scholarly journals El castillo de San Luis (Estepona Málaga): Origen y evolución de una fortificación abaluartada. Siglos XVI-XXI

X ◽  
2020 ◽  
Author(s):  
Ildefonso Navarro Luengo ◽  
Adrián Suárez Bedmar ◽  
Pedro Martín Parrado

The castle of San Luis (Estepona Málaga): Origin and evolution of a bastion fort. Sixteenth to twenty-first centuriesThe results of the investigation prior to the excavation work in the Castle of San Luis, in Estepona (Málaga, Spain) are presented. It is a coastal fortress built in the last quarter of the sixteenth century, in the context of the reorganisation of the defense of the western coast of Malaga after the Moorish rebellion of 1568. After analysing the available literature, we propose that it was designed by the Engineer Juan Ambrosio Malgrá, Maestro Mayor de obras del Reino de Granada. The Castle of San Luis is devised as an add-on construction on the southern front of the walls of Islamic origin, dominating the natural anchorage of the Rada beach. Its most prominent elements are three bastions, two of them with casemates, and a large main square. However, various defects in the design and execution of the works, added to the insufficient provision of artillery and garrison, affected the effectiveness of the fortification throughout its history. In the middle of the eighteenth century, part of the Castle of San Luis is restructured as a cannons’ battery. Following the damage caused by the Lisbon Earthquake, in 1755, and by the French and English blastings in 1812, during the second half of the nineteenth century much of the castle disappears, leaving only the cannons’ battery, which is incorporated as a courtyard in height as an add-on to a house built at the end of the nineteenth century. At present, after several decades of abandonment, excavation works have been undertaken on the remains of the battery, after which the site will be prepared to be used as a museum.

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.


1972 ◽  
Vol 13 (3) ◽  
pp. 397-406 ◽  
Author(s):  
M. D. D. Newitt

The sultanate of Angoche on the Moçambique coast was founded probably towards the end of the fifteenth century by refugees from Kilwa. It became a base for Muslim traders who wanted to use the Zambezi route to the central African trading fairs and it enabled them to by-pass the Portuguese trade monopoly at Sofala. The Portuguese were not able to check this trade until they themselves set up bases on the Zambezi in the 1530s and 1540s, and from that time the sultanate began to decline. Internal dissensions among the ruling families led to the Portuguese obtaining control of the sultanate in the late sixteenth century, but this control was abandoned in the following century when the trade of the Angoche coast dwindled to insignificance. During the eighteenth century movements among the Macua peoples of the mainland and the development of the slave trade in the Indian Ocean laid the foundations for the revival of the sultanate in the nineteenth century.


Author(s):  
Walter B. Redmond

Colonial refers to Spanish and Portuguese sovereignty in America from the arrival of Columbus in 1492 up to the emergence of modern Latin American states in the nineteenth century. The intellectual life of the colonies and their mother countries at that time falls into two phases: traditional and modern. The traditional phase includes the siglo de oro, or the Golden Age of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. This was a time when literature and the arts flourished, along with Scholastic philosophy, jurisprudence and theology. During the eighteenth century, traditional thought gradually gave way to modern movements, particularly from France. The universities founded in the mid-sixteenth century, notably those of Mexico and Peru, as well as colleges and seminaries, were impressively productive in the area of philosophy. The pressure of events such as the clash between European and Native American cultures in the sixteenth century and the struggle for independence from Spain and Portugal in the nineteenth century brought about numerous nonacademic works with philosophic content. Authors wrote in both Latin and Spanish or Portuguese and often knew native languages, such as Nahuatl and Quechua as well. Many operated in several different areas, such as the nun, Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, one of the greatest poets in the Spanish language, who wrote a book on logic in Latin, which has since been lost. Students studied philosophy first, then specialized in medicine, law, or theology. The core philosophy curriculum was logic, natural philosophy or physics and metaphysics. In the eighteenth century Scholastic logic, similar to what has come to be known as formal logic, was weakened and natural philosophy began to incorporate experimental science. The bulk of philosophy was affected by modern thinkers such as René Descartes. Eighteenth-century savants were critical of Scholasticism and later Latin American intellectuals tended to disavow the entire colonial past. However, historians since the 1940s have stressed the currency of modern scholarship, especially in science and since the 1960s have been rediscovering the sophisticated philosophy of the Golden Age.


2020 ◽  
pp. 236-256
Author(s):  
Maria Alexandra ◽  
Gago Da Câmara ◽  
Helena Murteira ◽  
Paulo Simões Rodrigues

The digital re-creation of a past city represents more than a mere depiction of its historical awareness; it also represents its imaginability. In retrospect, the imaginability of the city corresponds to the outcome of various perceptions that we have acquired of it over time, and which currently confers us with a certain degree of accuracy in its readability. The imaginability of the city is therefore a determining factor in virtually re-creating the latter and subsequently converting it into a memoryscape. This theory can be validated by the specific case study of Lisbon, Portugal, which has during the last few years been the subject of at least four projects that sought to virtually re-create the city’s past. Despite presenting themselves distinctively with different technological applications, the four projects held the same starting point; the great Lisbon earthquake of 1755 (a major disruptive event in its history), and were all focused on presenting the cityscape that was lost as a result. Lisbon’s iconography from the sixteenth century to the mid-eighteenth century (drawings, engravings, and paintings) was used as crucial data.


1982 ◽  
Vol 23 (1) ◽  
pp. 63-82 ◽  
Author(s):  
D. Kiyaga-Mulindwa

Recent archaeological excavations have revealed two distinct pottery traditions in the Birim Valley, southern Ghana. These have been classified as the ‘Earthworks Ware’ and the ‘Atwea Ware’. In certain archaeological contexts, the ‘Atwea Ware’ succeeds ‘Earthworks Ware’, and it also continues into present-day ethnography. The discontinuity between these two pottery traditions suggests a change in population. It is therefore suggested here that the population of ‘Earthworks Ware’ makers was one of the early victims of the Atlantic slave trade from about the mid-sixteenth century and that they were replaced in this area of the Birim Valley around a.d. 1700 by the Atweafo, a Twi-speaking group, whose descendants live there to this day. From the eighteenth century until close to the end of the nineteenth century a number of Denkyira, Asini and Asante migrants also moved into this valley. During this time the militarily weak Atweafo lived at the mercy of four major powers – the Asante, Akim Abuakwa, Akim Kotoku and the Akwamu. However, the Atweafo found means to survive under what seems to have been a highly volatile political environment by shifting their loyalty amongst these powers as situations dictated.


2004 ◽  
Vol 40 ◽  
pp. 301-316
Author(s):  
Vincent Viaene

In the spring of 1802, the Roman catacombs of Priscilla were the scene of excavations in search of Christian antiquities and martyrs’ bodies. Excavations of this kind had been going on in Rome since the late sixteenth century, though they had been temporarily interrupted during the occupation by French revolutionary troops in the last years of the eighteenth century. On 25 May, the fossores, or diggers, who worked under the authority of a religious dignitary, the Custodian of the Relics, hit on an elaborate tomb. The profuse symbols on the slab were (erroneously) believed to indicate martyrdom: arrows, an anchor and a lash for the instruments of torture, a luxuriant palm for the martyr’s eventual triumph and reward in heaven. From the garbled inscription ‘LUMENA PAX TECUM FI’, the name of Filumena, or Philomena, could be deduced.


Quaerendo ◽  
2000 ◽  
Vol 30 (2) ◽  
pp. 116-129 ◽  

AbstractThough less famous than his contemporaries Garamont and Granjon, Pierre Haultin (ca.1510-87), ranks among the better French type designers of the sixteenth century. He was instrumental in the Calvinist publishing campaign of the 155OS and in developing a sturdier and more economical design of roman type. His types remained popular unto the end of the eighteenth century, a few even unto the first quarter of the nineteenth century. This paper attempts to describe the typefaces he may have cut and to assemble the evidence for attributing them. It describes 39 typefaces, viz. 15 romans (§§ 1-15) in a first part, and 8 italics (§§ 16-23), 4 Greeks (§§ 24-7), and 12 musics (§§ 28-39) in a second part.


Author(s):  
Mark Knights

This chapter takes the premodern divide, which is framed in English historiography as the end of “old corruption,” as the starting point for a long-term overview of anticorruption in Britain and its colonies. Focusing on anticorruption movements, it adds another dimension to the paradox of modernization by showing that although a transition took place in the period between the late-sixteenth century and the nineteenth century, it was by no means a linear one: anticorruption measures to ensure the scrutiny of public accounts could be introduced in the late-seventeenth century, abandoned and then reintroduced later in the eighteenth century. The chapter also argues that there is a relationship between late-sixteenth-century Reformation and eighteenth-century reforms, both of which involved an attack on corruption.


The area of Newington, to the South of Edinburgh Medical School, belonged briefly in the eighteenth century to the Crichton family (1), distant descendents of the sixteenth-century soldier of fortune, James Crichton, known to history as ‘The Admirable Crichton’ (2). In the nineteenth century two members of this family (3, 4), Sir Alexander Crichton and his nephew Sir Archibald W illiam Crichton, served as physicians to the Tsars of Russia (5, 6). Sir Alexander’s grandfather, Patrick Crichton, was a saddler and ironmonger in the Canongate, Edinburgh (7), a man of some means who acquired Newington House from W illiam Tytler the Clerk to the Signet, in 1749 (8). Tw o years later he became the owner of the remainder of the Newington estate, and on his death in 1759 the property passed to the two surviving sons of his twenty-two children: William, a London alderman and High Sheriff of Middlesex, and Alexander, a coachmaker in Newington (7). Alexander had a thriving business, frequently sending carriages abroad to travelling Scotsmen, and a letter to him from the diplomatist Robert Liston survives, praising the carriage received in Madrid, adding that ‘it may put it in my power to send you more orders of the same kind’ (9). Indeed, Liston’s carriage had already attracted a further order before leaving Crichton’s Edinburgh workplace in Greenside, for as the coachmaker replied ‘The chariot sent you has been much admired here by our own countrymen and the English and I am happy to inform you that Dr Rogerson of Petersburg and a gentleman from Moscow were so much pleased with it that they have ordered carriages exactly the same’ (10).


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