56. Cf. one current meaning of the verb “parit’,” i.e., “to flog” (Gamaiunov 1992, 13).
57. Pokrovskii 1884, 42, 46, 77–78, 83–88. Cf. Ransel 1991, 117; Dunn 1974, 389.
58. Martynova 1978, 181.
59. Listova 1989, 148. Cf. Pokrovskii 1884, 46.
60. Listova 1989, 148.
61. Pokrovskii 1884, 47.
62. Ibid., 84.
63. Cross 1991, plates 1, 3, 8.
64. Likhachev and Panchenko 1976, 73.
65. Kabanov 1986, 136.
66. Masson 1800, vol. 2, 119.
67. Ibid., 120.
68. Gennep 1960, 130.
69. Zelenin, however, mentions cases where not the girlfriends, but a male sorcerer (“znakhar’”) would wash the naked bride to protect her from evil influences (1991 [1927], 340). Cf. also Myl’nikova and Tsintsius 1926, 66, 68; Baiburin 1993, 73.
70. For example: Pevin 1893; Myl’nikova and Tsintsius 1926, 60–69; Vahros 1966, 136, 168ff.; Propp 1975, 21–23; Pushkareva and Shmeleva 1974, 348; Worobec 1991, 161–62; Zorin 1981, 93–95.
71. See especially: Kolesnitskaia and Telegina 1977; Gvozdikova and Shapovalova 1982. During parts of the marriage sequence besides the prenuptial bath the “krasota” could take forms other than a headpiece, e.g., a little birch tree or a little fir tree. There is considerable potential for further psychoanalytic study here.
72. Kolpakova 1973, 254.
73. Bernshtam 1988, 242ff.; cf. id. 1978, 52, 67–68.
74. See Engel 1989, 231–33.
75. See: Rancour-Laferriere 1989a, 238–40; Bernshtam 1991. In some areas the very nightshirt the bride wore to consummate her marriage was called “kalina,” i.e., “snowball berry” (Worobec 1991, 170).
76. Cf. Baiburin’s characterization of a woman’s marriage as deprivation of her right to further participate in youthful carousals, i.e., “nastuplenie nevoli” (1993, 69).
77. Myl’nikova and Tsintsius 1926, 67.
78. Ibid. Cf. Smirnov 1877, 28.
79. Worobec 1991, 161.
80. Kolpakova 1973, 230, 231.
81. Pushkareva and Shmeleva (1974, 348) speak of a ritual of “beating off the dawn” (“otbivanie zor’”) before the wedding.
82. Kolpakova 1973, 231.
83. Gvozdikova and Shapovalova 1982, 271.
84. In the marriage lyrics there are numerous uses of the word “alien” (“chuzhoi”) to characterize the bride’s new in-laws (e.g., Kolpakova 1973, 26, 59, 62, 97, etc.).
85. Istomin 1892, 141.
86. Kolpakova 1973, 260; cf. Pevin 1893, 233.
87. There was even a possibility that she might in the near future give birth to a child in the same bania, although this was much less likely because she would be living with her husband’s family elsewhere.
88. Propp 1961, 268.
89. See Propp 1975, 22.
90. Kolpakova 1973, 232.
91. See: Pevin 1893, 232; Worobec 1991, 161.
92. Gennep 1960, 132.
93. Gvozdikova and Shapovalova 1982, 272.
94. See especially Eremina 1991.
95. Moyle 1987, 229.
96. Many ethnographic and folkloristic discussions of the bania have in the past focused on its “unclean” and “pagan” aspects, rather than on the masochistic aspect. The bania was devoid of Christian icons, for example, or one was not supposed to go to church on the same day that one went to the bania. The bania had its own demon-in-residence, termed a “bannik” or “baennik” (just as most other significant places in Russian traditional culture had their special spirits: the peasant hut had its “domovoi,” the threshing-barn its “ovinnik,” the forest its “leshii,” bodies of water a “vodianoi,” the open field a “polevoi,” etc.).
The bannik and other local demons would themselves take steam baths, preferring to be fourth in line after three rounds of steaming by humans (a person who tried to go fourth might be burned or even killed by the bathhouse demon). Various witches, evil spirits, and unclean dead might gather in the bania. One was not supposed to make loud noises there. Both the mother who gave birth there and her midwife were considered unclean until they performed a special cleansing ceremony, usually a joint handwashing. A mother’s newborn child could not be left in the bania, for fear an evil spirit might steal it before it could be baptized. And so on. See, for example Maksimov 1909, vol. 18, 51–57; Vahros 1966, 79–95; Ivanits 1989, 59–60; Levin 1991; Zelenin 1991 (1927), 283–85, 319ff.; Listova 1989.
These beliefs reveal an overall sense of unease about the bania, and they are no doubt related to the very real dangers associated with its use. For example, people were known to suffocate in the bania, most likely as a result of carbon monoxide poisoning from lack of ventilation and improper timing in firing the stove. This danger would have a certain appeal to a masochist, although it was hardly the primary aspect of the bania which appealed to masochistic impulses.
The most dangerous event to occur in a bania was of course childbirth. Mother and/or child could die, or some complication could occur, leading to serious illness. Furthermore, there was little that could be done. Nature took its course because peasant midwives were largely ignorant of real medicine. Superstition thrives on a soil of fear compounded by ignorance. Even without complications childbirth was painful. Women suffered unspeakable torments giving birth in the bania. The ritual postpartum cleansing must have helped the participants suppress some very unpleasant memories. The rule that one was supposed to speak quietly and avoid any noisy behavior in a bania was undoubtedly connected to the fact that a woman screamed her heart out while giving birth there. The notion that the bannik could do painful things to you was probably related to the intense pain of childbirth, for the newborn was typically referred to as a “little devil” (“chertenok”).
The various superstitions and apotropaic practices concerning the bania would themselves make an interesting subject for detailed psychoanalytic study. For the most part they are not connected to masochism, however, which is why I am not investigating them here. Masochism plays very little role when there is absolutely no choice. One did not have to steam and beat oneself with veniki, but, when labor started, a woman had to endure.
NOTES TO CHAPTER 9
1. For example, Alan Roland (1988) writes about the “we-self” of Japan and India, as opposed to the “I-self” of Western countries. Triandis (1990) provides an extensive survey of the sophisticated empirical studies which have been done on individualism and collectivism in a variety of cultures. Unfortunately, almost nothing is said about Russia. It is clear from what Triandis says, however, that ethnic Russians would fit at the collectivist end of the spectrum. For example, Triandis finds that a sharp distinction between “ingroup” and “outgroup” characterizes collectivism (56). This terminology perfectly reflects the important cultural opposition of “svoi” (“own”) vs. “chuzhoi” (“other”) in Russia.
Inkeles, Hanfmann, and Beier (1958), utilizing some standard psychological tests, found a much stronger need for affiliation in a sample of former Soviet Russian citizens than in a comparable sample of American subjects.
Urie Bronfenbrenner’s book Two Worlds of Childhood: U.S. and U.S.S.R. (1972) provides substantial documentation of the contrast between the collectivist orientation of child upbringing (“vospitanie”) in Soviet Russia and the somewhat haphazard individualism fostered by American child rearing.
Boris Segal (1990) demonstrates an awareness of the cross-cultural studies, and explicitly discusses the “communal spirit that was the foundation of the old Russian society” as well as the “low degree of individualism” in Soviet society (503).