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 is 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 welcomed by the mob.
1971 Citroën DS21 Décapotable Usine.
Just as pleasing though less bloody were the special Citroëns crafted by French coachbuilder Henri Chapron (1886-1978) between 1958-1974,
the most numerous of which were the 1325 Citroën ID & DS décapotable usines (a "factory
convertible", described sometimes as Cabriolets
Usines or Cabriolets d'Usine, the
significance of usine (factory) being
the valuable sales feature of the Citroën corporate warranty) built between
1960-1971. In 1958, three years after
the DS had been released, Chapron completed his first two-door décapotable (the La Croisette) which, with a companion coupé (Le Dandy), was
presented at that year’s Paris Motor Show.
The public reaction was positive but, bespoke creations, they were
expensive although sufficient demand existed for Chapron to begin small-scale manufacturing.
1963 Citroën Le Dandy & 1964 Citroën Palm Beach by Chapron.
Demand was however higher at a lower price-point, Citroën's dealers reporting many enquiries
about a décapotable and the factory thus contracted
with Chapron to design one based on the DS, using as
many standard components as possible; it was this which became the décapotable usine which, introduced in 1960, remained on the list until 1971. They were
notably less expensive than Chapron’s originals which, with varied and more
intricate coachwork, were built to special order between 1958-1974 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.
1972 Citroën SM (left) & 1971 Citroën SM Mylord by 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).
1968 Citroën DS state limousine by Chapron (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. 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 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 Queen Elizabeth II (b 1926; Queen of
UK since 1952), 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 Chapron (left) & 1973 Maserati Quattroporte II (right).
However, state contracts for the odd limousine, while 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.
Lindsay Lohan gardening with a lopper, decapitation a less demanding path to destruction than deracination, New York City, May 2015. She appears to be relishing the task.
