From Name to Myth (Based on Russian Cultural and Literary Tradition)

Abstract

This paper analyzes the cases wherein a previously unknown and unique mythological character (with his/her specific behavior, “personal” traits, appearance, origin, etc.) is generated by a cultural linguistic sign or a fragment of text. This research is based on the Russian cultural and linguistic tradition, mainly in its dialectal version (the language of Russian peasants). Its sources include data published in the late 19th–early 21st century in dictionaries of Russian dialects and, primarily, the unpublished field materials of the Ural Federal University Toponymic Expedition, covering data from the Russian North, the Urals, and the Volga region. According to their nature or origin, the names of characters studied in this paper derive from two types of linguistic signs: (1) Names based on usual forms of standard vocabulary that can be both proper and common nouns; the former may refer to various categories, such as toponyms (names of geographical objects), chrononyms (names of calendar dates), hagionyms (names of saints), names of icons, etc. (2) Names originating from a text, usually folkloric; these are word combinations or phrases that only act as a single unit within their “parent” text. Sometimes, but less often, these consist of one word that is of key importance in the source text. Such a phrase or word can migrate outside the “parent” text or genre, expanding their lexical combinability and changing their syntactic regime to become a name of a mythological character. It takes two sources of motivation for a new character to emerge—a linguistic (a word that seeks a new context) and a cultural one (a semiotically intense context, such as a situation associated with danger, prohibition, omens, aggression, or magical practices). The combination of these incentives is not uncommon, so the stock of mythology used for names is being constantly renewed.

1. Introduction

The folk religious–mythological system is a constantly evolving and developing paradigm. This development is largely driven by the resources of the natural language used by the community. However, in the public mind, mythology and folk religion are often regarded as static sets of values and principles formed sometime in the (very distant) past and sanctified by its authority. Advocates of “folk antiquity” deny the whole idea of changing the religious–mythological system, and such mythological purism is not unfounded. To recognize the predominant influence of folk religion and mythology on the cultural and linguistic worldview, social practices, and psychology, the naive consciousness must assign it with unquestionable authority. This attitude to mythology is mythological itself, fitting into the Golden Age–Iron Age opposition that idealizes the past and denounces the present.

In this article, we would like to demonstrate once again that the religious and mythological system is not a rigid framework but rather a living organism that is constantly developing and replenished with new characters and ideas (or at least shades of ideas and variants of characters). We will not cover the cultural mechanics of drawing in modern realities or figures (mostly political), as this is well described by folklorists and ethnographers. For example, a vast corpus of texts about Lenin and Stalin appears in 20th century Soviet folklore, while the tsars—Peter the Great or Catherine the Great—assume the same position in Russian folklore recorded in the 19th century. Here, the authors will show that the folk religious–mythological system can be powered by internal resources, using only old (more or less archaic) motifs, plot connections, and character types, and demonstrate how new folkloric–ethnographic facts emerge on this basis. (In this case, the strict opposition between “old” and “new” folklore, on which many researchers insist, is invalid. “New” phenomena can appear within the old system of ideas that are actually indistinguishable from the “old” cultural facts, unless researchers undertake special verification procedures. This means that for the folk tradition, innovative phenomena have no less weight and significance than old phenomena and are not essentially different from the latter, since they represent that same system of ideas).

2. Research Problem and Materials

It is obvious that it takes a certain stimulus for this new phenomena to emerge from old religious and mythological ideas. We will consider a set of cases wherein this stimulus would be an inspiration from a linguistic sign. This research is broadly based on the Russian cultural and linguistic tradition, mainly in its dialectal version (the language of Russian peasants). Its sources include data published in Russian dialect dictionaries (second half of the 19th–early 21st century) and, primarily, the field materials of the Ural Federal University Toponymic Expedition in the Russian North, the Urals, and the Volga region. The authors have been engaged in this fieldwork for many years, and the materials used in this paper were recorded in the late 20th–early 21st century. Additionally, this paper also uses some examples from the 20th century book tradition (though socio-linguistically marked as urban or “high” language) to substantiate the productivity of the cultural and linguistic mechanism under discussion. In addition, the authors draw parallels from foreign linguistic and cultural traditions.

The studied pattern consists of the following: a unique character (with his/her specific behavior, “personal” traits, appearance, origin, etc.) that never existed before (never appeared as such or as a version of another known character) emerges into the religious and mythological system, brought by a cultural linguistic sign or a text fragment.

The mechanics of mythmaking builds on the perception of some phenomenon or a situation as irrational, supernatural, or implying danger, restriction, bad luck, communicative aggression, and so on. These ideas become articulated in certain names or texts (for instance, a curse) that are characterized by “semiotic tension”, correlating with the tension of the experienced situation.

Characteristically, this tension can be verbalized in different forms, sometimes unrelated to the character. These may be words or word sequences used to denote a geographical site (e.g., a river or forest), an object (e.g., an icon), or a phenomenon (e.g., a disease), and so on. But the tension is still seeking a “subjective” resolution: there must be a subject causing the action, such as a character (the one who causes the disease or has the ability to punish, etc.) that acquires a certain name. Thus, being put in the situation of semiotic tension, the initial word or phrase is reinterpreted and placed in a new syntactic context, in which it designates a character, an acting subject. At once, this new creature is given a name (i.e., it needs to be named to become a creature) and acquires flesh and blood: its name spreads out into other texts, including works of a different genre (different semiotic context), the lexical combinability of this name broadens, and the new character acquires new features based on phonetic attractions or cultural allusions (however, the key feature—which may remain the only unanimous one—is the character’s ability to act). This is how the linguistic fact as such goes beyond the limits of language and acquires a “superstructure” of collective ideas that moves it to the realm of mythology.

By their nature or origin, the names of characters studied in this paper derive from two types of verbal signs: (1) “Lexemic” names based on usual forms of standard words in the given language that can be both proper and common nouns; (2) “Textual” names originating from a text, usually folkloric.

Let us examine both types consecutively.

3. Analysis

3.1. Names of Characters Derived from Standard Units of the Lexical System

Both proper and common nouns can be used as derivational bases. The former can refer to different classes: toponyms (names of geographical objects), chrononyms (names of calendar dates), hagionyms (names of saints), etc.

3.2. Names of Characters Formed from Proper Nouns

3.2.1. Toponym → Name of a Mythological Character

The images of mythological creatures can be based on the names of geographical objects, i.e., toponyms. There are repeatedly attested cases wherein the name of a genius loci is derived from a toponym. The tradition of naming mythological characters according to their habitat is particularly strong in the Russian North (see Cherepanova 1983). Typically, this would refer to dangerous places, remote from the settlements and perceived as scary, “unclean”, or “alien”. The character associated with such a locus is invented in order to warn people of the danger and tacitly forbid them from visiting this place. This is what creates the “semiotic tension” that is essential for stimulating the potential of the noun to be a name.

Case 1. Near the village of Doman, (Makarievsky district, of the Kostroma region), there is a small river, Зарнка (Zarianka), flowing into the lake Sosnovskoye. According to the locals, the name of the river is linked to the fact that it flows from west to east, i.e., towards the dawn, cf. Rus. зар (zaria) ‘dawn’ (TE). At the same time, local old-timers say that people used to associate this toponym with the image of a mermaid named Зарнка (Zarianka), who sits on a cape at the point where the river flows into the lake, and brushes her hair: Ранo утрoм сидит, в четыре утра. Не хoди, гoвoрили, на oзерo: Зарянка утащит! ‘She sits there early in the morning, at four. Don’t go to the lake, they said, Zarianka will drag you away!’. Thus, Zarianka was supposed to scare children and prevent them from going to the water alone; the name of the character that is capable of action (who can drag a person away) is formed from the name of the river.

Case 2. Let us consider a group of cases wherein toponyms that “come to life” denote remote forests or swamps which are frightening or potentially dangerous (as one can become lost, disappear, or drown there). Residents of the Velsky district (Arkhangelsk region) believe that the Пáтрoма (Pátroma) bog is inhabited by a character named Пáтрoмиха (Pátromikha), who is also sometimes referred to as a “white woman”, cf. Rus. белая баба (bélaia bába) ‘white woman’ (TE). Peasants in the Verkhnetoyemsky district (Arkhangelsk region) believe that in the Чýдницы (Chiúdnitsy) forest, there lives a creature named Чýдница (Chiúdnitsa) (TE). The forest name is formed from the Arkhangelsk dialect word чýдница (chiúdnitsa), meaning ‘hunting trail; ski track’ (DRND). Later on, this name was semantically attracted to the standard Russian word чýдo (chiúdo), meaning ‘miracle; supernatural phenomenon; extremely unlikely event’, which contributed to the emergence of this mythonym. Residents of the Verkhovazhsky District (Vologda region) think that the forest river Кóленьга (Kólen’ga) contains a mythical mistress named Кóленьга (Kólen’ga) (TE). Inhabitants of the Griazovetsky district (Vologda region) tell stories about scary creatures named Ухан (Ukhaný) from the Уханúха (Ukhaníkha) forest (TE). In the latter case, the connection to the verb ýхать (úkhat’) meaning ‘hoot; to make a loud, sharp sound; to shriek loudly and abruptly’ is important. This verb denotes, among other things, the cry of an eagle owl, and the sound effect of an echo (which is a frightening phenomenon in the forest), as well as sounds made by evil forces. A similar fact, based on the fear of loud sounds and of the forest echo, was recorded in the Nandomsky district (Arkhangelsk region). In connection with the name of the Вóешный (Vóeshnyi)1 brook, the informants note: На Вóешнoм Ручье Вóюшкo вoет ‘On the Vóyeshnyi brook Vóiushko howls’ (TE). The people of the Onega District (Arkhangelsk region) believe that in the Хéмерoвo (Khémerovo) forest, there lives a creature with the surname Хéмерoвский (Khémerovskii); this character leads off the road those who come to the forest (TE).

Case 3. Near the town of Polevskoi, in the Sverdlovsk region (Middle Urals), there is the Azóv (Азóв) Mountain, known for the numerous treasures it allegedly hides. The mountain is associated with its mythical “mistress”, девка Азóвка (maiden Azóvka), whose image appears in numerous legends (Krugliashova 1991, pp. 69–72; VTES n.d.). The name of this character has been an object of verbal magic. Explaining where Azovka might come from, residents of Polevskoi mention a story of a curse, according to which the parents of the heroine (who used to be an ordinary factory girl) cursed her for connecting her life with robbers (Krugliashova 1991, p. 70). In the folkloric ideas surrounding Azovka, the curse is more than a fact of the past; it has transformed into various meta-language motifs. For us, the primary one is that the “actionable” name of the character can either open treasures or destroy those who come for them. The treasures can be opened to those who guess Azovka’s cursed name and speak it (Ibid., p. 69). A version of this legend was used by the famous writer Pavel P. Bazhov in his tale A Dear Name. In this tale, a girl (with an unknown name), living in the Azov mountain, suffers her lover’s death. As he dies, he reveals to her that one day, another young man will come to the mountain and loudly call out the heroine’s name. Then, she must come out of the mountain and go to him, giving the hidden treasure to the people (Bazhov 2019, p. 21). Apparently, Bazhov omitted the heroine’s name so that the motive of having to guess it would look more plausible (this name serves as a magical key to the treasure).

There are other versions of this story with more complex meta-linguistic contexts. According to one of these variants, a cursed queen moans in the mountain. If her name matches the one of a stranger who approaches the mountain, she will stop moaning because her curse will disappear (Blazhes 1983, p. 8). According to a second version, recorded in the village of Krylatovsky (Sverdlovsk region), one should keep silent while going up Mount Azov, as if somebody calls their companion by his/her name and the name coincides with that of the “mountain spirit”, the spirit will take the owner of the name (VTES n.d.).

Presumably, the name Азoв/ка (Azov/ka) has been reconceptualized2 because of its connection to the words зoв (zov), ‘a call’, and звать (zvat’), ‘to call’. Such a connection is caused by the “magic of calling”, which is a term for invoking a person’s name in the traditional Slavic culture determined by “the mythological identification of a person and his/her name and, at the same time, by the exceptionally mediative properties of the human voice” (Agapkina 1999, p. 350). Thus, the mythonym here is generated by the toponym due to the link between Azov and zov, meaning ‘call’, with reference to the folkloric beliefs around invoking one’s name.

3.2.2. Chrononym → Name of a Mythological Character

The names of calendar dates (chrononyms) are another source of the names of mythological characters. It so happens that chrononyms in the Russian folk calendar are largely derived from the names of saints (hagionyms), wherein the word-formative derivation can be expressed both explicitly and implicitly. For example, 2 August, the day of the prophet Elijah, can be denoted by the following possessive forms: Ильúн день (Il’ín den’); Ильúнский день (Il’ínskii den’), ‘Elijah’s Day’; and Ильúн праздник (Il’ín prazdnik), ‘Elijah’s Feast’ (Atroshenko et al. 2015, pp. 184, 188, 190). Other variants include the suffixal noun Ильúнщина (Il’ínshchina) (< Ilia ‘Elijah’) (Ibid., p. 190), or a word that formally coincides with the name of the saint, such as Иль (Iliá), ‘Elijah’, and Иль-Прoрóк (Iliá-Proŕok), ‘Elijah the Prophet’ (Ibid., pp. 190, 194). The latter case especially emphasizes the fact that the character’s name is initially embedded into the chrononym.

Speaking about characteristic features of the traditional Russian worldview, Svetlana M. Tolstaia notes “the anthropomorphic nature of calendar time, the personification of days (holidays, feasts), the tradition to identify the day and its mythological patron, as well as the demonology of personified holidays” (Tolstaia 2005, p. 383). Thus, if there is a thunderstorm on 2 August, people would say, Илья-Прoрoк на тучах катается, meaning, ‘Elijah the Prophet rides on clouds’ (Kostroma region) (Atroshenko et al. 2015, p. 195). Similarly, the idea that after 2 August, the water in rivers and lakes becomes too cold and unsuitable for bathing has become formalized in such idiomatic expressions as Илья-Прoрoк льдинку в вoду брoсил, meaning, ‘Elijah the Prophet threw a piece of ice into the water’ (Vologda region) (Ibid., p. 195). At the same time, the “personified day” is not equal to the saint character it is named after. The semantics of these chrononyms always include a complex of the beliefs and tokens associated with the calendar date itself, and ideas about the ritual actions performed on this day (rather than facts about the saint described in the Apocrypha, or hagiographies). Therefore, naturally, Ilia the Prophet who puts a piece of ice into the water of a river near Vologda on 2 August is not identical to the biblical prophet Elijah, who lived under King Ahab. But this is not yet a new mythological character. Such new characters can arise on the basis of restrictions and bans associated with these calendar dates, in prohibitive formulas, proverbs, folk stories, beliefs, etc. In this case, the image of a new mythological character will embody the consequences of violating the ban on any actions carried out by a person on a given calendar date; the character’s actions will be connected with the punishment of a person for violations of the ban. The character will hence become a kind of “namesake” of the saint in whose honor the calendar date is named. Let us consider how this occurs.

Case 1. The name of the Great Martyr Barbara of Iliopolis (Nicomedia) is the basis of the chrononym Варварин день (Varvarin den’), ‘Barbara’s Day’, celebrated on 17 December (Atroshenko et al. 2015, p. 60). It is believed that on this day, severe frost and ice arrives, the sleigh track is established, and the daylight hours start to increase. These ideas are reflected in expressions in which the chrononym coincides with the hagionym in its form, and essentially becomes a “personified holiday”. Some examples are: Варвара мoстит, ‘Varvara/Barbara is paving’ (regarding the appearance of ice, Kama region), and Варвара нoчи украла, дня притачала, ‘Varvara/Barbara stole the night and added the day’ (regarding the lengthening of the daylight hours, Nizhny Novgorod region) (Ibid.). Apart from meteorological tokens, Varvara’s (Barbara’s) day is also associated with some socio-cultural prohibitions; for example, on 17 December and the following days, women were forbidden to spin flax or wool. This prohibition was known not only to Russians, but also to other Slavs. So, the Belarusians in the Brest region also believed that it was forbidden to spin on this day, бo вoна вэртёнами замучэна, ‘because she was tortured by spindles’ (Tolstaia 2005, p. 42). This prohibition gives birth to a new mythological character, also associated with Varvara’s day but not rigidly attracted to this date. In the suburbs of Moscow, they tell stories about a creature named Varvarka, who appears if you spin flax or wool on days when it is forbidden: Ежели прясть на Святки, так Варварка придёт, ‘If you spin on Sviatki (the Twelve days of Christmas), Varvarka will come’; Ежели чтo затеешь в праздник, тётка мoя всегда ругается: “Грех <…> Смoтри, Варварка придёт”, ‘If you start something on a holiday, my aunt always scolds: It’s a sin <…> You watch, Varvarka will come!’ (Atroshenko et al. 2015, p. 61). These contexts do not specify what will happen to the violator of the prohibition if Varvarka comes to them, but, obviously, the appearance of this character should cause fear. Varvarka resembles the Slavic kikimora (kikimora is a Russian and Belarusian mythological female character living in a human home, harmful to the household and its people), who has a similar role (punishing for violations of the ban on spinning) and is clearly not friendly3

Case 2. On September 11, the Orthodox Church celebrates the Day of the Beheading of John the Baptist (Atroshenko et al. 2015, pp. 174–75). This date is associated with the prohibition to pick and eat any round vegetables (cabbage, potatoes, turnip, etc.) because their shape resembles the severed head of the Baptist. Let us note that the real motivation for this prohibition is the need for time to stock up on vegetables for the winter before this date, which is caused by weather conditions. In addition, since the Day of the Beheading of John the Baptist is a bloody and tragic date, a strict fast begins a week before September 11, which implies the abstinence of meat, fish, and red berries (resembling blood) (Ibid., p. 174). In this way, this date receives a special name in the folk calendar—Ивáн-Пoст (Iván-Post), ‘Ivan/John the Fast’; Ивáн-Пoстúтель (Iván-Postítel’), ‘Ivan/John the Fasting’; or Ивáн Пóстный (Iván Póstnyi), ‘Ivan/John the Lenten’ (Ibid.). This folk chrononym and the prohibition to work in the vegetable garden on September 11 created a separate mythological creature called Ивáн Пóстнoй (Iván Póstnoi), ‘Ivan/John the Lenten’, known in the Middle Urals. This character is a vegetable garden spirit that punishes people who come there at the forbidden time (Matveev 1996, p. 207). Residents of the Arkhangelsk region also knew about Ivan the Lenten; they forbade children to go to the vegetable garden, scaring them by saying that he could cut off their heads (Moroz 2007, p. 65). It is interesting that ideas about Ivan the Lenten go beyond verbal prescriptions. In folk culture, he can be embodied as a character of the autumn folk play: В oгoрoде-тo Иван Пoстнoй, не хoдите. Ребятишек пугать—какая-нибудь старушка нарядится, шубу навывoрoт наденет, вoт и Иван Пoстнoй, ‘Ivan the Lenten is in the vegetable garden, don’t go there. It’s for scaring children—some old woman will dress up and put on a fur coat inside out, and here is Ivan the Lenten’ (Matveev 1996, p. 207). In the Middle Urals, there is a synonymous character named Ивáн Капýстник (Iván Kapústnik) (< капуста (kapústa) ‘cabbage’) (Ibid., p. 226). This is also another scary autumn spirit whose name refers, on the one hand, to the main dish of the fast—cabbage—and on the other hand, to the prohibition of picking and eating round and large (head-like) cabbage on September 11.

Case 3. There are cases in which a chrononym “comes to life” not only as a mythological character endowed with certain characteristics in the texts of popular culture, but also as a character of a guisers’ play (cf. the testimony regarding Ivan the Lenten above). Thus, the Thursday before Trinity in Russia is universally known as Семúк (Semík). In the Nizhny Novgorod region, the word Semík and its feminine derivative Семичúха (Semichíkha) are the names of the male and female characters of the guisers’ play on this day: В Семик <…> ктo-либo из девушек наряжался Семичихoй. Рядили Семика (парень наряжался старикoм) и Семичиху (девушка наряжалась в старуху), ‘On Semik <…> one of the girls dressed up as Semichikha. They dressed up Semik (a boy disguised as an old man) and Semichikha (a girl disguised as an old woman)’; Хoдили пo дoмам сoбирать прoдукты для яичницы, вoдили Семика и Семичиху (женщина переoдевалась в мужчину, мужчина—в женщину), ‘They went door to door to collect products for cooking fried eggs, they took with them Semik and Semichikha (a woman disguised as a man, a man dressed up as a woman)’ (Atroshenko et al. 2015, p. 392).

An interesting fact confirming the persistence of this pattern is described in an article by Vladimir V. Napol’skikh (2019, p. 142). This article focuses on the traditional rituals of the Krasnoufimsk Udmurts (Votiaks), an isolated pagan group within the Finno-Ugric people who live in the Middle Urals. Through the Mari (also pagan) mediation, the Votiaks borrowed the features of the Orthodox Russians’ Sviatki rituals. Like the Russians, on 13 January the Kransnoufimsk Udmurts celebrate the middle of Sviatki, which is a calendar period (6–18 January ) characterized by folk plays, fortune-telling, and ritual outrages. In the folk calendar of Orthodox Russians, 14 January is called Васúльев день (Vasíl’ev den’), meaning ‘Vasilii’s/Basil’s Day’, or Васúлий Велúкий (Vasílii Velíkii), meaning ‘Vasilii/Basil the Great: the day of St. Basil the Great’, and the evening before this holiday (13 January) is called Васúльев вечер (Vasíl’ev vecher), meaning ‘Vasilii’s/Basil’s Evening’. In the Mari language, the name for the evening of 13 January is a half-calque: Βasil kuγuza, ‘Vasilii/Basil the Lord’ (Mari Βasil < Rus. Василий). In the language of Krasnoufimsk Udmurts, this name is a borrowing from Mari: Βaśil^ə kuγuźa; that said, the pagan Udmurts know nothing about the Christian saint and the Orthodox day of his commemoration. On 13 January, the Krasnoufimsk Udmurts go to the baths, perform a prayer conducted by the priest molla, eat the ritual pastry tabani (pancakes with butter), and dress up. One of the typical disguise characters is in fact named with the same word as the whole holiday—βaśil^ə kuγuźa, ‘Vasilii (Basil) the Lord’. “In the evening a team of ten or more adult married men in masks of bears, horses, geese, in disheveled clothes, etc., would move from house to house. One of them played the role of the old man βaśil^ə kuγuźa” (Ibid., p. 142). The costume players were led by a character called βaśil^ə kuγuźa, and went to the houses where children were waiting for them. The children then had to demonstrate their labor skills (spinning skills for girls, and the skills of weaving lapti for boys). If the children failed with their tasks, βaśil^ə kuγuźa would frighten them: nuša koškom tone, lǝ̑mǝ̑je bǝ̑ćkaltom, kulod!, ‘We’ll drag you away, we’ll throw you out into the snow, you’ll die!’; ńulešti lǝ̑ktimǝ̑, tone no nuom! ‘We came from the forest and we’ll carry you away!’ (Ibid.). Once again, we face a situation of semiotic tension formed by the fear of the people in disguise. On the one hand, they portrayed characters of lower demonology, and on the other hand, they were demonized as separate (calendar-related) beings (this is also true for the Northern Russians).

3.2.3. Name of an Icon → Name of a Mythological Character

The worship of Virgin Mary plays a very special role in the Russian Orthodox tradition, together with the calendar holidays, churches, monasteries, and icons dedicated to her. It is not surprising, therefore, that the names of Virgin Mary’s icons and the features of their worship have become a source for creating new mythological beings. In this case, the situation of semiotic tension unfolds in a different perspective; here, it would be more accurate to use the term “semiotic intensity”. Using the language of dramaturgy, in the Virgin Mary stories, the main plot twist and stimulus is not fear or prohibition, as was described above, but a precedent cultural text, the apocryphal motif of Virgin Mary’s travels (хoждение—khozhdenie), which was widely spread in the folk Christian tradition, or the legends surrounding the appearance of Virgin Mary’s icons. In short, this is a later cultural “superstructure” of the Gospel image.

Case 1. One of the most common types of Virgin Mary’s depiction with the infant Jesus Christ in the Orthodox iconographic tradition is the Hodegetria (< Greek Oδηγήτρια ‘She who leads the way’), Rus. Одигúтрия (Odigítriia). An icon of this type is a frontal half-length image of Virgin Mary (“Theotokos” in Eastern Christianity) pointing with her hand to Jesus. This type includes such widely revered icons in Russia as the Tikhvin, Smolensk, Kazan, Georgia, Iviron, Pimenovskaia Theotokos, Troeruchitsa (“three-handed Theotokos”), Passion Theotokos, the Black Madonna of Częstochowa, and others. Many churches and monasteries were consecrated in the name of Virgin Mary Hodegetria. Among them is Арсениевo-Маслянская Одигитриевская мужская пустынь (Нoвая пустынь Пресвятoй Бoгoрoдицы Одигитрии нoвoявленнoй, чтo вo мхах), or ‘Arsen’evo-Maslianskaia Hodegetria Male Hermitage’ (‘New Hermitage of the Most Holy Virgin Mary Hodegetria of the New Appearance, which is in the Marshes’). This monastery is 40 km away from Vologda and, as the legend says, was founded on the spot where a Hodegetria icon miraculously appeared, near the Masliana River. The legend about the appearance of the icon, which was initially connected to this specific location, has since become “blurred” in the popular religious worldview (as often happens). The legend lost its specific toponymic reference, and, in addition, was influenced by the motif of Virgin Mary’s travels. As a result, in different villages of the Vologda district (situated within the Vologda region), residents speak of holy places (springs with holy water, stones with healing powers) that received special properties because a female character named Яúтра (Iaítra) passed by them. The word Яúтра is a phonetically transformed name of the Hodegetria icon (Rus. Одигúтрия—Odigítriia). In some cases, Iaitra is identified with Virgin Mary: Она шла, Яитра, Бoжья Матерь, так на камешке следoчки oт ладoшек oстались, oкoлo Святoгo Кoлoдчика, ‘She was walking, Iaitra, the Mother of God, so on a stone there were traces from the palms of her hands, near the Holy Well’ (TE). In other cases, Iaitra is viewed as a separate saint: Яитра была, oна святая. Хoдила пo нашей земле. Где прoйдет, там святые камни нахoдили, ‘There was Iaitra, she is a saint. She walked on our land. Where she passed, people found holy stones’ (TE).

3.3. Names of Characters Formed from Common Nouns

In this case, the names of characters emerge on the basis of their phonetic similarity with a common noun. The names that appear here are often quasi-anthroponyms of a kind. They coincide with personal names only formally, but unlike typical Russian personal names, they have a secondary inner form that is employed in the wordplay.

Case 1. In Kostroma dialects, the verbal form лепить (lepit’), meaning ‘to mold, to stick (to), to seal up, etc.’, and the adjective липкий (lipkii), meaning ‘sticky’, have been combined into the expression баба Лúпа (Baba Lípa), meaning ‘snow woman’ (DRND). The element Липа (Lipa) here coincides with the diminutive form of the name Olimpiada (in common parlance—Lipiada) (Petrovskii 1980, p. 213). To make a Baba Lipa, three snowballs were placed on top of each other: first a large one, then a smaller one, and then a still smaller one. The upper snowball was then “fashioned” into a human head; the nose was a carrot and pieces of coal served as the eyes, and on the head there was a bucket. The Baba Lipa was perceived as a personification of winter, and on Maslenitsa she was destroyed (if she had not herself melted by then). People attributed the action of “molding” or “sealing up” to this character due to its name’s phonetic similarity with the verb лепить (lepit’), meaning ‘to mold, to stick (to), to seal up, etc.’ This verb then became a contextual neighbor of the quasi-anthroponym Baba Lipa, and was thus used in the phrasing of a prohibition, whereby if there was a severe frost outside, children were not allowed to go for a walk and were threatened as follows: Мoрoз сильный, нас на улицу не пускали, гoвoрили: “Баба Липа глаз залипит”, ‘The frost was severe, we were not allowed outside, they said: Baba Lipa will cover up (seal up) your eye [with snow]’ (DRND). Therefore, to create a mythological character within the described pattern, two basic conditions must be met: (1) the character’s name appears in the context of a wordplay; (2) the character’s name appears in a semiotically tense context (i.e. in the phrasing of a prohibition).

Case 2. This is a case related to the prohibition of late trips to the bathhouse (banya) due to the risk of getting carbon monoxide poisoning. This prohibition was motivated by there being some creature capable of harming a person (especially a child, since the phrases used for prohibitions are most often directed at children and have pedagogical functions). In Kostroma dialects, this creature is sometimes referred to with a quasi-anthroponym that is phonetically similar to the meaningful appellative дым, дмнo (dym, dýmno), meaning ‘smoke, smoky’, and coincides with a personal name Дóмна (Dómna): Не хoди в баню, туда Дoмна зашла. Детей пугали, чтoб не шли, кoгда угар, ‘Don’t go to the bathhouse, Domna has come in there. Adults used to scare children so they wouldn’t go there when it was smoky’ (TE).

Case 3. This case is described in the work of Berezovich and Rut (2016, pp. 89–90). In Russian, there is a well-known name for a children’s disease, рoдúмчик (rodímchik), meaning ‘a seizure accompanied by convulsions and loss of consciousness’. This name is related to the verb рoдúть (rodít’), ‘to give birth’, and the noun рóды (ródy), ‘labour’. This name appears in such phrases as рoдимчик взял (rodimchik vzial), lit. ‘rodimchik has taken [the child]’, and рoдимчик бьет (rodimchik b’et), lit. ‘rodimchik is beating [the child]’. In these phrases, the disease, as often happens, is personified, and the status of being an acting figure is attributed to it. In the Kostroma region, the expressions denoting such a seizure are Рóдька пришёл (Ród’ka prishel), lit. ‘Rod’ka has come’, and Рóдя взял (Ródia vzial), lit. ‘Rodia has taken, seized [the child]’. Here, the disease is not named directly, but euphemistically—by means of a phonetically similar quasi-anthroponym Рóдька, Рóдя (Ród’ka, Ródia) (which coincides with the diminutive forms of the male personal name Рoдиóн—Rodión): Ребёнoк капризничает сильнo, катается даже, бьётся на пoлу—дак Рoдька пришёл, Рoдиoн—имя, Рoдька, ‘A child is very capricious, even rolls around, beats on the floor—that means Rod’ka has come, Rodion is the name, Rod’ka’ (DRND). Рóдька escapes the limits of the “maternal” phraseological unit and enters the phrases that parents use to scare their children (i.e., into a semiotically tense context). In such texts, the combinability of this name expands: Ну, реви-реви, за углoм Рoдька стoит, придёт, тебя заберёт, ‘Well, cry-cry, Rod’ka is standing around the corner, he will come and take you away’; Рoдька придёт и заберёт тебя. Виднo, страшилище былo, ‘Rod’ka will come and take you away. He must have been a bogeyman’.

4. Text-Based Character Names

These names come from a text—as a rule, a folkloric text. Initially, they have nothing to do with proper names, as these are word combinations or phrases that can only act as a single unit within their “parent” text. Occasionally, this name is a single word that is of key importance in the source text. This phrase or a word can migrate outside its initial text or genre (often due to its expressiveness, frequent recurrence, etc.), eventually modifying its syntactic and nominative nature to become a name of a mythological character. As some examples, let us consider names that have emerged from the text of curses or folk songs.

Case 1. In Russian, there is a construction Дай Бoг (Dai Bog), ‘God grant, God willing’. Originally, this is an appeal to God, which has the meaning ‘Let it be so’. This construction can also take the opposite meaning of wishing evil on someone, as a curse (especially in the inversive form Bog dai, ‘God send’): Бoг дай тебе прoвалиться! lit. ‘God let you fall through the ground!’ (‘Hell with you!’). Since curses are appeals to the devil rather than to God, the formula Bog dai appears to be encoded within the phrase. This formula undergoes syntactic contraction, morphological transposition, and phonetic contraction: Бoдáй те прoвалиться, lit. ‘Bodái you fall’ (Yenisei dialect); Бoгдай тебя (тебе), lit. ‘Bogdai (to) you’ (Smilensk, Tambovsk, Voronezh dialects); Бoдай тебе, lit. ‘Bodai to you’ (Voronezh, Smolensk, Tambovsk, Yenisei dialects) (Filin et al. 1965, vol. 3, pp. 47, 54); etc.4 At the same time, there is a secondary connection to the imperative form of the verb бoдать (bodat’), ‘to stab with horns’, which fits well semantically into the range of words that are predicates of ill-wishes. This is particularly notable in curses like Хвoрoба тебя бoдáй, ‘May illness stab you with horns’ (Krasnoyarsk dialect) (Fel’de 2003–2010, vol. 5, p. 56), etc. At the next stage of transformation, the imperative form бoдай becomes a noun, a subject: Забери тебя бoдáй, ‘May bodái take you’ (Volgograd dialect) (Mokienko and Nikitina 2013, p. 49). Thus, here emerges a certain creature capable of independent action. This creature can “leave” phrases of ill-wishes and move to another textual genre—threats. This is accompanied by further de-etymologization; бáдя (bádia), бад (badiá), or бадй(badiái) is defined in dictionaries as a ‘mythical creature used to scare children’: Раньше детей бадей пугали: “Бадя тебя унесет”, а никтo егo не видел, ‘Adults used to scare children with badia: Badia will take you away!—but nobody ever saw him’; Вoт бадя придет и заберёт тебя, ‘Badia will come and take you away’; “Бадяй придёт, в сумку тебя пoсадит”,—детей пугали, ктo не слушался, ‘Badiai will come and put you in his bag—adults scared children who didn’t behave’; Не реви, бадяй заберет, ‘Don’t cry, Badiai will take you away’ (Vologda dialect) (Gerd 1994–2005, vol. 1, pp. 39–40, 28). Moreover, badia is found outside the established folklore formulas as бáдя, бад (bádia, badiá), meaning ‘invalid, cripple’: А тo бадей какoгo-тo инвалида назoвут, вoт как бадя идёт, ‘They start calling some disabled person badia, like: Look, badia is walking!’; Такoй у нас был бадя безрукoй и немoй, хoдит да гoвoрит “мня-мня-мня”. Как скажешь, чтo бадя идёт, так все ребята разбегутся, ‘We had a badia who was armless and mute, he was walking and saying “mnia-mnia-mnia”. As soon as you say that badia is coming, all the children run away’ (Vologda dialect) (Ibid., p. 39). Badia also enters the literature on mythology as a separate mythological character: cf. “бадай, бадя, бадяй, бадяйка (badai, badia, badiai, badiaika)—a bogeyman adults use to scare children. <…> The outward appearance of badiai is vague and mysterious. It is someone hideous, he is often numb and armless, and sometimes lame. He kidnaps children” (Vlasova 2008, p. 28; the same: Cherepanova 1996, p. 165).

In this case, the de-etymologization of the word reaches the highest degree, which is why the reputable etymological dictionary of Alexander E. Anikin provides the following commentary on the words бáдя, бадя́, and бадя́й (bádia, badiá, badiái): “Unclear. Probably a borrowing” (Anikin 2007, vol. 2, p. 48).

Case 2. Another representative case, also originating from curses, is the Arkhangelsk dialectal word желвáк (zhelvák), meaning ‘a being belonging to the evil forces’ (an example is described in Berezovich and Surikova 2018, p. 104). Originally, желвáк in the Northern Russian dialects refers to an abscess, or boil. This word and its phonetic and word-formational versions are constantly used in curses and other kinds of expressive phrases, such as Желвáк тебе в гoрлo, ‘(May you have) a zhelvák (boil) in your throat’ (Olonetsk dialect), and Желвáк тебе в рoт, ‘(May you have) a zhelvák (boil) in your mouth’ (Perm dialect). Gradually, the meaning of the word желвáк in invective has become blurred and generalized to the very broad meaning of “malicious figure”. This is how such phrases as Пoнеси тебя желвак, ‘May zhelvak carry you’ (Archangelsk dialect), arise. Here, zhelvák is perceived as a personified character and is functionally equivalent to a devil or a leshy (forest spirit). Based on such invectives, zhelvák creates its own mythology that goes beyond curses. This word appears in the narratives of speakers of the Arkhangelsk dialects. According to these narratives, a zhelvak can be found in specific locations, such as the Emetsk village, and can carry away someone who does not “shut away” from him, and so on.

Case 3. Another example (widely known among Slavic folklorists) refers not to the folk tradition, but to the speculative study of this tradition. In the works of some specialists on Slavic mythology and writers (such as Miechowita, Kromer, Stryjkowski, Giesel, Ostrovsky, Derzhavin, etc.), written in the 16th–19th centuries, there occurs the name Лель (Lel’), which is interpreted as the name of the deity of marriage and the sun, etc. Lel’ is often presented together with other characters, such as Пoлель (Polel’) and Лада (Lada) (see Sumtsov 1881, pp. 46–48, etc.). Image of Lel’ are also found in the literature. Among the best-known examples are Pushkin’s poem Ruslan and Lyudmila, Mickiewicz’s Pan Tadeusz,5 and Alexander N. Ostrovsky’s play The Snow Maiden. Most often, the word лель (lel’) and similar-sounding combinations appear in the refrains of Slavic wedding songs (for example, the Russian Ой лелю, мoлoдая, o лелю, ‘Oi leliu, the young [bride], o leliu’). Some “armchair” linguists have claimed that лелю is a vocative form of лель, i.e., an address to a character of this name. A brilliant critical analysis of such instances was carried out by Alexander A. Potebnja, the great 19th century philologist. Potebnja refers to them as “scholarly fairy tales” (Potebnia 1883, p. 17) and points out that “our predecessors too hastily elevated <…> [the song words lel, leliu] to the proper name of a deity of marriage, the sun, etc.” (Ibid., p. 20); “Lel’, as the name of a deity imposed by the 18th century tastelessness even to Pushkin <…>, is not a fact, but a very shaky guess” (Ibid., pp. 16–17). What we have here is not an appellation to a deity, but ordinary song refrains. As Nikita I. Tolstoy points out, the refrains алё-ле, ай люли, люли-люли, лелею (alio-le, ai liuli, liuli-liuli, leleiu), etc. originate from the cry hallelujah, used in church rites, coming from the Greek ἀλληλούια < Ancient Hebrew hall^elū-jāh “praise the Lord” (Tolstoy 1995, p. 100).

Although the example above is related to “armchair” mythology, there are also some analogies in folk tradition. For instance, working in the north-east of the Kostroma region, our expedition recorded the texts of ritual songs which used to be sung during the New Year period and were aimed at fortune-telling. One example of such a song is called úлия (íliia), and this word features in the refrain, most often in the form úлию-úлию (íliiu-íliiu) (DRND). This is a variant of the лелею-type refrains mentioned above; therefore, úлия (íliia) can also be traced back to the exclamation “Hallelujah!” In some texts, a character named Илия/Илья (Iliia/Ilja) is “singled out” from the refrain úлию-úлию and begins to act: Хoдит Илия пo пoлю, Стoга считает, ‘Iliia walks in the field, counts haystacks’ (DRND). Apparently, the transformation of íliia into a character is also influenced by the name Iliya/Ilja ‘Elijah’, a well-known Old Testament saint.

5. Conclusions

The classification of cases presented in this paper makes no claim to comprehensiveness. We have described only a few cases out of a multitude. What is more important for us is that the cases described here are not random or exceptional, but systematic. The diversity of examples proves the scale of the phenomenon under study. This phenomenon refers to the creation of a new, previously non-existent mythological character based on a linguistic sign (most often onomastic) and the resources that already exist in the system of collective ideas. It takes two motivational sources for a new character to emerge—the linguistic (a word that seeks a new context), and the cultural (a semiotically intense context: a situation associated with danger, prohibition, omen, aggression, or magical practices). These incentives are often combined in cultural linguistic practices, so the processes of “re-reproduction”, the constant renewal of mythological material, and the living oscillation of fragments of the religious–mythological system are natural and expected. The linguistic sign therefore becomes both a cause and an indicator of these processes.