the Pichard woman up to a fine pitch of anger.

“I’ll show them,” she cried in a loud and angry tone, “I’ll teach these turtle-doves to build their nests in my bathing-machines! Come,” she said, turning to the children, “let us find the mayor and the constable.”

At these words the baroness was off like a shot to spread the precious news, and to such good purpose that soon a great crowd of the curious gathered about No. 13, and she was beside herself with joy.

“Poor things,” said she, “do you think they will be sent to the galleys? After this — more’s the pity —Mareville is lost,” she ran on, to the proprietor of the three prettiest cottages on the beach, “if such scandalous affairs are allowed to pass unpunished.”

A general movement of arms and heads directed toward the great stairs of the promenade announced the arrival of the mayor. Soon he was seen to appear on the left of the line, along which he passed rapidly and stopped a few paces in front of No. 13. Never had Mareville witnessed such a scene! The curious crowd, breaking from all restraint, formed a semicircle, and concentrated their hungry looks on the door where in a few moments the victim would appear in all her shame and dishonor. It was one of those little pictures in which humanity shows itself in all its cowardliness and cruelty.

The mayor now gave a signal to the constable, and the latter, respectfully unfolding a package wrapped in gray paper, drew from it a tri-colored scarf with silver fringe, with which the mayor begirt himself. He was drawing the two ends to cross them, when a sharp little noise came from the interior of No. 13 It was the bolt, which had just been drawn. The mayor, an excellent man at heart, let fall the two ends of his scarf, his heart failed him as he thought of the poor penitent whose punishment was about to begin.

A minute at least passed. The crowd no longer heard the waves, which seemed to rumble curses mingled with the cries of a soul in anguish. Another noise was heard; the latch was being lifted. The poor mayor almost fainted and turned his head aside, but the others, craning their necks, took a step forward.

The door opened slowly, slowly, and the fair bather, beautiful as the day, brilliant as a fairy, appeared on the sill, where she stopped a moment to consider the remarkable picture that presented itself to her gaze. It was horrible. The evil sentiments that possessed them had entirely changed all the faces; the sight of this troop hungering for scandal reminded one of a pack of wolves ready to throw themselves on a lamb. The bather swept the groups with a look of unutterable scorn, and she stepped down to the sand.

“What boldness!” cried the baroness, eyeing her victim from head to foot. And she flew into the bathing-machine to see The Man.

She recoiled with surprise and horror. The Man was not there!

Her cheeks became green, her lips gray, and she stood for a moment suffocated with spite and anger.

The beautiful bather, seeing everyone hurry to her bathing-machine, seemed greatly astonished and demanded what it meant. But no one dared reply, and she turned to the mayor to demand an explanation of him, when the two children, led by the Pichard woman, were brought forward, and, parrot-like, repeated their declaration to the mayor.

But just then the father came up, and not seeming to know what was going on, said to his wife, with an uneasy air: “Say, Marie, you haven’t seen the gentleman of No. 3, have you? Everybody came out of the water long ago, he has been in the water at least two hours, and his clothes are still in the machine. I have been looking for him for half an hour; I have gone out in the water more than a mile, and there’s no one to be seen. I hope nothing has happened to him!”

“Heaven help us, what a day!” cried the woman: “how was he dressed?”

“Red suit, with black edges, and a red-and-black cap.”

“The man we saw go into No. 13 was dressed like that,” cried the two children.

At these words the face of the Pichard woman turned pale; she made the sign of the cross, and said, looking at her husband: “Holy Virgin! it was his ghost the children saw!”

At this new turn of affairs there was a change like a transformation in a theatre. Every one rushed to the drowned man’s machine, while our heroine, after a covert glance at hers, walked away with the last of the crowd to where the boat was being put out.

After more than two hours the searchers came back. They had found nothing, and No. 3 was still empty.

They gathered together his effects, finding a card bearing the name “Gaston de Rochekern,” but no address, and the mayor proceeded to draw up his prods-verbal.

All the evening the events of that memorable day were discussed, and at the moment when Dr. Destombes was explaining to an attentive audience that it was not difficult to cite hallucinations such as had deceived the imaginations of the two children — at the moment when, pursuing his demonstration, the learned doctor added finely that many popular beliefs have no better origin. Gaston de Rochekern, who was not dead, but only buried, slipped as stealthily as a cat up the last step of the promenade and managed, unperceived, to reenter the cottage which he occupied alone.

He meditated the greater part of the night, and at dawn, before any one was astir, he put on his bathing-suit again, went and lay down on the edge of the beach, and waited. About an hour later, found by an early fisherman, the inanimate body of the drowned man was carried on a litter to the Casino, where Dr. Destombes, after energetic treatment, had the happiness to restore him to life. Gaston then recounted how, on the evening before, just as he was regaining the raft, he had been seized by a cramp; that he had made the raft; that the cramp had lasted a long time, getting worse: that the sea had carried him off again; that he had not been able to reach the shore; that, happily, he had managed to catch a piece of driftwood, which had sustained him until the incoming tide had carried him to the beach. It was, in fact, a tale long enough to put one to sleep, but to which no objection could be made.

Now, do you wish to know how he got out of the bathing-machine? It is very simple. With a strip of iron from the latch he had taken up two boards from the floor. With the aid of his companion he had scooped a hole beneath the floor, throwing the sand in the space between the floor and the beach; he had concealed himself in the hole, and the lady, replacing the planks, had only to rest the heel of her boot on them to drive the nails back in their holes, which Gaston had taken care to enlarge by working the nails in them like a drill.

From his place of concealment he had heard all that passed. He had remained hidden until night, and then, having carefully poked out his head to see that the beach was clear, he had made his escape.

The lady left Mareville in a few days, and her name was never registered in its hotels again: but Madame the Vicomtesse Gaston de Rochekern, who came there on the following year on her wedding tour, was marked by the wise bathing-master to bear resemblance to the fair bather of No. 13.

From the French of Eugene Mouton.

The Argonaut [San Francisco, CA] 16 January 1893

Mrs Daffodil has previously written about the ideal bathhouse here.

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,”where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdotes.

The Bathing Machine Mystery, Part 1: 1893

Bathing Machines, Ostend, From the Library of Congress image collection

Mrs Daffodil is packing up the Family for their annual sea-side jaunt. There are bathing-dresses to be let down and taken up; bathing-caps and shoes to be located and inspected for holes; and a whole host of creams and unguents packed in the first-aid kit for the inevitable sun-burn. Once the Family has been seen off, then it’s on with the muslin loose-covers, the cheese-cloth over the mirrors, pictures, and chandeliers, and out with the carpets, to be taken up, beaten, and aired. In view of this hurly-burly and with the children clamouring for their water-wings, Mrs Daffodil presents a diverting story in two parts, translated, naturally, from the French.

THE NUMBER THIRTEEN MYSTERY.

 

After All It Was Not What Appearances Indicated.

 

At Mareville all the bathing-machines are actually alike; they are made of boards, painted yellow, with blue horizontal stripes. The swimming-master and his wife rejoice in the name of Pichard, and have two

children.

Gaston, being accustomed to close his door without locking it, was not surprised to find it open when, after more than an hour in the surf, he came forth, dripping, and blue with cold, and bounded into what he thought he recognized as his own bathing-machine. He closed

the door quickly.

Outside, the sun was blinding; it was half-past four on a warm July afternoon. Gaston’s eyes, dazzled by the glare of the sun and the reflection on the water, could not at first distinguish the details of the interior, but at the end of a minute he could see clearly, and

perceived that he had made a mistake — he was in some fair bather’s dressing-room.

His first idea was to get out again immediately; but the devil, who was watching this little scene out of the corner of his eye, judged that it was time to interfere and to make of this innocent mistake a tragedy which

should set the whole beach by the ears. The devil, then, so managed it that Gaston was seized by an irresistible curiosity and stopped to look about him.

With a furtive and rapid glance, then, he passed in review the garments which hung floating from the wall like so many perfumed clouds. He inspected the dress, with its fluted folds and fantastic buttons; he

took down the dainty sailor hat, with its fish of iridescent enamel floating in a bouquet of green alga; and red actinias ; and he gently stroked a little pair of undressed-kid boots. And then he saw on the shelf a great ivory comb and brush — and no false switches! There were still two or three hairs of the color of molten gold which remained interlaced among the teeth of the comb.

This examination had lasted but four or five minutes at the most, and Gaston, ashamed of his indiscretion, now that his curiosity was satisfied, put his thumb on the latch and opened a slit of the door, glancing out to

see if he could escape without being seen. But he hastily closed the door again; a fair bather was hurrying from the water in the direction of this bathing-machine, at the same time beckoning to the Pichard woman, who was now running to open the door for her.

At the sound of the key entering the lock Gaston felt his knees giving way beneath him. In a few seconds, with the rapidity of lightning, he ran through all the possible schemes to escape. Should he lower his head,

and, dashing out like a bull, scattering the women in his way, spring into the sea and swim to America, never to return? Should he fall on his knees, with protruded chin and the palms of his hands toward the

zenith, and sobbingly demand pardon? Should he lie down at full length and pretend to be dead? Should he conceal himself and await events?

 

The key turned in the lock, and while the fair bather, her eyes half-blinded by the sun, turned toward the door and closed it, Gaston had gone down on all fours, and, like a dog that has done something he knows he should not do, had squeezed himself under the bench

which ran across the back of the room.

Happily for him. the mirror was hung above the bench, and the brush and comb were on the shelves at right and left, so that the bather, naturally placing herself before the glass, looked at her own face, and

did not see the man at her feet. She began by wiping her face and neck, then she unbuckled a belt of oxydized copper that confined her waist, after which she unfastened her blouse. That done, she disengaged one

arm, then the other, and the discreet light of the dressing-room lighted up the most divine torso that ever nature, in her inexhaustible munificence, lovingly molded for the admiration of the artist or the delight of less gifted men.

But let the ladies reassure themselves, and the gentlemen smooth down their affrighted hair; the modesty of the fair bather ran no risk. The unfortunate Gaston, consumed with fear, did now as does the ostrich in

distress, he concealed his head. He glued his face against the wall, and of the magnificent spectacle being developed in the room he saw nothing.

Having quitted her bathing costume, the lady pushed it with her foot into the corner at the left of the door, threw a towel on the floor, and, having partially dressed herself, sat down on the bench and commenced putting

on her stockings, glancing about meanwhile for her shoes. The left one was at the corner of the door; she picked it up, drew it on, and buttoned it. The other was not to be found. The lady stood up, and with the

tip of her booted foot pushed aside her bathing suit to see if it did not cover the missing shoe. She stooped down and reached under the bench; instead of her shoe she caught hold of the bare foot of a man!

A terrible cry would have burst from her lips, but it could not, and she fainted, walling up with her inanimate body the place of concealment where Gaston was suffering agonies.

Then he turned his head, saw this insentient body, these disheveled strands of hair, these beautiful eyes closed as in death, and delicately pushing aside this charming obstacle, he came forth from beneath the

bench. After a few seconds, which seemed centuries to him, Gaston at last saw those beautiful lids open languidly. She sighed deeply, raised her hand to her head, and murmured: “Where am I?”

Then she saw Gaston, and her face took on an expression of terror.

“In heaven’s name, madame,” said he. “in the name of your honor, do not cry out or you are lost! I am in the depths of despair at what has happened to you through my fault, and I am ready to do anything and

everything to save you. I beg of you to listen to me, and we will try if we can not find some way to get out of this situation.”

[To be continued tomorrow. ]

Mrs Daffodil has previously written about the ideal bathhouse here.

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,”where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdotes.

The Merman and the Mermaid: A Sea-side Mystery: 1882

A MERMAN MYSTERY

We all called him the Merman. He rode about in a Bath-chair in all kinds of weather, always pulled by the same man—a stranger in the town—wearing a kind of half-livery. The story had got about that the Merman resembled that terrible creature in Wilkie Collins’s tale—that he had no legs. With respect to the Mermaid, opinion was divided. Some said she was his wife, and others his daughter. She appeared to be deeply devoted to him, and was always by his side. They came early in the season, and took a furnished house. The man who dragged the chair was their only servant . They kept no company. The Mermaid was tall, and fair, and very pretty. She appeared to be between twenty-one and twenty-three. She wore the most delightful frocks, and the most dainty of shoes, with pointed toes, high heels, and arched instep. I think that, perhaps, these shoes did more than anything else towards prejudicing our ladies against the Mermaid, whose behaviour, as far as could be observed, was irreproachable, but there was a sort of defiant sniff about our ladies.

What was the matter with the Merman, and what made him ride about in a chair? unless, as I began by saying, he had no legs, and consequently could not walk. He was ridiculously ruddy, particularly about the nose. He ate and drank in public places, in turn oysters, stout, and sodas-and-b.’s. What he did indoors none could tell, but the butcher who served him said he was a good customer. Everywhere where the company was most numerous the uninteresting invalid and his fascinating companion were to be found in the thickest part of the crowd.

And now for the solution of the mystery. One day an unobtrusive gentleman, whose presence among us no one seemed to have noticed, suddenly darted at and clutched a slender wrist round which was coiled a golden serpent, and from the Mermaid’s hand fell to the ground a purse she had picked a lady’s pocket of. Almost at the same moment the Merman found his legs, good long ones, too, and sprung from his Bath-chair, bolted at full speed, never to be seen again. A moment afterwards, though, the unobtrusive gentleman’s mate, another detective, grappled with the man in livery, and he and the Mermaid had handcuffs on in half a twinkling. The Bath-chair was taken good care of, too, as well as its contents, which consisted of a watch or two and a few more purses. And then we all said we knew from the first the Mermaid and her male companions were a bad lot.

The Mermaid and Other Tales, Charles Henry Ross, 1882

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: As the summer draws to a close, Mrs Daffodil reminds her readers to beware of pickpockets and confidence persons at the sea-side and other places of amusement. The “terrible creature” in the Wilkie Collins tale was Miserrimus Dexter from The Law and the Lady [1874-75], an unbalanced creature without legs who uses a wheeled chair or walks on his hands. The plot was inspired by the thrilling Madelaine Smith arsenic-poisoning case.  Miss Smith, a young woman of unruly passions, albeit from a respectable Edinburgh family, was accused of poisoning her lover, a clerk in a pharmacy. He had refused to give up incriminating letters as she was about to become engaged; her solution was a cup of arsenic-laced cocoa. The judge expressed himself very severely on the defendant after shockingly candid excerpts from the letters were read in court. The jury delivered the peculiarly Scottish verdict, “Not proven,” which essentially means that the jury believed the defendant guilty, but is unable to prove it.

In this case, the “Mermaid” and her half-liveried accomplice are likely to have received a more definitive verdict.  Dreadful though the literary character was, “Miserrimus Dexter” is such a splendid name that Mrs Daffodil feels a certain regret that it was not chosen at the font by the parents of a person whose work she admires, Dexter Morgan.

Mrs Daffodil Takes a Half-Day on Saturdays in August

Mrs Daffodil hopes that you are all paddling at the sea-shore with your buckets and shovels or enjoying your fashionable bath-houses. (Mrs Daffodil really cannot condone lawn-swimming.) She will be taking a half-day holiday on Saturdays for the rest of August unless there is something she can simply not bear not to communicate. Mrs Daffodil’s regular schedule of posts on Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday will not change.

With all best wishes for fine weather on your holidays,

Mrs Daffodil

A Fashionable Bathhouse For Sea-Bathing: 1893

Victorian Bathing Machines

SEA-BATHING A LA MODE

The Interior of a Lady’s Bathhouse at Long Island.

As we all know, decorous Britishers of both sexes refuse to frolic in the big sea informally and in jovial fellowship as do the unconventional American “brethren and sisteren.” Mr. and Mrs. John Bull or the Misses Bull have little movable rooms, inside of which are the conveniences we enjoy in our seaside bathhouses, says Demorest for September. The rooms are on wheels. Enter Mrs. John Bull with a bathing-suit and a number of towels on her arm; a little pony is hitched, by primitive harness to the room, and when Mrs. J. B. gives a sign at the window of her queer little house the pony is driven down to the beach, even out into the water as far as he can go, is unhitched and trotted back to the shore. Out then, by the back door of her little room, comes Mrs. John Bull, arrayed for the sea, into which she hops and, so long as she wishes, enjoys a dip. The bath over she enters her wheeled room, the pony is sent down and hitched on, and the protean mermaid inside is brought back to terra firma. When the public seen her again she is clothed in the common garb of civilization.

Now this whole idea so pleased a friend of the Van Kortlandts, who went abroad for the first time last summer, that on settling down in her Long Island home she quite made up her mind to have a bathing-machine like those at Brighton. She had a little gable-roofed box built about 5 by 5 feet and at least 8 feet from floor to roof. Outside it is painted a clear sea green and it is swung on two big black wheels. There is a window in the roof and a door and pair of steps at the back.

Inside, madam’s imagination has worked wonders that would make Mrs. John Bull turn green with envy. The interior is all done in snow-white enamel paint, and one-half of the floor is pierced with many holes, to allow of free drainage form wet flannels. The other half of the little room is covered with a pretty green Japanese rug. In one corner is a big-mouthed green silk bag lined with rubber. Into this the wet bathing-togs are tossed out of the way. There are large bevel-edged mirrors let into either side of the room, and below one juts out a toilet shelf, on which is every appliance. There are pegs for towels and the bathrobe, and fixed in one corner is a little square seat that when turned up reveals a locker where clean towels, soap, perfumery, etc. are stowed. Ruffles of white muslin trimmed with lace and narrow green ribbons decorate every available space. When the mistress steps out of this bathing machine her maid dries and airs it, then ‘tis securely locked and wheeled high and dry behind the humble bathhouse of ye vulgar American.

The Morning Call [San Francisco, CA] 3 September 1893: p. 11

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire:  Ah yes, “the maid dries and airs” the bathing machine.  Mrs Daffodil shudders at those “ruffles of white muslin” decorating every available space. The lace and ribbonry required hand-washing and goffering and a heavy starch to keep them from going limp in the sea-breezes. A delightful effect, but scarcely a sea-side holiday.

Charming as is the description of the white-and-green bathing machine, Mrs Daffodil suggests that it exists primarily in fantasy. The reality is below:

MARINE EXCURSIONS.

We consider the essentials of a watering-place may be alliteratively summed up thus:— Sea, salt, sun, sand, shrimps, shells, sailors, and shingle…

A bathing-machine is an aquatic caravan, containing respectively two towels, two ricketty hat-pegs, a damp flooring, a strong smell of sea-weed, and a broken looking-glass, exhibiting the phenomena of oblique refraction. Though this last cannot be exactly considered the “glass of fashion,” it frequently exhibits the “mould of form” about to have a dip.

The Traveller’s Miscellany and Magazine of Entertainment, 1847

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdotes

You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.