The depiction of a couple bathing, Cathedral of Toledo (Spain).
Tucked among the elaborate carved seats of Toledo Cathedral’s choir, a rather cheeky wooden relief by Rodrigo Alemán catches the eye. It portrays a couple enjoying a soak in a wooden tub, a sight more expected in a medieval bathhouse than in a place of worship. But this wasn’t just an artist having a laugh—such playful yet pointed imagery was a hallmark of the time, blending humor with a moral lesson. Similar bawdy themes appear in the Book of Hours for Use in Maastricht (now in the British Library), a manuscript overflowing with mischievous marginalia—the kind of decorative flourishes Alemán himself would have thoroughly appreciated.
The idea of shared bathing was already making church officials sweat. Don Juan Manuel sternly advised that men should cleanse themselves “for hygiene, not hedonism”, while the Penitential of Burchard of Worms went so far as to catalog the many sinful temptations that could arise from mixed bathing. By the late 15th century—just as Alemán was carving his saucy scenes—the Church had seen enough. Mixed baths were banned, and public bathhouses, once the center of both hygiene and social life, were shut down under suspicion of encouraging a little too much relaxation.
Yet, centuries later, Alemán’s irreverent tub-dwellers are still making mischief, a testament to medieval humor, shifting moral tides, and the enduring appeal of a good soak.
