Decapitate (pronounced dih-kap-i-teyt)
(1) To cut off the head; to behead.
(2) Figuratively, to oust or destroy the leadership or
ruling body of a government, military formation, criminal organization etc.
1605–1615: From the fourteenth century French décapiter,
from the Late Latin dēcapitātus, past
participle of dēcapitāre, the
construct being dē- + capit- (stem of caput (head), genitive capitis), from the Proto-Italic kaput, from the
Proto-Indo-European káput- (head) + -ātus.
The Latin prefix
dē- (off) was from the preposition dē (of, from); the Old English æf- was a similar prefix. The Latin suffix -ātus was from the Proto-Italic -ātos,
from the primitive Indo-European -ehtos. It’s regarded as a
"pseudo-participle" and perhaps related to –tus although though similar formations in other Indo-European
languages indicate it was distinct from it already in early Indo-European
times. It was cognate with the
Proto-Slavic –atъ and the
Proto-Germanic -ōdaz (the English
form being -ed (having). The feminine
form was –āta, the neuter –ātum and it was used to form adjectives
from nouns indicating the possession of a thing or a quality. The English suffix -ate was a word-forming
element used in forming nouns from Latin words ending in -ātus, -āta, & -ātum
(such as estate, primate & senate).
Those that came to English via French often began with -at, but an -e
was added in the fifteenth century or later to indicate the long vowel. It can also mark adjectives formed from Latin
perfect passive participle suffixes of first conjugation verbs -ātus, -āta, & -ātum (such as desolate, moderate & separate). Again, often they were adopted in Middle
English with an –at suffix, the -e appended after circa 1400; a doublet of –ee. Decapitate, decapitated
& decapitating are verbs, decapitation & decapitator are nouns.
As a military strategy, the idea of decapitation is as old as warfare and based on the effective “cut the head off the snake”. The technique of decapitation is to identify the leadership (command and control) of whatever structure or formation is hostile and focus available resources on that target. Once the leadership has been eliminated, the effectiveness of the rest of the structure should be reduced and the idea is applied also in cyber warfare although in that field, target identification can be more difficult. The military’s decapitation strategy is used by many included law enforcement bodies and can to some extent be applied in just about any form of interaction which involves conflicting interests. The common English synonym is behead and that word may seem strange because it means “to take off the head” where the English word bejewel means “to put on the jewels”. It’s because of the strange and shifting prefix "be-". Behead was from the Middle English beheden, bihefden & biheveden, from the Old English behēafdian (to behead). The prefix be- however evolved from its use in Old English. In modern use it’s from the Middle English be- & bi-, from the Old English be- (off, away), from the Proto-Germanic bi- (be-), from the Proto-Germanic bi (near, by), the ultimate root the primitive Indo-European hepi (at, near) and cognate be- in the Saterland Frisian, the West Frisian, the Dutch, the German & Low German and the Swedish. When the ancestors of behead were formed, the prefix be- was appended to create the sense of “off; away” but over the centuries it’s also invested the meanings “around; about” (eg bestir), “about, regarding, concerning” (eg bemoan), “on, upon, at, to, in contact with something” (eg behold), “as an intensifier” (eg besotted), “forming verbs derived from nouns or adjectives, usually with the sense of "to make, become, or cause to be" (eg befriend) & "adorned with something" (eg bejewel)).
A less common synonym is decollate, from the Latin decollare (to behead) and there’s also
the curious adjective decapitable which (literally “able or fit to be
decapitated”) presumably is entirely synonymous with “someone whose head has
not been cut off” though not actually with someone alive, some corpses during
the French Revolution being carted off to be guillotined, the symbolism of the seemingly
superfluous apparently said to have been greeted by the mob "with a cheer".
1971 Citroën DS21 Décapotable Usine.
Produced between 1955-1975, the sleek Citroën DS must have seemed something from science fiction to those accustomed to what was plying the roads outside but although it soon came to be regarded as something quintessentially French, the DS was actually designed by an Italian. In this it was similar to French fries (invented in Belgium) and Nicolas Sarközy (b 1955; President of France 2007-2012), who first appeared on the planet the same year as the shapely DS and he was actually from here and there. It was offered as the DS and the lower priced ID, the names a play on words, DS in French pronounced déesse (goddess) and ID idée (idea). The goddess nickname caught on though idea never did.
Henri Chapron had attended the Paris Auto
Salon when the DS made its debut and while Citroën had planned to offer a
cabriolet, little had been done beyond some conceptual drawings and development
resources were instead devoted to higher-volume variants, the ID (a less
powerful DS with simplified mechanicals and less elaborate interior
appointments) which would be released in 1957 and the Break (a station wagon
marketed variously the Safari, Break, Familiale or Wagon), announced the next
year. Chapron claims it took him only a
glance at the DS in display for him instantly to visualise the form his
cabriolet would take but creating one proved difficult because such was the
demand Citroën declined to supply a partially complete platform, compelling the
coach-builder to secure a complete car from a dealer willing (on an undisclosed
basis) to “bump” his name up the waiting list while he worked on the blueprints.
The DS and ID are well documented in the model's history but there was also the more obscure DW, built at Citroën's UK manufacturing plant in the Berkshire town Slough which sits in the Thames Valley, some 20 miles west of London. The facility was opened in February 1926 as part of the Slough Trading Estate (opened just after World War I (1914-1918)) which was an early example of an industrial park, the place having the advantage of having the required infrastructure needed because constructed by the government for wartime production and maintenance activities. Citroën was one of the first companies to be established on the site, overseas assembly prompted by the UK government's imposition of tariffs (33.3% on imported vehicles, excluding commercial vehicles) and the move had the added advantage of the right-hand-drive (RHD) cars being able to be exported throughout the British Empire under the “Commonwealth Preference” arrangements then in place. Unlike similar operations, which in decades to come would appear world-wide, the Slough Citroëns were not assembled from CKD (completely knocked down) kits which needed only local labor to put them together but used a mix of imported parts and locally produced components. The import tariff was avoided if the “local content” (labor and domestically produced (although those sourced from elsewhere in the empire could qualify) parts) reached a certain threshold (measured by the total value in local currency); it was an approach many governments would follow and elements of it exist even today as a means of encouraging (and protecting) local industries and creating employment. People able to find jobs in places like Slough would have been pleased but for those whose background meant they were less concerned with something as tiresome as paid-employment, the noise and dirt of factories seemed just a scar upon the “green and pleasant land” of William Blake (1757–1827). In his poem Slough (1937), Sir John Betjeman (1906–1984; Poet Laureate 1972-1984), perhaps recalling Stanley Baldwin's (1867–1947; UK prime-minister 1923-1924, 1924-1929 & 1935-1937) “The bomber will always get through” speech (1932) welcomed the thought, writing: “Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough! It isn’t fit for humans now” Within half a decade, the Luftwaffe would grant his wish.
During World War II (1939-1945), the Slough plant was repurposed for military use and some 23,000 CMP (Canadian Military Pattern) trucks were built, civilian production resuming in 1946. After 1955, Slough built both the ID and DS, the latter including the traditionally English leather trim and a wooden dashboard, a touch which some critics claimed was jarring among the otherwise modernist ambiance but the appeal was real because some French distributors imported the Slough dashboard parts for owners who liked the look. The UK-built cars also used 12 volt Lucas electrics until 1963 and it was in that year the unique DW model was slotted in between the ID and DS. Available only with a manual transmission and a simplified version of the timber veneer, the DW was configured with the ID's foot-operated clutch but used the more powerful DS engine, power steering and power brakes. When exported, the DW was called DS19M and the "DW" label was applied simply because it was Citroën's internal code to distinguish (RHD) models built in the UK from the standard left-hand-drive (LHD) models produced in France. Citroën assembly in Slough ended in February 1965 and although the factory initially retained the plant as a marketing, service & distribution centre, in 1974 these operations were moved to other premises and the buildings were taken over by Mars Confectionery. Today no trace remains of the Citroën works in Slough.
1963 Citroën Le Dandy & 1964 Citroën Palm Beach by Carrosserie Chapron.
Demand was higher at a lower price-point, as Citroën's 1325 cabriolets indicate but Carrosserie Chapron until 1974 maintained output of his more exclusived an expensive lines although by the late 1960s, output, never prolific, had slowed to a trickle. Chapron’s originals varied in detail and the most distinguishing difference between the flavors was in the rear coachwork, the more intricate being those with the "squared-off" (sometimes called "finned" or "fin-tailed") look, a trick Mercedes-Benz had in 1957 adopted to modernize the 300d (W189, 1957-1963, the so called "Adenauer Mercedes", named after Konrad Adenauer (1876–1967; chancellor of the FRG (Federal Republic of Germany (the old West Germany) 1949-1963) who used several of the W186 (300, 300b, 300c, 1951-1957) & 300s models as his official state cars). Almost all Chapron's customized DS models were built to special order between under the model names La Croisette, Le Paris, Le Caddy, Le Dandy, Concorde, Palm Beach, Le Léman, Majesty, & Lorraine; all together, 287 of these were delivered and reputedly, no two were exactly alike.
Citroën Concorde coupés by Chapron: 1962 DS 19 (left) and 1965 DS 21 (right). The DS 21 is one of six second series cars, distinguished by their “squared-off” rear wing treatment and includes almost all the luxury options Chapron had on their list including electric windows, leather trim, the Jaeger instrument cluster, a Radiomatic FM radio with automatic Hirschmann antenna, the Robergel wire wheel covers and the Marchal auxiliary headlights.
Alongside the higher-volume Cabriolets d'Usine, Carrosserie Chapron continued to produce much more expensive décapotables (the Le Caddy and Palm Beach cabriolets) as well as limousines (the Majesty) and coupés, the most numerous of the latter being Le Dandy, some 50 of which were completed between 1960-1968. More exclusive still was another variation of the coupé coachwork, the Concorde with a more spacious cabin notably for the greater headroom it afforded the rear passengers. Only 38 were built over five years and at the time they cost as much as the most expensive Cadillac 75 Limousine.
The Citroën SM, a few of which were decapitated
1972 Citroën SM (left) & 1971 Citroën SM Mylord by Carrosserie Chapron (right). The wheels are the Michelin RR (roues en résine or résine renforcée (reinforced resin)) composites, cast using a patented technology invented by NASA for the original moon buggy. The Michelin wheel was one-piece and barely a third the weight of the equivalent steel wheel but the idea never caught on, doubts existing about their long-term durability and susceptibility to extreme heat (the SM had inboard brakes).
Upon release in 1971, immediately the Citroën SM was recognized as among the planet's most intricate and intriguing cars. A descendant of the DS which in 1955 had been even more of a sensation, it took Citroën not only up-market but into a niche the SM had created, nothing quite like it previously existing, the combination of a large (in European terms), front-wheel-drive (FWD) luxury coupé with hydro-pneumatic suspension, self-centreing (Vari-Power) steering, high-pressure braking and a four-cam V6 engine, a mix unique in the world. The engine had been developed by Maserati, one of Citroën’s recent acquisitions and the name acknowledged the Italian debt, SM standing for Systemé Maserati. Although, given the size and weight of the SM, the V6 was of modest displacement to attract lower taxes (initially 2.7 litres (163 cubic inch)) and power was limited (181 HP (133 kW)) compared to the competition, such was the slipperiness of the body's aerodynamics that in terms of top speed, it was at least a match for most.
However, lacking the high-performance pedigree enjoy by some of that competition, a rallying campaign had been planned as a promotional tool. Although obviously unsuited to circuit racing, the big, heavy SM didn’t immediately commend itself as a rally car; early tests indicated some potential but there was a need radically to reduce weight. One obvious candidate was the steel wheels but attempts to use lightweight aluminum units proved abortive, cracking encountered when tested under rally conditions. Michelin immediately offered to develop glass-fibre reinforced resin wheels, the company familiar with the material which had proved durable when tested under extreme loads. Called the Michelin RR (roues resin (resin wheel)), the new wheels were created as a one-piece mold, made entirely of resin except for some embedded steel reinforcements at the stud holes to distribute the stresses. At around 9.4 lb (4¼ kg) apiece, they were less than half the weight of a steel wheel and in testing proved as strong and reliable as Michelin had promised. Thus satisfied, Citroën went rallying.
The improbable rally car proved a success, winning first time out in the 1971 Morocco Rally and further success followed. Strangely, the 1970s proved an era of heavy cruisers doing well in the sport, Mercedes-Benz winning long-distance events with their 450 SLC 5.0 which was both the first V8 and the first car with an automatic transmission to win a European rally. Stranger still, Ford in Australia re-purposed one of the Falcon GTHO Phase IV race cars which had become redundant when the programme was cancelled in 1972 and the thing proved surprisingly competitive during the brief periods it was mobile although the lack of suitable tyres meant repeatedly the sidewalls would fail; the car was written off after a serious crash. The SM, GTHO & SLC proved a quixotic tilt and the sport went a different direction. On the SM however, the resin wheels had proved their durability, not one failing during the whole campaign and encouraged by customer requests, Citroën in 1972 offered the wheels as a factory option although only in Europe; apparently the thought of asking the US federal safety regulators to approve plastic wheels (as they’d already been dubbed by the motoring press) seemed to the French so absurd they never bothered to submit an application.
Ambitious as it was, circumstances combined in a curious way that might have made the SM more remarkable still. By 1973, sales of the SM, after an encouraging start had for two years been in decline, a reputation for unreliability already tarnishing its reputation but the first oil shock dealt what appeared to be a fatal blow; from selling almost 5000 in 1971, by 1974 production numbered not even 300. The market for fast, thirsty cars had shrunk and most of the trans-Atlantic hybrids (combining elegant European coachwork with large, powerful and cheap US V8s), which had for more than a decade done good business as alternative to the highly strung British and Italian thoroughbreds, had been driven extinct. Counter-intuitively, Citroën’s solution was to develop an even thirstier V8 SM and that actually made some sense because, in an attempt to amortize costs, the SM’s platform had been used as the basis for the new Maserati Quattroporte but, bigger and heavier still, performance was sub-standard and the theory was a V8 version would transform both and appeal to the US market, then the hope of many struggling European manufacturers.
Citroën didn’t have a V8; Maserati did but it was big and heavy, a relic with origins in racing and while its (never wholly tamed) raucous qualities suited the character of the sports cars and saloons Maserati offered in the 1960s, it couldn’t be used in something like the SM. However, the SM’s V6 was a 90o unit and thus inherently better suited to an eight-cylinder configuration. In 1974 therefore, a four litre (244 cubic inch) V8 based on the V6 (by then 3.0 litres (181 cubic inch)) was quickly built and installed in an SM which was subjected to the usual battery of tests over a reported 20,000 km (12,000 miles) during which it was said to have performed faultlessly. Bankruptcy (to which the SM, along with some of the company's other ventures, notably the GZ Wankel programme, contributed) however was the death knell for both the SM and the V8, the prototype car scrapped while the unique engine was removed and stored, later used to create a replica of the 1974 test mule.
Evidence does however suggest a V8 SM would likely have been a failure, just compounding the existing error on an even grander scale. It’s true that Oldsmobile and Cadillac had offered big FWD coupés with great success since the mid 1960s (the Cadillac at one point fitted with a 500 cubic inch (8.2 litre) V8 rated at 400 HP (300 kW)) but they were very different machines to the SM and appealed to a different market. Probably the first car to explore what demand might have existed for a V8 SM was the hardly successful 1986 Lancia Thema 8•32 which used the Ferrari 2.9 litre (179 cubic inch) V8 in a FWD platform. Although well-executed within the limitations the configuration imposed, it was about a daft an idea as it sounds. Even had the V8 SM been all-wheel-drive (AWD) it would probably still have been a failure but it would now be remembered as a revolution ahead of its time. As it is, the whole SM story is just another cul-de-sac, albeit one which has become a (mostly) fondly-regarded cult.
State Citroëns by Carrosserie Chapron: 1968 Citroën DS state limousine (left) and 1972 Citroën SM Présidentielle (right).
In the summer of 1971, after years of slowing sales, Citroën announced the end of the décapotable usine and Chapron’s business model suffered, the market for specialized coach-building, in decline since the 1940s, now all but evaporated. Chapron developed a convertible version of Citroën’s new SM called the Mylord but, very expensive, it was little more successful than the car on which it was based; although engineered to Chapron’s high standard, fewer than ten were built. Government contracts did for a while seem to offer hope. Charles De Gaulle (1890–1970; President of France 1958-1969) had been aghast at the notion the state car of France might be bought from Germany or the US (it’s not known which idea he thought most appalling and apparently nobody bothered to suggest buying British) so, at his instigation, Chapron (apparently without great enthusiasm) built a long wheelbase DS Presidential model.
Size matters: Citroën DS Le Presidentielle (left) and LBJ era stretched Lincoln Continental by Lehmann-Peterson of Chicago (right).
Begun
in 1965, the project took three years, legend having it that de Gaulle himself stipulated
little more than it be longer than the stretched Lincoln Continentals then used
by the White House (John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963) assassinated in Continental X-100 modified by Hess and Eisenhardt) and this was achieved, despite the requirement the turning
circle had to be tight enough to enter the Elysée Palace’s courtyard from the
rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré and then pull up at the steps in a single maneuver. Delivered just in time for the troubles of
1968, the slinky lines were much admired in the Élysée and in 1972, Chapron was
given a contract to supply two really
big four-door convertible (Le Presidentielle)
SMs as the state limousines for Le Général’s successor, Georges Pompidou
(1911–1974; President of France 1969-1974).
First used for 1972 state visit of Elizabeth II (1926-2022; Queen of the UK and other places, 1952-2022), they remained in regular service until the inauguration of Jacques
Chirac (1932–2019; President of France 1995-2007) in 1995, seen again on the Champs
Elysees in 2004 during Her Majesty’s three-day state visit marking the centenary
of the Entente Cordiale.
1972 Citroën SM Opera by Carrosserie Chapron (left) & 1973 Maserati Quattroporte II (right).
However, state contracts for the odd limousine, while individually lucrative, were not a model to sustain a coach building business and a year after the Mylord was first displayed, Chapron inverted his traditional practice and developed from a coupé, a four-door SM called the Opera. On a longer wheelbase, stylistically it was well executed but was heavy and both performance and fuel consumption suffered, the additional bulk also meaning some agility was lost. Citroën was never much devoted to the project because they had in the works what was essentially their own take on a four-door SM, sold as the Maserati Quattroporte II (the Italian house having earlier been absorbed) but as things transpired in those difficult years, neither proved a success, only eight Operas and a scarcely more impressive thirteen Quattroporte IIs ever built. The French machine deserved more, the Italian knock-off, probably not. In 1974, Citroën entered bankruptcy, dragged down in part by the debacle which the ambitious SM had proved to be although there had been other debacles worse still. Four years later, Henri Chapron died in Paris, his much down-sized company lingering on for some years under the direction of his industrious widow, the bulk of its work now customizing Citroën CXs. Operations ceased in 1985 but the legacy is much admired and the décapotables remain a favorite of collectors and film-makers searching for something with which to evoke the verisimilitude of 1960s France.
Judith and the decapitation of Holofernes
In the Bible, the deuterocanonical books (literally “belonging
to the second canon”) are those books and passages traditionally
regarded as the canonical texts of the Old Testament, some of which long
pre-date Christianity, some composed during the “century of overlap” before
the separation between the Christian church and Judaism became institutionalized. As the Hebrew canon evolved, the seven
deuterocanonical books were excluded and on this basis were not included
in the Protestant Old Testament, those denominations regarding them as apocrypha
and they’re been characterized as such since.
Canonical or not, the relationship of the texts to the New Testament has
long interested biblical scholars, none denying that links exist but there’s
wide difference in interpretation, some finding (admittedly while giving
the definition of "allusion" wide latitude) a continuity of thread, others only
fragmentary references and even then, some paraphrasing is dismissed as having
merely a literary rather than historical or theological purpose.
The Book of Judith exists
thus in the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Old Testaments but is assigned
(relegated some of the hard-liners might say) by Protestants to the apocrypha. It is the tale of Judith (יְהוּדִית
in the Hebrew and the feminine of Judah), a legendarily beautiful Jewish widow who uses her charms to
lure the Assyrian General Holofernes to his gruesome death (decapitated by her
own hand) so her people may be saved. As
a text, the Book of Judith is interesting in that it’s a genuine literary
innovation, a lengthy and structured thematic narrative evolving from the one
idea, something different from the old episodic tradition of loosely linked
stories. That certainly reflects the
influence of Hellenistic literary techniques and the Book of Judith may be
thought a precursor of the historical novel: A framework of certain agreed
facts upon a known geography on which an emblematic protagonist (Judith the feminine
form of the national hero Judah) performs.
The atmosphere of crisis and undercurrent of belligerence lends the work
a modern feel while theologically, it’s used to teach the importance of
fidelity to the Lord and His commandments, a trust in God and how one must
always be combative in defending His word.
It’s not a work of history, something made clear in the first paragraph;
this is a parable.
Judit decapitando a Holofernes (Judith Beheading Holofernes) (circa 1600) by Caravaggio (Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, 1571–1610).
The facts of the climactic moment in the decapitation of General
Holofernes are not in dispute, Judith at the appropriate moment drawing the
general’s own sword, beheading him as he lay recumbent, passed out from too
much drink. Deed done, the assassin dropped the separated head in a leather basket and stole away. The dramatic tale for centuries has attracted
painters and sculptors, the most famous works created during the high Renaissance
and Baroque periods and artists have tended to depict either Judith acting
alone or in the company of her aged maid, a difference incidental to the murder
but of some significance in the interpretation of preceding events.
All agree the picturesque widow was able to gain access to the tent of Holofernes because of the
general’s carnal desires but in the early centuries of Christianity, there’s
little hint that Judith resorted to the role of seductress, only that she lured
him to temptation, plied him with drink and struck. The sexualization of the moment came later
and little less controversial was the unavoidable juxtaposition of the masculine
aggression of the blade-wielding killer with her feminine charms. Given the premise of the tale and its moral
imperative, the combination can hardly be avoided but it was for centuries
disturbing to (male) theologians and priests, rarely at ease with bolshie women. It was during the high Renaissance that
artists began to vest Judith with an assertive sexuality (“from Mary to Eve” in
the words of one critic), her features becoming blatantly beautiful, the
clothing more revealing. The Judith of the Renaissance and the Baroque appears one
more likely to surrender her chastity to the cause where once she would have
relied on guile and wine.
It was in the Baroque period that the representations more explicitly made possible the mixing of sex and violence in the minds of viewers, a combination that across media platforms remains today as popular as ever. For centuries “Judith beheading Holofernes” was one of the set pieces of Western Art and there were those who explored the idea with references to David & Goliath (another example of the apparently weak decapitating the strong) or alluding to Salome, showing Judith or her maid carrying off the head in a basket. The inventiveness proved not merely artistic because, in the wake of the ruptures caused by the emergent Protestant heresies, in the counter-attack by the Counter-Reformation, the parable was re-imagined in commissions issued by the Holy See, Judith’s blade defeating not only Assyrian oppression but all unbelievers, heretical Protestants just the most recently vanquished. Twentieth century artists too have used Judith as a platform, predictably perhaps sometimes to show her as the nemesis of toxic masculinity and some have obviously enjoyed the idea of an almost depraved sexuality but there have been some quite accomplished versions.
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