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This article analyses the reasons for Hetman D. Ignatowich (Mnogogreshniy)’s dismissal and arrest on the night of 13 March 1672 and the election of I. Samoylowich as the new hetman. The author provides a detailed description of all the reports regarding Ignatowich’s communications with Hetman Doroshenko and his plans to launch a mutiny against the tsar and become subject of the Turkish sultan, which made Ignatowich start mobilising troops and transport his property to a safe place in advance. Additionally, the author describes the effort taken by the Russian government to keep the hetman under their rule and lack of plans to dismiss him. After the information about Ignatowich’s treason and arrest by representatives of the Cossack starshina (officership) reached Moscow, the latter supported the plotters and tried the former hetman in a court of law, sentencing him to exile in Siberia. Even though there were fears of Cossack uprisings to support Ignatowich, the appointment of a new hetman was bloodless and was not followed by any serious uprisings, which testifies to the lack of support towards him personally or the policy he carried out. On 17 June 1672, the 30‑yearold Samoylowich was elected hetman at the Konotop Rada. He did not enjoy any support of the starshina or Cossacks in general and was dependent on the support of the tsarist authorities and Cossack elites. The conditions of the Konotop articles signed at the Rada were identical to the Glukhov articles from 1669 and provided the hetmanate with broad autonomy and a very limited tsarist military and administrative participation. The only addition was that the authorities were requested to arbitrate any possible disputes between the hetman and the Cossack starshina. In order to demonstrate the military support for the tsar’s candidate, the authorities sent Prince Romodanovsky’s army to the place where the Rada was to be held and deployed additional troops along the hetmanate’s borders.

Shiʿis constitute a highly visible but woefully underexplored minority in both India and Pakistan today. This chapter focuses on three major – and largely external – shocks that the community has experienced since the nineteenth century. They had significant impacts on Shiʿi religious authority and the interpretation of the faith. The revolt (also known as the “Mutiny”) of 1857 against British rule brought an end to the Shiʿi state of Awadh, a wealthy and powerful patron of Shi’i institutions, scholarship, and art. As a consequence, Shiʿi communal life began to coalesce around voluntary associations and other models of leadership throughout northern India. The next major turning point constituted the Partition of the Subcontinent in 1947. While leading scholars stayed behind in what became India, many esoteric preachers migrated to Pakistan, trying to carve out new Shiʿi spaces in the state that was supposed to form a Muslim homeland. These voices were eventually challenged after a new generation of reformist-minded ʿulama returned from their studies in Najaf, Iraq to Pakistan. A final turning point is the Iranian Revolution of 1979, which caused significant internal cleavages in both India and Pakistan. Politicized scholars who embraced Iran’s revolutionary ideology became pitted against those who rejected such readings of the faith.

Victorians were obsessed with animals and used them pervasively in fiction and press as proxies for human races. This article attempts to analyse the animal display as a political commentary in the visual images of Punch or The London Charivari Magazine in the aftermath of the 1857 Mutiny and the growing geopolitical tensions worldwide. In exhibiting and displaying such animals as the lion, the tiger, the crocodile and the bear while dealing with colonial issues, the popular British cartoons acted as complex rhetorical structures that helped to powerfully influence mass opinion and consequently harnessed the public support for the Empire. Non-human animals were not just used for rhetorical purposes: beasts provided their very bodies to fund and fuel imperial projects, carried administrators and armies across and into remote spaces, and instilled fear and fascination in colonized and colonizers alike. While the scholarship recounting this relationship is not new, recent studies built on pioneering environmental and cultural histories (re)introduced many of the salient topics related to the showcasing of animals and imperialism such as conquest, disease, breeding, scientific categorization, animal welfare, vivisection, zoos, hunting, and conservation. Les Victoriens étaient passionnés par les animaux et les utilisaient souvent comme approximations des ‘races’ humaines dans la fiction et la presse. Cet article tente d’analyser l’animal victorien en tant que commentaire politique dans les illustrations de Punch ou London Charivari Magazine au lendemain de la mutinerie de 1857 et dans le contexte des tensions géopolitiques mondiales. En exposant et en affichant des animaux tels que le lion, le tigre, le crocodile et l’ours, les caricatures britanniques populaires ont agi comme des figures rhétoriques complexes qui ont contribué à influencer l’opinion publique et, par conséquent, à mobiliser le soutien populaire à l’Empire. Les animaux non-humains n’ont pas été utilisés qu’à des fins rhétoriques : les bêtes ont fourni leur corps même pour financer et alimenter les projets impériaux, elles ont transporté des administrateurs et des armées à travers et dans des espaces reculés et ont instillé la peur et la fascination chez les colonisés comme chez les colonisateurs. Bien que la tradition historiographique examinant cette relation ne soit pas nouvelle, des études récentes qui s’appuient sur des histoires environnementales et culturelles (ré)introduisent de nombreux sujets saillants, liés aux animaux et à l’impérialisme tels que la conquête, la maladie, l’élevage, la catégorisation scientifique, le bien-être animal, la vivisection, les zoos, la chasse et la conservation.

The year 1857 saw the first of the great riot commissions which provided much source material for Belfast history. It should be read as a continuation of the street conflict of that summer. Careful reading shows the skill with which the weak Catholic/Liberal alliance of the city managed the flow of witnesses and the naiveté of the Orange/Protestant lawyers. The Catholic/Liberal side ‘won’ the inquiry, achieving their aim of convincing the Dublin government that the local police force was ineffective if not sectarian and that Orange Order culture and evangelical street preaching was responsible for the disorder. Practical outcomes were limited. Resources were limited due to demands in other parts of Ireland and the process of taking first-class troops from Ireland to deal with the Indian mutiny. Considered in light of theories of ‘civil society’, the court was a means of countering the imperfections of representative government. Considered in the context of Ireland as a whole, events demonstrated the weakness of the Dublin authorities, their ignorance of Belfast and the importance of the resident magistrate. Much was concealed from the inquiry. The following months revealed evidence of an active Ribbon-style organisation, and the animosity of the local police and the constabulary. Attention to working class sectarianism diverted attention from elite failure to manage the class relationships of a fractured civil society.

This article discusses the public violence that occurred in the Bohemian lands after the establishment of Czechoslovakia in 1918. It follows the tension between the self-empowered people, who expected a profound change in their daily lives, and the state, which sought stabilisation through the continuity of institutions. Using the examples of the Železná Ruda mutiny in July 1919 and the workers’ general strike in December 1920, the article shows that public violence was relatively easily manageable by a combination of negotiations and force, for it did not pursue a clear vision opposing Czechoslovakia but rather tried to participate in its formation.

Soldiers and policemen make or break revolutions. Yet we know little about why they betray a dictator or stay loyal in the face of mass protests. I investigate the dynamics of the mutiny th...

By exploring forms of maritime resistance spanning the age of sail and steam, this article interrogates certain preponderant assumptions within the historiography of subaltern agency. Within this h...

In 1816, the mostly-American crew of a slaving brig bound from Cuba staged a mutiny before reaching West Africa, and then sailed on (without a captive cargo) to the antislavery republic of Haiti. Their voyage culminated in a remarkable prize case before the admiralty court at Port-au-Prince. The sailors claimed indignation at the “diabolical” slave trade, hoping to win profits from the condemnation of the vessel and to avoid future prosecution for enlisting in a slaving voyage that was illegal under U.S. federal law. Haitian prosecutors invoked the agreements of the Congress of Vienna, arguing that the trade had been prohibited by the laws of nations. It fell to the admiralty court to reconcile such aspirational claims with Haiti's ongoing struggle for political survival. The brig's journey between the United States, Cuba, Spanish Florida, Cape Verde, and finally Haiti reveals the ways in which slave traders calculated the relative risks of legal penalties against the possible gains from the trade. The records of the adjudication of the case show how Haitian officials developed their own legal strategies for the suppression of the trade, laying the foundations for an escalating campaign to police slaving traffic off of their shores.

This article challenges scholarly understanding of an 1837 mutiny in the First West India Regiment. In the Anglo-Trinidadian narrative, African-born soldiers acted out of blind rage, failing in their rebellion because they lacked skill with rifles and bayonets and did not understand either the terrain of Trinidad or its location in the Atlantic littoral. This article’s counterargument is that the rebels, led by a former slave-trader, Dâaga, who had been kidnaped by Portuguese traders at either Grand-Popo or Little Popo, was, with other African-born soldiers, well familiar with military weapons and, after time in the Caribbean, the ecosystem, society, and topography of Trinidad. Dâaga aimed at escape from eastern Trinidad for either Tobago or nearby South America, but was thwarted after English officers captured some mutineers, while the soldiers who remained on the run clashed with a mixed-race Spanish-speaking militia on the only road to an east-coast point of escape.

Frederick Douglass testified often to his experiences and the injustice of slavery. Yet how did he explain those who were unmoved, and what did he envision as compelling them to act? I turn toThe Heroic Slaveto investigate Douglass on white unwillingness. A fictional account of the factual mutiny of the enslaved Madison Washington in 1841, Douglass's novella narrates Washington's emancipation through the perspectives of a white northerner and southerner who waver in response to testimony when confronted by the spaces and scripts of white society. Although Douglass suggests that friendship may encourage whites, I find in the story's contents as well as its publication a heroic imagination in which black resistance is inevitable and natural, independent of white alliance, opposition, and judgment itself. This story was for Douglass another means of motivating whites, and for us illustrative of how racial justice demands not only evidence but imagination.

This paper approaches the subject of food supply in late Roman warfare from the perspective of military mutiny, with a view to highlighting the political importance of effective logistics for maintenance of troop loyalty and discipline. It begins by contextualising the subject against earlier periods of Roman history, especially the Republic, when food shortage was an important contributory factor in a number of high-profile cases of military mutiny. Mutiny appears to have been less common during the Principate and the Late Empire, at least until the sixth and early seventh centuries, and when mutiny did occur, food shortage was rarely a factor. While this might seem an anti-climactic conclusion, the paper contends that it provides corroboration of the effectiveness and flexibility of army supply arrangements in the Late Empire. It discusses late Roman evidence for awareness of the dangers of food shortages for soldiers’ allegiances and emphasises how the important role of mobile field armies in the Late Empire placed particular pressures on arrangements for military food supply. The apparent lack of military mutinies arising from food shortages during the Late Empire therefore assumes greater significance than might at first seem to be the case.

This article examines the illustrated pamphletOngeluckige voyagie, van’t schipBatavia (Unlucky voyage of the shipBatavia) and its representation of a 1629 shipwreck off the coast of western Australia, followed by mutiny and the massacre of many survivors. The pamphlet was published in Amsterdam in 1647, and included fifteen (six full-page) fine copper engravings. It was very popular, helping to shape a new genre of shipwreck narrative and expressing the preoccupations of contemporary visual culture. The pamphlet’s illustrations translated new conceptualisations of space emerging from the period’s unique collaboration between cartography and art into popular form within a booming Dutch print culture. Through innovative techniques of montage and vignette these engraved images conveyed the narrative’s drama and affirmed principles of morality, honour, and order. While the era’s spectacular violence now seems very far away, these historical images effectively communicate the contemporary relish of the disaster to modern audiences. This “earliest of Australian books” is sometimes offered as an alternative Australian foundation myth, and theBataviadisaster continues to grow in cultural significance. Now as then, these illustrations provide a vivid counterpoint to its audience’s comfortable lives.

This article explores the ways Charles Dickens’s roles as novelist and journal editor overlapped and influenced one another in the serial publica tion of A Tale of Two Cities (1859) and complicates recent historicist readings, which situate the novel in relation to the Indian Mutiny (1857-59), by calling attention to a double imperial logic used to construct British subjectivity not only against forms of Eastern Otherness but, moreover, against forms of Southern Otherness associated with the European South, especially Italy. Analyzing Dickens’s historical represen tation of the French Revolution in relation to its contemporary interna tional political context, this essay examines how the novel’s serial publi cation draws upon political discourse from contemporary articles on the Second Italian War of Independence (1859-61) appearing concurrently in Dickens’s journal, All the Year Round. Orientalism circulates simultane ously in the novel as a distant and exotic as well as a provincial and paro chial representation of racial and cultural Otherness.