The reader must know that in the life of the Russian peasantry the weekly vapour-bath plays a most important part.  It has even a certain religious signification, for no good orthodox peasant would dare to enter a church after being soiled by certain kinds of pollution without cleansing himself physically and morally by means of the bath.  In the weekly arrangements it forms the occupation for Saturday afternoon, and care is taken to avoid thereafter all pollution until after the morning service on Sunday.  Many villages possess a public or communal bath of the most primitive construction, but in some parts of the country—­I am not sure how far the practice extends—­the peasants take their vapour-bath in the household oven in which the bread is baked!  In all cases the operation is pushed to the extreme limit of human endurance—­far beyond the utmost limit that can be endured by those who have not been accustomed to it from childhood.  For my own part, I only made the experiment once; and when I informed my attendant that my life was in danger from congestion of the brain, he laughed outright, and told me that the operation had only begun.  Most astounding of all—­and this brings me to the fact which led me into this digression—­the peasants in winter often rush out of the bath and roll themselves in the snow!  This aptly illustrates a common Russian proverb, which says that what is health to the Russian is death to the German.

Cold water, as well as hot vapour, is sometimes used as a means of purification.  In the villages the old pagan habit of masquerading in absurd costumes at certain seasons—­as is done during the carnival in Roman Catholic countries with the approval, or at least connivance, of the Church—­still survives; but it is regarded as not altogether sinless.  He who uses such disguises places himself to a certain extent under the influence of the Evil One, thereby putting his soul in jeopardy; and to free himself from this danger he has to purify himself in the following way:  When the annual mid-winter ceremony of blessing the waters is performed, by breaking a hole in the ice and immersing a cross with certain religious rites, he should plunge into the hole as soon as possible after the ceremony.  I remember once at Yaroslavl, on the Volga, two young peasants successfully accomplished this feat—­though the police have orders to prevent it—­and escaped, apparently without evil consequences, though the Fahrenheit thermometer was below zero.  How far the custom has really a purifying influence, is a question which must be left to theologians; but even an ordinary mortal can understand that, if it be regarded as a penance, it must have a certain deterrent effect.  The man who foresees the necessity of undergoing this severe penance will think twice before putting on a disguise.  So at least it must have been in the good old times; but in these degenerate days—­among the Russian peasantry as elsewhere—­the fear of the Devil, which was formerly, if not the beginning, at least one of the essential elements, of wisdom, has greatly decreased.  Many a young peasant will now thoughtlessly disguise himself, and when the consecration of the water is performed, will stand and look on passively like an ordinary spectator!  It would seem that the Devil, like his enemy the Pope, is destined to lose gradually his temporal power.