Chap­ter M opens with Bierce’s sar­don­ic inter­pre­ta­tion of Mace, not as an orna­men­tal staff of office, but as a rel­ic of vio­lence dis­guised in sym­bol­ism. Once wield­ed to phys­i­cal­ly crush oppo­si­tion, it now mere­ly rep­re­sents authority—yet the threat it implies has not van­ished. Bierce sug­gests that all sym­bols of pow­er retain traces of their bru­tal ori­gins, no mat­ter how cer­e­mo­ni­al they appear today. This obser­va­tion invites reflec­tion on how civ­i­liza­tion dress­es vio­lence in the robes of civil­i­ty. The evo­lu­tion of tools into sym­bols reveals how soci­ety hides force beneath deco­rum.

In Machi­na­tion, Bierce takes aim at cun­ning schemes devised not for inno­va­tion, but to unrav­el the progress of oth­ers. He points out how seem­ing­ly bril­liant strate­gies are often cloaked in ethics but moti­vat­ed by envy or ambi­tion. Here, clev­er­ness becomes cor­rup­tion, and pol­i­tics is revealed as the­ater where inten­tions are rarely as noble as they seem. Bierce’s word­play sub­tly con­demns the ease with which intel­li­gence can be bent toward sab­o­tage. His def­i­n­i­tion turns sus­pi­cion into satire, expos­ing the inse­cu­ri­ty at the heart of com­pe­ti­tion.

With Mac­ro­bian, Bierce humor­ous­ly explores the cult of longevi­ty. He notes how those who live long are admired not for wis­dom, but for their abil­i­ty to endure—even as rel­e­vance fades. His jab at elder­ly politi­cians, who out­live their use­ful­ness yet cling to pow­er, serves as a cri­tique of insti­tu­tions that favor dura­tion over adapt­abil­i­ty. He chal­lenges the idea that age alone qual­i­fies one for author­i­ty. For Bierce, sur­vival does not equal mer­it; it may sim­ply reflect society’s reluc­tance to let go.

When he arrives at Mad, Bierce uses wit to under­mine the soci­etal stan­dards of san­i­ty. To him, mad­ness is often just inde­pen­dence mis­in­ter­pret­ed by the crowd. Those labeled insane may be the few still think­ing freely, while con­for­mi­ty pass­es for rea­son. His inver­sion of log­ic high­lights how group­think becomes the bench­mark of san­i­ty, and devi­a­tion, how­ev­er insight­ful, becomes pathol­o­gy. This def­i­n­i­tion ques­tions how soci­eties define nor­mal­cy and sug­gests the tru­ly mad may be those who nev­er ques­tion the rules.

Male­fac­tor receives a flip in mean­ing as well. Rather than sim­ply “a crim­i­nal,” Bierce defines it as some­one caught doing what oth­ers would do if they thought they could get away with it. The term becomes a mir­ror, reflect­ing the hypocrisy in moral judg­ment. Crime, in his view, is not always about wrongdoing—but about fail­ure to con­ceal it. In redefin­ing the word, Bierce cri­tiques a jus­tice sys­tem built more on per­cep­tion than prin­ci­ple.

In Mag­ic, he takes aim at super­sti­tion cloaked in mys­tique. Mag­ic, he says, is sim­ply the art of appear­ing to do the impossible—whether through trick­ery, illu­sion, or per­sua­sion. Bierce mocks how belief in mag­ic often sur­vives log­ic, offer­ing com­fort or dis­trac­tion rather than truth. His tone implies that what pass­es for mag­ic in mod­ern times might just be manip­u­la­tion dressed in awe. It’s not just the wand or the ritual—it’s the audience’s will­ing­ness to believe.

Mon­ey receives one of Bierce’s most bru­tal and accu­rate dis­sec­tions. While soci­ety wor­ships it, he argues, mon­ey holds no real val­ue unless it’s being spent or sur­ren­dered. It is admired when hoard­ed and resent­ed when used. This paradox—that mon­ey is pow­er­ful only when it changes hands—highlights the absur­di­ty of greed. In cri­tiquing cur­ren­cy, Bierce uncov­ers how wealth dis­torts human behav­ior more than it solves real prob­lems.

Through­out this sec­tion, Bierce con­tin­ues his lin­guis­tic autop­sy of human fol­ly. Mar­tyr, for exam­ple, becomes a fig­ure of mis­placed devotion—someone who suf­fers not only for belief, but some­times for spec­ta­cle. He chal­lenges whether mar­tyr­dom is always noble or if it can become per­for­mance. Sim­i­lar­ly, Mar­riage is recast not as a sacred union, but as a con­tract entered in haste and regret­ted in silence. Bierce dares to ques­tion the most cher­ished human insti­tu­tions, reduc­ing them to pacts of expec­ta­tion and dis­il­lu­sion­ment.

Each def­i­n­i­tion builds on the last, form­ing a lat­tice of con­tra­dic­tion, wit, and insight. Bierce’s genius lies not only in how he defines, but in how he expos­es. He invites read­ers to laugh, but also to doubt. Under­neath the humor lies a deep­er call—to reex­am­ine the terms we live by, and to ques­tion the sys­tems and sto­ries that shape them. Through “M,” Bierce turns vocab­u­lary into vision, show­ing that every word hides a world, and every world is worth dis­man­tling.