D., friends of, can hear of him. by James Russell Lowell

Editor's note

The opening entries establish a satirical tone right away. Lowell pokes fun at the 19th century's self-congratulation, as this era viewed itself as the height of civilization and progress. The "chalk egg" entry, which refers to a fake egg used to trick hens into laying, suggests that the century's pride rests on a hollow decoy rather than genuine accomplishment.

Editor's note

The fragmented, sub-entry format resembles a genuine index, but the content is intentionally vague and absurd. "Chance is impatient" sounds like a fortune-cookie saying devoid of context, poking fun at the empty wisdom often found in political speeches and sermons of the time.

Editor's note

Lowell takes aim at institutional religion in this piece. By calling a chaplain a "one-horse, stern-wheeled variety" — reminiscent of a shabby riverboat — he strips away the dignity typically associated with clerics. The missing commentary on Job (the biblical figure associated with suffering) serves as a dry joke: a book about enduring hardship has itself gone missing.

Editor's note

The beheading of King Charles I is described as an "accident" — a grimly humorous understatement. By juxtaposing this with the restoration of Charles II, Lowell highlights the cyclical and often violent absurdity of political power and monarchy, nudging American republican readers who believe they are above such absurdities.

Editor's note

This is one of the poem's most striking passages. Lowell takes aim at American Christianity for ignoring Christ's true teachings — dismissing his stance against violence as just an opinion — while using faith to rationalize war and slavery. "Shuffled into Apocrypha" suggests that his uncomfortable moral directives have been quietly relegated to a section of scripture that isn’t taken seriously.

Editor's note

"Progress of civilization" is just a fancy term — a front for something deeper. Riding a powder-cart suggests that civilization is perched on a ticking bomb, poised to explode. This reflects Lowell's critique of the belief that Western expansion and war signify true human advancement.

Editor's note

Clergymen often face criticism for their inadequate care ("ill husbandry") of their congregations, moral authority, and resources. The phrase "place in processions" pokes fun at those clergy who walk in step with military and political leaders instead of acting as a moral counterbalance.

Editor's note

One of the most striking lines in the poem. Lowell describes the systemic abuse and dehumanization of Black Americans as a "curious national diversion" — echoing the cold, anthropological tone of a 19th-century reference book to highlight how casually and institutionally racist violence was regarded.

Editor's note

Paul Pry was a well-known, intrusive comic character of his time. Referring to Columbus as a "Paul Pry of genius" diminishes the heroic myth surrounding his discovery—Lowell implies he was more of a meddler who accidentally found something. The phrase "Will perhaps be remembered" carries a sense of dry irony: naturally, he will be remembered, but the wording takes away from the sense of importance.

Editor's note

The Constitution is depicted as both trampled underfoot and used as a foundation to stand on — a fitting illustration of political hypocrisy. Each side of the slavery debate claimed constitutional authority, and Lowell highlights that contradiction with two succinct phrases.

Editor's note

The slogan "My country, right or wrong" was widely used to express patriotism. Lowell dismisses it as nonsense and claims it has been "exposed" or debunked. The mention of the country's boundaries being "more exactly defined" refers to territorial expansion achieved through war, something Lowell was against.

Editor's note

Jefferson Davis, the president of the Confederacy, receives the longest and harshest entry. Referring to him as "a new species of martyr" drips with sarcasm — Davis insisted he was enduring hardship for a noble cause. The sub-entries are filled with mockery: he believes he knows it all, he’s a worse financier than the biblical Jacob, he carries the Constitution in his hat (treating it like a personal prop), and his hands are stained with blood.

Editor's note

Lowell challenges the true meaning of democracy in real life. He targets a "false notion" of democracy — one that leaves out Black Americans, supports slaveholders, and disguises oppression as freedom. The phrase "its privileges" is ironic because the benefits of democracy were never shared equally.

Editor's note

"Doughface" was a derogatory term for a Northern politician who supported Southern slaveholders — implying they were spineless and easily influenced. "Yeast-proof" suggests they can't even be made to rise — indicating they are beyond redemption or growth. Downing Street, the heart of British government, is nearby, hinting at Britain's involvement with the Confederacy.

Editor's note

The poem wraps up its 'D' section with two deflating lines. "Dreams, something about" serves as a wonderfully vague comic reference — it’s about as non-specific as you can get. The last mention of a hymn mistakenly credited to President Dwight is a minor historical correction, but in this context, it comes off as a jab at the triviality of academic record-keeping compared to the significant moral issues discussed earlier.