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HOMER WILBUR, A.M. by James Russell Lowell: Summary, Meaning & Analysis

James Russell Lowell

This poem takes the form of a satirical letter from Birdofredum Sawin, a Northern man who has relocated to the South, married into a slave-owning family, and now passionately defends both the Confederacy and slavery.

The poem
P.S.--I inclose a year's subscription from Deacon Tinkham. I hed it on my min' las' time, when I to write ye started, To tech the leadin' featurs o' my gittin' me convarted; But, ez my letters hez to go clearn roun' by way o' Cuby, 'Twun't seem no staler now than then, by th' time it gits where you be. You know up North, though secs an' things air plenty ez you please, Ther' warn't nut one on 'em thet come jes' square with my idees: They all on 'em wuz too much mixed with Covenants o' Works, An' would hev answered jest ez wal for Afrikins an' Turks, Fer where's a Christian's privilege an' his rewards eusuin', Ef 'taint perfessin' right and eend 'thout nary need o' doin'? 10 I dessay they suit workin'-folks thet ain't noways pertic'lar, But nut your Southun gen'leman thet keeps his parpendic'lar; I don't blame nary man thet casts his lot along o' _his_ folks, But ef you cal'late to save _me_, 't must be with folks thet _is_ folks; Cov'nants o' works go 'ginst my grain, but down here I've found out The true fus'-fem'ly A 1 plan,--here's how it come about. When I fus' sot up with Miss S., sez she to me, sez she, 'Without you git religion, Sir, the thing can't never be; Nut but wut I respeck,' sez she, 'your intellectle part, But you wun't noways du for me athout a change o' heart; 20 Nothun religion works wal North, but it's ez soft ez spruce, Compared to ourn, for keepin' sound,' sez she, 'upon the goose; A day's experunce 'd prove to ye, ez easy 'z pull a trigger. It takes the Southun pint o' view to raise ten bales a nigger; You'll fin' thet human natur', South, ain't wholesome more 'n skin-deep, An' once 't a darkie's took with it, he wun't be wuth his keep,' 'How _shell_ I git it, Ma'am?'--sez I, 'Attend the nex' camp-meetin',' Sez she, 'an' it'll come to ye ez cheap ez onbleached sheetin'.' Wal, so I went along an' hearn most an impressive sarmon About besprinklin' Afriky with fourth-proof dew o' Harmon: 30 He didn't put no weaknin' in, but gin it tu us hot, 'Z ef he an' Satan 'd ben two bulls in one five-acre lot: I don't purtend to foller him, but give ye jes' the heads; For pulpit ellerkence, you know, 'most ollers kin' o' spreads. Ham's seed wuz gin to us in chairge, an' shouldn't we be li'ble In Kingdom Come, ef we kep' back their priv'lege in the Bible? The cusses an' the promerses make one gret chain, an' ef You snake one link out here, one there, how much on 't ud be lef'? All things wuz gin to man for 's use, his sarvice, an' delight; 39 An' don't the Greek an' Hebrew words thet mean a Man mean White? Ain't it belittlin' the Good Book in all its proudes' featurs To think 'twuz wrote for black an' brown an' 'lasses-colored creaturs, Thet couldn' read it, ef they would, nor ain't by lor allowed to, But ough' to take wut we think suits their naturs, an' be proud to? Warn't it more prof'table to bring your raw materil thru Where you can work it inta grace an' inta cotton, tu, Than sendin' missionaries out where fevers might defeat 'em, An' ef the butcher didn' call, their p'rishioners might eat 'em? An' then, agin, wut airthly use? Nor 'twarn't our fault, in so fur Ez Yankee skippers would keep on atotin' on 'em over. 50 'T improved the whites by savin' 'em from ary need o' workin', An' kep' the blacks from bein' lost thru idleness an' shirkin'; We took to 'em ez nat'ral ez a barn-owl doos to mice, An' hed our hull time on our hands to keep us out o' vice; It made us feel ez pop'lar ez a hen doos with one chicken, An' fill our place in Natur's scale by givin' 'em a lickin': For why should Cæsar git his dues more 'n Juno, Pomp, an' Cuffy? It's justifyin' Ham to spare a nigger when he's stuffy. Where'd their soles go tu, like to know, ef we should let 'em ketch Freeknowledgism an' Fourierism an' Speritoolism an' sech? 60 When Satan sets himself to work to raise his very bes' muss, He scatters roun' onscriptur'l views relatin' to Ones'mus. You'd ough' to seen, though, how his facs an' argymunce an' figgers Drawed tears o' real conviction from a lot o' pen'tent niggers! It warn't like Wilbur's meetin', where you're shet up in a pew, Your dickeys sorrin' off your ears, an' bilin' to be thru; Ther' wuz a tent clost by thet hed a kag o' sunthin' in it, Where you could go, ef you wuz dry, an' damp ye in a minute; An' ef you did dror off a spell, ther' wuzn't no occasion To lose the thread, because, ye see, he bellered like all Bashan. 70 It's dry work follerin' argymunce an' so, 'twix' this an' thet, I felt conviction weighin' down somehow inside my hat; It growed an' growed like Jonah's gourd, a kin' o' whirlin' ketched me, Ontil I fin'lly clean gin out an' owned up thet he'd fetched me; An' when nine tenths o' th' perrish took to tumblin' roun' an' hollerin', I didn' fin' no gret in th' way o' turnin' tu an' follerin'. Soon ez Miss S. see thet, sez she, '_Thet_'s wut I call wuth seein'! _Thet_'s actin' like a reas'nable an' intellectle bein'!' An' so we fin'lly made it up, concluded to hitch hosses, An' here I be 'n my ellermunt among creation's bosses; 80 Arter I'd drawed sech heaps o' blanks, Fortin at last hez sent a prize, An' chose me for a shinin' light o' missionary entaprise. This leads me to another pint on which I've changed my plan O' thinkin' so's't I might become a straight-out Southun man. Miss S. (her maiden name wuz Higgs, o' the fus' fem'ly here) On her Ma's side's all Juggernot, on Pa's all Cavileer, An' sence I've merried into her an' stept into her shoes, It ain't more 'n nateral thet I should modderfy my views: I've ben a-readin' in Debow ontil I've fairly gut So 'nlightened thet I'd full ez lives ha' ben a Dook ez nut; 90 An' when we've laid ye all out stiff, an' Jeff hez gut his crown, An' comes to pick his nobles out, _wun't_ this child be in town! We'll hev an Age o' Chivverlry surpassin' Mister Burke's, Where every fem'ly is fus'-best an' nary white man works: Our system's sech, the thing'll root ez easy ez a tater; For while your lords in furrin parts ain't noways marked by natur', Nor sot apart from ornery folks in featurs nor in figgers, Ef ourn'll keep their faces washed, you'll know 'em from their niggers. Ain't _sech_ things wuth secedin' for, an' gittin' red o' you Thet waller in your low idees, an' will tell all is blue? 100 Fact is, we _air_ a diff'rent race, an' I, for one, don't see, Sech havin' ollers ben the case, how w'ever _did_ agree. It's sunthin' thet you lab'rin'-folks up North hed ough' to think on, Thet Higgses can't bemean themselves to rulin' by a Lincoln,-- Thet men, (an' guv'nors, tu,) thet hez sech Normal names ez Pickens, Accustomed to no kin' o' work, 'thout 'tis to givin' lickins, Can't measure votes with folks thet get their living from their farms, An' prob'ly think thet Law's ez good ez hevin' coats o' arms. Sence I've ben here, I've hired a chap to look about for me To git me a transplantable an' thrifty fem'ly-tree, 110 An' he tells _me_ the Sawins is ez much o' Normal blood Ez Pickens an' the rest on 'em, an' older 'n Noah's flood. Your Normal schools wun't turn ye into Normals, for it's clear, Ef eddykatin' done the thing, they'd be some skurcer here. Pickenses, Boggses, Pettuses, Magoffins, Letchers, Polks,-- Where can you scare up names like them among your mudsill folks? Ther's nothin' to compare with 'em, you'd fin', ef you should glance, Among the tip-top femerlies in Englan', nor in France: I've hearn frum 'sponsible men whose word wuz full ez good's their note, Men thet can run their face for drinks, an' keep a Sunday coat, 120 That they wuz all on 'em come down, an' come down pooty fur, From folks thet, 'thout their crowns wuz on, ou' doors wouldn' never stir, Nor thet ther' warn't a Southun man but wut wuz _primy fashy_ O' the bes' blood in Europe, yis, an' Afriky an' Ashy: Sech bein' the case, is 't likely we should bend like cotton wickin', Or set down under anythin' so low-lived ez a lickin'? More 'n this,--hain't we the literatoor an science, tu, by gorry? Hain't we them intellectle twins, them giants, Simms an' Maury, Each with full twice the ushle brains, like nothin' thet I know, 'thout 'twuz a double-headed calf I see once to a show? 130 For all thet, I warn't jest at fust in favor o' secedin'; I wuz for layin' low a spell to find out where 'twuz leadin', For hevin' South-Carliny try her hand at sepritnationin', She takin' resks an' findin' funds, an' we co-operationin',-- I mean a kin' o' hangin' roun' an' settin' on the fence, Till Prov'dunce pinted how to jump an' save the most expense; I recollected thet 'ere mine o' lead to Shiraz Centre Thet bust up Jabez Pettibone, an' didn't want to ventur' 'Fore I wuz sartin wut come out ud pay for wut went in, For swappin' silver off for lead ain't the sure way to win; 140 (An', fact, it _doos_ look now ez though--but folks must live an' larn-- We should git lead, an' more 'n we want, out o' the Old Consarn;) But when I see a man so wise an' honest ez Buchanan A-lettin' us hev all the forts an' all the arms an' cannon, Admittin' we wuz nat'lly right an' you wuz nat'lly wrong, Coz you wuz lab'rin'-folks an' we wuz wut they call _bong-tong_, An' coz there warn't no fight in ye more 'n in a mashed potater, While two o' _us_ can't skurcely meet but wut we fight by natur', An' th' ain't a bar-room here would pay for openin' on 't a night; Without it giv the priverlege o' bein' shot at sight, 150 Which proves we're Natur's noblemen, with whom it don't surprise The British aristoxy should feel boun' to sympathize,-- Seein' all this, an' seein', tu, the thing wuz strikin' roots While Uncle Sam sot still in hopes thet some one'd bring his boots, I thought th' ole Union's hoops wuz off, an' let myself be sucked in To rise a peg an' jine the crowd thet went for reconstructin',-- Thet is to hev the pardnership under th' ole name continner Jest ez it wuz, we drorrin' pay, you findin' bone an' sinner,-- On'y to put it in the bond, an' enter 't in the journals, Thet you're the nat'ral rank an' file, an' we the nat'ral kurnels. 160 Now this I thought a fees'ble plan, thet 'ud work smooth ez grease, Suitin' the Nineteenth Century an' Upper Ten idees, An' there I meant to stick, an' so did most o' th' leaders, tu, Coz we all thought the chance wuz good o' puttin' on it thru; But Jeff he hit upon a way o' helpin' on us forrard By bein' unannermous,--a trick you ain't quite up to, Norrard. A Baldin hain't no more 'f a chance with them new apple-corers Than folks's oppersition views aginst the Ringtail Roarers; They'll take 'em out on him 'bout east,--one canter on a rail Makes a man feel unannermous ez Jonah in the whale: 170 Or ef he's a slow-moulded cuss thet can't seem quite t' 'gree, He gits the noose by tellergraph upon the nighes' tree: Their mission-work with Afrikins hez put 'em up, thet's sartin, To all the mos' across-lot ways o' preachin' an' convartin'; I'll bet my hat th' ain't nary priest, nor all on 'em together; Thet cairs conviction to the min' like Reveren' Taranfeather; Why, he sot up with me one night, an' labored to sech purpose, Thet (ez an owl by daylight 'mongst a flock o' teazin' chirpers Sees clearer 'n mud the wickedness o' eatin' little birds) I see my error an' agreed to shen it arterwurds; 180 An' I should say, (to jedge our folks by facs in my possession,) Thet three's Unannermous where one's a 'Riginal Secession; So it's a thing you fellers North may safely bet your chink on, Thet we're all water-proofed agin th' usurpin' reign o' Lincoln. Jeff's _some_. He's gut another plan thet hez pertic'lar merits, In givin' things a cheerfle look an' stiffnin' loose-hung sperits; For while your million papers, wut with lyin' an' discussin', Keep folks's tempers all on eend a-fumin' an' a-fussin', A-wondrin' this an' guessin' thet, an' dreadin' every night The breechin' o' the Univarse'll break afore it's light, 190 Our papers don't purtend to print on'y wut Guv'ment choose, An' thet insures us all to git the very best o' noose: Jeff hez it of all sorts an' kines, an' sarves it out ez wanted, So's't every man gits wut he likes an' nobody ain't scanted; Sometimes it's vict'ries (they're 'bout all ther' is that's cheap down here,) Sometimes it's France an' England on the jump to interfere. Fact is, the less the people know o' wut ther' is a-doin', The hendier 'tis for Guv'ment, sence it henders trouble brewin'; An' noose is like a shinplaster,--it's good, ef you believe it, Or, wut's all same, the other man thet's goin' to receive it: 200 Ef you've a son in th' army, wy, it's comfortin' to hear He'll hev no gretter resk to run than seein' th' in'my's rear, Coz, ef an F.F. looks at 'em, they ollers break an' run, Or wilt right down ez debtors will thet stumble on a dun, (An' this, ef an'thin', proves the wuth o' proper fem'ly pride, Fer sech mean shucks ez creditors are all on Lincoln's side); Ef I hev scrip thet wun't go off no more 'n a Belgin rifle, An' read thet it's at par on 'Change, it makes me feel deli'fle; It's cheerin', tu, where every man mus' fortify his bed, To hear thet Freedom's the one thing our darkies mos'ly dread, 210 An' thet experunce, time 'n' agin, to Dixie's Land hez shown Ther' 's nothin' like a powder-cask fer a stiddy corner-stone; Ain't it ez good ez nuts, when salt is sellin' by the ounce For its own weight in Treash'ry-bons, (ef bought in small amounts,) When even whiskey's gittin' skurce an' sugar can't be found, To know thet all the ellerments o' luxury abound? An' don't it glorify sal'-pork, to come to understand It's wut the Richmon' editors call fatness o' the land! Nex' thing to knowin' you're well off is _nut_ to know when y' ain't; An' ef Jeff says all's goin' wal, who'll ventur' t' say it ain't? 220 This cairn the Constitooshun roun' ez Jeff doos in his hat Is hendier a dreffle sight, an' comes more kin' o' pat. I tell ye wut, my jedgment is you're pooty sure to fail, Ez long 'z the head keeps turnin' back for counsel to the tail: Th' advantiges of our consarn for bein' prompt air gret, While, 'long o' Congress, you can't strike, 'f you git an iron het; They bother roun' with argooin', an' var'ous sorts o' foolin', To make sure ef it's leg'lly het, an' all the while it's coolin', So's't when you come to strike, it ain't no gret to wish ye j'y on, An' hurts the hammer 'z much or more ez wut it doos the iron, 239 Jeff don't allow no jawin'-sprees for three mouths at a stretch, Knowin' the ears long speeches suits air mostly made to metch; He jes' ropes in your tonguey chaps an' reg'lar ten-inch bores An' lets 'em play at Congress, ef they'll du it with closed doors; So they ain't no more bothersome than ef we'd took an' sunk 'em, An' yit enj'y th' exclusive right to one another's Buncombe 'thout doin' nobody no hurt, an' 'thout its costin' nothin', Their pay bein' jes' Confedrit funds, they findin' keep an' clothin'; They taste the sweets o' public life, an' plan their little jobs, An' suck the Treash'ry (no gret harm, for it's ez dry ez cobs,) 240 An' go thru all the motions jest ez safe ez in a prison, An' hev their business to themselves, while Buregard hez hisn: Ez long 'z he gives the Hessians fits, committees can't make bother 'bout whether 't's done the legle way or whether 't's done tother. An' _I_ tell _you_ you've gut to larn thet War ain't one long teeter Betwixt _I wan' to_ an' _'Twun't du_, debatin' like a skeetur Afore he lights,--all is, to give the other side a millin', An' arter thet's done, th' ain't no resk but wut the lor'll be willin'; No metter wut the guv'ment is, ez nigh ez I can hit it, A lickin' 's constitooshunal, pervidin' _We_ don't git it. 250 Jeff don't stan' dilly-dallyin', afore he takes a fort, (With no one in,) to git the leave o' the nex' Soopreme Court, Nor don't want forty-'leven weeks o' jawin' an' expoundin', To prove a nigger hez a right to save him, ef he's drowndin'; Whereas ole Abe 'ud sink afore he'd let a darkie boost him, Ef Taney shouldn't come along an' hedn't interdooced him. It ain't your twenty millions thet'll ever block Jeff's game, But one Man thet wun't let 'em jog jest ez he's takin' aim: Your numbers they may strengthen ye or weaken ye, ez 't heppens They're willin' to be helpin' hands or wuss-'n-nothin' cap'ns. 260 I've chose my side, an' 'tain't no odds ef I wuz drawed with magnets, Or ef I thought it prudenter to jine the nighes' bagnets; I've made my ch'ice, an' ciphered out, from all I see an' heard, Th' ole Constitooshun never'd git her decks for action cleared, Long 'z you elect for Congressmen poor shotes thet want to go Coz they can't seem to git their grub no otherways than so, An' let your bes' men stay to home coz they wun't show ez talkers, Nor can't be hired to fool ye an' sof'-soap ye at a caucus,-- Long 'z ye set by Rotashun more 'n ye do by folks's merits, 269 Ez though experunce thriv by change o' sile, like corn an' kerrits,-- Long 'z you allow a critter's 'claims' coz, spite o' shoves an' tippins, He's kep' his private pan jest where 'twould ketch mos' public drippin's,-- Long 'z A.'ll turn tu an' grin' B.'s exe, ef B.'ll help him grin' hisn, (An' thet's the main idee by which your leadin' men hev risen,)-- Long 'z you let _ary_ exe be groun', 'less 'tis to cut the weasan' O' sneaks thet dunno till they're told wut is an' wut ain't Treason,-- Long 'z ye give out commissions to a lot o' peddlin' drones Thet trade in whiskey with their men an' skin 'em to their bones,-- Long 'z ye sift out 'safe' canderdates thet no one ain't afeared on Coz they're so thund'rin' eminent for bein' never heard on, 280 An' hain't no record, ez it's called, for folks to pick a hole in, Ez ef it hurt a man to hev a body with a soul in, An' it wuz ostentashun to be showin' on 't about, When half his feller-citizens contrive to du without,-- Long 'z you suppose your votes can turn biled kebbage into brain, An' ary man thet's pop'lar's fit to drive a lightnin'-train,-- Long 'z you believe democracy means _I'm ez good ez you be,_ An' that a feller from the ranks can't be a knave or booby,-- Long 'z Congress seems purvided, like yer street-cars an' yer 'busses, With ollers room for jes' one more o' your spiled-in-bakin' cusses, 290 Dough 'thout the emptins of a soul, an' yit with means about 'em (Like essence-peddlers[23]) thet'll make folks long to be without 'em, Jes heavy 'nough to turn a scale thet's doubtfle the wrong way, An' make their nat'ral arsenal o' bein' nasty pay.-- Long 'z them things last, (an' _I_ don't see no gret signs of improvin',) I sha'n't up stakes, not hardly yit, nor 'twouldn't pay for movin': For, 'fore you lick us, it'll be the long'st day ever _you_ see. Yourn, (ez I 'xpec' to be nex' spring,)

Public domain · sourced from Project Gutenberg

Quick summary
This poem takes the form of a satirical letter from Birdofredum Sawin, a Northern man who has relocated to the South, married into a slave-owning family, and now passionately defends both the Confederacy and slavery. Lowell employs Sawin's heavy dialect and self-serving reasoning to highlight how greed, social ambition, and moral cowardice can drive someone to forsake their principles. The humor consistently lies with Sawin: the more assertively he makes his case, the more he exposes his own ignorance and corruption.
Themes

Line-by-line

I hed it on my min' las' time, when I to write ye started, / To tech the leadin' featurs o' my gittin' me convarted;
Sawin starts off by sharing how he came to embrace Southern religion and culture. The laid-back, chatty tone frames the entire poem as a letter from someone oblivious to how much he is condemning himself. The use of dialect spelling—'hed,' 'min,' 'featurs'—clearly indicates that this is a humorous voice, distinct from Lowell's own.
You know up North, though secs an' things air plenty ez you please, / Ther' warn't nut one on 'em thet come jes' square with my idees:
Sawin shares his thoughts on why Northern religion didn't work for him: it required real good deeds ('Covenants o' Works'), which he found to be a hassle. Instead, he seeks a faith that offers rewards without the need for moral effort. This is Lowell's initial satirical jab — Sawin's 'theology' is essentially self-interest masquerading as spiritual insight.
When I fus' sot up with Miss S., sez she to me, sez she, / 'Without you git religion, Sir, the thing can't never be;
The true motivation behind Sawin's conversion comes to light: he aims to marry Miss S., a wealthy Southern woman, who insists that he adopt her faith. The religion he embraces is specifically crafted to rationalize slavery — "It takes the Southun pint o' view to raise ten bales a nigger." Lowell emphasizes that Sawin's conversion is purely transactional.
Wal, so I went along an' hearn most an impressive sarmon / About besprinklin' Afriky with fourth-proof dew o' Harmon:
Sawin recounts the camp meeting where he experienced his 'conversion.' The preacher's sermon distorts Scripture — particularly the 'curse of Ham' and the notion that the Bible was intended solely for white people — to justify slavery. Lowell presents these arguments through Sawin's approving paraphrase, allowing the reader to grasp just how empty and self-serving they truly are.
This leads me to another pint on which I've changed my plan / O' thinkin' so's't I might become a straight-out Southun man.
Having established his religious beliefs, Sawin now focuses on shaping his social identity. He immerses himself in pro-Confederate publications like DeBow's Review, fabricates an aristocratic ancestry, and indulges in the fantasy of a Southern chivalric order. This satire critiques the pretentiousness of Southern 'first families' and highlights how effortlessly a social climber can adopt an ideology that flatters his self-image.
For all thet, I warn't jest at fust in favor o' secedin'; / I wuz for layin' low a spell to find out where 'twuz leadin',
Sawin acknowledges that he was initially undecided about secession, holding off to see which side would serve his interests better. He made his decision only after witnessing President Buchanan surrendering forts and arms to the South without putting up a fight. This passage sharply criticizes Buchanan's willingness to appease the South and highlights the self-serving motivations that led many to join the Confederate cause.
Jeff hez it of all sorts an' kines, an' sarves it out ez wanted, / So's't every man gits wut he likes an' nobody ain't scanted;
Sawin admires Jefferson Davis's grip on the Confederate press, which only publishes news approved by the government. Lowell leverages Sawin's admiration to underscore a critical observation about propaganda and authoritarianism: Sawin genuinely favors controlled misinformation over a free press because comforting lies are easier to accept than uncomfortable truths. This passage serves as a strikingly contemporary critique of state media.
I've chose my side, an' 'tain't no odds ef I wuz drawed with magnets, / Or ef I thought it prudenter to jine the nighes' bagnets;
In the lengthy closing section, Sawin shifts to criticizing Northern democratic dysfunction — pointing to corrupt politicians, frequent changes in office, and unqualified candidates — as his rationale for remaining Confederate. Lowell is executing something intricate here: while some of Sawin's critiques of Northern politics hold some truth, they originate from a person justifying slavery and treason, which completely undermines his arguments. The poem concludes abruptly, with Sawin signing off as a future Confederate officer, leaving the punchline to resonate in the ensuing silence.

Tone & mood

The tone is mainly comedic, but there's genuine anger lurking beneath it. Lowell adopts the voice of a fool, and the humor arises from Sawin's upbeat self-revelation — he boasts about things that condemn him. However, the focus isn't solely on one absurd individual. The poem expresses outrage over slavery, the twisted theology used to justify it, Northern complicity, and the political cowardice that allowed the crisis to worsen. The dialect keeps the writing engaging and accessible, but the stakes are profoundly serious.

Symbols & metaphors

  • The camp meeting conversionSawin's religious 'conversion' highlights how ideology, particularly when it aligns with material interests, is packaged as a spiritual experience. The tent, the nearby keg of liquor, and the loud preacher: Lowell reveals the scene's lack of true holiness, illustrating that what Sawin 'receives' is not faith but rather a green light for exploitation.
  • The family treeSawin recruits someone to create a noble family history for him. This crafted aristocratic background embodies the myth of Southern 'first families'—the notion that slaveholders inherently belonged to a ruling class by birth. Lowell reveals that this fantasy can be bought by any opportunist ready to pay for it.
  • Jeff Davis's hat (the Constitution)Sawin commends Davis for keeping the Constitution 'in his hat' — implying he interprets it however he wishes, on the spot. This image illustrates Lowell's point that Confederate constitutionalism was little more than an act: the document was referenced when it suited them and overlooked otherwise.
  • The shinplaster (paper money)Sawin likens Confederate propaganda to worthless paper currency: it only holds value if everyone chooses to believe in it. This analogy is twofold — it ridicules both Confederate finances and their management of news, implying that the entire Southern war effort relies on a shared illusion.
  • The fenceSawin's early strategy of 'settin' on the fence' symbolizes moral cowardice — hesitating to choose a side until it's clear who will prevail. Lowell employs this image to criticize not only Sawin but also the wider group of Northerners who were indecisive about slavery and secession due to their economic or social interests.
  • The lickin'The term 'lickin'' (referring to a beating) shows up repeatedly in the poem across different situations — from slaveholders punishing enslaved individuals to bar-room fights that showcase Southern masculinity, as well as military losses. Lowell integrates it into a cohesive theme that ties together the Confederacy's social structure, its culture of violence, and its eventual downfall in the war.

Historical context

James Russell Lowell created Birdofredum Sawin for his *Biglow Papers*, a collection of satirical dialect poems released in two series (1848 and 1867). Sawin serves as the anti-hero of the series: a morally adaptable New Englander who initially goes to fight in the Mexican-American War and later reappears as a Confederate supporter. This poem is from the second series, published during the Civil War. Lowell, a passionate abolitionist, used the *Biglow Papers* as political tools to engage a broad audience through the *Atlantic Monthly*. The dialect, which captures a Yankee vernacular, functions both as a comedic element and a democratic gesture, allowing serious political discussions to be voiced by everyday people. The poem critiques specific individuals: President Buchanan (whose inaction Lowell detested), Jefferson Davis, and proslavery theologians who misused Scripture to justify slavery. It also addresses the political dysfunction in the North, adding depth beyond mere propaganda.

FAQ

The speaker is Birdofredum Sawin, a recurring comic figure in Lowell's *Biglow Papers*. He’s definitely not meant to be taken seriously—he’s a satirical character, a self-serving opportunist whose every argument reveals his own moral emptiness. Lowell employs dramatic irony here: Sawin believes he’s presenting a compelling case for the Confederacy, but the reader is intended to see through his facade at every turn.

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