Hanging

thumb|350px|The kiss of Caiaphas ~ Oscar Wilde Hanging is killing a person by suspending them from the neck with a noose or ligature. Hanging has been a common method of capital punishment since the Middle Ages, and is the primary execution method in numerous countries and regions. The first known account of execution by hanging is in Homer's Odyssey. Hanging is also a method of suicide. Quotes ... Now when they had tidied all the room,They led the women from the well-built hall Between the round-house and the sacred fenceAbout the court, and penned them in a straitWhence there was no escape. Then to the othersFirst spake the wise Telemachus:  ‘Now never by a clean death let me takeThese women’s lives, who on my head have pouredDisgrace, and on my mother, and were usedTo lie beside the suitors.’  Upon the word he tied to a great columnThe cable of a blue-prowed ship, and slung itAbout the round-house, stretching it high upSo that the feet of none might touch the ground.And, as when thrushes with long wings, or dovesDash right into a snare set in a thicket,When they are making for their rest, and ’tisA cruel bed that takes them, so the womenHeld in a row their heads, and round the necksOf all were nooses cast, that they might dieA death most piteous. With their feet they writhedA little while—not long. Homer, Odyssey, XXII, 427-480 William Marris, transl., The Odyssey of Homer (1925) And he cast down the pieces of silver in the temple, and departed, and went and hanged himself. Gospel of Matthew, XXVIII, 5 (KJV) Compare Acts I, 18: Now this man purchased a field with the reward of iniquity; and falling headlong, he burst asunder in the midst, and all his bowels gushed out. If you're born to be hanged then you'll never be drowned. Proverbial. Cf. mid 14th‐century French noyer ne peut, cil qui doit pendre, ... John Simpson & Jennifer Speake, eds., The Oxford Dictionary of Proverbs (5th ed., 2008), Online We have been rinsed and laundered by the rain,And by the sunlight dried and blackened too.Magpie and crow have plucked our eyeballs twain And cropped our eyebrows and the beards we grew. François Villon, Ballade des pendus (1489) Richard Wilbur, transl., "Ballade of the Hanged Men", Poetry (Autumn 2012) And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life!Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,Never, never, never, never, never! Shakespeare, King Lear, V, 3 O little did my mother thinkWhen first she cradled me,That I would turn a rovin’ boyAnd die on the gallows tree. Robert Burns, "MacPherson’s Farewell" He does not die a death of shame  On a day of dark disgrace,Nor have a noose about his neck,  Nor a cloth upon his face,Nor drop feet foremost through the floor  Into an empty space.He does not sit with silent men  Who watch him night and day;Who watch him when he tries to weep,  And when he tries to pray;Who watch him lest himself should rob  The prison of its prey.He does not wake at dawn to see  Dread figures throng his room,The shivering Chaplain robed in white,  The Sheriff stern with gloom,And the Governor all in shiny black,  With the yellow face of Doom.He does not rise in piteous haste  To put on convict-clothes,While some coarse-mouthed Doctor gloats, and notes  Each new and nerve-twitched pose,Fingering a watch whose little ticks  Are like horrible hammer-blows.He does not know that sickening thirst  That sands one’s throat, beforeThe hangman with his gardener’s gloves  Slips through the padded door,And binds one with three leathern thongs,  That the throat may thirst no more.He does not bend his head to hear  The Burial Office read,Nor, while the terror of his soul  Tells him he is not dead,Cross his own coffin, as he moves  Into the hideous shed.He does not stare upon the air  Through a little roof of glass:He does not pray with lips of clay  For his agony to pass;Nor feel upon his shuddering cheek  The kiss of Caiaphas. Oscar Wilde, "The Ballad of Reading Gaol", I They hanged him as a beast is hanged:  They did not even tollA requiem that might have brought  Rest to his startled soul,But hurriedly they took him out,  And hid him in a hole.They stripped him of his canvas clothes,  And gave him to the flies:They mocked the swollen purple throat,  And the stark and staring eyes: ... Oscar Wilde, "The Ballad of Reading Gaol", IV What, still alive at twenty-two,A clean, upstanding chap like you?Sure, if your throat ’tis hard to slit, Slit your girl’s, and swing for it.Like enough, you won’t be glad,When they come to hang you, lad:But bacon’s not the only thingThat’s cured by hanging from a string. Hugh Kingsmill, Two Poems, after A. E. Housman (1933) Bill Stein: Howdy, folks, howdy. This is your old friend, Bill Stein, bringing you a jerk-by-jerk description of the triple hanging of the Mushroom Murder Mob. This broadcast is coming to you from Hangemall Prison. We’re at the gallows site, and it’s a beautiful day for a hanging. The Three Stooges, In the Sweet Pie and Pie (1941) Quick? I thought of the Austrian executioners who had hung on to the legs of their strangling prisoner to finish the job, until I brought them the British method. Albert Pierrepoint, Executioner: Pierrepoint (1977), Chapter 7. A Time of Passion External links Category:Death