The Guillotine and the Terror

Perhaps one of the most eccentric and emotionally demanding books I have ever come across, but one that maintains its intellectual integrity. Few authors have examined this multi-layered subject: the symbolism of that judicious and 'humane' killing machine, the guillotine. Once thought the most progressive means of execution, it became a monster, with an independent, bloodthirsty spirit. The guillotine had a raison d'etre beyond mere rope, metal and wood. This is the Terror raised to an art form: theatre. Here is the headless Will of the People, without consciousness; the perfect government, subverting individuality. In destroying the ancien regime, the newborn Republic and finally the perpetrators of the Revolution, the guillotine became viewed a symbol for man's darkest, most destructive impulses. The body politic beheaded, eventually turning in on itself: the she-wolf devouring her young. This short but effective book analyzes the symbolism of the guillotine, and the image it projected into the minds and hearts of individuals and society. Through a series of well researched anecdotes, Arasse (a professor of art history) examines all the players: the instrument, the scaffold, the blade, the precision, the swiftness (or lack thereof), the executioner, the victims, and the spectators. Perhaps the most grisly sections deals with contemporary speculations on the post beheading survival of consciousness from a neurological perspective. How does one deal with the impossible dilemma (compare with Descartes) of "I am dead"? Arasse even describes (apocryphal) experiments (volunteers, anyone?) of keeping a head alive following decapitation. And, of course, there is the well known tale of Charlotte Corday's indignant blush. Indeed, that select club, the beheaded, was quite the source of fascination. What happens at the moment? What of the blade's descent? What does the victim feel? How long does awareness persist, if at all? Is there recognition of time? With such a commonplace spectacle, thinkers pose questions. The masses remain indifferent, outside of expertly critiquing the executioner's methodology. I purchased the book when it was first published, and occasionally re-read it. Prior to an extended trip to Paris in 2003, I devoured it, along with Simon Schama's brilliant 'Citizens'. In the Conciergerie, and on the Place de la Concorde, I could feel the reverberations of that terrible, tragic time.