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Earthly Mother, Holy Witch: Social Perceptions of Maria-Magdalena Mazepa (1687-1707)*

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Maria-Magdalena Mazepa, the natural mother of Hetman Ivan Mazepa and mother superior of an elite women’s convent in Kyiv, played a prominent role as her son’s informal political aide and confidante from the start of his hetmanship in 1687 until her death in 1707. Her forceful personality and willingness to engage with the power struggles in the Hetmanate provoked social resentment, which culminated in a formally recorded witchcraft accusation. Drawing on broader East Slavic and older Byzantine models, the article explores the charge of sorcery against Maria-Magdalena placed within the cultural and political context of the Ukrainian Hetmanate at the turn of the 17th and 18th centuries.

Abstract

Maria-Magdalena Mazepa, the natural mother of Hetman Ivan Mazepa and mother superior of an elite women’s convent in Kyiv, played a prominent role as her son’s informal political aide and confidante from the start of his hetmanship in 1687 until her death in 1707. Her forceful personality and willingness to engage with the power struggles in the Hetmanate provoked social resentment, which culminated in a formally recorded witchcraft accusation. Drawing on broader East Slavic and older Byzantine models, the article explores the charge of sorcery against Maria-Magdalena placed within the cultural and political context of the Ukrainian Hetmanate at the turn of the 17th and 18th centuries.

Єй, братища, пора знати,

Що не всім нам пановати,

Не всім дано всеє знати

И речами керовати.

[…]

Пчулка бідна матку має

І оної послухає.

— Ivan Mazepa, Duma1

In the early 1690s Maria-Magdalena, the mother superior of the Kyiv Ascension Monastery and the birth mother of Hetman Ivan Mazepa, commissioned two items of ecclesiastical embroidery. They represented Maria-Magdalena and her son alongside the Virgin, saints and angels. Thus placed in a sacral context, the Mazepas were almost literally woven into the Orthodox liturgical space.2 This act of commemorating oneself and one’s family through material objects on public display may be interpreted as a commonplace marker of their privileged status in the Ukrainian Hetmanate and beyond. However, by virtue of her relationship with the hetman on the one hand, and of holding an ecclesiastical office as the head of an elite convent on the other, Maria-Magdalena exercised an extraordinary amount of power that occasionally reached into the political sphere. This produced intense jealousies among the Cossack starshyna. While limiting her authority may have been out of their grasp, this elite discontent found expression through symbolic means. This essay explores some social responses to the role Maria-Magdalena played as her son’s informal political aide and confidante from the start of his hetmanship until her death in 1707, at the age of ninety. These include an accusation of witchcraft, which must be analysed within the social framework of the Ukrainian Hetmanate at the turn of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.

An allegation of sorcery against Maria-Magdalena, a result of the interrogation and torture of the Cossack official Danilo Zabelin in 1699 and linked to the charges of treason against Ivan Mazepa, is very opaque.3 She is referred to as a witch (charovnitsa) once in the interrogation transcript, and it is evident that Zabelin’s interrogators were not interested in questioning him further about her supposed magical practices.4 To be properly understood, the accusation needs to be translated into the language of contemporaneous Ukrainian political tensions. This necessitates a descent into the murky world of elite intrigue, slander and gossip. Before embarking on the analysis of Maria-Magdalena’s case study, however, it is appropriate to provide some context about witchcraft ideas in early modern Ukraine.

The last few decades of research into the history of witchcraft have resulted in a growing consensus that “ideas about who might be a witch” in the early modern period were “local, temporally specific … dynamic and flexible.”5 In the context of Orthodox East Slavic culture this important consideration is further reinforced by a conspicuous absence of explicit demonological theories of witchcraft prevalent in Western Christianity. As has been convincingly demonstrated recently by Valerie Kivelson and Jonathan Shaheen, rather than representing a system of officially certified beliefs, Muscovite Russian and, I would argue, Ukrainian ideas of magic and witchcraft were prosaic (in the Bakhtian sense), ad hoc and changeable in nature.6

Literate East Slavic culture shows signs of a mild obsession with the “evil” women who ruined mighty men, who may or may not have been their husbands. These women were supposed to be driven by the unnatural desire to attain control in the spheres of authority, either internal domestic or external political, traditionally associated with men.7 A survey of copies of sermons on the “good” and “evil” women in the historic manuscript collections of ecclesiastical institutions, now held in the Vernads’kyi National Library of Ukraine, reveals interesting results. Five separate copies of the sermon on the “evil” women, one – on the “good” women, and one on the “good” and “evil” women collectively have been identified.8 In addition, a single collection of manuscript miscellanea bound together contains two variants of the sermon on the “evil” women, one – on the “good” women, and another sermon dedicated to the “good and evil” women.9 (See Figure 1.)

Figure 1.
Figure 1.

Manuscript copies of sermons on the “good” and “evil” women (16th-18th centuries), Vernads’kyi National Library of Ukraine, Kyiv.

Citation: Russian History 40, 3-4 (2013) ; 10.1163/18763316-04004011

It seems clear that the “evil” women preyed on the minds of early modern Orthodox East Slavic compilers of these manuscripts to a much greater extent than their sweet-natured sisters.

This preoccupation with “evil” women and specifically with “evil” women as witches was part of the East Slavs’ Byzantine inheritance. St John Chrysostom maintained that men who allowed women to command them “upset the ruling [power] principle in nature”, as, of course, did witches.10 Notably, occasional use of the term “evil women”, specifically applied to female magic practitioners, has been registered in Ukrainian seventeenth-century sources.11 Nearly three decades ago, in an article about Byzantine conceptions of gender, Catia Galatariotou traced a long tradition of Byzantine misogyny, which, among other things, drew a direct link between power-hungry women and witchcraft.12 In addition, stable association existed between Byzantine sorceresses and unruly sexuality, whose presence has also found reflection in early modern sources originating in the Ukrainian lands. Thus Solokha, the “personal” witch of Hetman Khmel’nyts’kyi in the late 1640s was reported to have been his mistress, and later in the seventeenth century the Orthodox preacher Antonii Radyvilovs’kyi recounted the story of a female drunk and fornicator, who was also notorious as a skilled witch.13 Documents reveal similar hints of sexual impropriety and evil practices attached to the women of a social standing similar to Maria-Magdalena’s. A hostile contemporary versifier described the mother of Adam Kysil, a senator of the Commonwealth and the Palatine of Kyiv (1649-53), who at the end of her life led a small female monastic community in Volhynia, as a woman who had been “a great whore,// But on becoming a nun remained a sorceress.”14

Orthodox religious professionals, such as secular priests (along with their wives) or, as has been discussed above, nuns and mothers superior, often became targets of sorcery-related accusations in both Russia and Ukraine.15 The explanation must be sought in the association between powerful religious magic and the people who either practise or exist in close proximity to it.16 A female monastic dabbling in sorcery would be subverting the nun’s legitimate involvement in the salvatory mechanism of the church through prayer by effectively performing the opposite function, namely leading souls to perdition through maleficium and deceit. Attention should also be drawn to the important issue of the celibate women’s negative relationship with fertility, pregnancy and motherhood, widely associated with anxiety about “fecund prosperity … in a society dependent on human, animal, and agricultural reproduction.”17 It is known, for example, that “the presence of both monks and nuns at weddings was commonly thought to be unlucky.”18 The association between the monastics’ enforced inability to procreate and the attendant envy of the bridal pair’s fecundity on their part had the potential to result in instances of “evil eye,” a phenomenon at one remove from the deliberate maleficium of witches.

Although the demonological patterns that characterised ideas of witchcraft in Latin Christianity are conspicuously absent in the Orthodox culture, this does not exclude the possibility of contextual contamination in the areas where Eastern and Western Churches co-existed side by side. As a part of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, the Ruthenian lands, the majority or significant minority of whose population was Orthodox, could not remain totally unaffected by sporadic surges of witch prosecution further west. A mini witch-craze, whose outcome was the burning of six witches in Hadiach on the orders of Hetman Ivan Briukhovets’kyi (1663-8) in 1667, is a case in point. The women, five of whom sources characteristically describe as “baby [old/ village women] witches”,19 while the sixth was a Cossack colonel’s wife, were charged with the crime of maleficium against the hetman and his new wife Dariia, a Muscovite noblewoman, which was meant to cause consumption (chakhotnaia bolezn’) in both husband and wife. The witches had also been alleged to have “stolen” a child from Dariia’s womb and even taken one of her ears.20 Harmful magic intended to affect the victims’ health and fertility combines here with an element of political witchcraft (highlighted both by Briukhovets’kyi’s high office and by the elite status of one of the alleged miscreants), and as such represent a universal pattern of witchcraft accusations across Europe, East and West. But claims that during the suspected witches’ imprisonment cats and mice issued forth from their cell and disappeared into the town have led Russell Zguta to suggest that these animals could be identified as “familiars,” common in the witchcraft tradition of Western Christianity.21

The tidal wave of trials and executions of witches in the Polish Crown lands evidently dissipated in its eastward movement. Thus Royal Prussia and Wielkopolska, the two areas of Poland most proximate to the Holy Roman Empire (whose rich history of witch trials has been well documented and much commented upon in historical literature) accounted for more than half of town trials by 1650 and executed nearly three times more witches than Wielkopolska’s eastward neighbour Małopolska.22 While, mirroring this trend, the Palatinate of Ruthenia (or Red Ruthenia) with its centre in Lviv shows some limited evidence of witch prosecution, it peters out in the territories further east.23 This contrasts sharply with widespread stereotypes reflected in seventeenth-century Polish literature, which testify to contemporary beliefs that “Poison and enchantment rule Ruthenia // The Ruthenian lands swarm with witches.”24 Małgorzata Pilaszek also points out that in popular imagination the Polish words czarownica (“enchantress” or “witch”) and Rusianka (“the Ruthenian woman”) were synonymous, and the most powerful witches were supposed to come from Kyiv.25 The word charovnitsa used in Zabelin’s denunciation may also be significant. Although present in both Polish and the East Slavic languages through a common Indo-European root, evidence from early modern Polish witch trials indicates that the term czarownik/czarownica had a specific connotation as a man or a woman who willingly learned the practice of maleficium through deliberate submission to the dark diabolical forces.26 It is also noteworthy that this charge against Maria-Magdalena dates to the period of 1676-1700, when witch accusations, trials and executions reached their peak in early modern Poland.27 Thus, for all the marked differences between the ideas of witchcraft in Western and Eastern Christianity, it is clear that mutual cultural influence in borderline areas could and did occur.

Of the patterns of witch accusations associated with the East Slavic cultures, Maria-Magdalena’s case best fits the oldest and most enduring of all: the political use of witchcraft. Zabelin’s allegation of sorcery against Maria-Magdalena implies a charge of witchcraft, which involved prominent figures as either victims or suspects. According to Christina Larner, in the Latin West this was “a normal early stage in the growth of witch-hunting.”28 She also points out that at this stage accusations of witchcraft were mostly sorcery-related and free of diabolical glosses that would become so central to Western and Central European witch-trials of the later sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.29 Although sporadic ripples of political witchcraft accusations produced by magic beliefs of Muscovite elite and associated with interregna, early and minority rules and periods of political instability generally, did not result in periods of sustained witch prosecution, Russell Zguta still argues that they may have “laid the groundwork for the trials of the seventeenth century.”30 It is therefore plausible to suggest that forcible stabilisation of the political affairs in the Hetmanate through a series of repressive measures that followed Mazepa’s defection and downfall in 1708 both caused an abrupt cessation of political witchcraft charges among Ukrainian social elite and stunted the subsequent systematic growth of witchcraft accusations.

While the dutiful “humble bee” of Mazepa’s famous poem Duma cited in the epigraph to this article serves as a metaphor for the hierarchical political, rather than filial, loyalty, the hetman’s life-long devotion to his mother cannot be questioned. Maria-Magdalena held a prominent place in her son’s political life from the time of his election as hetman in 1687 literally to her dying day, when she took care to dispose safely of the secret diplomatic correspondence he had given her for safekeeping.31 It was not unknown for close female relations of Ukrainian hetmans occasionally to appropriate the limelight normally occupied by men. Thus Anna Zolotarenko, the third wife of Bohdan Khmel’nyts’kyi, is known to have issued a decree (universal) in her own name to the inhabitants of the town of Priluki, urging them to respect the property rights of the Hustyns’kyi Monastery.32 Ten years after her husband’s death Anna’s presence in Kyiv apparently still made Hetman Ivan Briukhovets’kyi nervous.33 But Maria-Magdalena’s engagement with the power struggles in the Hetmanate went much further than dispensing moral advice. Examples that follow illustrate both the level of her involvement and the resultant intense and widespread social resentment against her among the turn-of-the-century secular and ecclesiastical elite of the Hetmanate.

Marina Mokievskaia-Mazepa, as she may have been known in her secular capacity, was undeniably a woman of strong character.34 In her widowhood, after children had left home – the son to forge himself a career in the Hetmanate administration and eventually make it to the top, the daughter to marry – she worked to create herself a public role. Within a year following the death of her husband, Adam-Stepan Mazepa, in 1665, Marina is believed to have joined the Luts’k Orthodox Confraternity of the Elevation of the Holy Cross.35 But the role of the female membership in these associations was chiefly to provide financial assistance: in some confraternities the “sisters” were not allowed to attend meetings and even had to pay their dues through male representatives.36 It is easy to see retrospectively that Marina Mazepina’s ambition reached beyond that claustrophobic environment: paradoxically, if she wished to establish herself in the world, she first had to leave it by entering a convent. This probably happened sometime after 1670-71, when her daughter Alexandra contracted the first of her three marriages.37 Documentary sources first mention Maria-Magdalena Mazepa as a nun in 1683, already in her capacity as the mother superior of the prestigious Kyiv Ascension Monastery, the sister-house of the men’s Monastery of the Caves, the oldest and grandest monastic establishment in the East Slavic lands.38 In her subsequent career, Maria-Magdalena became an unprecedented pluralist female holder of two convent headships and something of a disciplinarian.39 Using intimidation and sharp practices, she rapidly expanded her monasteries’ property portfolios.40 On a visit to Moscow in 1687, Maria-Magdalena was received in an audience by Tsars Ivan V and Peter I, and separately by their sister, the Regent Sophia. She exchanged presents with the royal persons and other members of the Romanov family.41 Documents of Maria-Magdalena’s visit testify that her lavish reception at the Muscovite court was due not so much to her status as the mother superior of an important convent than to her being a highly esteemed blood relation of the Ukrainian hetman.42 In the summer of 1692, she paid another visit to the tsarist capital, this time to petition the authorities for the confirmation of ownership rights to the ever growing number of monastic estates she oversaw, and to pay court to the Patriarch of Moscow Adrian (1690-1700).

The latter objective is particularly noteworthy, as Maria-Magdalena’s stay in Moscow coincided with that of Teodosii Uhlyts’kyi, the then archimandrite of the Ieletsk Assumption Monastery in Chernihiv. Able and well educated, Teodosii may have been a friend of Ivan Mazepa’s youth, and was certainly close to him in later life.43 A frequent visitor to the capital, this time his suit in Moscow concerned the administration of the Chernihiv Archdiocese, then under the old and ailing Bishop Lazar Baranovych, who required help in managing its affairs. By his charter of November 1691, Patriarch Adrian had already made Teodosii Baranovych’s deputy.44 Not satisfied, the hetman wrote again the following year, asking to appoint him the suffragan bishop of the same diocese and Baranovich’s successor.45 The church hierarchy in Moscow apparently baulked at that, explaining that simultaneous appointment of two bishops to the same see was un-canonical.46 Undaunted, Mazepa invoked royal authority, and Adrian was swiftly brought into line: on 11 September 1692 Teodosii Uhlyts’kyi was consecrated archbishop of Chernihiv alongside Baranovych, who kept his seat until his death in the following year.47 While the affair undoubtedly went beyond Maria-Magdalena’s official competence as mother superior, it possibly was not beyond her ability to test the water as her son’s trusted informal envoy in the capital. Circumstantial evidence that Maria-Magdalena could have had a hand in it is provided by the fact that the stated reason of her contacts with Patriarch Adrian at that time was already a fait accompli by the time of her visit to Moscow and indeed trivial enough not to warrant such a trip in the first place.48

The spy and gossip Foy de la Neuville also provides a curious, if utterly improbable, bit of information that during the dynastic crisis of 1689 Maria-Magdalena was called upon to assist Princess Regent Sophia in holding on to power.49 An eyewitness to the palace coup of 1689, which resulted in the deposition of Princess Sophia as regent and her subsequent departure to a convent, de la Neuville met Ivan Mazepa, then two years into his hetmanship, in Moscow. By his own admission, the Frenchman even made an attempt to recruit him back into the service of the king of Poland. De la Neuville’s account makes reference to some 500 Ukrainian Cossacks who arrived with the hetman.50 Unlike his former patron and Sophia’s favourite Vasilii Golitsyn, Mazepa did not end up in disgrace following the coup. If anything, it strengthened his position vis-à-vis Tsar Peter, who was coming of age and was eager to remove his redoubtable half-sister from power. The impressionable young tsar is reported to have been charmed by the suave hetman.51 Remarkably, de la Neuville’s account also mentions

eight hundred religious women, whom she [Sophia] had caused to come from Kiovia [i. e. Kyiv – L. C.], with design to make her self the more creatures through their assistance […] not doubting but they would be more in her interest than in her brother Peter’s, whose subjects they were made in 1666 [sic], when the Palatinate, and the city of Kiovia, were yielded by the Poles to the Muscovites.52

At its face value, this information is unreliable on almost all counts. It is doubtful that the whole of the Metropolitanate of Kyiv would have had as many as 800 nuns in all of its women’s houses. A recent attempt to correct this error by stating that the nuns sent to support Sophia could not have numbered more than eighty to a hundred persons, is also improbably high.53 Whatever their numerical strength, the significance of the notion that some Kyivan nuns could be present in Sophia’s entourage has nothing to do with it.

Let us pause to consider de la Neuville’s story. His arrival in Moscow in 1689 occurred at the moment of great political tension at the Russian court, which marked the final showdown between the Miloslavskii and the Naryshkin, the two powerful clans behind the first and the second wives and offspring of the late Tsar Alexis respectively. The reference to the Ukrainian nuns’ alleged greater sympathy with Sophia than with her half-brother Peter is key, as it highlights the real source of anxiety for the person who possibly supplied de la Neuville with it, Andrei Matveev (1666-1728).54 He was the son of Alexis’s erstwhile favourite Artamon Matveev, publicly hacked into pieces by the Kremlin musketeers (streltsy) during the 1682 uprising that had elevated Sophia to the regency. Like his father, Andrei was a client of the pro-Petrine Naryshkin faction at the Russian court. In turn, Mazepa, who had arrived in Moscow at his long-time ally Golitsyn’s bidding, was widely expected to side with the Miloslavskii party. In conditions of the musketeers’ diminishing support for Sophia and their defection to Peter, Mazepa’s backing of her cause was expected to come in the form of the small Cossack army he brought from Ukraine, which could prove decisive for the eventual outcome of the coup. In the event, by staying aloof and avoiding bloodshed, Mazepa certainly saved his own head, he possibly also rescued Peter from a very unpredictable situation.55 Maria-Magdalena, known in Moscow after her sojourn there at Christmas 1687 as both the revered mother of Hetman Mazepa and the superior of one of Kyiv’s most prominent convents, would have been regarded as likely to dispatch a bevy of nuns in Sophia’s aid. Based on hearsay, the 800 imaginary nuns of the Frenchman’s account, ostensibly sent there to support Sophia, must therefore be translated into Mazepa’s very real 500 Cossacks that preyed on the minds of Sophia’s political opponents. If any religious women from Kyiv were indeed present in her household, one may wonder whether they had not been planted there as Maria-Magdalena’s informants.

Ivan Mazepa’s rule was punctuated by many conspiracies, hatched by the opposition inside the Ukrainian political elite and by powers outside the Hetmanate. One such intrigue was revealed in 1691, when an unnamed Orthodox nun who visited Kyiv from the Polish Right Bank claimed to have picked up a letter in the street and took it to the mother superior of the Kyiv Sts Florus and Laurus Monastery (with whom, incidentally, Maria-Magdalena’s Kyivan convent had a running property dispute). On inspection it turned out to be a letter of defamation against the hetman. Apart from repeating familiar accusations that Ivan Mazepa had sold Christians into Turkish slavery, had conspired against Tsar Peter with Sophia’s erstwhile favourite Vasilii Golitsyn, and wished to subject Ukraine to Poland and to raze the Orthodox churches, it contained the allegation that, laying the ground for his betrayal of Tsar Peter, Mazepa had been purchasing estates in the Polish territory, which he passed to his sister Alexandra, based in the Right Bank.56 After the Hetman himself failed to get any sense out of interviewing witnesses, the mother superior and several nuns of the Sts Florus and Laurus Monastery, he asked Maria-Magdalena to investigate the matter through informal channels. Her private inquiry produced some interesting, if ultimately inconclusive, results: the nun had come from the Polonne Monastery in Volhynia, where she was a choir mistress.57 While she had willingly recounted the episode to her mother superior earlier on, pleading ignorance of the letter’s subversive content, the nun flatly denied everything in front of Maria-Magdalena’s trusted representative dispatched to Polonne to cross-examine her.58 This is where the matter of the anonymous libel rested. The involvement of the nun from the Right-Bank is significant, as it draws an intriguing and, as we shall see, enduring connection between Mazepa’s mother as the head of a women’s monastery operating within the sphere of female authority, and the substance of the rumours the letter relayed.

Yet the accusations that implicated Mazepa’s sister Alexandra and unsubtly hinted at the hetman’s treasonous intent with regard to his sovereign could not be laid to rest. Within a brief period of time the plot thickened as the scandal acquired better-defined and more alarming outlines. Alexandra’s life had been marked by her unhappy marital background. Having been widowed twice within a decade, in her third marriage (c. 1680) to the Polish Catholic Jan Wojnarowski, Alexandra came under pressure to convert to her husband’s faith.59 Given the public scrutiny afforded to the hetman’s family, Alexandra’s ambiguous situation, underscored by the letter of denunciation, had the potential to become an embarrassment. Therefore the timing of Mazepa’s petition to the tsars with a request to permit his sister’s visit to the Hetmanate, submitted in December 1691, may not have been entirely accidental. Following Alexandra’s subsequent arrival in the Left Bank, Maria-Magdalena wrote to her son:

This might be a highly pertinent moment to expose our detractors, why are they baying so, alleging that your mother sends treasure to your sister in Poland, and your sister buys estates there for you. Should we interrogate your sister, and her servants, under fear of torture with fire, if needed, what newly acquired estates are those?60

Alexandra spent the best part of 1692 in the Left Bank, staying mostly with her brother in his capital Baturin. In the winter of 1694 she again complained to Mazepa about Jan Wojnarowski’s religious intolerance, and begged to let her come to Kyiv, where she desired to adopt the “angelic [i.e. monastic] status” in their mother’s convent. A year or so later Alexandra had finally left Wojnarowski for good, accompanied by his two daughters from the first marriage, who followed her to the Left Bank.61 By October 1695 Alexandra was dead, but not before she had taken the veil in the Ascension Monastery, to all appearances in accordance with her wishes.62 Thus Mazepa’s credentials as a loyal subject and pious Orthodox believer remained intact. It is noteworthy that the existence of a living husband, who was not a monk and had no intention of adopting holy orders, did not prevent Alexandra’s consecration as a nun, although Wojnarowski’s Catholicism must have made it easier to contravene this basic canonical requirement.

It seems clear that Maria-Magdalena moved decisively to silence the rumours of her son’s alleged purchase of estates in Poland, which could be easily transmuted into renewed accusations of treason. With only informal, gender-specific means at her disposal, this formidable matriarch managed to secure the results, whose significance reached into the public sphere. Not unlike the special treatment she had received on her visit to Moscow in 1687, this was made possible by her dual standing as the head of a female monastic community and the natural mother of a key public figure. Neither of these conditions would have sufficed on its own, but it was their combination that made Maria-Magdalena so exceptional, so prominent and so authoritative. The curious fact that she and not, for example, Ivan Mazepa’s virtually invisible wife Hanna Polovets’-Fridrikevych, was habitually named as a recipient of tsarist presents sent from Moscow, further illustrates the extent to which the public and the private intermingled in her career.63 If Maria-Magdalena’s monastery had simply become an extension of her family, this would have raised no alarm. But, as her letter cited earlier testifies, malicious gossip implied that she, her family and her convent had become an extension of higher politics in the Hetmanate and beyond. True to Christina Larner’s observation about “hostility to women who exhibit characteristics normally appropriated to men by men, such as independence and aggression,” Maria-Magdalena was increasingly seen as a woman who arrogated herself to a place well beyond the standing afforded by her gender.64

The following episode, recounted by the Cossack chronicler Samiilo Velychko, concerning the translation of a miracle-working icon of the Mother of God to the Kyiv Ascension Monastery may be interpreted as an early sign of the unease felt in some ecclesiastical and Cossack starshyna circles about Maria-Magdalena’s influence. The icon was discovered in a parish church of the village of Rudnia, in the Chernihiv region, and its miraculous appearance seems to be associated with Ivan Mazepa’s rise to power: it is said to have “revealed itself under the sagacious rule over this happy country [and] land of Little Russia by this our noble, exalted and gracious patron.” On the night of 25 October 1690 Vasilii, the parish priest of the village of Rudnia, unexpectedly turned up in Kyiv, bringing the icon with him. He insisted on placing it in the Ascension Monastery. The plea of the nearby Caves Monastery monks to the hetman dispatched the following day to give the icon to them for safekeeping had no effect: Mazepa decreed that it should stay in his mother’s convent. Although the monks attempted explicitly to justify the icon’s appearance in Kyiv as an expression of the unfathomable divine will (“I reveal myself to those who do not seek me”), it seems perfectly clear that the entire episode centred on the hetman as the fulcrum of power. For Maria-Magdalena’s convent, however, trying to take away the monks’ monopoly on the sacred was bound to bring symbolic retribution. The last information on the subject we receive from Velychko is that the icon ceased to work miracles from the time when its identification with the women’s community had become permanent.65

To sum up, the charge of witchcraft against Maria-Magdalena may be interpreted as an expression of public disquiet about her position vis-à-vis the political authority in the Hetmanate. Her strong public persona belied the established ideas both of women’s tentative presence in the public sphere and of monastic humility. At one level Zabelin’s allegation of sorcery may have related to what Mazepa’s opponents possibly saw as the tsarist authorities’ strange and unnatural blindness to his treasonous intentions.66 That both Maria-Magdalena and her son the hetman had physical access to the tsarist persons could only add fuel to such suspicions. But, analysed in the context of power and gender relations within Eastern Christianity and the anthropological interpretations of the function of gossip within societal elites, the significance of such accusations went deeper. As stated by Christina Larner, “Individual women who deviate too far from … [the characteristics of the ideal woman in a patriarchal society are] identified as witches.”67

Maria-Magdalena’s access to power and influence at the highest level of the Hetmanate’s political structure led her detractors to stereotype her as the proverbial “evil” woman who upset the proper balance of power between genders through her wilful actions. Such “illegitimate and misused power” has long been recognised by historians as a key meaning of witchcraft.68 In this they take the lead from social anthropologists who argue that witchcraft “[b]eliefs are activated within the context of human lives, by those who hope to improve their circumstances … . Individual circumstances are involved in transforming these general beliefs into specific accusations against named individuals.”69 Certain historical contexts provide an especially fertile ground for the emergence of such accusations employed as a means to assert “patriarchal values … [in] search for order in a period when many established patterns underwent severe disruption.”70 Ukraine under Mazepa’s rule was a divided land, deeply affected by the upheavals of the preceding period. Religious dissentions of the turn of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and the subsequent Cossack wars virtually wiped out the native Orthodox princely aristocracy, leaving in its wake the erstwhile Ruthenian Orthodox szlachta, jockeying for an elite status that now came under the guise of an elective Cossack officialdom. While, following Michael Ostling’s example, to maintain proper focus “on cultural and religious sources for the imagination of witchcraft” is essential, taking account of the traumas and dislocations of Ukraine’s “long” seventeenth century, also helps us understand the application of the imaginary construct of witchcraft to a real woman.71 In anthropological terms, hostile gossip and denunciations against the Mazepas may be regarded as “one of the chief weapons which those who consider themselves higher in status use to put those whom they consider lower in their proper place.”72 In other words, analysed within the framework of archaic restitutive justice that “encouraged anxiety about sorcery and maleficium”, scandal was used as a means of social control.73 The metaphor of witchcraft employed against the hetman’s mother should therefore be interpreted as a sign of the opposition’s fear, as well as intense irritation, about Maria-Magdalena’s role in supporting Mazepa and ultimately – their desire both to obtain relief from the threat of spiritual peril emanating from that “evil” woman, and to remove her as an obstacle to the realisation of their political ambitions.

* This paper was first presented at the 43rd Annual Convention of the ASEEES, 17-20 November 2011, Washington, DC. I would like to thank Dr Sheryllynne Haggerty for her incisive comments on an earlier version of this article, and Professor Ronan Fanning for his unwavering support.

** Liudmila V. Charipova is a lecturer in early modern history at the University of Nottingham, UK. She is the author of Latin books and the Eastern Orthodox clerical elite in Kiev, 1632-1780 (Manchester, 2006), a number of articles on the intellectual origins of educational and religious reforms in the East Slavic lands in the 17th and 18th centuries, and more recently – on the Orthodox female monasticism.

1) “Aye, brothers, ‘tis time to see // That we all cannot masters be // Not all our grace with knowledge wide // Enough, to over all preside. // […] This humble bee has a mother,// To whom it gives obedience”: O. Bodianskii (ed.), “Istochniki malorossiiskoi istorii, sobrannye D. N. Bantyshem-Kamenskim”, 2 (1691-1722), Chteniia v Obshchestve Istorii i Drevnostei Rossiiskikh, 1 (1859): 110; translation of the first four lines is by Dimitry Horbay, newspaper Svoboda (22 March 1958).

2) Tetiana Kara-Vasylieva, Liturhiine shyttia Ukraïny XVII-XVIII st.: ikonohrafiia, typolohiia, stylistyka (Lviv: Svichado, 1996), 169-171, figs 46-47.

3) Zabelin apparently fled to Moscow after he had helped himself to the Cossack treasury: Tatiana Tairova-Iakovleva, Mazepa (Moscow: Molodaia gvardiia, 2007), 135-6.

4) Bodianskii (ed.), “Istochniki malorossiiskoi istorii,” 25. In other four instances found on the transcript Zabelin is described as having uttered unspecified “insanely slanderous/ evil pronouncements” against Maria-Magdalena: ibid., 26-8.

5) Lara Apps and Andrew Gow, Male Witches in Early Modern Europe (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2003), 140.

6) See Valerie Kivelson and Jonathan Shaheen, “Prosaic Witchcraft and Semiotic Totalitarianism: Muscovite Magic Reconsidered,” Slavic Review, 70, no. 1 (2011): 23-44.

7) See M. D. Kagan, “Slova o dobrykh i zlykh zhenakh,” in D. S. Likhachev (ed.), Slovar’ knizhnikov i knizhnosti Drevnei Rusi, II, 2 (Leningrad: Nauka, 1989): 421-423.

8) “Evil” women: Institut rukopysu, Natsional’na biblioteka Ukraïny im. V.I. Vernads’koho, Kyiv, f. 301 (Tserkovno-arkheolohichnyi muzei KDA), no. 178(II), ark. 98 v.-99; no. 531, ark. 15-15 v.; no. 542, ark. 144-5; no. 574, ark. 268-68 v.; f. 302 (Zbirka Moskovs’koho mytropolyta Makariia (Bulgakova)), no. 29, ark. 220 v.-21; “good” women: f. 301, no. 526, ark. 124-24 v.; “good” and “evil” women: f. 301, no. 530, ark. 14 v.-15 v. (hereafter, IR NBUV).

9)IR NBUV, f. 306 (Kyievo-Pechers’ka lavra), no. 492: “good” women ark. 67-8; “good” and “evil” women ark. 68; “evil” women ark. 69-70.

10) Elizabeth A. Clark, “The virginal politeia and Plato’s Republic: John Chrysostom on women and the sexual relation,” in idem, Jerome, Chrysostom, and Friends: Essays and Translations in Studies in Women and Religion, vol. 2 (New York and Toronto: The Edwin Mellen Press, 1979), 11.

11) See V. A. Peredrienko (ed.), Likars’ki ta hospodars’ki poradnyky XVIII st. (Kyiv: Naukova dumka, 1984), 100.

12) Catia S. Galatariotou, “Holy Women and Witches: Aspects of Byzantine Conceptions of Gender,” Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies, 9 (1985): 62-66.

13) Ivan Franko, “Khmel’nytchyna 1648-1649 rokiv u suchasnykh virshakh,” in idem, Povne zibrannia tvoriv u 50 tomakh, 31 (Kyiv: Naukova Dumka, 1981): 252; K. Dysa, Istoriia z vid’mamy. Sudy pro chary v ukraïns’kykh voievodstvakh Rechi Pospolytoï XVII-XVIII stolittia (Kyiv: Krytyka, 2008), 90.

14) Franko, “Khmel’nytchyna 1648-1649 rokiv”, 229. On Iefrosinia Kysil’s (died c. 1653) monastic career see S. Horin, Monastyri zakhidnoï Volyni: druha polovyna XV– persha polovyna XVII st. (Lviv: Misioner, 2007), 235, 237.

15)Opisanie dokumentov i del, khraniashchikhsia v arkhive Sviateishego pravitel’stvuiushchego sinoda (1754 g.), 50 vols, 34 (St Petersburg: Sinodal’naia tipografiia, 1912): 98-101; V.B. Antonovich, “Koldovstvo,” Trudy Etnografichesko-statisticheskoi ekspeditsii v Zapadnorusskii krai, snariazhennoi Imperatorskim russkim geograficheskim obshchestvom, 1 (St Petersburg: Tipografiia V. Bezobrazova, 1879): 376, 392, 434. Also see Valerie A. Kivelson, “Through the prism of witchcraft: gender and social change in seventeenth-century Muscovy,” in eds Barbara E. Clements, Barbara A. Engel and Chistine D. Worobec, Russia’s Women: Accommodation, Resistance, Transformation (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1991), 86-7; Russell Zguta, “Was there a Witch Craze in Muscovite Russia?,” Southern Folklore Quarterly, 41, no. 1 (1977): 120-21.

16) Dysa, Istoriia z vid’mamy, 64. Cf. M. Pilaszek, Procesy o czary w Polsce w wiekach XV-XVIII (Cracow: Universitas, 2008), 280-81.

17) Michael Ostling, Between the Devil and the Host: Imagining Witchcraft in Early Modern Poland (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 44.

18) W. F. Ryan, “Travellers’ Tales and Russian Magic,” in idem, Russian Magic at the British Library (London: The British Library, 2006), 86 (The Panizzi Lectures, 2005).

19) Ostling, Between the Devil and the Host, 25, 36, 40-41, 50-51.

20) N. Novombergskii, Koldovstvo v Moskovskoi Rusi XVII stoletiia (St Petersburg: Tip. Al’tshullera, 1906), 94 (this volume is part of Novombergskii’s work Materialy po istorii meditsiny v Rossii, III, 1); see also V. Horobets’, “‘Khochu odruzhytysia na Moskvi…’ Zhinky v politychnii biohrafii het’mana Ivana Briukhovets’koho”, Dzerkalo tyzhnia, 28 (17 July 2004), http://dt.ua/SOCIETY/hochu_odruzhitisya_na_moskvi_zhinki_v_politichniy_biografiyis_getmana_ivana_bryuhovetskogo-40474.html (accessed 15/03/2012).

21) Russell Zguta, “Witchcraft Trials in Seventeenth-Century Russia,” The American Historical Review, 82, no. 5 (1977): 1204-1205.

22) Ostling, Between the Devil and the Host, 18-19.

23) See the chart that represents witch-trials by region, ibid., 19, Figure 1.1.

24) Ibid., 19. See also Franko, “Khmel’nytchyna 1648-1649 rokiv,” 232-33.

25) Pilaszek, Procesy o czary, 51.

26) Ibid., 50, 59.

27) Ostling, Between the Devil and the Host, 21.

28) Christina Larner, “‘Crimen exceptum’? The Crime of Witchcraft in Europe,” in idem, Witchcraft and Religion: the Politics of Popular Belief, ed. by Alan Macfarlane (Oxford: Blackwell, 1984), 40-41.

29) Ibid., 41-42.

30) Zguta, “Witchcraft Trials in Seventeenth-Century Russia”, 1205; also see his article “Was there a Witch Craze in Muscovite Russia?” 124.

31) Tairova-Iakovleva, Mazepa, 195-6; S.O. Pavlenko, Otochennia het’mana Mazepy: soratnyky ta prybichnyky, 2nd ed. (Kyiv: Kyievo-Mohylians’ka Akademiia, 2009), 67.

32) A. Lazarevskii, “Vlastnaia getmansha,” Kievskaia starina, 1, no. 1 (1882): 213.

33) Horobets’, “‘Khochu odruzhytysia na Moskvi…’”.

34) For a concise discussion of the popular hypothesis that Maria-Magdalena’s secular name was Marina see O.O. Krainia, “Mariia Magdalyna (Mazepa): dzhereloznavchyi ta istoriohrafichnyi aspekt”, Mohylians’ki chytannia: zbirnyk naukovykh prats’, 2009, (Kyiv: Natsional’nyi Kyievo-Pechers’kyi istoryko-kul’turnyi zapovidnyk, 2010), 50.

35) M.A. Maksimovich, “O pamiatnikakh Lutskogo krestovozdvizhenskogo bratstva,” in idem, Sobranie sochinenii, 3 vols, 1 (Kyiv: Tipografiia M.P. Fritsa, 1876): 201.

36) Iaroslav Isaievych, Voluntary brotherhood: confraternities of laymen in early modern Ukraine (Edmonton, Toronto: Canadian Institute of Ukrainian Studies, 2006), 58.

37) See Pavlenko, Otochennia het’mana Mazepy, 67.

38)Dopolneniia k aktam istoricheskim, sobrannyie i izdannyie Arkheograficheskoiu Komissieiu, 12 vols, 10 (St Petersburg: V tipografii Eduarda Pratsa, 1867): 311.

39) See Akty istoricheskie, sobrannye i izdannye Arkheograficheskoiu komissiieiu, 5 vols, 5 (St Petersburg: V tipografii II-go Otdeleniia Sobstvennoi E.I.V. Kantseliarii, 1842): 289; Universaly Ivana Mazepy (1687-1709), [1] (Kyiv and Lviv: Naukove tovarystvo im. Shevchenka, 2002), 124; Arkhiv iugo-zapadnoi Rossii, izdannyi Vremennoiu komissieiu dlia razbora drevnikh aktov, 8 parts in 35 vols, pt. I, vol. 5 (Kyiv: V Gubernskoi tipografii, 1873): 346-8 (hereafter, AIuZR).

40)Akty, otnosiashchiesia k istorii Zapadnoi Rossii, sobrannyie i izdannyie Arkheograficheskoiu komissieiu, 5 vols, 5 (St Petersburg: V tipografii Eduarda Pratsa, 1853): 213-14; Universaly Ivana Mazepy, [1], 144-5, 242; Universaly Ivana Mazepy, 2 (Kyiv and Lviv: Naukove tovarystvo im. Shevchenka, 2006), 504-5; IR NBUV, f. 160, no. 938, ark. 55-55 v. For complaints that owners of some properties adjacent to the Ascension Monastery estates were coerced into selling them see ibid., ark. 58-58 v.

41) S. Pavlenko (ed.), Doba het’mana Ivana Mazepy v dokumentakh (Kyiv: Kyievo-Mohylians’ka Akademiia, 2007), 957-64; previously published in Dopolneniia k aktam istoricheskim, 12 (St Petersburg: Tipografiia V.V. Prats, 1872): 326-31.

42) Pavlenko (ed.), Doba het’mana Ivana Mazepy, 963.

43) Pavlenko, Otochennia het’mana Mazepy, 255-7.

44)AIuZR, pt. I, vol. 5: 332-3.

45)AIuZR, pt. I, vol. 5: 348-9.

46)AIuZR, pt. I, vol. 5: 353.

47)AIuZR, pt. I, vol. 5: 356-8.

48) The matter concerned the transfer of the women’s Hlukhiv Monastery from its original location in the town centre, next to the marketplace (literally “in the middle” of it, sredi torzhishcha) and in alarming proximity to the town’s taverns, to a quieter rural spot. Maria-Magdalena became the convent’s pluralist head in 1687, the year of her son’s election as hetman. The new location was next to the new stone church of the Assumption of the Mother of God, the project recently brought to completion by Ivan Mazepa. The move had already received the backing from both the hetman and the Metropolitan of Kyiv Varlaam Iasyns’kyi, and as such hardly required a retrospective imprimatur from the patriarch of Moscow: AIuZR, pt. I, vol. 5, 348.

49) On Foy de la Neuville see Isabel de Madariaga, “Who was Foy de la Neuville?,” Cahiers du monde russe et soviétique, 28, no. 1 (1987): 21-30.

50)An account of Muscovy, as it was in the year 1689, in which the troubles that happen’d in that empire from the present czar Peter’s election to the throne, to his being firmly settled in it, are particularly related […] By Monsieur de La Neuville, then residing at Moscow (London: Printed for Edward Castle, 1699), 60. Mazepa’s personal retinue alone included eight noblemen, seventy servants, twelve musicians, and a bodyguard of fifty dragoons: Tairova-Iakovleva, Mazepa, 78.

51) Tairova-Iakovleva, Mazepa, 84.

52)An account of Muscovy … in the year 1689, 77.

53) Pavlenko, Otochennia het’mana Mazepy, 121.

54) De Madariaga, “Who was Foy de la Neuville?”, 28.

55) See Tairova-Iakovleva, Mazepa, 78-85.

56) Bodianskii (ed.), “Istochniki malorossiiskoi istorii”, 1, 3-4.

57) For a brief note about the history of the Polonne Monastery see S. Senyk, Women’s Monasteries in Ukraine and Belorussia to the Period of Suppressions in Orientalia Christiana Analecta, vol. 222 (Rome: Pontif. Institutum studiorum orientalium, 1983), 40. Senyk’s claim that it became Catholic in the middle of the seventeenth century is unsubstantiated.

58) N. Kostomarov, Mazepa i mazepintsy, 2nd ed. (St Petersburg: Tipografiia M.M. Stasiulevicha, 1885), 69-70.

59) “Litopys Samiila Velychka”, in eds V. Krekoten’, V. Shevchuk, R. Ivanchenko, Zbirnyk kozats’kykh litopysiv: Hustyns’kyi, Samiila Velychka, Hrabianky (Kyiv: Dnipro, 2006), 754.

60) Cited in Kostomarov, Mazepa i mazepintsy, 71.

61) Ibid., 72.

62) “Litopys Samiila Velychka”, 753-754.

63) Tairova-Iakovleva, Mazepa, 254, n. 71.

64) Larner, “‘Crimen exceptum’?” 62.

65) “Litopys Samiila Velychka,” 678-679.

66) Accusations that dabblers in sorcery deliberately sought to deceive and confuse their victims are found in documentary sources, mostly in relation to extramarital affairs where cuckolded husbands were, through magic means, made oblivious to their plight. Thus in a complicated case of marital infidelity in Kyiv in the 1750s, the wronged husband Mikhail Vasilenko complained that magic invoked by two local old women on behest of the monk who had seduced his wife made him suffer from lapses of memory and inability to speak up about his misfortune: Tsentral’nyi derzhavnyi istorychnyi arkhiv Ukraïny, Kyiv, f. 127 (Kyïvs’ka dukhovna konsystoriia), op.153, no. 12, ark. 1. Cf. a similar case in the town of Bar, Podolia, in 1731: Antonovich, “Koldovstvo,” 399; also see Dysa, Istoriia z vid’mamy, 91.

67) Larner, “‘Crimen exceptum’?” 62.

68) Robin Briggs, Witches and Neighbours: the Social and Cultural Context of European Witchcraft, 2nd ed. (Oxford: Blackwell, 2002), 229.

69) Jean La Fontaine, “Child witches in London: tradition and change in religious practice and belief ”, in ed. idem, The Devil’s Children, from Spirit Possession to Witchcraft: New Allegations that Affect Children (Farnham: Ashgate, 2009), 125.

70) Briggs, Witches and Neighbours, 247. Also see Alan Macfarlane, Witchcraft in Tudor and Stuart England: a Regional and Comparative Study (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1970), 249.

71) Ostling, Between the Devil and the Host, 22.

72) Max Gluckman, “Gossip and scandal,” Current Anthropology, 4, no. 3 (1963): 309.

73) Larner, “‘Crimen exceptum’?” 60.

  • 2)

    Tetiana Kara-Vasylieva, Liturhiine shyttia Ukraïny XVII-XVIII st.: ikonohrafiia, typolohiia, stylistyka (Lviv: Svichado, 1996), 169-171, figs 46-47.

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  • 4)

    Bodianskii (ed.), “Istochniki malorossiiskoi istorii,” 25. In other four instances found on the transcript Zabelin is described as having uttered unspecified “insanely slanderous/ evil pronouncements” against Maria-Magdalena: ibid., 26-8.

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  • 5)

    Lara Apps and Andrew Gow, Male Witches in Early Modern Europe (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2003), 140.

  • 11)

     See V. A. Peredrienko (ed.), Likars’ki ta hospodars’ki poradnyky XVIII st. (Kyiv: Naukova dumka, 1984), 100.

  • 12)

    Catia S. Galatariotou, “Holy Women and Witches: Aspects of Byzantine Conceptions of Gender,” Byzantine and Modern Greek Studies, 9 (1985): 62-66.

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  • 14)

    Franko, “Khmel’nytchyna 1648-1649 rokiv”, 229. On Iefrosinia Kysil’s (died c. 1653) monastic career see S. Horin, Monastyri zakhidnoï Volyni: druha polovyna XV– persha polovyna XVII st. (Lviv: Misioner, 2007), 235, 237.

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  • 16)

    Dysa, Istoriia z vid’mamy, 64. Cf. M. Pilaszek, Procesy o czary w Polsce w wiekach XV-XVIII (Cracow: Universitas, 2008), 280-81.

  • 17)

    Michael Ostling, Between the Devil and the Host: Imagining Witchcraft in Early Modern Poland (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 44.

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  • 19)

    Ostling, Between the Devil and the Host, 25, 36, 40-41, 50-51.

  • 20)

    N. Novombergskii, Koldovstvo v Moskovskoi Rusi XVII stoletiia (St Petersburg: Tip. Al’tshullera, 1906), 94 (this volume is part of Novombergskii’s work Materialy po istorii meditsiny v Rossii, III, 1); see also V. Horobets’, “‘Khochu odruzhytysia na Moskvi…’ Zhinky v politychnii biohrafii het’mana Ivana Briukhovets’koho”, Dzerkalo tyzhnia, 28 (17 July 2004), http://dt.ua/SOCIETY/hochu_odruzhitisya_na_moskvi_zhinki_v_politichniy_biografiyis_getmana_ivana_bryuhovetskogo-40474.html (accessed 15/03/2012).

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  • 21)

    Russell Zguta, “Witchcraft Trials in Seventeenth-Century Russia,” The American Historical Review, 82, no. 5 (1977): 1204-1205.

  • 22)

    Ostling, Between the Devil and the Host, 18-19.

  • 24)

     Ibid., 19. See also Franko, “Khmel’nytchyna 1648-1649 rokiv,” 232-33.

  • 25)

    Pilaszek, Procesy o czary, 51.

  • 27)

    Ostling, Between the Devil and the Host, 21.

  • 30)

    Zguta, “Witchcraft Trials in Seventeenth-Century Russia”, 1205; also see his article “Was there a Witch Craze in Muscovite Russia?” 124.

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  • 31)

    Tairova-Iakovleva, Mazepa, 195-6; S.O. Pavlenko, Otochennia het’mana Mazepy: soratnyky ta prybichnyky, 2nd ed. (Kyiv: Kyievo-Mohylians’ka Akademiia, 2009), 67.

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  • 32)

    A. Lazarevskii, “Vlastnaia getmansha,” Kievskaia starina, 1, no. 1 (1882): 213.

  • 36)

    Iaroslav Isaievych, Voluntary brotherhood: confraternities of laymen in early modern Ukraine (Edmonton, Toronto: Canadian Institute of Ukrainian Studies, 2006), 58.

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  • 37)

     See Pavlenko, Otochennia het’mana Mazepy, 67.

  • 41)

    S. Pavlenko (ed.), Doba het’mana Ivana Mazepy v dokumentakh (Kyiv: Kyievo-Mohylians’ka Akademiia, 2007), 957-64; previously published in Dopolneniia k aktam istoricheskim, 12 (St Petersburg: Tipografiia V.V. Prats, 1872): 326-31.

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  • 42)

    Pavlenko (ed.), Doba het’mana Ivana Mazepy, 963.

  • 43)

    Pavlenko, Otochennia het’mana Mazepy, 255-7.

  • 51)

    Tairova-Iakovleva, Mazepa, 84.

  • 53)

    Pavlenko, Otochennia het’mana Mazepy, 121.

  • 54)

    De Madariaga, “Who was Foy de la Neuville?”, 28.

  • 55)

     See Tairova-Iakovleva, Mazepa, 78-85.

  • 56)

    Bodianskii (ed.), “Istochniki malorossiiskoi istorii”, 1, 3-4.

  • 60)

    Cited in Kostomarov, Mazepa i mazepintsy, 71.

  • 70)

    Briggs, Witches and Neighbours, 247. Also see Alan Macfarlane, Witchcraft in Tudor and Stuart England: a Regional and Comparative Study (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1970), 249.

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  • 71)

    Ostling, Between the Devil and the Host, 22.

  • 72)

    Max Gluckman, “Gossip and scandal,” Current Anthropology, 4, no. 3 (1963): 309.

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