The death of Henri Languille
This will come as quite a shock. A jolt to the system; a blow to the head.
I feel I ought to share with you, gentle friends, something of this terrible epiphany occasioned to me in the small hours of this morning.
I hadn’t previously realised how low the blade must fall before the crowd cheer a rolling head.
It starts its murderous descent and the crowd draw breath. Expectation grows and solidifies until it hangs in the air like an orb, swelling as the blade quickens its pace. With all the certainty that physics allows the blade consummates its intention - the quiet violence of a well-oiled machine.
Most of the crowd miss it. Or perhaps they ignore it.
At any rate it happens and its there for all to see if only they were looking for it. I’m talking about the lull. A tenth of a second, before the metal strikes the meat. A fifth at most. It slows as if meeting with some unexpected resistance. The fight is over almost before it started. The blade is reunited with the block and the body goes limp. But there was a moment. A moment when the machine appeared surprised. Machines don’t come across as surprised all that often, so when they do it is a startling thing. Startling. Even outrageous. The blade meets with resistance and comes across surprised.
What’s this!
But as this exclamation formulates in your mind and is articulated in a gasp or a frown or the raising of a sweat-laden eyebrow the inevitable occurs. The inevitable – that which cannot surprise. But then there was that moment.
"Here, then, is what I was able to note immediately after the decapitation: the eyelids and lips of the guillotined man worked in irregularly rhythmic contractions for about five or six seconds. This phenomenon has been remarked by all those finding themselves in the same conditions as myself for observing what happens after the severing of the neck...
"I waited for several seconds. The spasmodic movements ceased. [...] It was then that I called in a strong, sharp voice: 'Languille!' I saw the eyelids slowly lift up, without any spasmodic contractions – I insist advisedly on this peculiarity – but with an even movement, quite distinct and normal, such as happens in everyday life, with people awakened or torn from their thoughts.
"Next Languille's eyes very definitely fixed themselves on mine and the pupils focused themselves. I was not, then, dealing with the sort of vague dull look without any expression, that can be observed any day in dying people to whom one speaks: I was dealing with undeniably living eyes which were looking at me. After several seconds, the eyelids closed again, slowly and evenly, and the head took on the same appearance as it had had before I called out.
"It was at that point that I called out again and, once more, without any spasm, slowly, the eyelids lifted and undeniably living eyes fixed themselves on mine with perhaps even more penetration than the first time. Then there was a further closing of the eyelids, but now less complete. I attempted the effect of a third call; there was no further movement – and the eyes took on the glazed look which they have in the dead.''
The words of the good Dr. Beaurieux: witness to the execution of Henri Languille, on June 28, 1905
I feel I ought to share with you, gentle friends, something of this terrible epiphany occasioned to me in the small hours of this morning.
I hadn’t previously realised how low the blade must fall before the crowd cheer a rolling head.
It starts its murderous descent and the crowd draw breath. Expectation grows and solidifies until it hangs in the air like an orb, swelling as the blade quickens its pace. With all the certainty that physics allows the blade consummates its intention - the quiet violence of a well-oiled machine.
Most of the crowd miss it. Or perhaps they ignore it.
At any rate it happens and its there for all to see if only they were looking for it. I’m talking about the lull. A tenth of a second, before the metal strikes the meat. A fifth at most. It slows as if meeting with some unexpected resistance. The fight is over almost before it started. The blade is reunited with the block and the body goes limp. But there was a moment. A moment when the machine appeared surprised. Machines don’t come across as surprised all that often, so when they do it is a startling thing. Startling. Even outrageous. The blade meets with resistance and comes across surprised.
What’s this!
But as this exclamation formulates in your mind and is articulated in a gasp or a frown or the raising of a sweat-laden eyebrow the inevitable occurs. The inevitable – that which cannot surprise. But then there was that moment.
"Here, then, is what I was able to note immediately after the decapitation: the eyelids and lips of the guillotined man worked in irregularly rhythmic contractions for about five or six seconds. This phenomenon has been remarked by all those finding themselves in the same conditions as myself for observing what happens after the severing of the neck...
"I waited for several seconds. The spasmodic movements ceased. [...] It was then that I called in a strong, sharp voice: 'Languille!' I saw the eyelids slowly lift up, without any spasmodic contractions – I insist advisedly on this peculiarity – but with an even movement, quite distinct and normal, such as happens in everyday life, with people awakened or torn from their thoughts.
"Next Languille's eyes very definitely fixed themselves on mine and the pupils focused themselves. I was not, then, dealing with the sort of vague dull look without any expression, that can be observed any day in dying people to whom one speaks: I was dealing with undeniably living eyes which were looking at me. After several seconds, the eyelids closed again, slowly and evenly, and the head took on the same appearance as it had had before I called out.
"It was at that point that I called out again and, once more, without any spasm, slowly, the eyelids lifted and undeniably living eyes fixed themselves on mine with perhaps even more penetration than the first time. Then there was a further closing of the eyelids, but now less complete. I attempted the effect of a third call; there was no further movement – and the eyes took on the glazed look which they have in the dead.''
The words of the good Dr. Beaurieux: witness to the execution of Henri Languille, on June 28, 1905
posted by stuart at 6:09 AM
3 Comments:
"Expectation grows and solidifies until it hangs in the air like an orb"
How exactly does an orb hang in the air? All of the orbs that I know sit on the ground, unless in motion (e.g tennis balls, the Sun &c.).
o.k 'celestial orb'....
an orb would have in the air if ever seen in a photograph i think is what he is referring to.
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