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BIRDOFREDUM SAWIN. by James Russell Lowell: Summary, Meaning & Analysis

James Russell Lowell

This editorial note is crafted in prose by the fictional Reverend Homer Wilbur, who is the made-up editor of James Russell Lowell's *Biglow Papers*.

The poem
[Here, patient reader, we take leave of each other, I trust with some mutual satisfaction. I say _patient_, for I love not that kind which skims dippingly over the surface of the page, as swallows over a pool before rain. By such no pearls shall be gathered. But if no pearls there be (as, indeed the world is not without example of books wherefrom the longest-winded diver shall bring up no more than his proper handful of mud), yet let us hope that an oyster or two may reward adequate perseverance. If neither pearls nor oysters, yet is patience itself a gem worth diving deeply for. It may seem to some that too much space has been usurped by my own private lucubrations, and some may be fain to bring against me that old jest of him who preached all his hearers out of the meeting-house save only the sexton, who, remaining for yet a little space, from a sense of official duty, at last gave out also, and, presenting the keys, humbly requested our preacher to lock the doors, when he should have wholly relieved himself of his testimony. I confess to a satisfaction in the self act of preaching, nor do I esteem a discourse to be wholly thrown away even upon a sleeping or unintelligent auditory. I cannot easily believe that the Gospel of Saint John, which Jacques Cartier ordered to be read in the Latin tongue to the Canadian savages, upon his first meeting with them, fell altogether upon stony ground. For the earnestness of the preacher is a sermon appreciable by dullest intellects and most alien ears. In this wise did Episcopius convert many to his opinions, who yet understood not the language in which he discoursed. The chief thing is that the messenger believe that he has an authentic message to deliver. For counterfeit messengers that mode of treatment which Father John de Plano Carpini relates to have prevailed among the Tartars would seem effectual, and, perhaps, deserved enough. For my own part, I may lay claim to so much of the spirit of martyrdom as would have led me to go into banishment with those clergymen whom Alphonso the Sixth of Portugal drave out of his kingdom for refusing to shorten their pulpit eloquence. It is possible, that, I having been invited into my brother Biglow's desk, I may have been too little scrupulous in using it for the venting of my own peculiar doctrines to a congregation drawn together in the expectation and with the desire of hearing him. I am not wholly unconscious of a peculiarity of mental organization which impels me, like the railroad-engine with its train of cars, to run backward for a short distance in order to obtain a fairer start. I may compare myself to one fishing from the rocks when the sea runs high, who, misinterpreting the suction of the undertow for the biting of some larger fish, jerks suddenly, and finds that he has _caught bottom_, hauling in upon the end of his line a trail of various _algæ_, among which, nevertheless, the naturalist may haply find somewhat to repay the disappointment of the angler. Yet have I conscientiously endeavored to adapt myself to the impatient temper of the age, daily degenerating more and more from the high standard of our pristine New England. To the catalogue of lost arts I would mournfully add also that of listening to two-hour sermons. Surely we have been abridged into a race of pygmies. For, truly, in those of the old discourses yet subsisting to us in print, the endless spinal column of divisions and subdivisions can be likened to nothing so exactly as to the vertebræ of the saurians, whence the theorist may conjecture a race of Anakim proportionate to the withstanding of these other monsters. I say Anakim rather than Nephelim, because there seem reasons for supposing that the race of those whose heads (though no giants) are constantly enveloped in clouds (which that name imports) will never become extinct. The attempt to vanquish the innumerable _heads_ of one of those aforementioned discourses may supply us with a plausible interpretation of the second labor of Hercules, and his successful experiment with fire affords us a useful precedent. But while I lament the degeneracy of the age in this regard, I cannot refuse to succumb to its influence. Looking out through my study-window, I see Mr. Biglow at a distance busy in gathering his Baldwins, of which, to judge by the number of barrels lying about under the trees, his crop is more abundant than my own,--by which sight I am admonished to turn to those orchards of the mind wherein my labors may be more prospered, and apply myself diligently to the preparation of my next Sabbath's discourse.--H.W.]

Public domain · sourced from Project Gutenberg

Quick summary
This editorial note is crafted in prose by the fictional Reverend Homer Wilbur, who is the made-up editor of James Russell Lowell's *Biglow Papers*. In this note, Wilbur bids farewell to the reader, justifies his tendency to ramble, and humorously critiques both himself and the dwindling patience of today's audiences. Lowell employs this pompous fictitious preacher to poke fun at lengthy writing while also indulging in his own deliberately humorous verbosity.
Themes

Line-by-line

Here, patient reader, we take leave of each other, I trust with some mutual satisfaction.
Wilbur begins by directly addressing the reader and referring to them as *patient* — a compliment that carries weight, acknowledging that he’s likely tested their patience. The metaphor of pearl diving that comes next lays the groundwork for his entire argument: even if the book doesn't contain pearls, the process of diving (or reading closely) is valuable in itself. This charming bit of self-deprecation also flatters those who are paying close attention.
It may seem to some that too much space has been usurped by my own private lucubrations...
Here, Wilbur recognizes the main criticism he faces — that he's taken over Biglow's platform for his own preaching. He responds with the story of a preacher who clears out the meeting-house until only the sexton is left, yet continues speaking. Instead of feeling ashamed by this analogy, Wilbur effectively embraces it and reinforces his point, claiming that the preacher's sincerity is more important than the number of listeners.
I am not wholly unconscious of a peculiarity of mental organization which impels me, like the railroad-engine...
Wilbur likens his mind to a train that needs to backtrack before moving ahead—this is his way of illustrating why he tends to take a while to get to the point. The fishing metaphor that follows is just as self-aware: he acknowledges that he frequently confuses the weight of irrelevant details (the seaweed) for something important, but he argues that a naturalist might still see value in the catch. Both images are humorous because they are cleverly crafted to justify a simple shortcoming.
Yet have I conscientiously endeavored to adapt myself to the impatient temper of the age...
Wilbur expresses disappointment that people can't sit through two-hour sermons anymore, viewing this as a sign of cultural decline. He likens the intricate subdivisions of old Puritan sermons to dinosaur vertebrae, suggesting they were designed for a bygone era of giants (the Anakim). The irony is that Wilbur himself is one of those dinosaurs—he grieves for the audience that appreciated lengthy sermons while continuing to create them.
But while I lament the degeneracy of the age in this regard, I cannot refuse to succumb to its influence.
The closing paragraph brings Wilbur back to reality. He glances out the window, spots Biglow harvesting apples, and gets the message — it’s time to put down the pen and focus on his own tasks. The contrast between Biglow's bountiful apple harvest and Wilbur's suggested smaller yield serves as a subtle joke: the straightforward Yankee farmer-poet outshines the wordy clergyman-editor. Lowell wraps things up with a touch of gentle self-mockery that brings the entire piece full circle.

Tone & mood

The tone is comic and self-aware from start to finish. Wilbur writes with the ornate style of a nineteenth-century New England clergyman, but Lowell ensures the reader catches the joke — every lofty classical reference and intricate metaphor doubles as a punchline. Beneath the grandiosity, there's a genuine warmth, and the piece never veers into mean-spirited satire. It feels like a man who fully understands himself and has come to terms with it.

Symbols & metaphors

  • Pearl divingWilbur uses pearl diving to illustrate the importance of careful, deep reading. A reader who merely skims the surface gains nothing, while someone who dives in patiently may discover something valuable—or they might just pull up mud. This is an honest acknowledgment that the book doesn't always yield rewards for effort, but putting in that effort remains the right way to engage.
  • The railroad engine running backwardThis image reflects Wilbur's tendency, and that of the long-winded preacher, to take a long run-up before getting to the point. It serves as a self-assessment of his rhetorical style, conveyed with such good humor that it feels more like a confession than a complaint.
  • Biglow's apple harvestThe image of Biglow assembling his Baldwins at the end represents practical, down-to-earth productivity. This stands in stark contrast to Wilbur's constant intellectual wandering and serves as a gentle reminder to both him and the reader that straightforward effort accomplishes more than elaborate explanations of that effort.
  • The dinosaur vertebrae (saurian spinal column)Old Puritan sermons, with their countless divisions, resemble the backbones of ancient reptiles — large, extinct, and suited for a world that has vanished. This comparison reflects Lowell's belief that the culture of attentive, lengthy listening is as extinct as the dinosaurs.
  • The sexton and the empty meeting-houseThe story about the preacher who clears out the church but continues his sermon highlights the risk of prioritizing self-expression over the audience's presence. Wilbur shares this tale to admit his own habit of preaching even when no one is left to listen.

Historical context

James Russell Lowell published *The Biglow Papers* in two parts (1848 and 1867) to poke fun at American politics—first regarding the Mexican-American War, then focusing on the Civil War era. The twist is that a simple farmer from Massachusetts named Hosea Biglow writes pointed political verses in a Yankee dialect, which are then edited and annotated by his pretentious local minister, the Reverend Homer Wilbur, who adds lengthy scholarly commentary. The humor works on two levels: Biglow's straightforward language exposes political hypocrisy, while Wilbur's grandiloquent style mocks the self-important intellectual elite. This closing note, credited to Wilbur, was included at the end of the first series. At the time, Lowell was already a well-known poet and a figure connected to Harvard, and the *Biglow Papers* gained significant readership and political sway, playing a role in shaping Northern views against the spread of slavery into new territories.

FAQ

It’s prose, not verse — and that’s on purpose. The *Biglow Papers* combine dialect poetry from the fictional Hosea Biglow with lengthy prose editorial notes from the fictional Reverend Wilbur. This piece is one of those notes. Lowell chose the title for the collection to intentionally blur the distinction between high and low literary forms, and the prose sections are just as thoughtfully written as the poetry.

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