Revolutions: A Very Short Introduction

(2nd Edition) Jack A. Goldstone

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Revolutions: A Very Short Introduction
 VERY SHORT INTRODUCTIONS are for anyone wanting a stimulating and
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Very Short Introductions available now:

ABOLITIONISM Richard S. Newman

THE ABRAHAMIC RELIGIONS Charles L. Cohen
ACCOUNTING Christopher Nobes
ADDICTION Keith Humphreys
ADOLESCENCE Peter K. Smith
THEODOR W. ADORNO Andrew Bowie
ADVERTISING Winston Fletcher
AERIAL WARFARE Frank Ledwidge
AESTHETICS Bence Nanay
AFRICAN AMERICAN HISTORY Jonathan Scott Holloway
AFRICAN AMERICAN RELIGION Eddie S. Glaude Jr
AFRICAN HISTORY John Parker and Richard Rathbone
AFRICAN POLITICS Ian Taylor
AFRICAN RELIGIONS Jacob K. Olupona
AGEING Nancy A. Pachana
AGNOSTICISM Robin Le Poidevin
AGRICULTURE Paul Brassley and Richard Soffe
ALEXANDER THE GREAT Hugh Bowden
ALGEBRA Peter M. Higgins
AMERICAN BUSINESS HISTORY Walter A. Friedman
AMERICAN CULTURAL HISTORY Eric Avila
AMERICAN FOREIGN RELATIONS Andrew Preston
AMERICAN HISTORY Paul S. Boyer
AMERICAN IMMIGRATION David A. Gerber
AMERICAN INTELLECTUAL HISTORY Jennifer Ratner-Rosenhagen
THE AMERICAN JUDICIAL SYSTEM Charles L. Zelden
AMERICAN LEGAL HISTORY G. Edward White
AMERICAN MILITARY HISTORY Joseph T. Glatthaar
AMERICAN NAVAL HISTORY Craig L. Symonds
AMERICAN POETRY David Caplan
AMERICAN POLITICAL HISTORY Donald Critchlow
AMERICAN POLITICAL PARTIES AND ELECTIONS L. Sandy Maisel
AMERICAN POLITICS Richard M. Valelly
THE AMERICAN PRESIDENCY Charles O. Jones
THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION Robert J. Allison
AMERICAN SLAVERY Heather Andrea Williams
THE AMERICAN SOUTH Charles Reagan Wilson
THE AMERICAN WEST Stephen Aron
AMERICAN WOMEN’S HISTORY Susan Ware
AMPHIBIANS T. S. Kemp
ANAESTHESIA Aidan O’Donnell
ANALYTIC PHILOSOPHY Michael Beaney
ANARCHISM Alex Prichard
ANCIENT ASSYRIA Karen Radner
ANCIENT EGYPT Ian Shaw
ANCIENT EGYPTIAN ART AND ARCHITECTURE Christina Riggs
ANCIENT GREECE Paul Cartledge
ANCIENT GREEK AND ROMAN SCIENCE Liba Taub
THE ANCIENT NEAR EAST Amanda H. Podany
ANCIENT PHILOSOPHY Julia Annas
ANCIENT WARFARE Harry Sidebottom
ANGELS David Albert Jones
ANGLICANISM Mark Chapman
THE ANGLO-SAXON AGE John Blair
ANIMAL BEHAVIOUR Tristram D. Wyatt
THE ANIMAL KINGDOM Peter Holland
ANIMAL RIGHTS David DeGrazia
ANSELM Thomas Williams
THE ANTARCTIC Klaus Dodds
ANTHROPOCENE Erle C. Ellis
ANTISEMITISM Steven Beller
ANXIETY Daniel Freeman and Jason Freeman
THE APOCRYPHAL GOSPELS Paul Foster
APPLIED MATHEMATICS Alain Goriely
THOMAS AQUINAS Fergus Kerr
ARBITRATION Thomas Schultz and Thomas Grant
ARCHAEOLOGY Paul Bahn
ARCHITECTURE Andrew Ballantyne
THE ARCTIC Klaus Dodds and Jamie Woodward
HANNAH ARENDT Dana Villa
ARISTOCRACY William Doyle
ARISTOTLE Jonathan Barnes
ART HISTORY Dana Arnold
ART THEORY Cynthia Freeland
ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE Margaret A. Boden
ASIAN AMERICAN HISTORY Madeline Y. Hsu
ASTROBIOLOGY David C. Catling
ASTROPHYSICS James Binney
ATHEISM Julian Baggini
THE ATMOSPHERE Paul I. Palmer
AUGUSTINE Henry Chadwick
JANE AUSTEN Tom Keymer
AUSTRALIA Kenneth Morgan
AUTISM Uta Frith
AUTOBIOGRAPHY Laura Marcus
THE AVANT GARDE David Cottington
THE AZTECS Davíd Carrasco
BABYLONIA Trevor Bryce
BACTERIA Sebastian G. B. Amyes
BANKING John Goddard and John O. S. Wilson
BARTHES Jonathan Culler
THE BEATS David Sterritt
BEAUTY Roger Scruton
LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN Mark Evan Bonds
BEHAVIOURAL ECONOMICS Michelle Baddeley
BESTSELLERS John Sutherland
THE BIBLE John Riches
BIBLICAL ARCHAEOLOGY Eric H. Cline
BIG DATA Dawn E. Holmes
BIOCHEMISTRY Mark Lorch
BIODIVERSITY CONSERVATION David Macdonald
BIOGEOGRAPHY Mark V. Lomolino
BIOGRAPHY Hermione Lee
BIOMETRICS Michael Fairhurst
ELIZABETH BISHOP Jonathan F. S. Post
BLACK HOLES Katherine Blundell
BLASPHEMY Yvonne Sherwood
BLOOD Chris Cooper
THE BLUES Elijah Wald
THE BODY Chris Shilling
THE BOHEMIANS David Weir
NIELS BOHR J. L. Heilbron
THE BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER Brian Cummings
THE BOOK OF MORMON Terryl Givens
BORDERS Alexander C. Diener and Joshua Hagen
THE BRAIN Michael O’Shea
BRANDING Robert Jones
THE BRICS Andrew F. Cooper
BRITISH CINEMA Charles Barr
THE BRITISH CONSTITUTION Martin Loughlin
THE BRITISH EMPIRE Ashley Jackson
BRITISH POLITICS Tony Wright
BUDDHA Michael Carrithers
BUDDHISM Damien Keown
BUDDHIST ETHICS Damien Keown
BYZANTIUM Peter Sarris
CALVINISM Jon Balserak
ALBERT CAMUS Oliver Gloag
CANADA Donald Wright
CANCER Nicholas James
CAPITALISM James Fulcher
CATHOLICISM Gerald O’Collins
CAUSATION Stephen Mumford and Rani Lill Anjum
THE CELL Terence Allen and Graham Cowling
THE CELTS Barry Cunliffe
CHAOS Leonard Smith
GEOFFREY CHAUCER David Wallace
CHEMISTRY Peter Atkins
CHILD PSYCHOLOGY Usha Goswami
CHILDREN’S LITERATURE Kimberley Reynolds
CHINESE LITERATURE Sabina Knight
CHOICE THEORY Michael Allingham
CHRISTIAN ART Beth Williamson
CHRISTIAN ETHICS D. Stephen Long
CHRISTIANITY Linda Woodhead
CIRCADIAN RHYTHMS Russell Foster and Leon Kreitzman
CITIZENSHIP Richard Bellamy
CITY PLANNING Carl Abbott
CIVIL ENGINEERING David Muir Wood
THE CIVIL RIGHTS MOVEMENT Thomas C. Holt
CLASSICAL LITERATURE William Allan
CLASSICAL MYTHOLOGY Helen Morales
CLASSICS Mary Beard and John Henderson
CLAUSEWITZ Michael Howard
CLIMATE Mark Maslin
CLIMATE CHANGE Mark Maslin
CLINICAL PSYCHOLOGY Susan Llewelyn and Katie Aafjes-van Doorn
COGNITIVE BEHAVIOURAL THERAPY Freda McManus
COGNITIVE NEUROSCIENCE Richard Passingham
THE COLD WAR Robert J. McMahon
COLONIAL AMERICA Alan Taylor
COLONIAL LATIN AMERICAN LITERATURE Rolena Adorno
COMBINATORICS Robin Wilson
COMEDY Matthew Bevis
COMMUNISM Leslie Holmes
COMPARATIVE LAW Sabrina Ragone and Guido Smorto
COMPARATIVE LITERATURE Ben Hutchinson
COMPETITION AND ANTITRUST LAW Ariel Ezrachi
COMPLEXITY John H. Holland
THE COMPUTER Darrel Ince
COMPUTER SCIENCE Subrata Dasgupta
CONCENTRATION CAMPS Dan Stone
CONDENSED MATTER PHYSICS Ross H. McKenzie
CONFUCIANISM Daniel K. Gardner
THE CONQUISTADORS Matthew Restall and Felipe Fernández-Armesto
CONSCIENCE Paul Strohm
CONSCIOUSNESS Susan Blackmore
CONTEMPORARY ART Julian Stallabrass
CONTEMPORARY FICTION Robert Eaglestone
CONTINENTAL PHILOSOPHY Simon Critchley
COPERNICUS Owen Gingerich
CORAL REEFS Charles Sheppard
CORPORATE SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITY Jeremy Moon
CORRUPTION Leslie Holmes
COSMOLOGY Peter Coles
COUNTRY MUSIC Richard Carlin
CREATIVITY Vlad Glăveanu
CRIME FICTION Richard Bradford
CRIMINAL JUSTICE Julian V. Roberts
CRIMINOLOGY Tim Newburn
CRITICAL THEORY Stephen Eric Bronner
THE CRUSADES Christopher Tyerman
CRYPTOGRAPHY Fred Piper and Sean Murphy
CRYSTALLOGRAPHY A. M. Glazer
THE CULTURAL REVOLUTION Richard Curt Kraus
DADA AND SURREALISM David Hopkins
DANTE Peter Hainsworth and David Robey
DARWIN Jonathan Howard
THE DEAD SEA SCROLLS Timothy H. Lim
DECADENCE David Weir
DECOLONIZATION Dane Kennedy
DEMENTIA Kathleen Taylor
DEMOCRACY Naomi Zack
DEMOGRAPHY Sarah Harper
DEPRESSION Jan Scott and Mary Jane Tacchi
DERRIDA Simon Glendinning
DESCARTES Tom Sorell
DESERTS Nick Middleton
DESIGN John Heskett
DEVELOPMENT Ian Goldin
DEVELOPMENTAL BIOLOGY Lewis Wolpert
THE DEVIL Darren Oldridge
DIASPORA Kevin Kenny
CHARLES DICKENS Jenny Hartley
DICTIONARIES Lynda Mugglestone
DINOSAURS David Norman
DIPLOMATIC HISTORY Joseph M. Siracusa
DOCUMENTARY FILM Patricia Aufderheide
DREAMING J. Allan Hobson
DRUGS Les Iversen
DRUIDS Barry Cunliffe
DYNASTY Jeroen Duindam
DYSLEXIA Margaret J. Snowling
EARLY MUSIC Thomas Forrest Kelly
THE EARTH Martin Redfern
EARTH SYSTEM SCIENCE Tim Lenton
ECOLOGY Jaboury Ghazoul
ECONOMICS Partha Dasgupta
EDUCATION Gary Thomas
EGYPTIAN MYTH Geraldine Pinch
EIGHTEENTH‑CENTURY BRITAIN Paul Langford
THE ELEMENTS Philip Ball
EMOTION Dylan Evans
EMPIRE Stephen Howe
EMPLOYMENT LAW David Cabrelli
ENERGY SYSTEMS Nick Jenkins
ENGELS Terrell Carver
ENGINEERING David Blockley
THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE Simon Horobin
ENGLISH LITERATURE Jonathan Bate
THE ENLIGHTENMENT John Robertson
ENTREPRENEURSHIP Paul Westhead and Mike Wright
ENVIRONMENTAL ECONOMICS Stephen Smith
ENVIRONMENTAL ETHICS Robin Attfield
ENVIRONMENTAL LAW Elizabeth Fisher
ENVIRONMENTAL POLITICS Andrew Dobson
ENZYMES Paul Engel
EPICUREANISM Catherine Wilson
EPIDEMIOLOGY Rodolfo Saracci
ETHICS Simon Blackburn
ETHNOMUSICOLOGY Timothy Rice
THE ETRUSCANS Christopher Smith
EUGENICS Philippa Levine
THE EUROPEAN UNION Simon Usherwood and John Pinder
EUROPEAN UNION LAW Anthony Arnull
EVANGELICALISM John G. Stackhouse Jr.
EVIL Luke Russell
EVOLUTION Brian and Deborah Charlesworth
EXISTENTIALISM Thomas Flynn
EXPLORATION Stewart A. Weaver
EXTINCTION Paul B. Wignall
THE EYE Michael Land
FAIRY TALE Marina Warner
FAMILY LAW Jonathan Herring
MICHAEL FARADAY Frank A. J. L. James
FASCISM Kevin Passmore
FASHION Rebecca Arnold
FEDERALISM Mark J. Rozell and Clyde Wilcox
FEMINISM Margaret Walters
FILM Michael Wood
FILM MUSIC Kathryn Kalinak
FILM NOIR James Naremore
FIRE Andrew C. Scott
THE FIRST WORLD WAR Michael Howard
FLUID MECHANICS Eric Lauga
FOLK MUSIC Mark Slobin
FOOD John Krebs
FORENSIC PSYCHOLOGY David Canter
FORENSIC SCIENCE Jim Fraser
FORESTS Jaboury Ghazoul
FOSSILS Keith Thomson
FOUCAULT Gary Gutting
THE FOUNDING FATHERS R. B. Bernstein
FRACTALS Kenneth Falconer
FREE SPEECH Nigel Warburton
FREE WILL Thomas Pink
FREEMASONRY Andreas Önnerfors
FRENCH CINEMA Dudley Andrew
FRENCH LITERATURE John D. Lyons
FRENCH PHILOSOPHY Stephen Gaukroger and Knox Peden
THE FRENCH REVOLUTION William Doyle
FREUD Anthony Storr
FUNDAMENTALISM Malise Ruthven
FUNGI Nicholas P. Money
THE FUTURE Jennifer M. Gidley
GALAXIES John Gribbin
GALILEO Stillman Drake
GAME THEORY Ken Binmore
GANDHI Bhikhu Parekh
GARDEN HISTORY Gordon Campbell
GENES Jonathan Slack
GENIUS Andrew Robinson
GENOMICS John Archibald
GEOGRAPHY John Matthews and David Herbert
GEOLOGY Jan Zalasiewicz
GEOMETRY Maciej Dunajski
GEOPHYSICS William Lowrie
GEOPOLITICS Klaus Dodds
GERMAN LITERATURE Nicholas Boyle
GERMAN PHILOSOPHY Andrew Bowie
THE GHETTO Bryan Cheyette
GLACIATION David J. A. Evans
GLOBAL CATASTROPHES Bill McGuire
GLOBAL ECONOMIC HISTORY Robert C. Allen
GLOBAL ISLAM Nile Green
GLOBALIZATION Manfred B. Steger
GOD John Bowker
GÖDEL’S THEOREM A. W. Moore
GOETHE Ritchie Robertson
THE GOTHIC Nick Groom
GOVERNANCE Mark Bevir
GRAVITY Timothy Clifton
THE GREAT DEPRESSION AND THE NEW DEAL Eric Rauchway
HABEAS CORPUS Amanda L. Tyler
HABERMAS James Gordon Finlayson
THE HABSBURG EMPIRE Martyn Rady
HAPPINESS Daniel M. Haybron
THE HARLEM RENAISSANCE Cheryl A. Wall
THE HEBREW BIBLE AS LITERATURE Tod Linafelt
HEGEL Peter Singer
HEIDEGGER Michael Inwood
THE HELLENISTIC AGE Peter Thonemann
HEREDITY John Waller
HERMENEUTICS Jens Zimmermann
HERODOTUS Jennifer T. Roberts
HIEROGLYPHS Penelope Wilson
HINDUISM Kim Knott
HISTORY John H. Arnold
THE HISTORY OF ASTRONOMY Michael Hoskin
THE HISTORY OF CHEMISTRY William H. Brock
THE HISTORY OF CHILDHOOD James Marten
THE HISTORY OF CINEMA Geoffrey Nowell-Smith
THE HISTORY OF COMPUTING Doron Swade
THE HISTORY OF EMOTIONS Thomas Dixon
THE HISTORY OF LIFE Michael Benton
THE HISTORY OF MATHEMATICS Jacqueline Stedall
THE HISTORY OF MEDICINE William Bynum
THE HISTORY OF PHYSICS J. L. Heilbron
THE HISTORY OF POLITICAL THOUGHT Richard Whatmore
THE HISTORY OF TIME Leofranc Holford‑Strevens
HIV AND AIDS Alan Whiteside
HOBBES Richard Tuck
HOLLYWOOD Peter Decherney
THE HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE Joachim Whaley
HOME Michael Allen Fox
HOMER Barbara Graziosi
HORACE Llewelyn Morgan
HORMONES Martin Luck
HORROR Darryl Jones
HUMAN ANATOMY Leslie Klenerman
HUMAN EVOLUTION Bernard Wood
HUMAN PHYSIOLOGY Jamie A. Davies
HUMAN RESOURCE MANAGEMENT Adrian Wilkinson
HUMAN RIGHTS Andrew Clapham
HUMANISM Stephen Law
HUME James A. Harris
HUMOUR Noël Carroll
IBN SĪNĀ (Avicenna) Peter Adamson
THE ICE AGE Jamie Woodward
IDENTITY Florian Coulmas
IDEOLOGY Michael Freeden
IMAGINATION Jennifer Gosetti-Ferencei
THE IMMUNE SYSTEM Paul Klenerman
INDIAN CINEMA Ashish Rajadhyaksha
INDIAN PHILOSOPHY Sue Hamilton
THE INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION Robert C. Allen
INFECTIOUS DISEASE Marta L. Wayne and Benjamin M. Bolker
INFINITY Ian Stewart
INFORMATION Luciano Floridi
INNOVATION Mark Dodgson and David Gann
INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY Siva Vaidhyanathan
INTELLIGENCE Ian J. Deary
INTERNATIONAL LAW Vaughan Lowe
INTERNATIONAL MIGRATION Khalid Koser
INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS Christian Reus-Smit
INTERNATIONAL SECURITY Christopher S. Browning
INSECTS Simon Leather
INVASIVE SPECIES Julie Lockwood and Dustin Welbourne
IRAN Ali M. Ansari
ISLAM Malise Ruthven
ISLAMIC HISTORY Adam Silverstein
ISLAMIC LAW Mashood A. Baderin
ISOTOPES Rob Ellam
ITALIAN LITERATURE Peter Hainsworth and David Robey
HENRY JAMES Susan L. Mizruchi
JAPANESE LITERATURE Alan Tansman
JESUS Richard Bauckham
JEWISH HISTORY David N. Myers
JEWISH LITERATURE Ilan Stavans
JOURNALISM Ian Hargreaves
JAMES JOYCE Colin MacCabe
JUDAISM Norman Solomon
JUNG Anthony Stevens
THE JURY Renée Lettow Lerner
KABBALAH Joseph Dan
KAFKA Ritchie Robertson
KANT Roger Scruton
KEYNES Robert Skidelsky
KIERKEGAARD Patrick Gardiner
KNOWLEDGE Jennifer Nagel
THE KORAN Michael Cook
KOREA Michael J. Seth
LAKES Warwick F. Vincent
LANDSCAPE ARCHITECTURE Ian H. Thompson
LANDSCAPES AND GEOMORPHOLOGY Andrew Goudie and Heather Viles
LANGUAGES Stephen R. Anderson
LATE ANTIQUITY Gillian Clark
LAW Raymond Wacks
THE LAWS OF THERMODYNAMICS Peter Atkins
LEADERSHIP Keith Grint
LEARNING Mark Haselgrove
LEIBNIZ Maria Rosa Antognazza
C. S. LEWIS James Como
LIBERALISM Michael Freeden
LIGHT Ian Walmsley
LINCOLN Allen C. Guelzo
LINGUISTICS Peter Matthews
LITERARY THEORY Jonathan Culler
LOCKE John Dunn
LOGIC Graham Priest
LOVE Ronald de Sousa
MARTIN LUTHER Scott H. Hendrix
MACHIAVELLI Quentin Skinner
MADNESS Andrew Scull
MAGIC Owen Davies
MAGNA CARTA Nicholas Vincent
MAGNETISM Stephen Blundell
MALTHUS Donald Winch
MAMMALS T. S. Kemp
MANAGEMENT John Hendry
NELSON MANDELA Elleke Boehmer
MAO Delia Davin
MARINE BIOLOGY Philip V. Mladenov
MARKETING Kenneth Le Meunier-FitzHugh
THE MARQUIS DE SADE John Phillips
MARTYRDOM Jolyon Mitchell
MARX Peter Singer
MATERIALS Christopher Hall
MATHEMATICAL ANALYSIS Richard Earl
MATHEMATICAL FINANCE Mark H. A. Davis
MATHEMATICS Timothy Gowers
MATTER Geoff Cottrell
THE MAYA Matthew Restall and Amara Solari
THE MEANING OF LIFE Terry Eagleton
MEASUREMENT David Hand
MEDICAL ETHICS Michael Dunn and Tony Hope
MEDICAL LAW Charles Foster
MEDIEVAL BRITAIN John Gillingham and Ralph A. Griffiths
MEDIEVAL LITERATURE Elaine Treharne
MEDIEVAL PHILOSOPHY John Marenbon
MEMORY Jonathan K. Foster
METAPHYSICS Stephen Mumford
METHODISM William J. Abraham
THE MEXICAN REVOLUTION Alan Knight
MICROBIOLOGY Nicholas P. Money
MICROBIOMES Angela E. Douglas
MICROECONOMICS Avinash Dixit
MICROSCOPY Terence Allen
THE MIDDLE AGES Miri Rubin
MILITARY JUSTICE Eugene R. Fidell
MILITARY STRATEGY Antulio J. Echevarria II
JOHN STUART MILL Gregory Claeys
MINERALS David Vaughan
MIRACLES Yujin Nagasawa
MODERN ARCHITECTURE Adam Sharr
MODERN ART David Cottington
MODERN BRAZIL Anthony W. Pereira
MODERN CHINA Rana Mitter
MODERN DRAMA Kirsten E. Shepherd-Barr
MODERN FRANCE Vanessa R. Schwartz
MODERN INDIA Craig Jeffrey
MODERN IRELAND Senia Pašeta
MODERN ITALY Anna Cento Bull
MODERN JAPAN Christopher Goto-Jones
MODERN LATIN AMERICAN LITERATURE Roberto González Echevarría
MODERN WAR Richard English
MODERNISM Christopher Butler
MOLECULAR BIOLOGY Aysha Divan and Janice A. Royds
MOLECULES Philip Ball
MONASTICISM Stephen J. Davis
THE MONGOLS Morris Rossabi
MONTAIGNE William M. Hamlin
MOONS David A. Rothery
MORMONISM Richard Lyman Bushman
MOUNTAINS Martin F. Price
MUHAMMAD Jonathan A. C. Brown
MULTICULTURALISM Ali Rattansi
MULTILINGUALISM John C. Maher
MUSIC Nicholas Cook
MUSIC AND TECHNOLOGY Mark Katz
MYTH Robert A. Segal
NANOTECHNOLOGY Philip Moriarty
NAPOLEON David A. Bell
THE NAPOLEONIC WARS Mike Rapport
NATIONALISM Steven Grosby
NATIVE AMERICAN LITERATURE Sean Teuton
NAVIGATION Jim Bennett
NAZI GERMANY Jane Caplan
NEGOTIATION Carrie Menkel-Meadow
NEOLIBERALISM Manfred B. Steger and Ravi K. Roy
NETWORKS Guido Caldarelli and Michele Catanzaro
THE NEW TESTAMENT Luke Timothy Johnson
THE NEW TESTAMENT AS LITERATURE Kyle Keefer
NEWTON Robert Iliffe
NIETZSCHE Michael Tanner
NINETEENTH‑CENTURY BRITAIN Christopher Harvie and H. C. G. Matthew
THE NORMAN CONQUEST George Garnett
NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS Theda Perdue and Michael D. Green
NORTHERN IRELAND Marc Mulholland
NOTHING Frank Close
NUCLEAR PHYSICS Frank Close
NUCLEAR POWER Maxwell Irvine
NUCLEAR WEAPONS Joseph M. Siracusa
NUMBER THEORY Robin Wilson
NUMBERS Peter M. Higgins
NUTRITION David A. Bender
OBJECTIVITY Stephen Gaukroger
OBSERVATIONAL ASTRONOMY Geoff Cottrell
OCEANS Dorrik Stow
THE OLD TESTAMENT Michael D. Coogan
THE ORCHESTRA D. Kern Holoman
ORGANIC CHEMISTRY Graham Patrick
ORGANIZATIONS Mary Jo Hatch
ORGANIZED CRIME Georgios A. Antonopoulos and Georgios Papanicolaou
ORTHODOX CHRISTIANITY A. Edward Siecienski
OVID Llewelyn Morgan
PAGANISM Owen Davies
PAKISTAN Pippa Virdee
THE PALESTINIAN-ISRAELI CONFLICT Martin Bunton
PANDEMICS Christian W. McMillen
PARTICLE PHYSICS Frank Close
PAUL E. P. Sanders
IVAN PAVLOV Daniel P. Todes
PEACE Oliver P. Richmond
PENTECOSTALISM William K. Kay
PERCEPTION Brian Rogers
THE PERIODIC TABLE Eric R. Scerri
PHILOSOPHICAL METHOD Timothy Williamson
PHILOSOPHY Edward Craig
PHILOSOPHY IN THE ISLAMIC WORLD Peter Adamson
PHILOSOPHY OF BIOLOGY Samir Okasha
PHILOSOPHY OF LAW Raymond Wacks
PHILOSOPHY OF MIND Barbara Gail Montero
PHILOSOPHY OF PHYSICS David Wallace
PHILOSOPHY OF SCIENCE Samir Okasha
PHILOSOPHY OF RELIGION Tim Bayne
PHOTOGRAPHY Steve Edwards
PHYSICAL CHEMISTRY Peter Atkins
PHYSICS Sidney Perkowitz
PILGRIMAGE Ian Reader
PLAGUE Paul Slack
PLANETARY SYSTEMS Raymond T. Pierrehumbert
PLANETS David A. Rothery
PLANTS Timothy Walker
PLATE TECTONICS Peter Molnar
PLATO Julia Annas
POETRY Bernard O’Donoghue
POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY David Miller
POLITICS Kenneth Minogue
POLYGAMY Sarah M. S. Pearsall
POPULISM Cas Mudde and Cristóbal Rovira Kaltwasser
POSTCOLONIALISM Robert J. C. Young
POSTMODERNISM Christopher Butler
POSTSTRUCTURALISM Catherine Belsey
POVERTY Philip N. Jefferson
PREHISTORY Chris Gosden
PRESOCRATIC PHILOSOPHY Catherine Osborne
PRIVACY Raymond Wacks
PROBABILITY John Haigh
PROGRESSIVISM Walter Nugent
PROHIBITION W. J. Rorabaugh
PROJECTS Andrew Davies
PROTESTANTISM Mark A. Noll
PSEUDOSCIENCE Michael D. Gordin
PSYCHIATRY Tom Burns
PSYCHOANALYSIS Daniel Pick
PSYCHOLOGY Gillian Butler and Freda McManus
PSYCHOLOGY OF MUSIC Elizabeth Hellmuth Margulis
PSYCHOPATHY Essi Viding
PSYCHOTHERAPY Tom Burns and Eva Burns-Lundgren
PUBLIC ADMINISTRATION Stella Z. Theodoulou and Ravi K. Roy
PUBLIC HEALTH Virginia Berridge
PURITANISM Francis J. Bremer
THE QUAKERS Pink Dandelion
QUANTUM THEORY John Polkinghorne
RACISM Ali Rattansi
RADIOACTIVITY Claudio Tuniz
RASTAFARI Ennis B. Edmonds
READING Belinda Jack
THE REAGAN REVOLUTION Gil Troy
REALITY Jan Westerhoff
RECONSTRUCTION Allen C. Guelzo
THE REFORMATION Peter Marshall
REFUGEES Gil Loescher
RELATIVITY Russell Stannard
RELIGION Thomas A. Tweed
RELIGION IN AMERICA Timothy Beal
THE RENAISSANCE Jerry Brotton
RENAISSANCE ART Geraldine A. Johnson
RENEWABLE ENERGY Nick Jelley
REPTILES T. S. Kemp
REVOLUTIONS Jack A. Goldstone
RHETORIC Richard Toye
RISK Baruch Fischhoff and John Kadvany
RITUAL Barry Stephenson
RIVERS Nick Middleton
ROBOTICS Alan Winfield
ROCKS Jan Zalasiewicz
ROMAN BRITAIN Peter Salway
THE ROMAN EMPIRE Christopher Kelly
THE ROMAN REPUBLIC David M. Gwynn
ROMANTICISM Michael Ferber
ROUSSEAU Robert Wokler
RUSSELL A. C. Grayling
THE RUSSIAN ECONOMY Richard Connolly
RUSSIAN HISTORY Geoffrey Hosking
RUSSIAN LITERATURE Catriona Kelly
THE RUSSIAN REVOLUTION S. A. Smith
SAINTS Simon Yarrow
SAMURAI Michael Wert
SAVANNAS Peter A. Furley
SCEPTICISM Duncan Pritchard
SCHIZOPHRENIA Chris Frith and Eve Johnstone
SCHOPENHAUER Christopher Janaway
SCIENCE AND RELIGION Thomas Dixon and Adam R. Shapiro
SCIENCE FICTION David Seed
THE SCIENTIFIC REVOLUTION Lawrence M. Principe
SCOTLAND Rab Houston
SECULARISM Andrew Copson
SEXUAL SELECTION Marlene Zuk and Leigh W. Simmons
SEXUALITY Véronique Mottier
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE Stanley Wells
SHAKESPEARE’S COMEDIES Bart van Es
SHAKESPEARE’S SONNETS AND POEMS Jonathan F. S. Post
SHAKESPEARE’S TRAGEDIES Stanley Wells
GEORGE BERNARD SHAW Christopher Wixson
MARY SHELLEY Charlotte Gordon
THE SHORT STORY Andrew Kahn
SIKHISM Eleanor Nesbitt
SILENT FILM Donna Kornhaber
THE SILK ROAD James A. Millward
SLANG Jonathon Green
SLEEP Steven W. Lockley and Russell G. Foster
SMELL Matthew Cobb
ADAM SMITH Christopher J. Berry
SOCIAL AND CULTURAL ANTHROPOLOGY John Monaghan and Peter Just
SOCIAL PSYCHOLOGY Richard J. Crisp
SOCIAL WORK Sally Holland and Jonathan Scourfield
SOCIALISM Michael Newman
SOCIOLINGUISTICS John Edwards
SOCIOLOGY Steve Bruce
SOCRATES C. C. W. Taylor
SOFT MATTER Tom McLeish
SOUND Mike Goldsmith
SOUTHEAST ASIA James R. Rush
THE SOVIET UNION Stephen Lovell
THE SPANISH CIVIL WAR Helen Graham
SPANISH LITERATURE Jo Labanyi
THE SPARTANS Andrew J. Bayliss
SPINOZA Roger Scruton
SPIRITUALITY Philip Sheldrake
SPORT Mike Cronin
STARS Andrew King
STATISTICS David J. Hand
STEM CELLS Jonathan Slack
STOICISM Brad Inwood
STRUCTURAL ENGINEERING David Blockley
STUART BRITAIN John Morrill
SUBURBS Carl Abbott
THE SUN Philip Judge
SUPERCONDUCTIVITY Stephen Blundell
SUPERSTITION Stuart Vyse
SYMMETRY Ian Stewart
SYNAESTHESIA Julia Simner
SYNTHETIC BIOLOGY Jamie A. Davies
SYSTEMS BIOLOGY Eberhard O. Voit
TAXATION Stephen Smith
TEETH Peter S. Ungar
TERRORISM Charles Townshend
THEATRE Marvin Carlson
THEOLOGY David F. Ford
THINKING AND REASONING Jonathan St B. T. Evans
THOUGHT Tim Bayne
TIBETAN BUDDHISM Matthew T. Kapstein
TIDES David George Bowers and Emyr Martyn Roberts
TIME Jenann Ismael
TOCQUEVILLE Harvey C. Mansfield
LEO TOLSTOY Liza Knapp
TOPOLOGY Richard Earl
TRAGEDY Adrian Poole
TRANSLATION Matthew Reynolds
THE TREATY OF VERSAILLES Michael S. Neiberg
TRIGONOMETRY Glen Van Brummelen
THE TROJAN WAR Eric H. Cline
TRUST Katherine Hawley
THE TUDORS John Guy
TWENTIETH‑CENTURY BRITAIN Kenneth O. Morgan
TYPOGRAPHY Paul Luna
THE UNITED NATIONS Jussi M. Hanhimäki
UNIVERSITIES AND COLLEGES David Palfreyman and Paul Temple
THE U.S. CIVIL WAR Louis P. Masur
THE U.S. CONGRESS Donald A. Ritchie
THE U.S. CONSTITUTION David J. Bodenhamer
THE U.S. SUPREME COURT Linda Greenhouse
UTILITARIANISM Katarzyna de Lazari-Radek and Peter Singer
UTOPIANISM Lyman Tower Sargent
VATICAN II Shaun Blanchard and Stephen Bullivant
VETERINARY SCIENCE James Yeates
THE VICTORIANS Martin Hewitt
THE VIKINGS Julian D. Richards
VIOLENCE Philip Dwyer
THE VIRGIN MARY Mary Joan Winn Leith
THE VIRTUES Craig A. Boyd and Kevin Timpe
VIRUSES Dorothy H. Crawford
VOLCANOES Michael J. Branney and Jan Zalasiewicz
VOLTAIRE Nicholas Cronk
WAR AND RELIGION Jolyon Mitchell and Joshua Rey
WAR AND TECHNOLOGY Alex Roland
WATER John Finney
WAVES Mike Goldsmith
WEATHER Storm Dunlop
THE WELFARE STATE David Garland
WITCHCRAFT Malcolm Gaskill
WITTGENSTEIN A. C. Grayling
WORK Stephen Fineman
WORLD MUSIC Philip Bohlman
WORLD MYTHOLOGY David Leeming
THE WORLD TRADE ORGANIZATION Amrita Narlikar
WORLD WAR II Gerhard L. Weinberg
WRITING AND SCRIPT Andrew Robinson
ZIONISM Michael Stanislawski
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 Jack A. Goldstone

REVOLUTIONS
A Very Short Introduction
SECOND EDITION
 Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the
University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing
worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and in
certain other countries.
Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press
198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America.
© Oxford University Press 2014, 2023
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in
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You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same
condition on any acquirer.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Goldstone, Jack A., author.
Title: Revolutions : a very short introduction / Jack A. Goldstone.
Description: Second edition. | New York, NY : Oxford University Press, [2023] | “First
Edition published in 2014” — Title page verso.
Identifiers: LCCN 2023034385 (print) | LCCN 2023034386 (ebook) | ISBN 9780197666302
(paperback) | ISBN 9780197666326 (epub)
Subjects: LCSH: Revolutions—History.
Classification: LCC D21.3 .G65 2023 (print) | LCC D21.3 (ebook) | DDC 303.6/409—
dc23/eng/20230722
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023034385
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023034386

1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2
Printed by Integrated Books International, United States of America
To my wife, Gina, who makes everything possible
 Contents

List of illustrations

Acknowledgments

1 What is a revolution?

2 What causes revolutions?

3 Revolutionary processes, leaders, and outcomes

4 Revolutions in the ancient world

5 Revolutions of the Renaissance and Reformation

6 Constitutional revolutions: America, France, Europe (1830 and

1848), and Meiji Japan

7 Communist revolutions: Russia, China, and Cuba

8 Revolutions against dictators: Mexico, Nicaragua, and Iran

9 Color revolutions: the Philippines, Eastern Europe and the USSR,

and Ukraine

10 The Arab Revolutions of 2011: Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Syria, and

Yemen
11 Recent and future revolutions

References

Further reading

Index
List of illustrations

1 The Senate meeting in Rome

Fresco painting by Cesare Mccari in the Palazzo Madama, Rome, Italy

2 Girolamo Savonarola being hung and burned in Florence, 1498

Painting by Filippo Dolciati

3 The signing of the U.S. Constitution, 1787

Painting by Howard Chandler Christy, in U.S. House of Representatives, Washington,
DC, Architect of the Capitol

4 The storming of the Bastille, July 14th, 1789

Mary Evans Picture Library

5 White Army poster depicting Leon Trotsky as the deadly Red Menace of the
Russian Revolution, sitting on the wall of the Kremlin, 1919
Trotsky Archive Internet Photo Gallery

6 Chinese revolutionary propaganda poster, showing a bountiful harvest during

the famine of the Great Leap Forward, 1958 84
From the chineseposters.net Collections, PC-1958-024, International Institute of Social
History, Amsterdam

7 Leaders of the Cuban Revolution: Vilma Espin, Fidel Castro, Raul Castro, and
Celia Sanchez, 1957 89
Photo from Juventude Rebelde 1957

8 Crowds in Wenceslas Square, Prague, creating the Velvet Revolution,

1989 113
Photo by Peter Dejong, Associated Press
9 Protesters with a poster of Egypt’s president Hosni Mubarak as pharaoh
Khaled Desouki/AFP via Getty Images
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
of the eastern coast, if I remember right; their chawats here are often
absurdly small, not even answering the purpose for which they are
intended: one or two have head-dresses of bark, ornamented with
little cowrie-shells, the breadth being sometimes five inches, differing
from the padded helmets we saw on the wax seekers; heavy
necklaces of beads are worn by the men as well as by the women; a
few of the young girls have petticoats composed entirely of beads,
on a groundwork of cloth or perhaps bark.
As I have advanced into the country I have noticed many
clearings on the ridges of the highest hills—perhaps fifty yards in
length. It is in these places that the bones of their chief men rest. As
far as I understand their ways, they place the corpse in a sort of box,
fashioned sometimes like the body of a deer, or what a Murut fancies
is a resemblance, until all the flesh is dissolved from the bones;
these are then placed in a jar, and left on the lofty spots I have
mentioned. I noticed many of these jars in my forced march from
Molu, above the sites of the old Tabun villages, and to the intense
disgust of my guide they were found broken, and the skulls extracted
by the marauding Kayans.
I lately, also, discovered one near my house with the bones nearly
dissolved. It was most probably buried there before the Borneans
turned Mahomedans, as no Muruts have lived on the hills near the
capital since, at least so says tradition. It was found a couple of
hundred yards from the site of the old East India Company’s factory,
which was abandoned about eighty or ninety years ago. The poor
men are said to have their bones buried, while the chiefs have theirs
added to those of their ancestors. I hear the Millanaus follow a
custom somewhat similar. When a chief dies, they place the body in
a shed with a raised floor, and cover it over with sand: they leave it
there, till all the dissolvable parts have run through the open flooring,
and when the remains are perfectly dry, they collect and place them
in a jar. All the relations and friends are then summoned, and they
feast and rejoice for seven days.
I have procured some honey to-day, as I strongly suspect I shall
have little but plain boiled rice to live on during the journey back.
 CHAPTER VI.
MY LIMBANG JOURNAL—Continued.

Commence the return Journey—Kayan Embassy—Indian Corn—

Confidence of the People—Ophthalmia—Old Jar—Gratitude
rarely shown—Anecdote—Warning to Amateur Doctors—Bezoar
Stones—Arrangements at Si Lopong’s—A Nightcap—Desertion
of our Guides—Murut Music—Start for the Adang—Warned of
Difficulties—Abundance of Rice—Cross the Adang Mountains—
Active Girls—The Anœctochilus—Attack of Fever—Arrangements
in case of its continuance—Loss of Chamber to Revolver—Reach
the Adang—Legend—Construct four Rafts—Pleasant Movement
—Trying Position of one of the Men—The first Rapid passed—
Difficulties at the second—Bold Swimmer—A Whirlpool—Danger
of Drowning—Our Raft tested—Abandoned—The rest wrecked—
Pass the Umur—Reach the Limbang—Construct fresh Rafts—
Uneasy Anticipations—Heavy Fresh—Fine Specimen of a Raft—
Push off—Dangers and Troubles—The Rafts ungovernable—The
Roaring of Waters—Overhanging Cliffs—The Cataract—Awe of
the Men—Shoot the Cataract—Narrow Escape—Its Height—The
Men recover their Voice—Ineffectual Attempts to stop the Raft—
Caught in a Whirlpool—Safety—Arrival of the other Rafts—
Dangers ahead—Walk—Abandon the Rafts—State of Provisions
—Nearly all consumed—Ahtan’s Secret Store—Rocks—Advance
over the Kalio Hills—Sparing the Food—Exhausting climbing
—“Jog on”—Feed on the Cabbages of the Bengkala Palm—
Almost a Mutiny—Facing the Difficulty—Reach the Summit of the
Paya Paya, or “very difficult” Hills—Night on the Summit—Our
Tent—The last Fowl—Molu—The greatest Difficulties passed—
Country more open—Follow the Banks of the River—Distress of
the Men—Improvidence—Curious Sounds in the old Forest—Cry
of the Argus Pheasant—of the Jelatuk—Rending of a Mighty Tree
—Danger from Decaying Trees—Cock-fights among the Argus
Pheasants.
27th.—Returned by a new path, and a shorter one, to Tabari’s
house. Again Lawi was so covered with clouds that nothing but his
base could be seen: it appeared about fifteen miles off in a S.W.
direction. I hear that the Limbang rises in that mountain. There are
houses at its base, two of which were lately attacked by the Kayans
and destroyed. Just before my arrival the Kayans sent over six men
to inquire whether the Muruts of the upper Trusan would submit to
them and pay tribute; if they would do so all attacks should cease. It
is very probable that these men came over as spies, to find out the
easiest way of reaching the upper country. I missed them by a
couple of days.
We stopped to breakfast about half a mile before we reached
Tabari’s village, at a house that was literally overflowing with Indian
corn. We should have laid in a stock but that they asked absurd
prices. Everywhere the people of the country were busy planting,
and we continually came upon parties working in the fields. They
showed no fear whatever, the news having spread very rapidly
through the country that our objects were friendly. From Tabari’s we
followed the old path to Ballang Palo’s, where we rested the night. In
passing through this village, I had given a man afflicted with sore
eyes a little sulphate of zinc: he already had found, or fancied he
found, some benefit from the medicine, and in remembrance brought
me a jar of arrack, containing about three quarts, which he insisted I
must drink. The old jar was a curious specimen of former Chinese
work, which had most probably been with the Muruts for many
generations. It was blue, with numerous figures of dragons upon it.
As the sulphate of zinc had once acted well, I found numerous
customers for it, a great many being troubled with sore eyes,
perhaps from crowding over their smoky fires during the cold nights.
I mention the circumstance of the poor fellow bringing the arrack, as,
how grateful soever they may be in their hearts for a kindness, they
seldom show it. I have not known half a dozen instances during my
whole residence in the East. It is not always quite safe to administer
medicine, particularly when the amateur doctor promises that a cure
will result from his exertions, as the following story will show. A Bukar
Dayak had a son, who fell ill of the small-pox, and a native doctor
offered his services, assuring the father he could cure his child;
unfortunately for him, however, notwithstanding all the medicine he
administered, the child died, when the father, accusing him of having
wilfully caused the death of his son, drew his sword and killed him on
the spot. As this event took place while the Bukar tribe was still
under the authority of the Sultan of Brunei, a fine only was inflicted
for this summary act of vengeance. We sat up rather late, but as we
had no man with us, who could freely converse in their language, the
Orang Kaya Upit having stayed behind on a trading speculation, we
could only drink together, and look very solemn. I have noticed the
very few marketable articles these people have for sale, but one of
them brought me to-day a very large bezoar stone, an inch and a
half in length, and two and a half in circumference. They say they
procure them from the monkeys, whom they kill to seek for this
stone, and while some affirm they find them in the head, others
declare they take them from the bladder. The ones I have seen are
of a clear brown, highly polished, and not heavier than a similar
piece of very light wood.
28th.—On to Si Lopong’s. I found that even Murut arrack is a very
bad assistant to exertion. I stayed this night at the house preparatory
to a start in the morning. We are in great hopes that some of the
Muruts will walk with us as far as the spot where we intend to
construct rafts, and thus give us a good stock of provisions to
commence operations upon; but nothing could be arranged on
account of Si Lopong’s absence. In the evening he came home, and
immediately brought out two basins of arrack, one of which he
handed to me, and said we must drink in remembrance of our
friendship. Having complied with his desire, I began to enter into our
business, but before I could utter a dozen words he lay back on his
mat and was fast asleep. He had arrived drunk, as no doubt, at
every village, he had been feasted; and the last bowl of arrack was
the night-cap. Seeing that it was hopeless to attempt to wake him, I
put off our conversation till the morning.
The men I had left behind I found tolerably recovered, and all
were ready for a start; that is, if anybody could be found to carry the
baggage. Most of the guides had given up their intention to return: Si
Nuri intended to spend a month or two with his first wife; Kadayan
was kept by his family, and Luñgenong would not start without the
Orang Kaya Upit; so that unless I wait here some time, we must trust
entirely to ourselves. The way to the Adang is not very difficult to
find. Waking during the night, I heard some sounds almost as
musical as those produced by a bagpipe; it came from a Murut near
at hand, who was perhaps serenading his mistress. I examined the
instrument he used, and it was very simple to produce so many
notes. Two thin bamboos, about twelve inches long, were fastened
very neatly side by side; in one was cut four holes like those in a
flute, while the other had a long piece of grass inserted in the lower
end. A slight incision was then cut across both towards the upper
portion. The performer thrust this instrument rather deep into his
mouth and blew, and then, with the aid of tongue, fingers, and
moving the grass, produced some very agreeable and wild tunes. I
watched him for some time as he sat by the side of a flickering fire,
but being tired, it at last lulled me to sleep.
29th.—Si Lopong is naturally very unwilling to start without his
relation, the Orang Kaya Upit; he says that he cannot be many days,
as he has only to wait for the return of the party of Main Muruts, who
have gone to fetch him some slaves. This settles the question, and I
start without guides. Unfortunately, the Orang Kaya has with him the
hunting dogs I purchased at Tabari’s. Our intention is to walk to the
Adang River, and construct rafts on which to float down the stream.
The Muruts have always warned us that it is too full of cataracts,
rapids, and huge rocks, to be descended by rafts, and that, if they
fail us, the country is impassable; but my men are eager to try the
easy method of returning, and I am desirous of following the course
of the Limbang.
6 p. m.—We got away at 9 a.m. I explained to my men that I
would not allow our guides to bring slaves into our party; that all the
shame of the transaction would fall on me; and that if the Orang
Kaya attempted it, I would take away his boat, and let him find his
way home overland. There was rice of ours sufficient for a month’s
consumption, and I strongly advised the men to remember how they
had suffered in their former land journey. They all promised to take
twelve or fourteen days’ provisions, and I took eighteen days’,
dividing it among all the men, each to carry a day’s rice for me.
We found the Adang range a very stiff climb, and before we
reached the top I had to relieve Musa of his double barrel, he was
carrying so heavy a load. At the stream we met two hunters, and
endeavoured to persuade them to lend us a hand for one day, but
we could not bribe them. It is astonishing what habit will do. A young
girl, not above thirteen, came part of the way with us to assist in
carrying a relation’s burden, and she walked up that steep mountain,
comparatively with the most perfect ease. I here found some of
those beautiful Anœctochilus which Mr. Low wanted. I collected
about a dozen, all I could see, and put them into a tin pepper-box,
with holes in the top, to try whether they would keep. They are the
most breathtaking plants I have ever seen, with leaves through
which lines of gold, or white, or bright red run, forming a lovely
pattern. I have been shown some of the very plants I collected, now
growing luxuriantly in England, and they are the most delicate
looking ornaments for a hot-house.
After much exertion, we got about half way down the western face
of the Adang range, the rain pouring heavily; so at five p.m. we came
to a stop and pitched our tents.
30th.—The rain still continued, but we pushed on by the old path
till we came to a small stream, called the Batu Loba, where we found
some freshly constructed huts. After bathing, I felt very feverish, and
taking a dose of quinine, a large basin of rice-water, and wrapping
myself up in all the dry clothing I had, I burst into a profuse
perspiration. It was not a very agreeable night for me. I lay in my tent
alone: the men, except Musa, who watched over me, preferring the
hunters’ huts, as the floor was there dry, and they had no time to
make a raised floor in the tent for themselves, as they did for me.
The rain was coming down in torrents, which presently increased
to a terrific thunderstorm. The wind did not affect us much, we were
too low, in a hollow; but I thought if this really be fever, what a
prospect for me in this forest. I called Musa, and made every
necessary arrangement in case I should be delirious in the morning:
that two or three men should stay with me, and the rest go back to
the houses; that if I grew worse, the Muruts might be engaged to
carry me to their village; and that when I recovered, we should go
home by the Trusan, abandoning the boats, instruments, and
everything.
 I need scarcely say how joyful we all were, when in the morning I
got up without any fever, and only a little weakened by the slight
attack. I thought at the time that it might be from over-fatigue, as I
had not only carried all my instruments and arms, but had assisted
others. Some one during the night must have been amusing himself
with my revolver, as shortly after starting, on withdrawing it from its
cover, I found the chamber gone, rendering the weapon useless till
our arrival at the boats, where I had left a spare one; so I gave up
the carbine, and took to my double-barrel.
October 1st.—Continued by the old path to the Adang; hitting it,
however, a little to the northward of the point where we previously
crossed it. Here we prepared to make the rafts on which we intend to
continue our journey. We found plenty of material—light wood,
bamboos, and rattans, &c.; so we encamped on a pebbly bank, the
men hoping to be soon joined by the Muruts. During our walk to-day,
while following the ridge of the Batu Put hills, we observed on its
summit two large boulders, one some twenty-five feet in length. They
appeared to be granite, but I could not break off a piece. They bear
that rather immodest name from the following legend:—That a
famous chief of yore, disdaining to make his nuptial-couch on the
grass, fetched up these huge stones to sleep on; and they point to
some marks as the impression made by his bride’s limbs, which,
without much stretch of fancy, might be taken for the mould of a foot
and leg.
2nd.—Occupied in making rafts. The rain last night produced a
flood: the river rose about five feet, not many inches below the tent,
and is in a capital condition for a start; but making the rafts has
occupied more time than I expected, and we cannot set out to-night.
The Orang Kaya Upit has not made his appearance: I only regret the
rice we left at Si Lopong’s—he may come to-night; but I have never
expected him to follow so soon. It has been showery all the
afternoon, and I fear a wet night. We have made four rafts: old Japer
commands one with three men, Minudin with three more, Lamit and
three, then Musa, with three Malays, a boy, Ahtan, and myself. Ours
is a very strong raft of bamboo; the others appear but very shaky
affairs, the men being too lazy to work well at them.
 5th.—Started early; at first all went smoothly enough. The river
was sufficiently deep, though it had fallen. We began to congratulate
ourselves on the charming sensation of gliding down the stream,
with only the occasional trouble of pushing the raft from the bank.
The first notice we had that all was not to be smooth water was
seeing in a long reach a rock in the centre, with a dashing, breaking
fall on either side; and on this rock was one of our men standing, the
very picture of despair. Three rafts had passed, and his only chance
was to jump on to ours. We came rushing towards him at a
tremendous pace, trying to keep as near the rock as possible to give
him a better chance, and in doing so, caught it, which threw the raft
right across the stream: it rose to an angle of 45°, and we all thought
it was going over, when the broad surface presented to the water
raised it up, and it slipped past the rock. The man, after having
assisted in moving it, stood still, and we had nearly passed him; I
yelled at him, which brought him to a sense of his danger: he made a
bold spring, and just succeeded in reaching the raft. Had he
remained where he was, he must have sprung into the boiling surge,
hoping that we could pick him up if he reached the smoother water.
On arriving at the next difficult rapid, it was proposed to take out
the baggage, and then pass the rafts down, as the first had already
been buried in the water, and everything was wet through. This was
tiresome work. It is always difficult to pack and unpack during the
day’s journey; but after an hour’s hard work, we had passed all the
things down to the bottom of the rapid, except a large tambok, or
basket three feet high, made from the covering of the sago-palm
stem. This the owner thought he would take with him on the raft; but
just as he started, a wave struck it, and it rolled into the water, and
went dancing down the stream: it was full of valuables of mine and
the man’s clothing. The bold fellow sprang after, but too late to reach
it before it sank; he, however, dived till he fished it up.
Our pride in our rafts was fast leaving us when, about an hour
afterwards, we saw one of the smaller ones rushing round at a
frantic pace in a whirlpool, and three men trying to save one of their
companions, whose head we could occasionally see bobbing up: we
were on them in a minute; our strong raft went headlong against the
rock, creaked to the force of the waters, but did not break up, and we
were enabled to push the man near enough to the shore to be
seized by his companions: our raft was too long to be mastered by
the whirlpool: we just saw one man holding on to the fellow’s long
hair, as we were swept out of sight.
Our raft had bravely carried us through dangers that, one after the
other, had destroyed its companions, so that at four p.m. I very much
regretted finding it stuck firm on a great rapid that appeared a mile in
length. I proposed that we should encamp opposite, and trust to the
night’s rain to enable us to float it over; but the men said we had
better push on to the Limbang and build new rafts there; so we
walked till five, when, catching up our wrecked companions, we
pitched our tents: there was very little cheerfulness in the party that
night. We had passed through a country of nothing but low forest,
with a few hills scattered about. Our course was nearly west south-
west.
4th.—We had heavy rain during the night, which made the river
rise a fathom; so that had we stuck to our raft, we might have
advanced in her. The course of the river continued winding to the
west-south-west, passed the Umur on the right bank. Had some
difficulty in finding a ford: after five hours’ walking, reached the
Limbang. I had but a partial view of the junction; I thought it only the
end of an island, though a clear view shortly after showed, by the
augmented volume of water, that we were on the main river: walked
forward for an hour and a half, till we found sufficient light wood to
make our rafts: then pitching our tents, the men set to work
preparing them, and after doing my best to make our tent
comfortable, I am now inditing this journal. The men this afternoon
evidently think that matters are looking a little serious, and have
worked away with a will till dark.
Convinced that bamboos make bad rafts, strong but not
sufficiently buoyant, they are using only light woods;[8] and
remembering the severe blows they received in the tributary, they
are preparing for worse in the main stream. We are now beginning to
remember the warnings of the Muruts, that you cannot descend the
stream in rafts at any time, and in boats only in fine weather; and the
addition, that if the rafts fail now, the country is composed of such
steep mountains that it would be impossible to cross them. I hear
these not very cheerful discussions going on around me; but the
sanguine portion of my retainers point to the beautiful smooth
stream, whose banks we have followed for several miles.
5th.—There was much rain last night, with thunder and lightning;
and the river rose a fathom, and is continuing to rise, concealing any
signs of rapids in the long reach before us. The men are determined
that this time the rafts shall be strong enough: ours is a model,
twenty-two feet long by six in breadth, composed of a double layer of
trees, the lower nine large ones, the upper a dozen smaller trees; on
this is a raised platform, on which we have stowed our provisions
and goods. We have all got on it to try its buoyancy, and find that it is
not an inch out of water, but that is immaterial. I have just been
round to look at the different rafts. Though not so good as ours, they
are all tolerably strong; and the men having breakfasted, I have
given the orders to put off; and now, at mid-day, we are starting.
Our course was at first very pleasant. The river was broad, deep,
and sufficiently rapid; but, after a few reaches, this changed, and
bluff points began to invade the stream. Now we were hurled against
a rock, or pressed against the bank; the next moment we were in a
whirlpool, flying about, and with difficulty getting out of it. These
whirlpools were so deep, that with our longest poles, and they were
four fathoms, we could not reach the bottom. At one very large one,
we continued going in a circle for above ten minutes, when we saw a
companion raft coming down upon us. We shouted to the men to try
and sheer off, but it was of no use, and it crashed into us; however,
the damage was all for them. Our heavy raft merely sank a foot, and
was driven near enough to the bank to enable us to get out of this
whirlpool, leaving our friends to repair damages while taking the
successive turns from which they had driven us. I soon began to find
that our rafts were unmanageable, and that we must allow the
stream to carry us whither it pleased.
After moving on at a good pace for about a couple of hours, we
heard a roaring in the distance, and I called to the men to stop the
raft if possible, and send ahead to see what was the cause of this
sound; but they thought they could pass the rapid which was before
us, and concluded that it produced the roar we heard. I was of a very
different opinion. This one was bad enough; but in turning the point,
how shall I describe the scene that was presented to me? The
almost perpendicular hills closed in on the river, their lofty trees
meeting in an arch overhead, and the waters dashing through the
narrow space, tumbling over huge rocks, raised waves like those of
an angry sea on a rocky shore; but the worst spot was where the
cliffs appeared to have fallen across the stream, damming it to half
its width by a huge tree-crowned rock, and forming two foaming
cascades.
We had been told that the cataract was nine fathoms deep. To
stop the raft was impossible: the pace was too great; and, as we
approached this formidable danger, the men burst into a prayer,
which, though they shouted at the tops of their voices, could scarcely
be heard in the roar. I spoke not, but clutched the side of the raft with
one hand and Ahtan with the other, for fear we should be swept off.
As we came to the edge of the cataract, it looked so deep that the
men were awed into silence, and my only thought was, Can we ever
rise out of that abyss? Down we went. We felt a slight shock, the raft
trembled, and in another moment we were buried in the recoiling
waves. We rose again, our bows forced up into the air, and the stern
completely hidden as I glanced round to look if the men were there,
and then over the second tier of rocks, which were not so serious, as
there was a deep pool beyond; and though we were again buried
beneath the waters, yet we touched no rock. At the first cataract we
but grazed the bottom. Had we struck, our raft must have been
dashed to pieces; as it was, the centre trunk was driven from its
place—I was about to say, like an arrow from a bow; but how far it
went I cannot say; it left no trace behind it.
I have attempted since to estimate the length of these falls; but,
after allowing for the exaggeration natural to remembrance of one’s
own adventures, I cannot think they were less than three and two
fathoms, but probably more. However, we passed so rapidly that it
was impossible to judge correctly. On we went, over a small cataract;
and then the men gave vent to their feelings in a frantic yell, which
they had been unable to utter after the great danger. As we cleared
the point, we heard shouts from the bank; and, looking up, saw four
of our men calling upon us to stop, as there were worse dangers
ahead.
As this reach was tolerably smooth, one of the men sprang into
the stream with a long rattan in his hand, hoping to reach the shore,
but it was dragged from him before he was half way. Then Musa,
choosing a better spot, plunged in; he reached the shore, but, before
he could land, the rattan was torn from his grasp, and we were swept
away. I saw Musa, breathless, trying to free himself from the waves
that dashed him against the rocks, and in another moment we were
out of sight.
Our two skilled men were gone; but we managed to keep the raft
straight, and presently we were caught in a whirlpool. This was our
best chance; one of the men sprang into the water, and was soon
ashore. The rattan was twisted round a tree just as the stream
caught us. This was a trying moment. The rattan began to part as
the great strain came upon it; so I ordered the last man to make
straight for the shore, and draw the raft out of the strength of the
stream. The men really exerted themselves; and, in almost less time
than it takes me to write this down, we were moored comfortably
under the bank.
Presently one of the other rafts came round the point; they tried to
join me, but were swept to the other side, where they brought up; the
next followed, and was also secured; the fourth soon came round the
point, but with only old Japer upon it. I trembled for him, but the old
fellow was used to danger, and cleverly brought himself under the
opposite rocks, and threw a rattan on shore. This, however, was torn
out of the hand of a stupid man who ought to have twisted it round a
stump or a rock; nevertheless, an active fellow sprang from one of
the already secured rafts into Japer’s, and twisted a strong rattan
round one of the trunks. Now all were interested, and rushed to help
to prevent the great stream carrying away the rafts.
I was very pleased to see Musa join me. He presently went
ahead; and, after an hour’s absence, returned, telling me he had
found a spot where we could secure ourselves for the night; but that
the men requested that I and Ahtan, as the non-swimmers, would
walk to the night’s resting-place. We found the way very difficult; and,
after half an hour’s hard work, reached the rafts. I now heard that
three of the most active of the party had gone ahead to examine. We
had brought up the rafts in a kind of bay, with the rocks below
stretching across the river, forming formidable rapids. At six p.m. the
scouts returned, bringing the unpleasant news that the river for about
two miles was one succession of rapids; in fact, as far as they had
seen it, it was a continued sheet of white foam, from the innumerable
rocks which studded the stream. To proceed in the rafts was quite
impossible, so we made up our minds to walk.
Now I thought matters began to look sombre, particularly as Ahtan
came to tell me that he had been to several of the men for my rice,
and had found that they had only a day’s provisions left. Upon this I
called the men up, and ascertained that three men had still six days’
rice, three had four days’, four had two days’, and the rest only
provisions for one day; and, what was very serious for me and
Ahtan, all our rice had been consumed, except sufficient for two
days.
It was useless to reproach the men, so I called Ahtan on one side,
and proposed to him that we should in future take thin rice-water,
and trust to the cabbage-palm for our chief support. To this he readily
agreed, and then added in a whisper that he had about two cupfuls
of tapioca flour. I persuaded him that this should be kept, in case one
of us fell ill. I must confess that, being excessively hungry, I was not
sorry to find that he had cooked a fowl—the last but one—and boiled
a lot of rice, before he discovered how short we were. We divided
the food into two portions, and dined heartily.
Rocks, sandstone, dipping to the north-east, at an angle of 18°. It
was in the great cataract, to-day, that my journal was wetted. As we
were twice buried in the recoiling waves, nothing but a single change
escaped being soaked. We made great fires to dry our clothes, but
the continuous rain prevented our completely succeeding.
 6th.—I was up at dawn. There was not much cooking; but Ahtan
having saved a little cold rice, we breakfasted off that, and then
started. We found the Muruts were correct in their account of the
country. The walking was very difficult indeed, either along the sides
of precipitous hills or up the face of them, where our hands came
into as much play as our feet. I kept the men at it till five p.m.,
making but little advance over this very difficult country. We were
evidently crossing the Kalio hills which I had noticed on our left in our
walk from Madihit, and then estimated at 5,500 feet; but my
barometer was now out of order.
We encamped on the summit of one of the mountains; and,
having found a little water, we cooked. I noticed that none of the men
followed our example of sparing the food, but eat as if they had been
at home; so that but half have any rice left. I had for a week
preserved a small glass of brandy; and, believing it impossible to feel
more exhausted, I drank it, for the last climb had been such as to
render a farther advance impossible for any of us.
7th.—To-day the walking was worse than ever—so steep that my
heart almost failed me, but knowing how everybody looked to me, I
did not give way. How continually those lines came to my memory,
and how often I found myself repeating them—

“Jog on, jog on the footpath way,

And merrily hent the stile-a;
A merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tires in a mile-a.”

We kept on till twelve, when we stopped at a stream to breakfast

on the cabbages of the bengkala palm; exceedingly delicious, but
not satisfying; it was like living on sugar and water. Here the old
Pablat man said he must stay behind, as he had an attack of
elephantiasis. I left his son-in-law with him, and pushed on.
We followed the torrent’s course for some time over broken rocks,
when the man we had constituted our guide turned to the left
towards a mountain that looked nearly perpendicular. There was
almost a mutiny; even Musa declared that they could not face it—
they must try the bank of the river. I represented to them that the
Muruts had warned us that it was impossible to follow that course;
but they kept repeating they would like to try, so I gave way, and we
continued for half an hour, till we reached the Limbang. Here the
banks were perpendicular, and we all sat down for half an hour,
looking gloomily at the foaming stream.
But this being of no use, I rose and told the guide that we must go
back to the spot he had before chosen. The men feeling rather
ashamed of themselves, got up with more alacrity, and we faced the
difficulty, commencing the ascent at two p.m., but did not reach the
summit till six p.m., and yet we worked as hard as we possibly could,
hoping to get down to the banks of a running stream. These were
evidently the Paya Paya, or the “very difficult” hills. For several
hundred yards we moved up a narrow spur, about five feet broad
generally, but occasionally narrowing to a single foot, so steep that
we had to place our rifles and guns before us as far as we could
reach, and then pull ourselves up to them.
The sun went down before we stopped for the night. There was
no water, but there was a prospect of heavy rain, and strong puffs of
wind, as black clouds were gathering to the north-east. It was seven
o’clock before I got my tent pitched on a ridge not three feet broad;
and then, there being nothing to eat or drink, we lay down and slept
on our weariness. Fortunately for me, I had managed to dry my
Scotch plaid during our stay for breakfast; and, wrapping myself up
in that best of all companions, I did not feel the cutting winds. I
awoke for a few minutes in the middle of the night, to find that the
cold had driven the men to light a fire; but before I could distinctly
distinguish any one I was off to sleep again, and did not wake till the
sun shone on my face. Yesterday satisfied me that I was in excellent
condition to endure fatigue, as, though I had not drunk any water
since breakfast, I felt no thirst.
8th.—Being excessively hungry, I determined to have the
remaining fowl, a mere chicken, for breakfast. I thought we deserved
it, having had nothing to eat for dinner, so it was killed before we
started. An hour’s walk brought us to the end of the mountain ridge,
and gave us a fine view of the country. There was Molu with its
highest peak bearing west by south, proving that the western peak,
under which we were last February, is not the loftiest.
It appeared to me that we had clearly passed the greatest
difficulties as regards country; it was now more open, the hills
drawing back farther from the banks of the river, which wound at our
feet some three thousand feet below. I now knew from the bearings
that we were north of our boats; they lay as nearly as possible
between us and Molu. I therefore proposed to the men that we
should abandon the main stream and push due west, straight for the
Madihit; but they had no faith in compasses, and seeing a mountain
range nearly as high as the one we were on between us and what I
affirmed to be the Madihit, they said they preferred keeping to the
banks of the Limbang, which now appeared to be less difficult.
We did not long continue admiring this extensive prospect; our
thoughts referred to water and something to eat, so we commenced
the descent, which was nearly as steep as yesterday’s ascent; but
going down hill, though trying to the knees, does not take away the
breath. We did not, however, reach a stream till nearly two, when we
stopped for breakfast. Ahtan, smiling at the thought of a fowl, got the
breakfast ready in a very short time. The men proposed that we
should spend the night here, but I declined, insisting that we should
reach the Limbang. It poured with rain, but it was necessary we
should exert ourselves. I pushed on with Ahtan and two others.
When I was gone, one of the men lay down in the path and burst
out crying, saying he should never see his mother again; a
companion threw himself down too, but the rest of the party followed
me. These two I rather pitied, as this was their second day without
rice; but they and their two friends were the most improvident of the
lot. One day they began to cook without orders; the rice was just
wetted, but they were told to move on, and not cook till we all
stopped. They therefore wrapped up their breakfast, and moved on.
Presently I saw a packet, and picking it up, found that they had
thrown away the rice, saying it was too much trouble to carry it;
another party, on its being handed to them, quickly appropriated it.
Another day they cooked three times, throwing away what was left. It
was disgusting to see such waste of food; but they suffered for it. At
five p.m. I reached the main stream, and feared I should have to
encamp without tents, as I could hear nothing of the party. One of
the men volunteered to go back to search for them, and at sunset
they were all collected.
I know of no sounds more curious than those which are
sometimes heard in the old forest. Last night we frequently noticed
the cries of the Argus pheasant, both male and female. In the deep
silence one is startled by the thrice-repeated “Tu-wau,” in a clear and
sonorous tone, and that is the crow of the cock. The cry of the
female is similar, but more quickly repeated; but both are very
pleasing to hear. Occasionally, also, we could distinguish the clear
and distinct note of the Jelatuk bird, which a stranger might mistake
for the echo of a stroke from an axe.
There is another sound, only heard in the oldest forest, and that is
as if a mighty tree were rent in twain. I often asked the cause, and
was assured it was the camphor tree splitting asunder, on account of
the accumulation of camphor in some particular part—an explanation
which was not satisfactory. During heavy squalls we have often been
put in fear by the crash of falling timber; but our men were very
particular in not pitching the tents near half-rotten trees. The Argus
pheasant is found in many places we have passed during this
expedition, and occasionally in the jungle we have come across
open spots strewed with the feathers of the cock bird, where two
have been struggling for mastery. It would appear as if they always
chose the same spots for their fights, as the ground was free from
grass and brushwood, and was beaten hard.
 CHAPTER VII.
MY LIMBANG JOURNAL—Concluded.

Stopped for a Day—Five start for Provisions—The Sick Men left

behind join us—No Shoes—Weakness from want of Food—
Leeches—Stop again—Collect Food—Anecdote of Female
Orang Utan and Murut—Again construct Rafts—Present of a Cup
full of Rice—Start on the Rafts—Abandon them—A Bear—The
River—Immense Pebbly Flats—Long Walks—Traces of the
Advance Party—Wild Fruit—Sour Oranges—Recognize a Hill—
Fruit of the Jintawan, or Indian-rubber Plant—Find Remains of
Bees’-nest—The British Flag—Reach the Madihit—Bad Conduct
of the Advance Party—Food nearly all consumed—An unfeeling
Father—Proposed Punishment—Ravages of the Bears—
Anecdote of Ahtan—Return in the Boats—The Herd of Wild
Cattle—Wound a Bull, but do not get it—A slight Supper—Start in
a Sampir—Ahtan ill—The last of the Food—News from Brunei—
Reach the Town—Arrival of the rest of the Party—Bornean
Travelling—Measure Distance by Fatigue—Slow Progress
necessary—Active Murut—Average Rate of Advance—Great
Mistakes made in the Estimates of Distance—Instances—Mr.
Motley’s Account of his Advance up the Limbang—Mr. De
Crespigny’s Mistake in the Latitude of the River Damit and
Position of the Mountain of Molu—Remarks on the Map—Causes
of the continued Health of my Followers—The Tents—Mistake in
trusting to Native Huts—Native Geographical Information tested
—Found correct—Arrival of the Orang Kaya Upit—Tragical Death
of Pangeran Mokata, the Shabandar—Two Years after—Sad Fate
of a Party of Adang Muruts—Murder by Orang Kaya Gomba—
Head-hunting—Heads valued, but none seen—Incident of
meeting Head-hunters—No Treacherous Designs—Inefficient
Government—Desecration of the Graveyards—Chinese Secret
Societies, or Hués—Ahtan joins one—Robbery of the Iron Chest
from the Consulate—The Sultan’s Method of extorting a
Confession—Obstinacy of Ahtan—Officers of the Secret Society
—Chest restored—Prisoners released—The Hué broken up—
Treatment of Prisoners—Musa and the Priest—Threats—
Personal Regard for some of my Followers.