cynic, n. A person who
is prematurely disappointed in the future.
Cynicism seems to march alongside writers and
soldiers, so it is no surprise that one of our most
cynical heroes was both. But when you and your 12
siblings are all given names beginning with the letter
'A', you tend to see the absurdity of all things .
Ambrose Gwinett Bierce (1842-1914?) was a veteran of
the American Civil War, serving for the Damn Yankees.
Yet the horrors of war dulled not his wit nor sense of
humor, though they may have amplified them. The bullet lodged within his skull behind
his left ear – a souvenir of a battle at Kenesaw
Mountain – didn't even slow him down. If anything war intensified his scrutiny
of all life's pleasures and travails, and he made one seem
like the other (or the other way around).
After the war, Bierce settled in San Francisco, a
city known to proof cynics alongside sourdough (which
explain part of your humble editor's disturbing disposition). From
there Bierce exploited the writing trades as a satirist,
short-story writer and journalist. From San Francisco,
he journeyed to London in 1872, finding even more
fertile fields for collecting cynical specimens.
During his career with the poison pen, Bierce (who
also wrote under the pseudonym of William Herman)
created a series of memorable alternate definitions for
words which he later gathered into a collection titled
The Devil's Dictionary, which was the kindling for
this web site. Some classic Bierce incendiaries from
The Devil's Dictionary include:
HAPPINESS, n. An agreeable sensation arising from
contemplating the misery of another.
HAND, n. A singular instrument worn at the end of the
human arm and commonly thrust into somebody's pocket.
POSITIVE, adj.: Mistaken at the top of one's voice.
SAINT: A dead sinner revised and edited.
Aside from the dictionary, Bierce is most remembered
for his eerie tale of a civil war hanging titled An
Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge. Many of his short
stories were of a supernatural nature, though he often
ridiculed spiritualist and others involved in paranormal
Bierce disappeared in old age riding into to war. At
the age of 71, he headed south to Mexico to fight along
side of the bandit Pancho Villa. Bierce was never seen
or heard from again (he is presumed to have died in the
siege of Ojinega on January 11, 1914). A fictional
account of his last days was told in the novel The Old
Gringo (1985) by Carlos Fuentes, which was later adapted
for the screen and directed by Luis Punzo, starring
Gregory Peck (and unfortunately, Jane Fonda).
If irony is the step-brother to cynicism, then such
an ironic end to a fabled life is only fitting.
It is related of Voltaire that one night he and some traveling companion lodged at a wayside inn. The surroundings were suggestive, and after supper they agreed to tell robber stories in turn. "Once there was a [tax collector]." Saying nothing more, he was encouraged to continue. "That," he said, "is the story."
An absolute monarchy is one in which the sovereign does as he pleases so long as he pleases the assassins. Not many absolute monarchies are left, most of them having been replaced by limited monarchies, where the sovereign's power for evil (and for good) is greatly curtailed, and by republics, which are governed by chance.
Every time Europe looks across the Atlantic to see the American eagle, it observes only the rear end of an ostrich.
There are four kinds of homicide: felonious, excusable, justifiable, and praiseworthy, but it makes no great difference to the person slain whether he fell by one kind or another – the classification is for advantage of the lawyers.
[Optimism] is held with greatest tenacity by those most accustomed to the mischance of falling into adversity, and is most acceptably expounded with the grin that apes a smile. Being a blind faith, it is inaccessible to the light of disproof – an intellectual disorder, yielding to no treatment but death. It is hereditary, but fortunately not contagious.
A famous community of troglodytes dwelt with David in the Cave of Adullam. The colony consisted of "every one that was in distress, and every one that was in debt, and every one that was discontented" - in brief, all the Socialists of Judah.
The rabble is like the sacred Simurgh, of Arabian fable – omnipotent on condition that it do nothing.
[A day] is divided into two parts, the day proper and the night, or day improper – the former devoted to sins of business, the latter consecrated to the other sort. These two kinds of social activity overlap.
Formerly the knife was employed for [putting dead animals into our mouths], and by many worthy persons is still thought to have many advantages over the [fork], which, however, they do not altogether reject, but use to assist in charging the knife. The immunity of these persons from swift and awful death is one of the most striking proofs of God's mercy to those that hate Him.