Lead: The Civil War’s Deadliest Metal by Micah Harrington

“Lead” by Ambrose Bierce

Ambrose Bierce was a pioneer writer of realist fiction, one of the most influential journalists in the United States, a horror author ranked among Lovecraft and Poe, one of the greatest American satirists, a fabulist and a poet, a feared literary critic, and a Civil War veteran. It is thanks to his parents, poor but literary, that he grew up with a deep love for books and writing. 

 

His poem “Lead” is about the metal, which was the material that bullets were made out of in the Civil War. In the first lines of the poem, he hails Lead like a god:

“Hail, holy Lead!—of human feuds the great

And universal arbiter; endowed

With penetration to pierce any cloud”

Lead did allow people to play God in a way humans were never meant to. It is the great and universal arbiter of human feuds, for there is no way to end a feud that is more final than to kill your opposition. 

“Fogging the field of controversial hate,

And with swift, inevitable, straight,

Searching precision find the unavowed

But vital point. Thy judgment, when allowed

By the chirurgeon, settles the debate.”

In these lines he describes how bullets find the “unavowed / But vital point,” where it hits you and you bleed out. The debate is settled by death, as noted in those last two lines, a chirurgeon being an old word for a surgeon. Bierce notes that if it weren’t for lead bullets, humans would fight by hand:

“O useful metal!—were it not for thee

We’d grapple one another’s ears away”

But when humans hear bullets, they flee:

“But when we hear thee buzzing like a bee

We, like old Muhlenberg, ‘care not to stay.’”

What really stands out to me in this poem are the last two lines. While the rest of the poem is in iambic pentameter, the last two lines have one extra syllable each and they rhyme, forming a final couplet. The poem is organized into a sonnet, though it doesn’t have the typical “ABAB” structure of a Shakespearean sonnet; instead, its rhyme scheme goes: ABBA ABBA CDCD EE. But it’s not just the formatting that makes the last two lines stand out, it’s that they introduce a character, Satan, who changes the direction of the poem from a satirical war poem to something, in my opinion, much darker.

“And when the quick have run away like pullets

Jack Satan smelts the dead to make new bullets.”

Note that quick, in this instance, means “living,” and pullets are young chickens. This is an interesting visual of Satan smelting corpses into new bullets, and also an interesting message that as we kill so many people with guns we continue to make more bullets to kill even more people. It seems to me that Satan in this line represents mankind. Since Satan is the foil to God, Bierce is implying that humans are the foil to God. 

.58 caliber Minie balls from the American Civil War

“Lead” is part of a larger work, Bierce’s most famous, called The Devil’s Dictionary, which was a series of installments published in newspapers from 1881 to 1906. The dictionary contains common words with humorous and satirical definitions, some of which are complete with poems, but some are just definitions. 

 

Bierce defines Lead as: “A heavy blue-gray metal much used in giving stability to light lovers—particularly to those who love not wisely but other men’s wives. Lead is also of great service as a counterpoise to an argument of such weight that it turns the scale of debate the wrong way. An interesting fact in the chemistry of international controversy is that at the point of contact of two patriotisms lead is precipitated in great quantities,” followed by the poem.

 

The line “Lead is also of great service as a counterpoise to an argument of such weight that it turns the scale of debate the wrong way” seems to reflect the content of the poem best. Part of the first line, “particularly to those who love not wisely but other men’s wives,” mirrors Bierce’s own life, as he separated from his wife in 1888 when he found compromising letters to her from an admirer, and they divorced in 1904. 

Embrace the Dream

“A Dream Within a Dream” By Edgar Allan Poe. 

If there’s one word I would use to describe myself over the course of my entire life, it would be “outsider.” An introvert to the core and quiet to a fault, I have always found myself watching conversations and human interaction from afar, as if on a television screen, or in a dream — a dream within a dream. 

Life goes by fast, too fast for most people to make any lasting difference in the world. Poe despairs about this very thing in “A Dream Within a Dream,” in which he wonders if life is just a dream. He views love and hope as a dream, when he loses these things, it’s akin to waking up. However, he finds that upon waking up from this secondary dream, reality is just as much a dream. He isn’t wrong — how can we be certain anything is real? All of our senses, the things we feel, see and experience, are just electrical signals in the squishy mass of our brains. 

In the second stanza of the poem, Poe is standing on the beach, holding sand in his hands. He realizes that the more he tries to hold on to the sand, the more it slips through his fingers. This is exactly what it’s like to try to hold on to parts of your life that don’t exist anymore. When you do this, more and more of your life will slip past you.

I admit, I get stuck in my head a lot thinking about the past. I have obsessive compulsive disorder; ruminating about the past is something of an Olympic sport for me. If I don’t make the conscious effort to stop thinking so much about the past, holding on to things that happened a long time ago, reliving them, I will get stuck there and miss what’s going on right in front of me. Yes, I watch life go by in a dream, but I want to be present in the dream, not trying to recount the ones I had in the past that I can’t change now.

It seems like Poe is also an expert on reliving the past. In fact, “A Dream Within a Dream” is a revision of a poem he wrote previously, “Imitation.” I will say that revisiting the past in this way was a good thing — I like “A Dream Within a Dream” much more than its predecessor. Breaking it up into two stanzas made it much stronger, with two individual ideas: realizing life is a dream within a dream, and holding on to the past as it slips away from you. It also instills the poem with a natural turning point, where the tone shifts from curiosity and potential hope to despair.

This poem gives words to the desperation of watching the world turn and people living their lives all around you. As he stands on the shore, he notes how it roars. There are so many things going on around him, the waves coming and going like life, taking the past — the sand — from his hands as it slips through his fingers, and all he can focus on is saving the sand, just one particle from being swept away by the tide. 

I don’t mean to give advice to a man much more renowned and undoubtedly wiser than myself, but if I could tell Poe anything, it would be to not let life pass by watching from the outside, people flitting around you like characters in a stage play around black-clad staff members. Let the ocean waves wash the sand off your hands. Embrace life, embrace the hard parts, embrace the love you lose, embrace the inevitable. Embrace the dream.

sand running through a person’s hands on the beach