EZEKIEL BIGLOW. by James Russell Lowell: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
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
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.
Line-by-line
Thrash away, you'll _hev_ to rattle / On them kittle-drums o' yourn,--
Thet air flag's a leetle rotten, / Hope it aint your Sunday's best;--
'Twouldn't suit them Southun fellers, / They're a dreffle graspin' set,
Them thet rule us, them slave-traders, / Haint they cut a thunderin' swarth
Ez fer war, I call it murder,-- / There you hev it plain an' flat;
'Taint your eppyletts an' feathers / Make the thing a grain more right;
Wut's the use o' meetin'-goin' / Every Sabbath, wet or dry,
They may talk o' Freedom's airy / Tell they're pupple in the face,--
Aint it cute to see a Yankee / Take sech everlastin' pains,
Tell ye jest the eend I've come to / Arter cipherin' plaguy smart,
'Taint by turnln' out to hack folks / You're agoin' to git your right,
Want to tackle _me_ in, du ye? / I expect you'll hev to wait;
Jest go home an' ask our Nancy / Wether I'd be sech a goose
Take them editors thet's crowin' / Like a cockerel three months old,--
Wal, go 'long to help 'em stealin' / Bigger pens to cram with slaves,
Massachusetts, God forgive her, / She's akneelin' with the rest,
Ha'n't they sold your colored seamen? / Ha'n't they made your env'ys w'iz?
Clang the bells in every steeple, / Call all true men to disown
'I'll return ye good fer evil / Much ez we frail mortils can,
Ef I'd _my_ way I hed ruther / We should go to work an part,
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 fifer — The 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 flag — The 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 irons — A 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 beacon — Massachusetts 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 chains — Literal 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-wethers — The 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.
The Mexican-American War took place from 1846 to 1848. During this period, the United States, led by President Polk, fought against Mexico and ended up acquiring a significant amount of land, including California and parts of the Southwest. Many people in the North thought the main aim was to establish new slave states in this territory, which would strengthen Southern political influence. Biglow's mention of "this Californy" clearly points to that accusation.
A military recruiter—specifically a drummer and fifer looking to recruit men for the war. The entire poem features Biglow's ongoing refusal to enlist, speaking directly to that recruiter. It takes the form of a dramatic monologue: we never hear the recruiter's voice, but we clearly grasp what he's proposing through Biglow's continuous rejections.
He argues that slavery as a system doesn't truly focus on race; it prioritizes labor and profit instead. Those who enslave Black people will apply the same reasoning to exploit poor white workers when it benefits them. This is as much a class issue as it is a racial one, making it one of the most radical points in the poem for its time.
Massachusetts was central to American abolitionism and has a long-standing tradition of resisting Southern political pressures dating back to the Revolution. Biglow's sorrow that Massachusetts is "akneelin' with the rest" reflects the disappointment that the state most responsible for opposing slavery is not fulfilling that duty. The mention of "colored seamen" refers to actual events: Southern states were detaining free Black sailors from Massachusetts ships, while the state's official protests went largely ignored or ridiculed.
In the final stanza, Biglow suggests separation as his preferred solution — he believes the two sides should part ways instead of remaining in a union that compels the North to support slavery. Lowell penned this in 1846, fifteen years before the Civil War. At that time, some abolitionists still advocated for peaceful separation. Lowell eventually backed the Union's war efforts, indicating that this conclusion captures the mindset of that era rather than a steadfast belief.
The Biglow Papers include a fictional editorial framework: Lowell created a character named Reverend Homer Wilbur (H.W.), a pedantic New England parson who "edits" Biglow's poems and includes scholarly footnotes. The footnote presented here belongs to Wilbur — packed with Latin phrases and historical allusions — and serves as a humorous jab at academic commentary. Wilbur's pretentious note about Mars and Christ ultimately strengthens Biglow's straightforward assertion that war and Christianity don’t go together, albeit in a more convoluted manner.
It's one of the earliest and most successful examples of political poetry in American vernacular. Before Lowell, protest poetry was usually formal and elevated. By giving the anti-war argument to a farmer, Lowell made it relatable and added a democratic weight that formal verse lacked. The Biglow Papers inspired later dialect poets and helped establish that everyday American speech could be a valid literary form.