Skip to content

EZEKIEL BIGLOW. by James Russell Lowell: Summary, Meaning & Analysis

James Russell Lowell

A New England farmer named Ezekiel Biglow won't join the Mexican-American War, and he lays out his reasons in a straightforward, folksy manner.

The poem
* * * * * Thrash away, you'll _hev_ to rattle On them kittle-drums o' yourn,-- 'Taint a knowin' kind o' cattle Thet is ketched with mouldy corn; Put in stiff, you fifer feller, Let folks see how spry you be,-- Guess you'll toot till you are yeller 'Fore you git ahold o' me! Thet air flag's a leetle rotten, Hope it aint your Sunday's best;-- 10 Fact! it takes a sight o' cotton To stuff out a soger's chest: Sence we farmers hev to pay fer't, Ef you must wear humps like these, S'posin' you should try salt hay fer't, It would du ez slick ez grease. 'Twouldn't suit them Southun fellers, They're a dreffle graspin' set, We must ollers blow the bellers Wen they want their irons het; 20 May be it's all right ez preachin', But _my_ narves it kind o' grates, Wen I see the overreachin' O' them nigger-drivin' States. Them thet rule us, them slave-traders, Haint they cut a thunderin' swarth (Helped by Yankee renegaders), Thru the vartu o' the North! We begin to think it's nater To take sarse an' not be riled;-- 30 Who'd expect to see a tater All on eend at bein' biled? Ez fer war, I call it murder,-- There you hev it plain an' flat; I don't want to go no furder Than my Testyment fer that; God hez sed so plump an' fairly, It's ez long ez it is broad, An' you've gut to git up airly Ef you want to take in God. 40 'Taint your eppyletts an' feathers Make the thing a grain more right; 'Taint afollerin' your bell-wethers Will excuse ye in His sight; Ef you take a sword an' dror it, An' go stick a feller thru, Guv'ment aint to answer for it, God'll send the bill to you. Wut's the use o' meetin'-goin' Every Sabbath, wet or dry, 50 Ef it's right to go amowin' Feller-men like oats an' rye? I dunno but wut it's pooty Trainin' round in bobtail coats,-- But it's curus Christian dooty This 'ere cuttin' folks's throats. They may talk o' Freedom's airy Tell they're pupple in the face,-- It's a grand gret cemetary Fer the barthrights of our race; 60 They jest want this Californy So's to lug new slave-states in To abuse ye, an' to scorn ye, An' to plunder ye like sin. Aint it cute to see a Yankee Take sech everlastin' pains, All to get the Devil's thankee Helpin' on 'em weld their chains? Wy, it's jest ez clear ez figgers, Clear ez one an' one make two, 70 Chaps thet make black slaves o' niggers Want to make wite slaves o' you. Tell ye jest the eend I've come to Arter cipherin' plaguy smart, An' it makes a handy sum, tu. Any gump could larn by heart; Laborin' man an' laborin' woman Hev one glory an' one shame. Ev'y thin' thet's done inhuman Injers all on 'em the same. 80 'Taint by turnln' out to hack folks You're agoin' to git your right, Nor by lookin' down on black folks Coz you're put upon by wite; Slavery aint o' nary color, 'Taint the hide thet makes it wus, All it keers fer in a feller 'S jest to make him fill its pus. Want to tackle _me_ in, du ye? I expect you'll hev to wait; 90 Wen cold lead puts daylight thru ye You'll begin to kal'late; S'pose the crows wun't fall to pickin' All the carkiss from your bones, Coz you helped to give a lickin' To them poor half-Spanish drones? Jest go home an' ask our Nancy Wether I'd be sech a goose Ez to jine ye,--guess you'd fancy The etarnal bung wuz loose! 100 She wants me fer home consumption, Let alone the hay's to mow,-- Ef you're arter folks o' gumption, You've a darned long row to hoe. Take them editors thet's crowin' Like a cockerel three months old,-- Don't ketch any on 'em goin Though they _be_ so blasted bold; _Aint_ they a prime lot o' fellers? 'Fore they think on 't guess they'll sprout 110 (Like a peach thet's got the yellers), With the meanness bustin' out. Wal, go 'long to help 'em stealin' Bigger pens to cram with slaves, Help the men thet's ollers dealin' Insults on your fathers' graves; Help the strong to grind the feeble, Help the many agin the few, Help the men thet call your people Witewashed slaves an' peddlin' crew! 120 Massachusetts, God forgive her, She's akneelin' with the rest, She, thet ough' to ha' clung ferever In her grand old eagle-nest; She thet ough' to stand so fearless W'ile the wracks are round her hurled, Holdin' up a beacon peerless To the oppressed of all the world! Ha'n't they sold your colored seamen? Ha'n't they made your env'ys w'iz? 130 _Wut_'ll make ye act like freemen? _Wut_'ll git your dander riz? Come, I'll tell ye wut I'm thinkin' Is our dooty in this fix. They'd ha' done 't ez quick ez winkin' In the days o' seventy-six. Clang the bells in every steeple, Call all true men to disown The tradoocers of our people, The enslavers o' their own; 140 Let our dear old Bay State proudly Put the trumpet to her mouth, Let her ring this messidge loudly In the ears of all the South:-- 'I'll return ye good fer evil Much ez we frail mortils can, But I wun't go help the Devil Makin' man the cuss o' man; Call me coward, call me traiter, Jest ez suits your mean idees,-- Here I stand a tyrant hater, 151 An' the friend o' God an' Peace!' Ef I'd _my_ way I hed ruther We should go to work an part, They take one way, we take t'other, Guess it wouldn't break my heart; Man hed ough' to put asunder Them thet God has noways jined; An' I shouldn't gretly wonder Ef there's thousands o' my mind. 160 [The first recruiting sergeant on record I conceive to have been that individual who is mentioned in the Book of Job as _going to and fro in the earth, and walking up and down in it._ Bishop Latimer will have him to have been a bishop, but to me that other calling would appear more congenial. The sect of Cainites is not yet extinct, who esteemed the first-born of Adam to be the most worthy, not only because of that privilege of primogeniture, but inasmuch as he was able to overcome and slay his younger brother. That was a wise saying of the famous Marquis Pescara to the Papal Legate, that _it was impossible for men to serve Mars and Christ at the same time_. Yet in time past the profession of arms was judged to be [Greek: kat exochaen] that of a gentleman, nor does this opinion want for strenuous upholders even in our day. Must we suppose, then, that the profession of Christianity was only intended for losels, or, at best, to afford an opening for plebeian ambition? Or shall we hold with that nicely metaphysical Pomeranian, Captain Vratz, who was Count Königsmark's chief instrument in the murder of Mr. Thynne, that the Scheme of Salvation has been arranged with an especial eye to the necessities of the upper classes, and that 'God would consider a _gentleman_ and deal with him suitably to the condition and profession he had placed him in'? It may be said of us all, _Exemplo plus quam ratione vivimus_.--H.W.] No. II

Public domain · sourced from Project Gutenberg

Quick summary
A New England farmer named Ezekiel Biglow won't join the Mexican-American War, and he lays out his reasons in a straightforward, folksy manner. He insists that the war is merely a tactic to extend slavery into new areas, that taking lives is murder regardless of the uniform you wear, and that working people — both Black and white — suffer when slavery prevails. It's a protest poem presented as a friendly chat over the fence.
Themes

Line-by-line

Thrash away, you'll _hev_ to rattle / On them kittle-drums o' yourn,--
Ezekiel starts off by poking fun at the recruiting drummer who’s attempting to entice men to join the army. The "kittle-drums" (kettledrums) and the fifer are traditional symbols of military display, but he’s not swayed at all. His line, "'Taint a knowin' kind o' cattle / Thet is ketched with mouldy corn," implies that only a foolish animal would bite at spoiled bait — and he doesn’t consider himself foolish. This entire stanza conveys a strong sense of dismissal.
Thet air flag's a leetle rotten, / Hope it aint your Sunday's best;--
He looks at the recruiter's worn flag and the bulky military uniform. The joke about filling a soldier's chest with "salt hay" instead of cotton is a farmer's jab at the ridiculousness of military attire. Beneath the humor lies a genuine concern: farmers are taxed to fund this war and its uniforms, but they see no return for their contributions.
'Twouldn't suit them Southun fellers, / They're a dreffle graspin' set,
Here, Biglow identifies the political force fueling the war: Southern slaveholders who constantly rely on the North to "blow the bellows" when they want something. The term "Nigger-drivin' States" reflects the harsh and offensive language of the time, employed here to criticize those states instead of their enslaved individuals. Biglow's frustration with Northern politicians who acquiesce to Southern demands begins to intensify.
Them thet rule us, them slave-traders, / Haint they cut a thunderin' swarth
"Cut a thunderin' swarth" (swathe) paints a vivid picture of clearing everything in your way. Biglow criticizes Southern slave-traders, supported by Northern traitors ("Yankee renegaders"), for corrupting the moral integrity of the North. The potato boiling on its end serves as a humorous metaphor for a people so accustomed to being pushed around that they no longer respond.
Ez fer war, I call it murder,-- / There you hev it plain an' flat;
This is the poem's moral core. Biglow doesn't sugarcoat it: war is murder, and the Bible confirms it. He doubts anyone who believes they can outsmart God on this issue. The straightforward, unembellished statement is intentional—Lowell aims for the reader to grasp the weight of this simple truth, expressed unapologetically.
'Taint your eppyletts an' feathers / Make the thing a grain more right;
Epaulettes and feathers are military decorations, but Biglow argues they don’t alter the moral equation at all. Simply following your commanding officer — like “bell-wethers,” the leading sheep in a flock — isn’t a valid excuse before God. If you stab someone with a sword, the government won’t be held accountable — you will. You can't pass off personal moral responsibility by blaming your rank or orders.
Wut's the use o' meetin'-goin' / Every Sabbath, wet or dry,
Biglow criticizes the hypocrisy of soldiers who attend church. Attending services every Sunday doesn’t hold much weight if you’re spending the week killing fellow humans like they’re just crops in a field. While "bobtail coats" (short military jackets) may look sharp, he refers to the entire situation as a "curus Christian dooty" — a sarcastic jab at the contradiction of Christians who take lives.
They may talk o' Freedom's airy / Tell they're pupple in the face,--
"Freedom's airy" refers to talk about freedom that's just empty rhetoric. Biglow argues that the true aim of the Mexican-American War is to seize California and transform it into new slave states. The use of "cemetery" to describe the graveyard of American rights is powerful: this talk of freedom represents a burial ground, not something vibrant. The South seeks new territory to exploit, belittle, and take advantage of Northerners.
Aint it cute to see a Yankee / Take sech everlastin' pains,
"Cute" here refers to a sarcastic kind of cleverness. Biglow presents his most straightforward political argument: those who enslave Black people will ultimately turn on white working people as well. "Clear as one and one make two" — it's basic math. Assisting slaveholders in creating chains for others is also aiding in creating chains for yourself.
Tell ye jest the eend I've come to / Arter cipherin' plaguy smart,
"Ciphering" refers to doing the math, and Biglow claims that the calculation is straightforward enough for anyone to grasp. Working men and women, regardless of their race, possess the same dignity and face the same vulnerabilities. Any injustice inflicted on one group of laborers affects all laborers. This represents one of the poem's most radical moments — a 19th-century New England farmer advocating for solidarity across class and race.
'Taint by turnln' out to hack folks / You're agoin' to git your right,
Biglow directly warns white workers that looking down on Black people due to their own oppression by white elites is a trap, not a solution. Slavery doesn't discriminate by color; it simply seeks to fill its purse. This stanza challenges the racial resentment that recruiters used to persuade poor white men to fight a war benefiting slaveholders.
Want to tackle _me_ in, du ye? / I expect you'll hev to wait;
Biglow goes back to the recruiter and declines once more, this time with a hint of dark humor. "When cold lead puts daylight through ye" refers to getting shot, and that's when you'll start calculating the odds. He ridicules the notion that dying to take down "half-Spanish drones" (a derogatory term for Mexicans at the time) is in any way glorious.
Jest go home an' ask our Nancy / Wether I'd be sech a goose
Nancy is Biglow's wife, and her practical common sense serves as the final say. She needs him home for the hay harvest and would consider him foolish to enlist. The domestic detail ties the poem's politics to real life: this isn't just abstract philosophy; it's about a family's livelihood. The recruiters have "a darned long row to hoe" if they're trying to find men with any sense.
Take them editors thet's crowin' / Like a cockerel three months old,--
Newspaper editors who sound the alarm about war are likened to a young rooster that crows loudly but doesn’t take any action. They write boldly in their papers, yet none are signing up to fight. Biglow uses the image of a peach infested with "the yellers" (a plant disease) to suggest that their moral decay is on the verge of becoming obvious.
Wal, go 'long to help 'em stealin' / Bigger pens to cram with slaves,
A harsh conclusion about what the war really achieves: more land for slavery, more disrespect towards Northern values, and further oppression of the vulnerable by the powerful. Biglow points out the contradictions — you're supporting men who label your own people as "whitewashed slaves and peddling crew" — to highlight the ridiculousness of enlisting in a way that feels real.
Massachusetts, God forgive her, / She's akneelin' with the rest,
Biglow turns from the recruiter to his home state with heartfelt sorrow. Massachusetts, which ought to be shining a light of freedom to the world from its "grand old eagle-nest," is instead bowing down next to the slave states. This beacon imagery serves as both a lighthouse metaphor and a nod to Massachusetts' abolitionist roots. The sense of disappointment is palpable and intense.
Ha'n't they sold your colored seamen? / Ha'n't they made your env'ys w'iz?
These lines point to specific complaints: Southern states were detaining free Black sailors from Massachusetts whenever their ships arrived in Southern ports, and the official representatives from Massachusetts who went to protest were chased away. Biglow highlights these tangible injustices to challenge: what will it truly take for you to behave like free individuals? His answer is the spirit of 1776.
Clang the bells in every steeple, / Call all true men to disown
The poem transitions into what feels like a moral call to action rather than a military one. Ring the bells, denounce the traitors, and let Massachusetts raise its voice to the South. Biglow’s intended message comes in the next stanza: I’ll respond to wrong with kindness, but I won’t aid the Devil in making humanity a burden to itself.
'I'll return ye good fer evil / Much ez we frail mortils can,
This is Massachusetts' imagined speech to the South, and it strikes a balance between generosity and firmness. The state expresses its goodwill while making it clear that it will not assist in the enslavement of people. "Call me coward, call me traitor" — Biglow expects these accusations and brushes them aside. He believes that standing as "a tyrant hater and the friend of God and Peace" is the only morally sound stance.
Ef I'd _my_ way I hed ruther / We should go to work an part,
The poem concludes with Biglow proposing the idea of separation—allowing the slave states to choose their own path. It's a powerful ending: not war, not compromise, but divorce. "Man hed ough' to put asunder / Them thet God has noways jined" turns the marriage vow on its head. He believes that thousands feel the same way. Lowell penned this in 1846, fifteen years before the Civil War made the issue of separation painfully tangible.

Tone & mood

The tone is defiant, sardonic, and morally sure — yet it avoids sounding preachy because it's delivered in a farmer's drawl with a grin. Biglow’s anger comes out as cleverness: he mocks the drummer, the padded uniform, and the boastful editors. When he addresses serious topics — war is murder, slavery ruins everyone — the humor fades, and his voice becomes flat and straightforward, which makes those moments resonate more. There's also genuine grief in the Massachusetts stanza, reflecting a personal disappointment in his home state. The overall impression is of a man who has deeply considered these issues, remains unmoved, and finds the entire recruiting effort somewhat absurd.

Symbols & metaphors

  • The kettledrum and fiferThe traditional methods of military recruitment are depicted here as symbols of hollow spectacle and deceit. Biglow's unwillingness to be swayed by these tactics shows that he recognizes the charade for what it is.
  • The rotten flagThe tattered recruiting flag highlights the emptiness of the patriotic appeal being made. A flag that's "a leetle rotten" can't truly symbolize authentic national ideals.
  • The bellows and hot ironsA blacksmith's image illustrates the North's relationship with the South: Northern labor fuels the fire and operates the bellows, while Southern slaveholders do the actual forging — and reap all the rewards. This metaphor encapsulates the economic and political exploitation in a single domestic scene.
  • The beaconMassachusetts stands as a lighthouse, shining freedom's light for the oppressed around the globe. Yet, when she aligns with the slave states, that beacon dims — this is why Biglow's sorrow in that stanza feels so intense.
  • The chainsLiteral chains of slavery, but Biglow deepens the image: the men who forge chains for Black people are also crafting the same chains for white workers. Chains symbolize the very logic of exploitation, not merely one specific form of it.
  • The bell-wethersThe lead sheep in a flock wears a bell, guiding the others to follow. This analogy applies to military officers and political leaders—blindly following them doesn’t absolve one of moral responsibility, as sheep don’t have souls to answer for.

Historical context

James Russell Lowell published the Biglow Papers in 1846, a collection of satirical poems focused on the Mexican-American War (1846–1848). Many in the North viewed this conflict as a land grab orchestrated by Southern slaveholders to expand slavery. To convey his message, Lowell created Hosea Biglow, a straightforward farmer from Massachusetts, and wrote in a thick New England dialect. This approach aimed to lend his political arguments the authority of common sense rather than that of the elite. The first poem, "Ezekiel Biglow," sets the tone and presents the argument. The war sparked intense debate; Henry David Thoreau even went to jail rather than pay taxes to fund it, while a young congressman from Illinois, Abraham Lincoln, questioned President Polk's rationale for the conflict. Lowell criticized not only the war itself but also the Northern political elite—whom he referred to as "Yankee renegaders"—who facilitated Southern expansion. The Biglow Papers gained widespread acclaim and are regarded as a significant milestone in American political poetry and the literary use of dialect.

FAQ

Lowell intentionally used New England's rural dialect, and it's really rewarding to read it out loud. This dialect serves a dual purpose: it shows that the speaker is an everyday farmer rather than a Harvard professor, and it frames the moral arguments as common sense instead of lofty theory. Once you get used to "hev" instead of "have" and "thet" instead of "that," the logic comes through quite smoothly.

Similar poems