Analysis of The Mummery

Ambrose Bierce 1842 (Meigs County) – 1914 (Chihuahua)



THE TWO CAVEES

FITCH _a Pelter of Railrogues_
PICKERING _his Partner, an Enemy to Sin_
OLD NICK _a General Blackwasher_
DEAD CAT _a Missile_
ANTIQUE EGG _Another_
RAILROGUES, DUMP-CARTERS. NAVVIES and Unassorted SHOVELRY in the Lower Distance

_Scene_-The Brink of a Railway Cut, a Mile Deep.

FITCH:
Gods! what a steep declivity! Below
I see the lazy dump-carts come and go,
Creeping like beetles and about as big.
The delving Paddies-

Case of _infra dig._

Loring, light-minded and unmeaning quips
Come with but scant propriety from lips
Fringed with the blue-black evidence of age.
'Twere well to cultivate a style more sage,
For men will fancy, hearing how you pun,
Our foulest missiles are but thrown in fun.

(_Enter Dead Cat._)

Here's one that thoughtfully has come to hand;
Slant your fine eye below and see it land.
(_Seizes Dead Cat by the tail and swings it in act to throw._)

DEAD CAT (_singing_):

Merrily, merrily, round I go-
Over and under and at.
Swing wide and free, swing high and low
The anti-monopoly cat!

O, who wouldn't be in the place of me,
The anti-monopoly cat?
Designed to admonish,
Persuade and astonish
The capitalist and-

FITCH _(letting go):_

Scat!
_(Exit Dead Cat.)_

Huzza! good Deacon, well and truly flung!
Pat Stanford it has grassed, and Mike de Young.
Mike drives a dump-cart for the villains, though
'Twere fitter that he pull it. Well, we owe
The traitor one for leaving us!-some day
We'll get, if not his place, his cart away.
Meantime fling missiles-any kind will do.
_(Enter Antique Egg.)_
Ha! we can give them an _ovation_, too!

In the valley of the Nile,
Where the Holy Crocodile
Of immeasurable smile
Blossoms like the early rose,
And the Sacred Onion grows
When the Pyramids were new
And the Sphinx possessed a nose,
By a storkess I was laid
In the cool papyrus shade,
Where the rushes later grew,
That concealed the little Jew,
Baby Mose.

Straining very hard to hatch,
I disrupted there my yolk;
And I felt my yellow streaming
Through my white;
And the dream that I was dreaming
Of posterity was broke
In a night.
Then from the papyrus-patch
By the rising waters rolled,
Passing many a temple old,
I proceeded to the sea.
Memnon sang, one morn, to me,
And I heard Cambyses sass
The tomb of Ozymandias!

O, venerablest orb of all the earth,
God rest the lady fowl that gave thee birth!
Fit missile for the vilest hand to throw
I freely tender thee mine own. Although
As a bad egg I am myself no slouch,
Thy riper years thy ranker worth avouch.
Now, Pickering, please expose your eye and say
If-whoop!-
_(Exit egg.)_
I've got the range.

PICKERING:
Hooray! hooray!
A grand good shot, and Teddy Colton's down:
It burst in thunderbolts upon his crown!
Larry O'Crocker drops his pick and flies,
And deafening odors scream along the skies!
Pelt 'em some more.

There's nothing left but tar-
wish I were a Yahoo.

Well, you are.
But keep the tar. How well I recollect,
When Mike was in with us-proud, strong, erect
_Mens conscia recti_-flinging mud, he stood,
Austerely brave, incomparably good,
Ere yet for filthy lucre he began
To drive a cart as Stanford's hired man,
That pitch-pot bearing in his hand, Old Nick
Appeared and tarred us all with the same stick.
_(Enter Old Nick)_.
I hope he won't return and use his arts
To make us part with our immortal parts.

Make yourself easy on that score my lamb;
For both your souls I wouldn't give a damn!
I want my tar-pot-hello! where's the stick?

Don't look at _me_ that fashion!-look at Pick.

Forgive me, father-pity my remorse!
Truth is-Mike took that stick to spank his horse.
It fills my pericardium with grief
That I kept company with such a thief.

(_Endeavoring to get his handkerchief, he opens his coat and
the tar-stick falls out. Nick picks it up, looks at the culprit
reproachfully and withdraws in tears._)

O Pickering, come hither to the brink-
There's something going on down there, I think!
With many an upward smile and meaning wink
The navvies all are running from


Scheme a abcdca x edfxa f aaggbb h hhc f fhdH iHjjh k hk llffhxhkh dddaabahhcma nophpohnhhaiaa qqcfxeaxkx pcbbaac cm chhhhbbrrkaa xbr r aass hha tttx
Poetic Form
Metre 011 11111 100110110011 1111001 1111 0111 11101011001010 1011011011 1 1101101 1101011101 1011000111 01010 1111 10110011 1111010011 1101110011 111100111 1111010111 1011011101 111 1111001111 1111010111 1111010110111 111 100100111 1001001 11011101 01001001 1110100111 01001001 011010 010010 010000 111011 1 110111 111010101 1101110111 1101110101 1101111111 0101110111 1111111101 111010111 1100111 11111111 0010101 101010 101001 1010101 0010101 1010001 0010101 101111 00111 1010101 1010101 101 1010111 1010111 01111010 111 00111110 1010011 001 11011 1010101 10100101 1010101 111111 01111 0111 1111101 1101011111 110101111 110101111 101111111 11111011 11001011101 11 11011 1101 100 0101 011101011 11010111 1011011101 01001010101 1111 110111 11001 111 110111101 1110111101 11110111 101010001 111101101 1101110101 1111001111 0101111011 110111 1111010111 11111100101 1011011111 1111110101 1111101101 1111110111 0111010101 1111111111 111111 1111001101 1111100110110 01111111111010 100101 1100110101 1101011111 11011010101 0111101
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 3,980
Words 726
Sentences 61
Stanzas 25
Stanza Lengths 1, 6, 1, 5, 1, 6, 1, 3, 1, 4, 5, 1, 2, 9, 12, 14, 10, 7, 2, 12, 3, 1, 4, 3, 4
Lines Amount 118
Letters per line (avg) 26
Words per line (avg) 6
Letters per stanza (avg) 123
Words per stanza (avg) 28
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Submitted on May 13, 2011

Modified on March 05, 2023

3:41 min read
98

Ambrose Bierce

Ambrose Gwinnett Bierce was an American editorialist, journalist, short story writer, fabulist, and satirist. more…

All Ambrose Bierce poems | Ambrose Bierce Books

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