Simulacrum

Simulacrum (pronounced sim-yuh-ley-kruhm)

(1) A slight, unreal, or superficial likeness or semblance; a physical image or representation of a deity, person, or thing.

(2) An effigy, image, or representation; a thing which has the appearance or form of another thing, but not its true qualities; a thing which simulates another thing; an imitation, a semblance; a thing which has a similarity to the appearance or form of another thing, but not its true qualities

(3) Used loosely, any representational image of something (a nod to the Latin source).

1590–1600: A learned borrowing of the Latin simulācrum (likeness, image) and a dissimilation of simulaclom, the construct being simulā(re) (to pretend, to imitate), + -crum (the instrumental suffix which was a variant of -culum, from the primitive Indo-European –tlom (a suffix forming instrument nouns).  The Latin simulāre was the present active infinitive of simulō (to represent, simulate) from similis (similar to; alike), ultimately from the primitive Indo-European sem- (one; together).  In English, the idea was always of “something having the mere appearance of another”, hence the conveyed notion of a “a specious imitation”, the predominant sense early in the nineteenth century while later it would be applied to works or art (most notably in portraiture) judged, “blatant flattery”.  In English, simulacrum replaced the late fourteenth century semulacre which had come from the Old French simulacre.  As well as the English simulacrum, the descendents from the Latin simulācrum include the French simulacre, the Spanish simulacro and the Polish symulakrum.  Simulacrum is a noun and simulacral is an adjective; the noun plural is simulacrums or simulacra (a learned borrowing from Latin simulācra).  Although neither is listed, by lexicographers, in the world of art criticism, simulacrally would be a tempting adverb and simulacrumism an obvious noun.  The comparative is more simulacral, the suplerative most simulacral.

Simulacrum had an untroubled etymology didn’t cause a problem until French post-structuralists found a way to add layers of complication.  The sociologist & philosopher Jean Baudrillard (1929-2007) wrote a typically dense paper (The Precession of Simulacra (1981)) explaining simulacra were “…something that replaces reality with its representation… Simulation is no longer that of a territory, a referential being, or a substance. It is the generation by models of a real without origin or reality: a hyperreal.... It is no longer a question of imitation, nor duplication, nor even parody. It is a question of substituting the signs of the real for the real.” and his examples ranged from Disneyland to the Watergate scandal.  One can see his point but it seems only to state the obvious and wicked types like Karl Marx (1818-1883) and Joseph Goebbels (1897-1975; Nazi propaganda minister 1933-1945) said it in fewer words.  To be fair, Baudrillard’s point was more about the consequences of simulacra than the process of their creation and the social, political and economic implication of states or (more to the point) corporations attaining the means to “replace” reality with a constructed representation were profound.  The idea has become more relevant (and certainly more discussed) in the post-fake news world in which clear distinctions between that which is real and its imitations have become blurred and there’s an understanding that through many channels of distribution, increasingly, audiences are coming to assume nothing is real.

Mannerist but not quite surrealist: Advertising for the 1961 Pontiac Bonneville Sports Coupe (left) with graphical art by Art Fitzpatrick (1919–2015) & Van Kaufman (1918-1995) and a (real) 1961 Pontiac Bonneville Sports Coupe (right) fitted with Pontiac's much admired 8-lug wheels, their exposed centres actually the brake drum.

The work of Fitzpatrick & Kaufman is the best remembered of the 1960s advertising by the US auto industry and their finest creations were those for General Motors’ (GM) Pontiac Motor Division (PMD).  The pair rendered memorable images but certainly took some artistic licence and created what were even then admired as simulacrums rather than taken too literally.  While PMD’s “Year of the Wide-Track” (introduced in 1959) is remembered as a slogan, it wasn’t just advertising shtick, the decision taken to increase the track of Pontiacs by 5 inches (127 mm) because the 1958 frames were used for the much wider 1959 bodies, rushed into production because the sleek new Chryslers had rendered the old look frumpy and suddenly old-fashioned.  It certainly enhanced the look but the engineering was sound, the wider stance also genuinely improved handling.  Just to make sure people got the message about the “wide” in the “Wide Track” theme, their artwork deliberately exaggerated the width of the cars they depicted and while it was the era of “longer, lower, wider” (and PMD certainly did their bit in that), things never got quite that wide.  Had they been, the experience of driving would have felt something like steering an aircraft carrier's flight deck.

1908 Cadillac Model S: The standard 56 inch (1422 mm) track (left) and the 61 inch (1549 mm) "wide track" (right), the more "sure-footed" stance designed for rutted rural roads.  

Pontiac made much of the “Year of the Wide Track” and it worked so well “wide track” would be an advertising hook for much of the 1960s although the idea wasn’t new, Cadillac in 1908 offering a wide track option for their Model S.  While the four cylinder Cadillacs were coming to be offered with increasingly large and elaborate coachwork, to increase the appeal of the single cylinder, 98 cubic inch (1.6 litre) Model S for rural buyers, there was the option of a 61 inch (1549 mm) track, 5 inches (127 mm) wider than standard.  The extra width was designed exactly to match the ruts in the roads of the rural Southwest, cut by generations of horse-drawn wagons.  Though a thoughtful gesture, times were changing and the 1908 Model S would prove the last single cylinder Cadillac, the corporation the next season standardizing the line around the Model Thirty which upon release would use the 226 cubic inch (3.7 litre) four-cylinder engine although in a harbinger of the 1950s and 1960s, it would be enlarged to 255 cubic inches (4.2 litre) for 1910, 286 cubic inches (4.7 litres) for 1911-1912 and finally 366 cubic inches (6.0 litres) for 1914.  For 1915, there was another glimpse of Cadillac’s path in the twentieth century with the introduction of the Model 51, fitted with the company’s first V8 with a displacement of 314 cubic inches (5.1 litres).  As the photographs suggest, nor was the luxurious tufted leather upholstery Detroit in the 1970s came to adore anything new, the style of seating used in the early (“brass era”), up-market automobiles taken straight from gentlemen’s clubs.

Fitzpatrick & Kaufman’s graphic art for the 1967 Pontiac Catalina Convertible advertising campaign.  One irony in the pair being contracted by PMD is that for most of the 1960s, Pontiacs were distinguished by some of the industry’s more imaginative and dramatic styling ventures and needed the artists' simulacral tricks less than some other manufacturers (and the Chryslers of the era come to mind, the solid basic engineering below cloaked sometimes in truly bizarre or just dull  bodywork).

This advertisement from 1961 hints also at something often not understood about what was later acknowledged as the golden era for both the US auto industry and their advertising agencies.  Although the big V8 cars of the post-war years are now remembered mostly for the collectable, high-powered, high value survivors with large displacement and induction systems using sometimes two four-barrel or three two-barrel carburetors, such things were a tiny fraction of total production and most V8 engines were tuned for a compromise between power (actually, more to the point for most: torque) and economy, a modest single two barrel sitting atop most and after the brief but sharp recession of 1958, even the Lincoln Continental, aimed at the upper income demographic, was reconfigured thus in a bid to reduce the prodigious thirst of the 430 cubic inch (7.0 litre) MEL (Mercury-Edsel-Lincoln) V8.  Happily for country and oil industry, the good times returned and by 1963 the big Lincolns were again guzzling gas four barrels at a time (the MEL in 1966 even enlarged to a 462 (7.6)) although there was the courtesy of the engineering trick of off-centering slightly the carburetor’s location so the primary two throats (the other two activated only under heavy throttle load) sat directly in the centre for optimal smoothness of operation.  Despite today’s historical focus on the displacement, horsepower and burning rubber of the era, there was then much advertising copy about (claimed) fuel economy, though while then as now, YMMV (your mileage may vary), the advertising standards of the day didn’t demand such a disclaimer.

Portrait of Oliver Cromwell (1650), oil on canvas by Samuel Cooper (1609-1672).

Even if it’s something ephemeral, politicians are often sensitive about representations of their image but concerns are heightened when it’s a portrait which, often somewhere hung on public view, will long outlive them.  Although in the modern age the proliferation and accessibility of the of the photographic record has meant portraits no longer enjoy an exclusivity in the depiction of history, there’s still something about a portrait which conveys, however misleadingly, a certain authority.  That’s not to suggest the classic representational portraits have always been wholly authentic, a good many of those of the good and great acknowledged to have been painted by “sympathetic” artists known for their subtleties in rendering their subjects variously more slender, youthful or hirsute as the raw material required.  Probably few were like Oliver Cromwell (1599–1658; Lord Protector of the Commonwealth 1653-1658) who told Samuel Cooper to paint him “warts and all”.  The artist obliged.

Randolph Churchill (1932), oil on canvas by Philip de László (left) and Randolph Churchill’s official campaign photograph (1935, right).

There have been artists for whom a certain fork of the simulacrum has provided a long a lucrative career.  Philip Alexius László de Lombos (1869–1937 and known professionally as Philip de László) was a UK-based Hungarian painter who was renowned for his sympathetic portraiture of royalty, the aristocracy and anyone else able to afford his fee (which for a time-consuming large, full-length works could be as much as 3000 guineas).  His reputation as a painter suffered after his death because he was dismissed by some as a “shameless flatterer” but in more recent years he’s been re-evaluated and there’s now much admiration for his eye and technical prowess, indeed, some have noted he deserves to be regarded more highly than many of those who sat for him.  His portrait of Randolph Churchill (1911-1968) (1932, left) has, rather waspishly, been described by some authors as something of an idealized simulacrum and the reaction of the journalist Alan Brien (1925-2008) was typical.  He met Churchill only in when his dissolute habits had inflicted their ravages and remarked that the contrast was startling, “…as if Dorian Gray had changed places with his picture for one day of the year.”  Although infamously obnoxious, on this occasion Churchill responded with good humor, replying “Yes, it is hard to believe that was me, isn’t it?  I was a joli garçon (pretty boy) in those days.”  That may have been true for as his official photograph for the 1935 Wavertree by-election (where he stood as an “Independent Conservative” on a platform of rearmament and opposition to Indian Home Rule) suggests, the artist may have been true to his subject.  Neither portrait now photograph seems to have helped politically and his loss at Wavertree was one of several he would suffer in his attempts to be elected to the House of Commons.

Portrait of Gina Rinehart (née Hancock, b 1954) by Western Aranda artist Vincent Namatjira (b 1983), National Gallery of Australia (NGA) (left) and photograph of Gina Rinehart (right).

While some simulacrums can flatter to deceive, others are simply unflattering.  That was what Gina Rinehard (described habitually as “Australia’s richest woman”) felt about two (definitely unauthorized) portraits of which are on exhibition at the NGA.  Accordingly, she asked they be removed from view and “permanently disposed of”, presumably with the same fiery finality with which bonfires consumed portraits of Theodore Roosevelt (TR, 1858–1919; US president 1901-1909) and Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955), both works despised by their subjects.  Unfortunately for Ms Reinhart, her attempted to save the nation from having to look at what she clearly considered bad art created only what is in law known as the “Streisand effect”, named after an attempt in 2003 by the singer Barbra Streisand (b 1942) to suppress publication of a photograph showing her cliff-top residence in Malibu, taken originally to document erosion of the California coast.  All that did was generate a sudden interest in the previously obscure photograph and ensure it went viral, overnight reaching an audience of millions as it spread around the web.  Ms Reinhart’s attempt had a similar consequence: while relatively few had attended Mr Namatjira’s solo Australia in Colour exhibition at the NGA and publicity had been minimal, the interest generated by the story saw the “offending image” printed in newspapers, appear on television news bulletins (they’re still a thing with a big audience) and of course on many websites.  The “Streisand effect” is regarded as an example “reverse psychology”, the attempt to conceal something making it seem sought by those who would otherwise not have been interested or bothered to look.  People should be careful in what they wish for.

Side by side: Portraits of Barak Obama (2011) and Donald Trump (2018), both oil on canvas by Sarah A Boardman, on permanent display, Gallery of Presidents, Third Floor, Rotunda, State Capitol Building, Denver, Colorado.

In March 2025 it was reported Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025) was not best pleased with a portrait of him hanging in Colorado’s State Capitol; he damned the work as “purposefully distorted” and demanded Governor Jared Polis (b 1975; governor (Democratic) of Colorado since 2019) immediately take it down.  In a post on his Truth Social platform, Mr Trump said: “Nobody likes a bad picture or painting of themselves, but the one in Colorado, in the State Capitol, put up by the Governor, along with all the other Presidents, was purposefully distorted to a level that even I, perhaps, have never seen before.  The artist also did President Obama and he looks wonderful, but the one on me is truly the worst. She must have lost her talent as she got older.  In any event, I would much prefer not having a picture than having this one, but many people from Colorado have called and written to complain. In fact, they are actually angry about it!  I am speaking on their behalf to the radical left Governor, Jared Polis, who is extremely weak on crime, in particular with respect to Tren de Aragua, which practically took over Aurora (Don’t worry, we saved it!), to take it down. Jared should be ashamed of himself!”

At the unveiling in 2019 it was well-received by the Republicans assembled.  If Fox News had an art critic (the Lord forbid), she would have approved but presumably that would now be withdrawn and denials issued it was ever conferred.  

Intriguingly, it was one of Mr Trump’s political fellow-travellers (Kevin Grantham (b 1970; state senator (Republican, Colorado) 2011-2019) who had in 2018 stated a GoFundMe page to raise the funds needed to commission the work, the US$10,000 pledged, it is claimed, within “a few hours”.  Ms Boardman’s painting mush have received the approval of the Colorado Senate Republicans because it was them who in 2019 hosted what was described as the “non-partisan unveiling event” when first the work was displayed hanging next to one of Mr Trump’s first presidential predecessor (Barack Obama (b 1961; US president 2009-2017), another of Ms Boardman’s commissions.  Whether or not it’s of relevance in the matter of now controversial portrait may be a matter for professional critics to ponder but on her website the artist notes she has “…always been passionate about painting portraits, being particularly intrigued by the depth and character found deeper in her subjects… believing the ultimate challenge is to capture the personality, character and soul of an individual in a two-dimensional format...”  Her preferred models “…are carefully chosen for their enigmatic personality and uniqueness...” and she admits some of her favorite subjects those “whose faces show the tracks of real life.”

Variations on a theme of simulacra: Four AI (artificial intelligence) generated images of Lindsay Lohan by Stable Diffusion.  The car depicted (centre right) is a Mercedes-Benz SL (R107, 1971-1989), identifiable as a post-1972 North American model because of the disfiguring bumper bar. 

So a simulacrum is a likeness of something which is recognizably of the subject (maybe with the odd hint) and not of necessity “good” or “bad”; just not exactly realistic.  Of course with techniques of lighting or angles, even an unaltered photograph can similarly mislead but the word is used usually of art or behavior such as “a simulacrum or pleasure” or “a ghastly simulacrum of a smile”.  In film and biography of course, the simulacrum is almost obligatory and the more controversial the subject, the more simulacral things are likely to be: anyone reading AJP Taylor’s study (1972) of the life of Lord Beaverbrook (Maxwell Aitken, 1879-1964) would be forgiven for wondering how anyone could have said a bad word about the old chap.  All that means there’s no useful antonym of simulacrum because one really isn’t needed (there's replica, duplicate etc but the sense is different) while the synonyms are many, the choice of which should be dictated by the meaning one wishes to denote and they include: dissimilarity, unlikeness, archetype, clone, counterfeit, effigy, ersatz, facsimile, forgery, image, impersonation, impression, imprint, likeness, portrait, representation, similarity, simulation, emulation, fake, faux & study.  Simulacrum remains a little unusual in that while technically it’s a neutral descriptor, it’s almost always used with a sense of the negative or positive.

Zephyr

Zephyr (pronounced zef-uhr (U) or zef-er (non-U))

(1) A gentle, mild breeze, considered the most pleasant of winds.

(2) As a literary device, the west wind personified which should be used with an initial capital letter and not capitalized if referring to some gentle waft.

(3) Any of various things of fine, light quality (fabric, yarn etc), most often applied to wool.

(4) The usual (Westernised) spelling of Ζεφυρος (Zéphuros or Zéphyros), the Greek and Roman god of the west wind.  The Roman name was Zephyrus, Favonius.

(5) A model name used on various cars produced by the Ford Motor Company, including some under the Lincoln and (the now defunct) Mercury brands.

Circa 1350: From the Middle English zeferus & zephirus, from the Old English zefferus, from the Latin zephyrus, from the Ancient Greek Ζέφυρος (Zéphuros or Zéphyros) (the west wind), probably from the Greek root zophos (the west, the dark region, darkness, gloom).  The Latin Zephyrus was the source also of zéphire (French), zefiro (Spanish) and zeffiro (Italian).  The plural is zephyrs and the derived term is zephyrette (capitalised and not); the alternative spellings were zephir & zefir.  The casual use in meteorology dates from circa 1600.  While, as Zephyr, classically something warm, mild and occidental, zephyr can be used to refer to any gentle breeze or waft where the wish is to suggest a wind not strong as in a gust, gale, cyclone, blast, typhoon or tempest, the adjectival form being zephyrean.

Cupid and Psyche (1907) by Edvard Munch (1863–1944).

In Greek mythology, Ζεφυρος (transliterated as Zéphuros or Zéphyros) was the god of the west wind, one of the four seasonal Anemoi (wind-gods), the others being his brothers Notus (god of the south wind), Eurus (god of the east wind) and Boreas (god of the east wind).  The Greek myths offer many variations of the life of Zephyrus, the offspring of Astraeus & Eos in some versions and of Gaia in other stories while there were many wives, depending on the story in which he was featured.  Despite that, he’s also sometimes referred to as the “god of the gay”, based on the famous tale of Zephyrus & Hyakinthos (Hyacinthus or Hyacinth).  Hyacinth was a Spartan youth, an alluring prince renowned for his beauty and athleticism and he caught the eye of both of both Zephyrus and Apollo (the god of sun and light) and the two competed fiercely for the boy’s affections.  It was Apollo whose charms proved more attractive which left Zephyrus devastated and in despair.  One day, Zephyrus chanced upon the sight of Apollo and Hyacinth in a meadow, throwing a discus and, blind with anger, sent a great gust of wind at the happy couple, causing the discus to strike Hyacinth forcefully in the head, inflicting a mortal injury.  Stricken with grief, as Hyacinth lay dying in his arms, Apollo transformed the blood trickling to the soil into the hyacinth (larkspur), flower which would forever bloom in memory of his lost, beautiful boy. Enraged, Apollo sought vengeance but Zephyrus was protected by Eros, the god of love, on what seems the rather technical legal point of the intervention of Zephyrus being an act of love.  There was however a price to be paid for this protection, Zephyrus now pledged to serve Eros for eternity and the indebted god of the west wind soon received his first task.  There are other tales of how Cupid and Psyche came to marry but in this one, with uncharacteristic clumsiness, Cupid accidently shot himself with one of his own arrows of love while gazing upon the nymph Psyche and it was Zephyrus who kidnapped her, delivering his abducted prize to Cupid to be his bride.

Chloris and Zephyr (1875) by William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1825-1905), Musee des Beau-Arts of the Musées Mulhouse Sud Alsace.

Zephyros was in classical art most often depicted as a handsome, winged youth and a large number of surviving Greek vases are painted with unlabeled figures of a winged god embracing a youth and these are usually identified as Zephyros and Hyakinthos although, some historians detecting detail differences list a number of them as being of Eros (the god of Love) with a symbolic youth.  Although sometimes rendered as a winged god clothed in a green robe and crowned with a wreath of flowers, in Greco-Roman mosaics, Zephyros appears usually in the guise of spring personified, carrying a basket of unripened fruit.  In some stories, he is reported to be the husband of Iris, the goddess of the rainbow and Hera’s messenger and in others, Podarge the harpy (also known as Celano) is mentioned as the wife of Zephyrus but in most of the myths he was married to Chloris.  Chloris by most accounts was an Oceanid nymph and in the tradition of Boreas & Orithyia and Cupid and Psyche, Zephyrus made Chloris his wife by abduction, making her the goddess of flowers, for she was the Greek equivalent of Flora, and living with her husband, enjoyed a life of perpetual spring.

Lindsay Lohan resisting a zephyr's efforts to induce a wardrobe malfunction, MTV Movie Awards, Los Angeles, 2008.

Ford's Zephyrs

Lincoln Zephyr V12, 267 cubic inches (4.4 litre).  It was the last of the American V12s.

In the inter-war era, the finest of the big American cars, the Cadillacs, Lincolns, Packards and Duesenbergs, offered craftsmanship the equal of anything made in Europe and engineering which was often more innovative.  The 1930s however were difficult times and by mid-decade, sales of the big K-Series Lincolns, the KA (385 cubic inch (6.3 litre) V8) and KB (448 cubic inch (6.3 litre) V12) were falling.  Ford responded by designing a smaller, lighter Lincoln range to bridge the gap between the most expensive Ford and the lower-priced K-Series Lincolns, the intention originally to power it with an enlarged version of the familiar Ford V8 but family scion Edsel Ford (1893–1943; president of the Ford Motor Company 1919-1943), decided instead to develop a V12, wanting both a point of differentiation and a link to K-Series which had gained for Lincoln a formidable reputation for power and durability.  Develop may however be the wrong word, the new engine really a reconfiguration of the familiar Ford V8, the advantage in that approach being it was cheaper than an entirely new engine, the drawback the compromises and flaws of the existing unit were carries over and in some aspects, due to the larger size and greater internal friction, exaggerated.

Lincoln Zephyr V12, 267 cubic inches (4.4 litre).

The V12 however was not just V8 with four additional pistons, the block cast with a vee-angle of 75^o rather than the eight’s 90^o, a compromise between compactness and the space required for a central intake manifold and the unusual porting arrangement for the exhaust gases.  The ideal configuration for a V12 is 60^o and without staggered throws on the crankshaft, the 75^o angle yielded uneven firing impulses, although, being a relatively slow and low-revving unit, the engine was felt acceptably smooth.  The cylinder banks used the traditional staggered arrangement, permitting the con-rods to ride side-by-side on the crank and retained the Ford V-8’s 3.75 inch (90.7 mm) stroke but used a small bore of just 2.75 inches (69.75 mm), then the smallest of any American car then in production, yielding a displacement of 267 cubic inches (4.4 litres), a lower capacity than many of the straight-eights and V8s then on the market.

Because the exhaust system was routed through the block to four ports on each side of the engine, cooling was from the beginning the problem it had been on the Ford V8 but on a larger scale.  Although the cooling system had an apparently impressive six (US) gallon (22.7 litre) capacity, it quickly became clear this could, under certain conditions, be marginal and the radiator grill was soon extended to increase airflow.  Nor was lubrication initially satisfactory, the original oil pump found to be unable to maintain pressure when wear developed on the curfaces of the many bearings; it was replaced with one that could move an additional gallon (3.79 litre) a minute.  Most problems were resolved during the first year of production and the market responded to the cylinder count, competitive price and styling; after struggling to sell not even 4000 of the big KAs in 1935, Lincoln produced nearly 18,000 Zephyrs in 1936, sales growing to over 25,000 the following year.  Production between 1942-1946 would be interrupted by the war but by the time the last was built in 1948, by which time it had been enlarged to 292 cubic inches (4.8 litre (there was in 1946, briefly, a 306 cubic inch (5.0 litre) version) over 200,000 had been made, making it the most successful of the American V12s.  It was an impressive number, more than matching the 161,583 Jaguar built over a quarter of a century (1971-1997) and only Daimler-Benz has made more, their count including both those used in Mercedes-Benz cars and the the DB-60x inverted V12 aero-engines famous for their wartime service with the Luftwaffe and the Mercedes-Benz T80, built for an assault in 1940 on the LSR (Land Speed Record).  Unfortunately, other assaults staged by the Third Reich (1939-1945) meant the run never happened but the T80 is on permanent exhibition in the factory's museum in Stuttgart so viewers can ponder Herr Professor Ferdinand Porsche's (1875–1951) pre-war slide-rule calculations of a speed of 650 km/h (404 mph) (not the 750 km/h (466 mph) sometimes cited).

1939 Lincoln-Zephyr Three Window Coupe (Model Code H-72, 2500 of which were made out of the Zephyr’s 1939 production count of 21,000).  It was listed as a six-seater but the configuration was untypical of the era, the front seat a bench with split backrests, allowing access to the rear where, unusually, there were two sideways-facing stools.  In conjunction with the sloping roofline, it was less than ideal for adults and although the term “3+2” was never used, that’s probably the best description.  The H-72 Three Window Coupe listed at US$1,320, the cheapest of the six variants in the 1939 Zephyr range.

It may sound strange that in a country still recovering from the Great Depression Ford would introduce a V12 but the famous “Flathead” Ford V8 was released in 1932 when economic conditions were at their worst; people still bought cars.  The V12 was also different in that although a configuration today thought of as exotic or restricted to “top of the line” models, for Lincoln the Zephyr was a lower-priced, mid-size luxury car to bridge a gap in the corporate line-up.  Nor was the V12 a “cost no object” project, the design using the Flathead’s principle elements and while inaccurate at the engineering level to suggest it was the “Ford V8 with four cylinders added” the concept was exactly that and if the schematics are placed side-by-side, the familial relationship is obvious.  Introduced in November 1935 (as a 1936 model), the styling of the Lincoln Zephyr attracted more favourable comment than Chrysler’s Airflows (1934-1937), an earlier venture into advanced aerodynamics (then known as “streamlining”) and the name had been chosen to emphasize the wind-cheating qualities of the modernist look.  With a raked windscreen and integrated fenders, it certainly looked slippery and tests in modern wind tunnels have confirmed it indeed had a lower CD (drag coefficient) than the Airflows which looked something like unfinished prototypes; the public never warmed to the Airflows, however accomplished the engineering was acknowledged to be.  By contrast, the Zephyrs managed to cloak the functional efficiency in sleek lines with pleasing art deco touches; subsequently, New York’s MOMA (Museum of Modern Art) acknowledged it as “the first successfully streamlined car in America”.  So much did the style and small V12 capture the headlines it was hardly remarked upon that with a unitary body, the Zephyr was the first Ford-made passenger vehicle with an all-steel roof, the method of construction delivering the required strength at a lighter weight, something which enabled the use of an engine of relatively modest displacement.

The American Home Front 1941-1942 (2006) by Alistair Cooke (1908-2004),  The cover illustration was of him filling up the Zephyr's V12, Pasadena, California, 1942.

In 1942, just after the US had entered the war (thereby legitimizing the term “World War II” (1939-1945)) the expatriate (the apocope “expat” not in general use until the 1950s when Graham Greene's (1904-1991) novel The Quiet American (1955) appears to have given it a boost) UK-born US journalist Alistair Cooke began a trip taking from Washington DC and back, via Virginia, Florida, Texas, California, Washington state and 26 other states, purchasing for the project a 1936 Lincoln Zephyr V12, his other vital accessories five re-tread tyres (with the Japanese occupation of Malaya, rubber was in short supply and tyres hard to find), a gas (petrol) ration coupon book and credentials from his employer, the BBC (British Broadcasting Corporation).  It was a journalist’s project to “discover” how the onset of war had changed the lives of non-combatant Americans “on the home front” and his observations would provide him a resource for reporting for years to come.  Taking photographs on his travels, he’d always planned to use the material for a book but, as a working journalist during the biggest event in history, it was always something done “on the side” and by the time he’d completed a final draft it was 1945 and with the war nearly over, he abandoned the project, assuming the moment for publication had passed.  It wasn’t until two years after his death that The American Home Front 1941-1942 (2006) was released, the boxed manuscript having been unearthed in the back of a closet, under a pile of his old papers.

Cooke had a journalist’s eye and the text was interesting as a collection of unedited observations of the nation’s culture, written in the language of the time.  In the introduction Cooke stated: “I wanted to see what the war had done to the people, to the towns I might go through, to some jobs and crops, to stretches of landscape I loved and had seen at peace; and to let the significance fall where it might.”  During his journey, he interviewed many of the “ordinary Americans” then traditionally neglected by history (except when dealt with en masse), not avoiding contentious issues such as anti-Semitism and racism but also painted word-pictures of the country through which he was passing, never neglecting to describe the natural environment, most of it unfamiliar to an Englishman who’d spent most of his time in the US in cities on the east and west coasts.  As a footnote, although the Zephyr’s V12 engine has always been notorious for the deficiencies in its cooling system, at no time during the journey did Cooke note the car overheating so either the radiator and plumbing did the job or he thought the occasional boil-over so unremarkable he made no remark. 

1969 Ford (UK) Zephyr Zodiac Mark IV.

Lincoln ceased to use the Zephyr name after 1942, subsequent V12 cars advertised simply as Lincolns, distinguished in name only by the coachwork.  The Zephyr badge was in 1950 revived by Ford of England for their line of mainstream family cars, augmented after 1953 by an up-market version called the Zodiac, noted for its bling.  The first three generations (1950-1966) were well-regarded (the Mark III (1962-1966) in most ways a superior car to the contemporary US Ford Falcon) and enjoyed success in both the home and export markets but the Mark IV (1966-1972), despite a tantalizingly advanced specification and offering a lot of interior space and external metal for the money, proved so ghastly the name was retired when the range was replaced with something (the Mark 1 Granada (1972-1977) which was on paper less ambitious but was, on the road, much superior.  Not having suffered the tainted Mark IV Zephyrs, Ford felt it safe to recycle the Zephyr name in the US, firstly on the bland Mercury clone (1978-1983) of the (US) Ford Fairmont and finally, for two seasons (2005-2006), on an undistinguished Lincoln which with some haste was re-branded "MKZ".  On either side of the Atlantic, there have been no Zephyrs since.

 

1962 Ford Galaxie 500/XL Sunliner Convertible 390 (left), 1967 Ford Zodiac Executive (centre) and 1974 Leyland P76 V8 Executive (right).  The design concept is known as the "starburst". 

The Mark IV Zodiac's wheel covers had first been seen in the US on the 1962 Ford Galaxie and for Detroit's colonial outposts the use of components, years after they'd been discontinued in the US, was common.  In Australia, for the Fairlane and LTD, Ford at various times used the wheel covers introduced on the 1969 & 1970 Thunderbird (replacing the former with something flatter after owners reported vulnerability to damage from curbsides so either Australians were less competent at parking or the guttering designs used by cities was different) and some were still being fitted as late as 1982.  At least that was within the corporate family.  in 1973, Leyland Australia clearly so liked what ended up on the Zodiac they pinched the idea for the ill-fated P76 (1973-1976).  God punishes those who violate his seventh commandment but in fairness to Leyland (even in retrospect they need all the help they can get), the "starburst" motif had long been popular for wheelcovers, hubcaps (there is a difference) and aluminum wheels.

Starburst sea anemone (left), Kelsey-Hayes cast aluminum wheel for 1967 C2 Chevrolet Corvette (centre), the five-stud (option code N89) version unique to the 1967 range, replacing the knock off version (option code P48, 1963-1966) which had to be retired when US regulators passed rules restricting the use of the centre-lock, knock-off hubs.  To conceal the five studs, there was a "centre cap" (ie a hubcap in the classic sense) in the style of the wheel and these colloquially are known as "starbursts" (right).  The Corvette's wheels were manufactured by Western Wheel Corporation (a division of Kelsey-Hayes).

As a noun & verb, “starburst” widely has been used in slang and commerce but its origin is owed to astronomers of the 1830s and in the field it’s been used variously to describe (1) a violent explosion, or the pattern (likened to the shape of a star) supposed to be made by such an explosion and (2) a region of space or period of time (distinct concepts for this purpose) with an untypically or unexpectedly high rate of star formation.  In SF (science fiction), starbursts can be more exotic still and have described machines from light-speed propulsion engines to truly horrid doomsday weapons.  In typography, a starburst is a symbol similar in shape to an asterisk, but with either or both additional or extended rays and it’s used for a brand of fruit-flavored confectionery, the name implying the taste “explodes” in the mouth as one chews or sucks.  In corporate use, starburst is slang for the breaking up of a company (or unit of a company) into a number of distinct operations and in software it was in the early 1980s used as the brand name of an application suite (based around the Wordstar word-processor) which was (along with Electric Office) one of the first “office suites”, the model Microsoft would later adopt for its “Office” product which bundled, Word, Excel, the dreaded PowerPoint and such.  It was the name of a British made-portable surface-to-air missile (MANPADS) produced in the late twentieth century, in botany it’s a tropical flowering plant (Clerodendrum quadriloculare), the term applied also to a species of sea anemone in the family Actiniidae and, in human anatomy, certain cell types (based on their appearance).  In photography, the “starburst effect” refers to the diffraction spikes which radiate from sources of bright light.

 

2006 Lincoln Zephyr.

 

Available only in 2005-2006 before it was “refreshed” and renamed MKZ (2007-2012), the Lincoln Zephyr picked up its styling cues from a concept car displayed at the 2004 New York International Auto Show although with the lines tempered for production-line reality.  In a sign of the times, it replaced the rear wheel drive (RWD), V6 & V8 powered LS sedan (2000-2006, with one model sharing showrooms with the Zephyr for its final year) which had been well-reviewed in press reports but never succeeded as a challenger to the BMW 5-Series and Mercedes-Benz E-Class.  The twenty-first century Zephyr wasn’t a “bad” car in the sense the word is attached to the English Mark IV Zephyr & Zodiac but it was bland and built the Mazda CD3 front wheel drive (FWD) platform which provided the underpinnings for also the Mazda 6, Ford Fusion and Mercury Milan; despite Lincoln’s efforts, had it not had the badges, most would have assumed the Zephyr was a fancy Ford or a Mercury, so closely did it resemble both.  Struggling to find some point of differentiation, journalists always mentioned the wood trim in the interior was “real timber”, quoting with approval from the document in the press-pack: “Ebony or maple wood inserts”.  Even that wasn't enough to persuade many it was worth some US$30,000, a US$6000-odd premium over the substantially similar Mercury Milan Premier V6.  It did though undercut by US$4000 what a basic V6 LS has cost the year before so the price of entry to Lincoln ownership became less but that also brought the usual marketing conundrum: “Lowering the price increases sales but tarnishes the perception of the brand as a prestige product”.

 

2012 Lincoln MKZ.

There was also the name.  The original Lincoln Zephyr had existed only between 1935-1942 and, except a as niche among collectors, had long ago faded from public consciousness, the same phenomenon which made the choice of “Maybach” by Mercedes-Benz so curious; Toyota’s decision to create “Lexus” was a much better idea and perhaps an indication Japanese MBAs were better informed than German MBAs.  For 2007 the Zephyr was renamed MKX and even that “naming strategy” (now an MBA fixation) may not within the corporation been well-communicated because initial suggestions for pronunciation included “Mark 10” & “Mark X”, picking up on the (actually quite muddled) history of the “Mark” cars which, off & on, existed between 1956-1998 (although the label was in 2006-2007 revived for a pick-up truck(!)).  Neither caught on and before long, like everyone else, company executives were saying “em-kay-zee”.  The “Mark” moniker would have been tempting because, as the “Zephyr affair” demonstrated, despite a history stretching back to 1917, the only Lincoln brand names with any traction in the public imagination are “Continental” and “Mark something”.  When MKZ production ended it 2012, the demise wasn’t so much unlamented as unnoticed.

Decapitate

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.

Lindsay Lohan gardening with a lopper in her gloved hands, decapitation a less demanding path to destruction than deracination, New York City, May, 2015.  She appears to be relishing the task.

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".  Just as pleasing though less bloody were the Citroën cabriolets crafted between 1958-1974 by French coachbuilder Henri Chapron (1886-1978).

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.

Citroën Cabriolet d'Usine production count, 1960-1971.

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.  It wasn’t until 1958 Carrosserie Chapron presented their first DS cabriolet, dubbed La Croisette, named after the emblematic costal boulevard of Cannes and while initially it wasn’t approved by the factory (compelling Chapron to continue buying complete cars from dealers), it was obvious to Citroën’s engineers that they’d been presented with a shortcut to production.  Accordingly, Chapron designed a DS cabriolet suited to series production (as opposed to his bespoke creations) and that meant using the longer wheelbase platform of the Break, chosen because it was structurally enhanced to cope with the loads station wagons carry.  Beginning in 1960, these (in ID & DS versions) were the approved Cabriolets d'Usine, distributed until 1971 through Citroën’s dealer network, complete with a factory warranty.

1964 Citroën DW19 Décapotable Usine.  For statistical purposes the DWs are included in the DS production count)

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.

1964 Citroën DS19 Décapotable Usine.

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.

Citroën DS by Carrosserie Chapron production count 1958-1974. 

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.

Bossaert's Citroën DS19-based GT 19 (1959-1964); the Marchal auxiliary headlights a later addition (top).

Others also built DS coupés & convertibles.  Between 1959-1964 Belgium-born Hector Bossaert produced more than a dozen DS coupés and what distinguished his was a platform shortened by 470 mm (18½ inches) and the use of a notchback roof-line.  Dubbed the Bossaert GT 19, the frontal styling was unchanged although curiously, the Citroën chevrons on the rear pillars were rotated by 90°; apart from the GT 19 Bossaert script on the boot lid (trunk lid), they are the vehicle’s only external identification.  Opinion remains divided about the aesthetes of the short wheelbase (SWB) DSs.  While it’s conceded the Chapron coupés & cabriolets do, in terms of design theory, look “unnaturally” elongated, the lines somehow suit the machines and the word most often used is “elegant” whereas the SWB cars do seem stubby and truncated.  The consensus seems to be the GT 19 was the best implementation of the SWB idea, helped also by it being 70 mm (2¾ inches) lower than the donor DS and perhaps that would be expected given the design was by the Italian Pietro Frua (1913-1983).  Bossaert also increased the power.  Although the hydro-pneumatic suspension and slippery aerodynamics made the DS a fine high-speed cruiser, the 1.9 litre (117 cubic inch) four cylinder engine was ancient and inclined to be agricultural if pushed; acceleration was not sparking.  Bossaert thus offered “tuning packages” which included the usual methods: bigger carburetors & valves, and more aggressive camshaft profile and a higher compression ratio, all of which transformed the performance from “mediocre” to “above average”.

The one-off Bossaert GT 19 convertible (left) and the one off 1966 Citroën DS21-based Bossaert cabriolet (right).

Demand was limited by the price; a GT 19 cost more than double that of a DS and the conversion was more than a Jaguar so one really had to be prepared to pay for the exclusivity.  Additionally, when the Citroën management discovered someone in a garage was “hotting-up” their engines, it was made clear that would invalidate any warranty.  Most sources say only 13 were built but there were also two convertibles, one based on the GT 19 (though fitted with fared in headlights) and the other quite different, owing more to the Chapron Caddy; both remained one-offs.  Two of the GT 19 coupés and the later convertible survive.

Right-side clignotant (left) on 1974 Citroën DS23 Pallas (right).

On the DS & ID saloons, the clignotants (turn indicators; flashers) were mounted in a housing which was styled to appear as a continuation of the roof-gutter; it was touches like that which were a hint the lines of the DS were from the drawing board of an Italian, Flaminio Bertoni (1903–1964) who, before working in industrial design in pre-war Italy, had trained as a sculptor.  Citroën seems never to have claimed the placement was a safety feature and critics of automotive styling have concluded the flourish was added as part of the avant-garde vibe.  However, the way the location enhanced their visibility attracted the interest of those advocating things needed to be done to make automobiles safer and while there were innovations in “active safety” (seat-belts, crumple zones et al), there was also the field of “passive safety” and that included visibility; at speed, reducing a driver’s reaction time by a fraction of a second can be the difference between life and death and researchers concluded having a “third brake light” at eye level did exactly that.  So compelling was the case it was under the administration of Ronald Reagan (1911-2004; US president 1981-1989 and hardly friendly to new regulations) that in 1986 the US mandated the CHMSL (centre high mount stop lamp) but because the acronym lacked a effortless pronunciation the legislated term never caught on and the devices are known variously as “centre brake light”, “eye level brake light”, “third brake light”, “high-level brake light” & “safety brake light”.  Unintentionally, Citroën may have started something though it took thirty years to realize the implications.

Coincidently, in the same year the DS debuted, Rudimentary seat-belts first appeared in production cars during the 1950s but the manufacturers must have thought the public indifferent because their few gestures were tentative such as in 1956 when Ford had offered (as an extra-cost option) a bundle of safety features called the “Lifeguard Design” package which included:

(1) Padded dashboards (to reduce head injuries).

(2) Recessed steering wheel hub (to minimize chest injuries).

(3) Seat belts (front lap belts only)

(4) Stronger door latches (preventing doors flying open in a crash)

(5) Shatter-resistant rear-view mirror (reducing injuries caused by from broken glass).

The standard features included (1) the Safety-Swivel Rear View Mirror, (2) the Deep-Center Steering Wheel with recessed post and bend-away spokes and (3) Double-Grip Door Latches with interlocking striker plate overlaps; Optional at additional cost were (4) Seat Belts (single kit, front or rear, color-keyed, nylon-rayon with quick one-handed adjust/release aluminium buckle)  (US$5).  There were also "bundles", always popular in Detroit.  Safety Package A consisted of a  Padded Instrument Panel & Padded Sun Visors (US$18) while Safety Package B added to that Front-Seat Lap Seat Belts (US$27).  On the 1956 Thunderbird which used a significantly different interior design, the options were (1) the Lifeguard Padded Instrument Panel (US$22.65), (2) Lifeguard Padded Sun Visors (US$9) and (3) Lifeguard Seat Belts (US$14).  Years later, internal documents would be discovered which revealed conflict within the corporation, the marketing department opposed to any mention of "safety features" because that reminded potential customers of car crashes; they would prefer they be reminded of new colors, higher power, sleek new lines and such.  So, little was done to promote the “Lifeguard Design”, public demand was subdued and the soon the option quietly was deleted from the list.

The rising death-toll and complaints from the insurance industry however meant the issue of automotive safety re-surfaced in the 1960s and the publication by lawyer Ralph Nadar (b 1934) of the book Unsafe at Any Speed (1965) which explored the issue played a part in triggering what proved to be decades of legislation which not even the efforts and money of Detroit's lobbyists could stop.  They could however delay things here and there and although it was a minor and temporary victory, the matter of the CHMSL was kicked down the road until 1986.  The executives in Detroit were (and remain) "slippery slide) (or "thin end of the wedge") theorists in that they thought if they agreed to some innocuous suggestion from government then that would encourage edicts both more onerous and expensive to implement.  History proved them in that correct but the intriguing thing was that more than a decade earlier, the industry had gone beyond the the SHMSL and of its own volition offered DHMSLs (high mount stop lamps), one division of General Motors (GM) even making the fittings standard equipment on one model.

1970 Ford Thunderbird brochure (left) and 1972 Oldsmobile Toronado (right).

In 1969 Ford added “High-Level Taillamps, eye level warning to following drivers” to the option list for the 1970 Thunderbird.  What that described was two brake lights fitted on either side of the rear-window and being a update of a model introduced for 1967, the devices were “bolted-ons” rather than being integrated into the structure.  As with the “Lifeguard Design” of 1956, demand was low, customers more prepared to pay for bigger engines and “dress up” options than safety features.  GM’s Oldsmobile solved the problem of low demand by making the DHMSLs standard equipment on the Toronado, their big PLC (personal luxury coupe).  Being a new body, the opportunity was taken to integrate them into the structure and they sat below the rear window.

1987 Mercedes-Benz 560 SL (left), 1989 Mercedes-Benz 560 SL (centre) and 2001 Mercedes-Benz SL 600 (right).

When in 1971 the Mercedes-Benz 350 SL (R107, 1971-1989) was introduced, it occurred to no one it would still be in production in 1989, the unplanned longevity the product of an uncertainty about whether the US government would outlaw convertibles.  The by then 15 year old roadster thus had to have a CHMSL added when the legislation came into effect and it’s suspected the project was handed to the same team responsible for making the company’s headlights comply with US law.  What they did was “bolt on” to the trunk (boot) lid a lamp which seemed to suggest the design brief had been: “make it stick out like a sore thumb”.  If so, they succeeded and while the revised model (1988-1989) used a similar concept mounted closer to the tail, it was at least smaller; frankly, Ford did a better job with the 1970 T-bird although, in fairness, the Germans didn’t have a rear window with which to work.  When the R129 roadster (1989-2001) was developed, the opportunity was taken (al la the 1971 Oldsmobile Toronado) to integrate a CHMSL into the lid.

1989 Porsche 911 (930) Turbo Cabriolet (left) and 2004 Porsche 911 (996) Turbo Cabriolet.

In 1986, the Porsche 911 had been around longer even than the Mercedes-Benz R107.  First sold in 1964 and updated for 1974 with (US mandated) bumpers, in 1986 it became another example of a “bolt on” solution for the CHMSL rule but unlike the one used on the R107, on the 911 there’s a charm to the lamp sitting atop a stalk, like that of some crustaceans, molluscs, insects and stalk-eyed imaginings from SF (science fiction).  All the “bolt-ons” existed because while there is nothing difficult about the engineering of a CHMSL, many would be surprised to learn just how expensive it would have been for a manufacturer to integrate such a thing into an existing structure; a prototype or mock-up would be quick and cheap but translating that into series production would have involved a number of steps and the costs would have been considerable.  That’s why there were so many “bolt-on” CHMSLs in the late 1980s.  Interestingly, when the next 911 (964 1989-1994) was released, on the coupe’s the CHMSL was re-positioned at the top of the rear window while the cabriolets retained the stalk.  The factory persevered with this approach for a while and it was only later the unit became integrated into the rear bodywork (with many variations).

1968 Citroën DS20 Break (left) and 1958 DeSoto Firesweep Explorer Station Wagon (right).

In 1958, a station wagon version of the DS & ID was released; because of historic regional variations in terminology, in different places it was marketed as the Break (France), Safari or Estate (UK), Station Wagon (North America) and Safari or Station Wagon (Australia) but between markets there were only detail differences.  Because of the top-hinged tailgate, to mount the clignotants in the high positions used on the saloons would have been difficult so they were integrated into a vertical stack of three in a conventional location.  In style the lens and the small “fin” in which they sat recalled the arrangement DeSoto in the US had made their signature since late 1955 although it’s unlikely the US design had much influence on what was for Citroën a pragmatic solution for a vehicle then regarded as having most appeal as a Commerciale.  The French certainly weren’t drawn to fins as macropterous as some Detroit had encouraged theirs to grow to by 1958.

Bossaert's tail lights from the parts bin of Fiat (left) and BMC (right). 

Convertibles of course lack a roof so the clignotants couldn’t continue in their eye-catching place with topless coachwork and their placement on the DS & ID varied in accordance with how the rear coachwork was handled.  Bossaert took a conventional approach and emulated a look familiar on many European roadsters & cabriolets.  For the GT 19 the taillights (known as carrellos) came from the Fiat Pininfarina Coupé & Cabriolet (1959-1966), a vertical style which in the era appeared on a number of cars including Ferraris, Peugeots and Rovers.  For his other take on a convertible DS, Bossaert reached over the English Channel and from the BMC (British Motor Corporation) parts bin selected the units used by the Wolseley Hornet & Riley Elf (luxury versions of the Mini (1959-2000), built between 1969-1969 which, as well as the expected leather & burl walnut veneer trim, had an extended tail with distinctly brachypterous “finettes”).  The success of the Hornet & Elf in class-conscious England encouraged BMC in 1964 to go even more up-market and have their in-house coach-builder Vanden Plas produce a version of the Austin 1100 (ADO16, 1963-1974) and all the ADO16s until 1967 shared their taillights with the Hornet and Elf.  Although visually similar to those used between 1962-1970 on MG’s MGB (1962-1980) & MGC (1967-1969); they are different, the Hornet/Elf/ADO16 units being the Lucas L549 while the MGs used the L550.  Between 1961-1966, the MG Midget (1961-1980) used the L549 and between 1966-1970 the L550.

1970 Chapron Citroën DS20 Décapotable Usine (left), 1962 Chapron Citroën DS19 Concorde (with clignotants rouge, right) and 1965 Chapron Citroën DS21 Le Caddy (with clignotants ambre, right).

Chapron’s approach to clignotant placement varied with rear coachwork.  On the volume models officially supported by the factory, two small lens were fitted within chrome housings, mounted on opposite sides at the base of the soft-top.  For his more exclusive Le Caddy & Concorde with squared-off rear quarters (al la the “modernizing” look Mercedes-Benz applied to the 300 Adenauer W186, 1951-1957) to create the 300d (1957-1962)) Chapron re-purposed one of the existing taillights, using a still-lawful red lens on many although later models switched to amber.

1973 Citroën DS23 Pallas "landaulet" (in the style of that once used by the French president, left), 2010 Maybach 62 S Landaulet (to right), John Paul II (1920–2005; pope 1978-2005) in Papal 1965 Mercedes-Benz 300 SEL Landaulet (bottom left) and Pope Paul VI (1897-1978; pope 1963-1978) in 1966 Mercedes-Benz 600 Landaulet (bottom right).

From the moment it first was shown in 1955 the DS has intrigued and it’s the various convertibles which attract most attention.  To this day, the things remain a symbol which quintessentially is French and at least two have been converted into “full-roof” landaulets for tourists to be escorted around Paris.  The landaulet (a car with a removable roof which retains the side window frames) was a fixture coach-building lists during the 1920s & 1930s but became rare in the post-war years; of late the only ones produced in any volume were the 59 Mercedes-Benz 600s (1963-1981) which came in “short” and “long” (though not full) roof versions although there was a revival, 22 Maybach 62 S Landaulets built between 2011-2022, one of which was even right-hand-drive (RHD).  Considering the price and specialized nature of the vartant, that there were 22 made makes the Landaulet more a success than the unfortunate Maybach which managed only some 3300 between 2002-2013.  The Papal Mercedes-Benz 300 SEL (W109) Landaulet was a gift from the factory but it was for years little used because the next year a very special 600 (W100) Pullman Landaulet was provided and this much more spacious limousine was preferred.  The papal 600 was unique in that it was one of the “high roof” state versions and fitted with longer rear doors, a “throne” in the rear compartment which, mounted on an elevated floor, could be raised or lowered as Hid Holiness percolated through crowed streets.  It was the latest in a long line of limousines and landaulets the factory provided for the Holy See and remains one of the best known.  Returned to the factory in 1985, it’s now on permanent display at the Mercedes-Benz museum in Stuttgart.  Use of the 600 became infrequent after the attempted assassination of John Paul II (1981).  As a stopgap, the 300 SEL quickly was armor-plated and used occasionally until the arrival of “Popemobiles” in which the pontiff sat in an elevated compartment with bullet-proof glass sides.  Despite that, Mercedes-Benz have since delivered two S-Class (a V126 & V140) landaulets to the Vatican.  Francis (b 1936; pope since 2013) has no taste for limousines or much else which is extravagant and prefers small, basic cars although to ensure security the bullet-proof Popemobiles remain essential and in 2024 Mercedes-Benz presented the Holy See with a fully-electric model, based on the new W465 G-Class.  The Vatican is planning to have transitioned to a zero-emission vehicle fleet by 2030.   

1974 Citroën DS23 Pallas: the one-off Australian “semi-phaeton”.

In Australia, someone created something really unique: a DS “semi-phaeton”.  Until the definition became looser until eventually it became merely a model name which meant nothing beyond some implication of exclusivity & high price, the term “phaeton” (borrowed from the age of the horse-drawn buggy) referred to a vehicle with no top or side windows.  By the late 1930s, when last they were on the books as regular production models, the “Phaetons” had gained folding tops and often removable side windows but they’d also lost market appeal and except for the odd few built for ceremonial purposes (the most memorable the three Chrysler Imperial Parade Phaetons built in 1952 and still occasionally used), there was no post-war revival.  The Australian creation was based on a 1974 DS23 Pallas and had no top or rear-side windows but they remained operative in the front doors.  The rear doors were changed to hinge from the rear (the so-called “suicide doors”; the external handles removed from all four), an indication the engineering was more intricate than many of the “four-door convertibles” made over the years by decapitating a sedan; the sales blurb did note the platform was “strengthened”, something essential when a structural component like a roof is removed.

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.

1973 Citroën SM with reproduction RR wheels in aluminium.

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.

Citroën SM, Morocco Rally, 1971.

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.

1974 prototype Citroën SM with 4.0 V8.

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.

Recreation of 1974 Citroën SM V8 prototype.

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 90^o 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) was assassinated in Lincoln 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.  Although size mattered on the outside, De Gaulle’s sense of “grandeur de la France” didn’t extend to what lay under the hood, Le Presidentielle DS retaining the 2.1 litre (133 cubic inch) 4 cylinder engine but he’d probably have scorned the 7.5 litre (462 cubic inch) V8 by then in Lincolns as typical American vulgarity.  As it was, although delivered to the Élysée in time for the troubles of 1968, Chapron’s DS was barely used by De Gaulle because he disliked the partition separating him from the chauffeur and he preferred either the earlier limousines built in the 1950s by Franay and Chapron (both based on the earlier Citroën Traction Avant 15/6) or a DS landaulet (with full-length folding roof) in which he could stand up and look down on the (hopefully) cheering crowds lining the road.

However, the slinky lines must have been admired because in 1972 Chapron was commissioned 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).  This is the Quattroporte which was slated to receive the V8 tested in the SM.

Despite that, 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.

Le Retour de Judith à Béthulie (The Return of Judith to Bethulia) (1470) by Botticelli, (circa 1444-1510).

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.

Judit si presenta a Holofernes (Judith Presenting Herself to Holofernes) (circa 1724) by Antonio Gionima (1697–1732).

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.

Judith (1928) by Franz von Stuck (1863–1928).

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.