FAME

By: Ambrose Bierce
May 30, 2026

A series dedicated to poems, published c. 1900–1935, the Radium Age sf-adjacent themes of which include: dystopia and utopia, far-out mathematics and the fourth dimension, Afro-futurism, catastrophe, future war, new technologies, scientific breakthrough, dehumanization, cosmic awe, disenchantment and unseen forces, unknowable aliens and singularity. Research and selection by Joshua Glenn; thematic index here.

One thousand years I slept beneath the
     sod,
     My sleep in 1901 beginning,
Then, by the action of some scurvy god
     Who happened then to recollect my
     sinning,
I was revived and given another inning.
     On breaking from my grave I saw a
     crowd —
A formless multitude of men and women,
     Gathered about a ruin. Clamors loud
I heard, and curses deep enough to swim
     in;
     And, pointing at me, one said: “Let’s put
     him in.”
Then each turned on me with an evil look,
     As in my ragged shroud I stood and
     shook.

“Nay, good Posterity,” I cried, “forbear!
     If that’s a jail I fain would be remaining
Outside, for truly I should little care
     To catch my death of cold. I’m just
     regaining
The life lost long ago by my disdaining
     To take precautions against draughts
     like those
That, haply, penetrate that cracked and
     splitting
     Old structure.” Then an aged wight arose
From a chair of state in which he had been
     sitting,
     And with preliminary coughing, spitting
And wheezing, said: “‘T is not a jail, we’re
     sure,
     Whate’er it may have been when it was
     newer.

“‘T was found two centuries ago, o’ergrown
     With brush and ivy, all undoored,
     ungated;
And in restoring it we found a stone
     Set here and there in the dilapidated
And crumbling frieze, inscribed, in
     antiquated
     Big characters, with certain uncouth
     names,
Which we conclude were borne of old by
     awful
     Rapscallions guilty of all sinful games —
Vagrants engaged in purposes unlawful,
     And orators less sensible than jawful.
So each ten years we add to the long row
     A name, the most unworthy that we
     know.”

“But why,” I asked, “put me in?” He replied:
     “You look it” — and the judgment pained
     me greatly;
Right gladly would I then and there have
     died,
     But that I’d risen from the grave so
     lately.
But on examining that solemn, stately
     Old ruin I remarked: “My friend, you
     err —
The truth of this is just what I expected.
     This building in its time made quite a
     stir.
I lived (was famous, too) when ‘t was
     erected.
     The names here first inscribed were
     much respected.
This is the Hall of Fame, or I’m a stork,
     And this goat pasture once was called
     New York.”

— From the 1903 collection Shapes of Clay. The collection is dedicated to George Sterling.

PS: Bierce’s narrator is surely talking about the Hall of Fame for Great Americans, an outdoor sculpture gallery located in the Bronx. Built in 1901, it was the first hall of fame in the United States.

***

FAME

Categories

Tags