To purify
myself from all such contamination, I went to the duke of
Kingston's private Bath, and there I was almost suffocated for
want of free air; the place was so small, and the steam so
stifling.
After all, if the intention is no more than to wash the skin, I
am convinced that simple element is more effectual than any water
impregnated with salt and iron; which, being astringent, will
certainly contract the pores, and leave a kind of crust upon the
surface of the body. But I am now as much afraid of drinking, as
of bathing; for, after a long conversation with the Doctor, about
the construction of the pump and the cistern, it is very far from
being clear with me, that the patients in the Pump-room don't
swallow the scourings of the bathers. I can't help suspecting,
that there is, or may be, some regurgitation from the bath into
the cistern of the pump. In that case, what a delicate beveridge
is every day quaffed by the drinkers; medicated with the sweat
and dirt, and dandriff; and the abominable discharges of various
kinds, from twenty different diseased bodies, parboiling in the
kettle below. In order to avoid this filthy composition, I had
recourse to the spring that supplies the private baths on the
Abbey-green; but I at once perceived something extraordinary in
the taste and smell; and, upon inquiry, I find that the Roman
baths in this quarter, were found covered by an old burying
ground, belonging to the Abbey; through which, in all
probability, the water drains in its passage; so that as we drink
the decoction of living bodies at the Pump-room, we swallow the
strainings of rotten bones and carcasses at the private bath.
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