scholarly journals Mansnavnið Lagi í Føroyum / The Male Forename Lagi in the Faroes

2017 ◽  
Vol 59 ◽  
pp. 63
Author(s):  
Eivind Weyhe

<p><strong>Úrtak</strong></p><p>Tað upprunaliga danska mansnavnið <em>L</em><em>agi </em>breiðir seg í miðøld til Norra (og Svøríkis). Úr Norra tykist tað vera komið til Føroyar, men eftir øllum at døma bara til Fugloyar, í seinasta lagi í endanum á 16. øld. Í 17. øld kemur navnið aftur til Føroyar, men nú í tí danska sniðinum <em>Lauge</em>, seinri skrivað <em>Lave</em>. Tað verður í 18. øld brúkt í Tórshavn og Suðuroy sum seinri liður í tvínevninum <em>Peder Lave</em>. Í 19. øld gerst <em>L</em><em>ave </em>fast eftirnavn. Í Tórshavn verður tað eisini til húsanavnið <em>Á Lava</em>, og fólk í (ella úr) tí húsinum verða nevnd við viðurnevninum „á Lava“. Í 20. øld fáa summi teirra sær „á Lava“ sum eftirnavn. Greinarhøvundurin viðger málsøgulig, ljóðfrøðilig, bendingarlig og dialektal viðurskiftir í sambandi við navnið.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p><strong>A</strong><strong>bstract</strong></p><p>The  male  forename <em>Lagi</em>, originally  Danish, spreads to Norway (and Sweden) during the Middle Ages. From Norway it seems to have reached the Faroes towards the end of the sixteenth century at the latest, but is only documented on Fugloy. In the seventeenth century the name arrives in the Faroes once more,  but  now  in  the  Danish  form  <em>Lauge</em>, later written <em>Lave</em>. It is used in Tórshavn and Suðuroy in the eighteenth century as the second element of the compound forename <em>Peder Lave</em>. In the nineteenth century <em>Lave </em>becomes an established surname. In Tórshavn it is also incorporated into the name of a dwelling in the prepositional form <em>Á Lava </em>‘at Lava’, and people living there (or originating from the house) are given the by­name „á Lava“. In the twentieth century some of them take „á Lava“ as a surname. The author treats language­historical, phonetic, morphological and dialectal aspects of the name.</p>

Author(s):  
A. C. S. PEACOCK

Stretching across Europe, Asia and Africa for half a millennium bridging the end of the Middle Ages and the early twentieth century, the Ottoman Empire was one of the major forces that forged the modern world. The chapters in this book focus on four key themes: frontier fortifications, the administration of the frontier, frontier society and relations between rulers and ruled, and the economy of the frontier. Through snapshots of aspects of Ottoman frontier policies in such diverse times and places as fifteenth-century Anatolia, seventeenth-century Hungary, nineteenth-century Iraq or twentieth-century Jordan, the book provides a richer picture than hitherto available of how this complex empire coped with the challenge of administering and defending disparate territories in an age of comparatively primitive communications. By way of introduction, this chapter seeks to provide an overview of these four themes in the history of Ottoman frontiers.


Author(s):  
Hans-Christian Gulløv

In every century since the Middle Ages there have been Europeans in Greenland. Medieval Norse farmers settled in the southwestern part of the country and met with Native Greenlanders from the twelfth to the fifteenth centuries. From the sixteenth century onward, English and Danish explorers, followed by primarily Dutch whalers, met the Inuit on the west coast of Greenland. In 1721, Greenland was colonized from the double monarchy Denmark-Norway. During the eighteenth century, permanent settlements were established throughout west Greenland, and in the nineteenth century contacts were established with the Inuit on the east coast and in the Thule area.


1990 ◽  
Vol 41 (1) ◽  
pp. 24-43 ◽  
Author(s):  
Kristian Jensen

One of the most remarkable changes to take place at German Protestant universities during the last decade of the sixteenth century and the first twenty years of the seventeenth century was the return of metaphysics after more than halfa century of absence. University metaphysics has acquired a reputation for sterile aridity which was strengthened rather than diminished by its survival in early modern times, when such disciplines are supposed deservedly to have vanished with the end of the Middle Ages. Nevertheless, this survival has attracted some attention this century. For a long urne it was assumed that German Protestants needed a metaphysical defence against the intellectual vigour of the Jesuits. Lewalter has shown, however, that this was not the case.


2016 ◽  
Vol 61 (S24) ◽  
pp. 93-114 ◽  
Author(s):  
Rossana Barragán Romano

AbstractLabour relations in the silver mines of Potosí are almost synonymous with the mita, a system of unfree work that lasted from the end of the sixteenth century until the beginning of the nineteenth century. However, behind this continuity there were important changes, but also other forms of work, both free and self-employed. The analysis here is focused on how the “polity” contributed to shape labour relations, especially from the end of the seventeenth century and throughout the eighteenth century. This article scrutinizes the labour policies of the Spanish monarchy on the one hand, which favoured certain economic sectors and regions to ensure revenue, and on the other the initiatives both of mine entrepreneurs and workers – unfree, free, and self-employed – who all contributed to changing the system of labour.


Author(s):  
Keith Reader

This book explores the history and the vicissitudes of one of Paris’s most extraordinary areas, the Marais. Centrally located on the Right Bank, this neighbourhood was from the Middle Ages through to the eighteenth century the most fashionable in the city, headquarters of the nobility who endowed it with resplendent architecture. The Court’s move to Versailles and the Revolution of 1789 led to the quartier’s decline, so that in the nineteenth century and the earlier part of the twentieth it was in parlous shape, its fine buildings run down and often severely overcrowded. It escaped wholesale destruction in the post-War frenzy of modernization largely thanks to André Malraux, who as Culture Minister fostered the restoration of the area. Malraux’s efforts were, however, not immune from criticism, sometimes seen as a form of socio-economic cleansing with concomitant fossilization, and thus emblematic of the problems faced by a city which has always been torn between the preservation of its past and the need to adapt to social and historical change. The book focuses particularly on literary, cinematic and other artistic reproductions of the quartier, of which it attempts to provide a comprehensive overview, and foregrounds particularly its importance as home to and base of two highly significant minorities – the Jewish and the gay communities.


1949 ◽  
Vol 31 ◽  
pp. 115-127 ◽  
Author(s):  
H. Van Werveke

It is well known that, in contrast to the nineteenth century, the Middle Ages, and especially the later Middle Ages, suffered from great coinage instability. Now that we, in our turn, are confronted with identical difficulties, some historians would explain the currency manipulations of the Middle Ages by motives of the same kind as those that have inspired some devaluations in the twentieth century. They ask themselves if perhaps the princes of that time were not trying, as some modern governments have tried, to influence economic life and in particular to stimulate international commerce by devaluation of the currency.


1980 ◽  
Vol 8 ◽  
pp. 11-44 ◽  
Author(s):  
Helene E. Roberts

In seeking to revive the spirit, culture, and appearances of medieval times the Victorians used many stratagems. Among them, and often overlooked, was their antiquarian study of medieval dress and their wearing of costumes that represented medieval clothing. Whereas the eighteenth century had expressed their interest in the Middle Ages largely through Gothick novels and through architectural research and reconstructions, the nineteenth century, although continuing to look to a medieval inspiration in architecture, enveloped themselves in the more intimate clasp of medieval apparel and, thus accoutered, sought to enact the pageantry and pastimes of the medieval ages.


PMLA ◽  
1960 ◽  
Vol 75 (5) ◽  
pp. 577-582
Author(s):  
Harry Modean Campbell

In his discerning book entitled Emerson's Angle of Vision, Sherman Paul has pointed out two fundamental ways in which Whitehead, in spite of some obvious differences, is like Emerson. Both Emerson and Whitehead, says Paul, exalted the moral, ethical, and imaginative science of the seventeenth century over the analytical rationalism of the eighteenth century, and, as a logical consequence of this emphasis, both condemned Lockean sensationalism in the same way. Following Professor Paul's suggestion, the purpose of this study is to explore in some detail the basic views of Emerson and Whitehead about religion—man's relation to Nature and God. The remarkable similarities between the views of Emerson and those of Whitehead on this subject may not indicate much, if any, indebtedness of the twentieth-century philosopher to his nineteenth-century predecessor, but if these parallels are extensive and important enough, they may well indicate that Whitehead's total achievement in the philosophy of religion is like that of Emerson—that, religiously, Whitehead may be said to be a kind of twentieth-century Emerson, in one important way, as may appear, more of a transcendentalist than Emerson. Indeed, though the obscurity of his style will prevent him from being as popular as his predecessor, Whitehead's influence as a leader in the religious revolt against the “philosophy of logical analysis” and the other philosophies that make ours an “age of analysis” may in time be as great as that of Emerson in the similar romantic-transcendentalist revolt against the analytical rationalism of the age of “Enlightenment.” More of this later, but first let us examine the evidence.


2008 ◽  
Vol 5 (2) ◽  
pp. 163-164
Author(s):  
JOHN BUTT

I clearly remember that when this journal was first devised there lay some niggling doubt behind my tremendous enthusiasm for this timely initiative. Wasn’t there something problematic about viewing the eighteenth century as a whole? Did I intuit some sort of fundamental divide, perhaps somewhere between the deaths of J. S. Bach and Handel, one that somehow cast this century into two irreconcilable worlds? The seventeenth century was perhaps enough of a mess for its disunity to become a historiographical topic in its own right, its separate threads providing at least some narrative potential, even if these could never convincingly be drawn into a single whole. And the nineteenth century was perhaps sufficiently punctuated with various revolutions and restorations, together with an overriding story of industrial progress, to fall into a coherent (if divisive) family of narratives. Even the twentieth century – that which surely saw the largest number of changes in the human condition and the exponential pluralizing of ‘legitimate’ musical traditions – seems to have a clear enough trajectory, much of the music at its end having a discernible genealogical connection with that of its beginning. So what was it that was worrying me about the eighteenth century?


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