report here two songs by "The Last Day of a Condemned Man" by Victor Hugo and "The Idiot" by Dostoyevsky. Two very different men with opposite fates, just before the execution, dead before they stop breathing. I think any comment is superfluous introduction.
The last day of a condemned man: "At that moment the outer door Has Opened with two leaves. A furious clamor, cold air, a white light broke up with me in the dark. From the bottom of the dark lodge, all of a sudden I saw through the rain a thousand screaming faces of people massed on the ramp of the grand staircase of the building, right at the threshold level, a row of horse-guards because of the low door, only sees the front legs and chest of the horse-and in front of a detachment of soldiers in battle and on the left, the back of a cart, which was leaning against a steep staircase. A horrible picture, well framed by a door in prison.
I kept my courage for that dreaded moment. I made three steps, and have appeared in the doorway of the gatehouse.
"There he is! Here it is, "shouted the crowd. "Quit! Finally, "And the closer
clapped their hands. A king, loved as no would have been so much celebration.
was any cart with a horse and a coachman in skinny blue patterned shirt red, like those who wear gardeners around Bicêtre. The big man with tricorn
rose first.
"Good day, Samson," shouted the boys hung on the erased.
An aide went behind him.
"Bravo, Tuesday," shouted back the kids.
were both sitting in the front seat.
was up to me. I got a pretty firm hand.
'E' on the ball, "said one woman who stood beside the guards. The atrocious
praise I was heartened. The priest came to get close to me. M'avevano made to sit on the back seat with her back to the horse. Far connection that made me shiver.
They put humanity in what they do.
I wanted to look around. Guards in front, look behind and then the crowd, the crowd, yet the crowd.
A sea of \u200b\u200bheads in the square.
A picket guards on horseback at the door waiting for me the gate of the palace.
The officer gave the order. The cart with his cortege was put into motion, and it was as if he had thrust before the roar of the crowd.
we have passed through the gate. As soon as he turned the cart toward the Pont au Change, from the pavement to the roof blew up the roar of the square, and bridges and wharves have responded like an earthquake.
E 'was there that the stake in waiting has joined the escort.
'Down the hats! Hats off, "shouted a thousand tongues insieme.-As before the king.
So, in my turn I've laughed horribly, and I said to the priest
"They hats, and I head."
went to the pass. The Quai aux Fleurs
smelled of flowers, and today is market day. The sellers have abandoned me for their bouquets.
the face, just before the square tower that is on the corner of the building, there are pubs with balconies full of spectators, happy with their great places. Especially women. It will be a good day for the hosts.
were renting tables, chairs, scaffolding, wheelbarrows. Regurgitated all viewers. Sellers of human blood cried out loud: "Who wants people?" The anger against the crowd
m'è climb inside. I wanted to cry
"Who wants me?"
But the cart was advancing. At each step, after the crowd broke up and I saw her frightened eyes reform later, at the points where I would pass.
Nell'imboccare the Pont au Change, by chance I looked back on my right. My eyes stopped on the quay, above the houses, on a black tower, lonely and fraught with sculptures, on top of which I saw two stone monsters sitting in profile. I do not know why the priest asked the name of that tower.
"Saint-Jacques-la-Boucherie," replied the Executioner.
I do not know how this happened, but in the fog, rain, despite the fine, white streaked through the air like a spider web of the grid, none of what m'accadeva around escaped me. Every detail sent me his torture. No words for such feelings.
About half of the Pont au Change, and such a broad footprint that we proceeded with difficulty, violent horror has overwhelmed me. I feared - the ultimate vanity! - Faint. So I am stunned by itself, to make me blind and deaf to everything except the priest to whom the words just heard, interspersed noise.
I grabbed the crucifix, I kissed him.
"Have mercy on me, my God!" I said .- And I tried to cancel in that thought.
But every jolt of the cart shook me hard. Then suddenly I felt him very cold. The rain had passed through me wet my clothes and skin from the head through his hair short.
"shivering, son?" He asked the priest.
"Yes," I replied.
Alas, not only in the cold.
At the turn of the bridge, have pity for them detain women for my youth. We have taken the fatal
quai. I began to not see anything, not to hear anything. What voices those faces at the windows, doors, grates to the shops, on the arms of lampposts, greedy and cruel those spectators, the crowd where everyone knows me and when I did not know anyone, and this paved road, side of human faces ... I was shocked, dazed, out of me. And 'the unbearable weight of so many eyes fixed on you.
reeled in his seat, without even paying attention to the priest and the crucifix. In the turmoil that
m'avvolgeva no longer distinguish the cries for mercy by the cries of joy, laughter by moans, voices from the noise, everything was noise, a noise in my head that I sounded like an echo of brass.
My eyes read mechanically shop signs.
I suddenly took a strange curiosity to turn his head to see where I was going. It was last stunt intelligence. But the body did not want to know, my head hath been paralyzed and nearly died prematurely.
I saw on the left, across the river, one of the towers of Notre-Dame, seen from that point, the other hides. It was the tower with the flag. Full of people, which was good to see.
and the cart went, went, and the shops they passed, and the signs follow one another, written, painted, gilded, while the rabble was laughing and pawing in the dirt, and I let a lead like that trusts asleep to dreams.
But at the turn of a square, the number of stores I marched in front has run off, the cry of the crowd has become more extensive, more strident, and even more joyous shot of the cart has stopped, and I nearly fell with his face down on the boards of Pianca. The priest he held me. "Courage!" He murmured. - Then they brought a ladder on the back of the cart, the priest gave me his arm, went down, I made a step, then I turned to make another one, and I did not succeed. Between the two lamps from the quay I saw it as something left.
Yes, it was true!
I stopped, as if already wavering under the blow.
"I make a final statement," I cried weakly.
They made me go here.
I have asked that would let me write the last will. I have untied his hands, but the rope is ready nearby, and the rest is down.
A judge, a commissioner, a magistrate-owned,-I do not know which race has just gone up from me.
I asked him the grace with clasped hands, dragging on his knees. He replied with a smile tragic if that was all I had to say.
"Mercy! The grace, "I repeated," or pity, five more minutes! "
Who knows, maybe come! It 'so terrible to die at my age! Thanks for coming last moment, if they are seen often. And who else not me, sir, you have to give grace? Damn
Executioner! Hath been approached by the judge to tell him that the execution should be done at a certain hour, the hour is coming, that he is responsible, among other things, and that it rains there is the risk of rust.
"Yes, please! Wait a minute for the grace! otherwise defend myself! bite! "
The Judge and the Executioner came out. I am alone. - Only two guards.
Oh! The unclean people, with its cries of hyenas! - And if you can not escape? if not you save me? if my pardon? ... I can not give grace!
Ah, wretches! It seems to me to come up the stairs ... LE FOUR. "
The Idiot:" This man was once brought on the scaffold, together with others, and was read the sentence to death by firing squad for a political offense. About twenty minutes later he was read the sentence was commuted and the grace of the punishment: but the interval between the two judgments, if not twenty at least fifteen minutes, he lived with the absolute certainty that all of a sudden, within a few minutes, he would die. I was interested to listen to it immensely, when sometimes recalled his feelings at the time, and sometimes I repeat the story, asking many questions. He remembered everything with amazing clarity, and said he would never forgotten nothing of those minutes. About twenty paces from the scaffold, where they were at the crowd and the soldiers, three poles were planted, as were several offenders. Led to the first three poles, bound them, clothed them with clothes Mortuary (long white robes), of their white hoods and slipped down over his eyes, because they saw the guns, after which each pole in front of a firing squad lined up of some soldiers. My friend was the eighth, so he would have to go to the pole with the third round. The priest blessed with all the cross. It meant that remained to live no longer than five minutes. He said that those five minutes, had seemed an infinite time, an immense wealth; he seemed to be able to live many lives in those five minutes, which for the moment was still thinking about the last moment, and also took decisions: he calculated the time to say goodbye to his friends, and arranged for this two minutes; two more minutes to think to himself one last time, and the rest to look around for the last time. I remember very well that I have precisely these three decisions and to have divided the time's right. Died at twenty-seven, healthy and strong, pointed out that in the healthy fellow, one of them asked a question that had nothing to do, and it was also very interested in the answer. After he had said farewell to his companions were the two minutes he had used to think to himself, before he knew what he thought, had always wanted to imagine as quickly and clearly as possible what would happen: he now existed and lived, but in the end of three minutes would have been a something that someone or something, but who? Where? Thought to resolve this in those two minutes! Not far away there was a church and its golden roof gleaming in the sunshine. He remembered having fixed very strongly that dome, and the rays that were reflected: could not detach itself from the rays, seemed to him that those rays were his new nature, and that three minutes later it would be somehow merged in them ... The uncertainty and repulsion towards that unknown that would become and that was just to arrive were terrible, but he said that at that time nothing was more painful for him dell'incessante thought: "Oh, can not die! Being able to turn back the life that forever! And all this would be mine! So make every minute in a century, do not lose anything, would keep in mind every minute, not to waste even more vain for a moment. " He said he thought the end had degenerated into a rage as to make him wish for the shooting as soon as possible. "
The last day of a condemned man: "At that moment the outer door Has Opened with two leaves. A furious clamor, cold air, a white light broke up with me in the dark. From the bottom of the dark lodge, all of a sudden I saw through the rain a thousand screaming faces of people massed on the ramp of the grand staircase of the building, right at the threshold level, a row of horse-guards because of the low door, only sees the front legs and chest of the horse-and in front of a detachment of soldiers in battle and on the left, the back of a cart, which was leaning against a steep staircase. A horrible picture, well framed by a door in prison.
I kept my courage for that dreaded moment. I made three steps, and have appeared in the doorway of the gatehouse.
"There he is! Here it is, "shouted the crowd. "Quit! Finally, "And the closer
clapped their hands. A king, loved as no would have been so much celebration.
was any cart with a horse and a coachman in skinny blue patterned shirt red, like those who wear gardeners around Bicêtre. The big man with tricorn
rose first.
"Good day, Samson," shouted the boys hung on the erased.
An aide went behind him.
"Bravo, Tuesday," shouted back the kids.
were both sitting in the front seat.
was up to me. I got a pretty firm hand.
'E' on the ball, "said one woman who stood beside the guards. The atrocious
praise I was heartened. The priest came to get close to me. M'avevano made to sit on the back seat with her back to the horse. Far connection that made me shiver.
They put humanity in what they do.
I wanted to look around. Guards in front, look behind and then the crowd, the crowd, yet the crowd.
A sea of \u200b\u200bheads in the square.
A picket guards on horseback at the door waiting for me the gate of the palace.
The officer gave the order. The cart with his cortege was put into motion, and it was as if he had thrust before the roar of the crowd.
we have passed through the gate. As soon as he turned the cart toward the Pont au Change, from the pavement to the roof blew up the roar of the square, and bridges and wharves have responded like an earthquake.
E 'was there that the stake in waiting has joined the escort.
'Down the hats! Hats off, "shouted a thousand tongues insieme.-As before the king.
So, in my turn I've laughed horribly, and I said to the priest
"They hats, and I head."
went to the pass. The Quai aux Fleurs
smelled of flowers, and today is market day. The sellers have abandoned me for their bouquets.
the face, just before the square tower that is on the corner of the building, there are pubs with balconies full of spectators, happy with their great places. Especially women. It will be a good day for the hosts.
were renting tables, chairs, scaffolding, wheelbarrows. Regurgitated all viewers. Sellers of human blood cried out loud: "Who wants people?" The anger against the crowd
m'è climb inside. I wanted to cry
"Who wants me?"
But the cart was advancing. At each step, after the crowd broke up and I saw her frightened eyes reform later, at the points where I would pass.
Nell'imboccare the Pont au Change, by chance I looked back on my right. My eyes stopped on the quay, above the houses, on a black tower, lonely and fraught with sculptures, on top of which I saw two stone monsters sitting in profile. I do not know why the priest asked the name of that tower.
"Saint-Jacques-la-Boucherie," replied the Executioner.
I do not know how this happened, but in the fog, rain, despite the fine, white streaked through the air like a spider web of the grid, none of what m'accadeva around escaped me. Every detail sent me his torture. No words for such feelings.
About half of the Pont au Change, and such a broad footprint that we proceeded with difficulty, violent horror has overwhelmed me. I feared - the ultimate vanity! - Faint. So I am stunned by itself, to make me blind and deaf to everything except the priest to whom the words just heard, interspersed noise.
I grabbed the crucifix, I kissed him.
"Have mercy on me, my God!" I said .- And I tried to cancel in that thought.
But every jolt of the cart shook me hard. Then suddenly I felt him very cold. The rain had passed through me wet my clothes and skin from the head through his hair short.
"shivering, son?" He asked the priest.
"Yes," I replied.
Alas, not only in the cold.
At the turn of the bridge, have pity for them detain women for my youth. We have taken the fatal
quai. I began to not see anything, not to hear anything. What voices those faces at the windows, doors, grates to the shops, on the arms of lampposts, greedy and cruel those spectators, the crowd where everyone knows me and when I did not know anyone, and this paved road, side of human faces ... I was shocked, dazed, out of me. And 'the unbearable weight of so many eyes fixed on you.
reeled in his seat, without even paying attention to the priest and the crucifix. In the turmoil that
m'avvolgeva no longer distinguish the cries for mercy by the cries of joy, laughter by moans, voices from the noise, everything was noise, a noise in my head that I sounded like an echo of brass.
My eyes read mechanically shop signs.
I suddenly took a strange curiosity to turn his head to see where I was going. It was last stunt intelligence. But the body did not want to know, my head hath been paralyzed and nearly died prematurely.
I saw on the left, across the river, one of the towers of Notre-Dame, seen from that point, the other hides. It was the tower with the flag. Full of people, which was good to see.
and the cart went, went, and the shops they passed, and the signs follow one another, written, painted, gilded, while the rabble was laughing and pawing in the dirt, and I let a lead like that trusts asleep to dreams.
But at the turn of a square, the number of stores I marched in front has run off, the cry of the crowd has become more extensive, more strident, and even more joyous shot of the cart has stopped, and I nearly fell with his face down on the boards of Pianca. The priest he held me. "Courage!" He murmured. - Then they brought a ladder on the back of the cart, the priest gave me his arm, went down, I made a step, then I turned to make another one, and I did not succeed. Between the two lamps from the quay I saw it as something left.
Yes, it was true!
I stopped, as if already wavering under the blow.
"I make a final statement," I cried weakly.
They made me go here.
I have asked that would let me write the last will. I have untied his hands, but the rope is ready nearby, and the rest is down.
A judge, a commissioner, a magistrate-owned,-I do not know which race has just gone up from me.
I asked him the grace with clasped hands, dragging on his knees. He replied with a smile tragic if that was all I had to say.
"Mercy! The grace, "I repeated," or pity, five more minutes! "
Who knows, maybe come! It 'so terrible to die at my age! Thanks for coming last moment, if they are seen often. And who else not me, sir, you have to give grace? Damn
Executioner! Hath been approached by the judge to tell him that the execution should be done at a certain hour, the hour is coming, that he is responsible, among other things, and that it rains there is the risk of rust.
"Yes, please! Wait a minute for the grace! otherwise defend myself! bite! "
The Judge and the Executioner came out. I am alone. - Only two guards.
Oh! The unclean people, with its cries of hyenas! - And if you can not escape? if not you save me? if my pardon? ... I can not give grace!
Ah, wretches! It seems to me to come up the stairs ... LE FOUR. "
The Idiot:" This man was once brought on the scaffold, together with others, and was read the sentence to death by firing squad for a political offense. About twenty minutes later he was read the sentence was commuted and the grace of the punishment: but the interval between the two judgments, if not twenty at least fifteen minutes, he lived with the absolute certainty that all of a sudden, within a few minutes, he would die. I was interested to listen to it immensely, when sometimes recalled his feelings at the time, and sometimes I repeat the story, asking many questions. He remembered everything with amazing clarity, and said he would never forgotten nothing of those minutes. About twenty paces from the scaffold, where they were at the crowd and the soldiers, three poles were planted, as were several offenders. Led to the first three poles, bound them, clothed them with clothes Mortuary (long white robes), of their white hoods and slipped down over his eyes, because they saw the guns, after which each pole in front of a firing squad lined up of some soldiers. My friend was the eighth, so he would have to go to the pole with the third round. The priest blessed with all the cross. It meant that remained to live no longer than five minutes. He said that those five minutes, had seemed an infinite time, an immense wealth; he seemed to be able to live many lives in those five minutes, which for the moment was still thinking about the last moment, and also took decisions: he calculated the time to say goodbye to his friends, and arranged for this two minutes; two more minutes to think to himself one last time, and the rest to look around for the last time. I remember very well that I have precisely these three decisions and to have divided the time's right. Died at twenty-seven, healthy and strong, pointed out that in the healthy fellow, one of them asked a question that had nothing to do, and it was also very interested in the answer. After he had said farewell to his companions were the two minutes he had used to think to himself, before he knew what he thought, had always wanted to imagine as quickly and clearly as possible what would happen: he now existed and lived, but in the end of three minutes would have been a something that someone or something, but who? Where? Thought to resolve this in those two minutes! Not far away there was a church and its golden roof gleaming in the sunshine. He remembered having fixed very strongly that dome, and the rays that were reflected: could not detach itself from the rays, seemed to him that those rays were his new nature, and that three minutes later it would be somehow merged in them ... The uncertainty and repulsion towards that unknown that would become and that was just to arrive were terrible, but he said that at that time nothing was more painful for him dell'incessante thought: "Oh, can not die! Being able to turn back the life that forever! And all this would be mine! So make every minute in a century, do not lose anything, would keep in mind every minute, not to waste even more vain for a moment. " He said he thought the end had degenerated into a rage as to make him wish for the shooting as soon as possible. "
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