Murray Dahm

The definition of ■2-differential forms is given. By using the technique of differential forms, the Caccioppoli inequality is obtained. As applications, the Caccioppoli inequality and higher integrability results for quasiregular mappings are derived and some results due to T. Iwaniec et al. are generalized.

A unique double figure on a Late Geometric vessel known as the Agora oinochoe (P 4885) has been interpreted in a variety of ways. In this article the author explores problems with previous interpretations and offers new readings of the figure, the scene, and the frieze. The figure should not be interpreted as the conjoined Molione-Aktorione twins or, indeed, as conjoined at all, in which case there is little to connect the scene with Homeric epic. The scene can be viewed more convincingly as an experiment in narrative, simultaneously showing two moments in time. The frieze in its entirety might even be regarded as an ingenious optical trick.

Werner Herzog’s Aguirre: the Wrath of God and James Bobin’s Dora and the Lost City of Gold. Film and the Quest for El Dorado.

This is (an 8,000 word!) paper I wrote after watching the new, live-action, Dora film with my daughters for Father's Day. I suppose it proves that inspiration for historical research can indeed come from anywhere. Before you get too worried about me, however, I was already examining the other films mentioned here for another article on medieval warfare on films - Herzog's Saura's and the others mentioned within. Watching Dora, however, I made so many connections to these earlier films - connections I think many people would not consider possible in a 'children's film.' Anywho, I hope you enjoy it.

My series on medieval warfare films continues in Medieval Warfare Magazine with no signs of running out of films to talk about (I have at least eight more articles planned and didn’t have to wrack my brains (or my collection!) to come up with them). With films like King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017), Robin Hood (2018), Outlaw King (2018) and series such as Vikings, The Last Kingdom and (of course) Game of Thrones, I think there will remain new things to see and say for some time to come. I am sure that as these series come to a natural end, television producers are planning (if they haven’t already) the next set of medieval and medieval-esque stories to engage us (such as Knightfall). Not to mention any spin-offs which may be in the offing. Revisiting older films (and especially forgotten ones) is also a great pleasure. Often older films have more complex things to say and more complicated politics going on behind the scenes than their modern counterparts (although not always). And, because we are not living those politics when we watch those films now, it is easy to forget that they had a part to play in the films being made. Unfortunately, I have, if anything, gotten worse at staying to the assigned word count. On several occasions more than half of the words I submitted needed to be cut for the published article. Oh dear! My only excuse is that the subject is so endlessly fascinating that I keep finding more and more to say. Enjoy.

When I put together the first six of my articles on medieval warfare on film and posted them here, I boasted that I had gotten much better at staying under the word limit assigned for the pages of Medieval Warfare Magazine. What hubris that was! No. Instead I have found that, depending on the topic, I was (and continue to be) able to zoom straight past the number of words needed and just keep going – enough for 3 or more articles in a couple of cases (on Beowulf, for instance). There were roughly 15,000 words cumulatively in the first six articles I wrote; there are more words here in the next six (roughly 20,000). So any idea of my improvement at keeping to a word limit was utterly false. And so here are the ‘uncut’ versions of the next six articles I penned – originally contained in issues 7.3-8.2 of the magazine. There are of course many more films to write about. I haven’t written about any of the Joan of Arc films yet or Seventh Seal in detail and a whole host of others. And with films like King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017) continuing to be made, not to mention more series of Vikings, The Last Kingdom and even Game of Thrones, there’ll always be things to say about medieval warfare on film.

Beginning in April 2016 I was lucky enough to be asked to contribute a series of articles on medieval warfare on film to the pages of Medieval Warfare Magazine. This quickly became a regular column in the bimonthly magazine. Being incredibly enthused by this fascinating subject, I consistently soared over the word limit assigned to these pieces (which, due to space constraints could only ever run to two pages) and found I had written articles thousands of words more than was required. Many of these additional words necessarily found their way into the editing bin. Nonetheless, in their original state I consider they have interesting things to say so I have collected them here (up to Issue 7.2 – the first six articles). I have continued to write articles for the series but I have (I think) become better at staying closer to the word limit. These articles were writing for an informed general audience and so do not include references although each article has a further reading segment. In all cases the first step in researching them was to view the film itself. After the first two articles (on Arthur – although here I have returned them to their long, single article version), each would be written, as much as was possible, to conform to the theme of each issue of the magazine. Thus the issue on the Norman conquest of Wales had an article about the Normans and medieval Irish on film, the Vikings article concentrated on Ragnar Lothbrok (since he was the focus of that issue) and the Robin Hood article looked at that hero from the perspective of the First Baron's War. These constraints may give some of the articles an unexpected twist or an incomplete feel in some cases but I certainly intend to return to some of the subjects in more detail. At the same time, other themes such as that on the 1525 peasants revolt meant I could explore an interesting (and often ignored) subject such as peasants on film. I have kept my original titles here even though in some cases they were changed in the final edit of the magazine. These articles, written as they were for a magazine which focuses on military history, have a similar military focus. That is not to say that there is not material which is not related to military history but those aspects, equally fascinating, were not able to be emphasised. Likewise, there are several films which focus on medieval subjects which might not make an appearance simply because they do not focus on warfare. With that said, however, warfare is never far away in the medieval film and I have attempted to be as inclusive as possible. Enjoy.

Everyone has heard of the Athenian comic dramatist Artistophanes (c.446-386 BCE). His plays Frogs, Wasps, Clouds and others remain the most well known of ancient Comedies. In his plays, he launched scathing attacks on prominent figures in Athens at the time, mostly during the Peloponnesian War (431-404 BCE). What is less common knowledge, however, is that he was only one of an entire movement known as Old Comedy, active during the war. The three masters of Athenian Old Comedy were acknowledged as Aristophanes, Cratinus and Eupolis and tantalising details of the latter’s life and plays open up remarkable possibilities for the role of comedy during the Peloponnesian War.

Magic weapons and armour are things we usually associate with the realms of myth or fantasy rather than history. And yet, in semi-historical and even historical sources throughout the medieval period we find accounts of magic weapons which bring down foes or inspire comrades, or of shields and armour which protect the wearer no matter what they faced. What is more, it is clear that there is a historical reality at play in such mythological accounts and we can see a clear development of how mundane equipment came to be considered magical.

(A companion piece for 'You'll be an archer my son!')

We have already seen the ubiquity of the Cretan archer in ancient armies from at least the late fifth century BCE onwards until the late Roman Republic. The question should be asked therefore, what set these archers apart from any other type of archers and made them so attractive to employ as mercenaries above other groups. Unfortunately, our sources are generally silent on this matter but there is one tantalising possibility suggested in our sources which seems to have been overlooked.

When a contingent of archers is mentioned in the context of Greek and Roman armies, more often than not the culture associated with them is that of Crete. Indeed, when we just have archers mentioned in an army without a specified origin, Cretan archers are commonly assumed to be meant, so ubiquitous with archery and groups of mercenary archers were the Cretans. The Cretans are the most famous, but certainly not the only ‘nation’ associated with a particular fighting style (Rhodian slingers and Thracian peltasts leap to mind but there are others too). The long history of Cretan archers can be seen in the sources – according to some stretching from the First Messenian War right down to the fall of Constantinople in 1453. Even in the reliable historical record we find Cretan archer units from the Peloponnesian War well into the Roman period.

Here is some work I did on the fascinating Thomas Stukeley - I was doing work on George Peele's Play The Battle of Alcazar (which is important and fascinating for a whole other set of reasons) and then this just grew (and grew!) out of that.

This paper explores the twelve contemporary stratagems recorded in Frontinus' Strategemata as eyewitness evidence for his career and, the ramifications of those stratagems and their inclusion in the Strategemata for Frontinus' career in a wider context

A unique double figure on a Late Geometric vessel known as the Agora oinochoe (P 4885) has been interpreted in a variety of ways. In this article the author explores problems with previous interpretations and offers new readings of the figure, the scene, and the frieze. The figure should not be
interpreted as the conjoined Molione-Aktorione twins or, indeed, as conjoined at all, in which case there is little to connect the scene with Homeric epic. The scene can be viewed more convincingly as an experiment in narrative,
simultaneously showing two moments in time. The frieze in its entirety might even be regarded as an ingenious optical trick.

The order of the runes in the fuþark has long puzzled scholars. The order f u þ a r k g w / h n i j ï p z s / t b e m l ŋ o d is, however, relatively secure. Using evidence from the Roman frontiers and Roman signalling during the period when the runes are thought to have been created, a solution can be suggested. The Kestoi of Sextus Julius Africanus, written in the early third century AD, explains a fire-signalling system using three groups of eight letters. This system fits, not only the 24 letters of the Latin alphabet, but also the three ættir of the fuþark and methods of encoding the runes themselves. What is more, based on evidence of encoding systems used by the Greeks and Romans, a suggestion can be made as to how the order of the runes was arrived at.

Sextus Julius Frontinus recorded several stratagems regarding Domitian’s Chattan campaign (Strategemata 1.1.8, 1.3.10, 2.3.23, and 2.11.7). They are the best and most detailed evidence we have of that campaign. Prior to 2003 these were the only evidence to suggest Frontinus’ presence in this campaign, but in that year Eck and Pangerl published a diploma showing that Frontinus was governor of Lower Germany from 82-84. This makes the evidence of Frontinus’ stratagems, which include the building of limites (whether they be roads or ramparts, or both), undeniable. What is more, these factors make Frontinus’ evidence for Domitian’s Dacian campaign in the De Agrorum Qualitate more compelling. In the preface that work, much neglected, except in the field of Land Surveying, Frontinus speaks of constructing vallorum. It is entirely possible that Frontinus, having constructed limites and successfully discharged his duties during his tenure of Lower Germany, was required by Domitian to continue similar work as comes in Dacia. Frontinus’ importance for the field of land surveying is undeniable, just as it is in so many other, divers, fields. In addition, the new-found reliability of these passages adds remarkable evidence for Frontinus’ career under Domitian since he seems to have gone immediately from his task in Dacia to take up the unexpected post of Proconsul Asiae in 86. The circumstances of that appointment are intriguing in themselves, but these three offices in close succession offer a remarkable picture of Frontinus’ worthwhile and constructive contribution to the empire during the reign of Domitian.

If you have ever been fortunate enough to be present at a performance of Verdi’s 1846 opera Attila in an Italian opera house, perchance you have witnessed the burst of patriotism which nearly always follows the Roman Ezio’s line: ‘Avrai tu l’universo, Resti l’Italia a me’ (‘You may have the universe, let Italy remain mine’).  The reaction of patriotic Italians to this line is strange indeed since Ezio is in fact offering to betray Rome and his emperor to the Scourge of God.  In the opera, Attila is horrified at such an act of treachery and, nobly, refuses to have anything to do with it. This seemingly contradictory image of the noble Attila and the perfidious Roman envoy provides a starting point for an examination of the re-imaginings of Attila, not only in this often overlooked Verdian operatic gem but also in wider contexts. Verdi’s Attila is a remarkable and fascinating character and there is much more to this opera and its unusual treatment of its subject matter than is usually acknowledged. Opera as history and the reception of history through opera are relatively new ways of thinking but there is much to be gained from examining Verdi’s Attila and what operatic clothing can bring to him. Indeed, in the performance world, the portrayals of Attila are as varied as one could imagine. Choosing to depict Attila the Hun, the Scourge of God, in film, drama or music sets up a series of expectations within an audience which, more often than not, are then manipulated to present an image far different from the one that audience would expect to see.

This paper will examine the re-imagining of the Scourge of God and his world in Verdi’s opera. The history of interpretations and interpreters of this opera and role also bear fruit to explore what Attila the Hun has looked and sounded like; indeed what he ‘should’ look and sound like. Verdi’s operatic imagining of Attila will also be placed within the wider audio-visual sound world of imaginings of Attila which range from Fritz Lang’s 1924 film Die Nibelungen (with an original score by Gottfried Huppertz although later accompanied by a score cobbled from Wagner’s operatic tetralogy) through Anthony Quinn, Jack Palance and Gerard Butler to Disney’s 2010 Rapunzel film, Tangled, and the loveable singing thug Attila Cupcake. In all of these filmic representations Attila has a sound world which tells us a great deal about how he is being presented to us. 

Extensive use will be made of recordings of performances of Verdi’s Attila throughout the 20th century, footage of several productions as well as production stills from earlier interpretations.  A wide range of film excerpts and their soundtracks will also be utilised.  The image of Attila, both sonic and visual, which emerges from these sources presents a far more wide-ranging and challenging character than the stereotype we all think we know would have us believe was possible.

Here's a paper I delivered at the SSCM (Society for Seventeenth Century Music) conference in New York in April 2012 (an amazing conference with generous and positive participants and presenters). The paper argues for a new idea in the dating debate around Purcell's opera Dido and Aeneas, seeing it as a centenary celebration of the defeat of the Spanish armada in July and August 1588. After the conference, I sent it to a journal and waited two years for any word. When they did get back to me at all it was to say that it could not be accepted (and with an apology for the delay). Reading the anonymous readers comments and re-reading my own work, I am still confident enough of my arguments. So here it is.