MY DEAR SIR,-- by James Russell Lowell: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
This is the prefatory letter from Hosea Biglow, the fictional Yankee farmer-poet at the center of James Russell Lowell's *Biglow Papers*, written in a hearty New England dialect.
The poem
(an' noticin' by your kiver thet you're some dearer than wut you wuz, I enclose the deffrence) I dunno ez I know Jest how to interdoose this las' perduction of my mews, ez Parson Wilber allus called 'em, which is goin' to _be_ the last an' _stay_ the last onless sunthin' pertikler sh'd interfear which I don't expec' ner I wun't yield tu ef it wuz ez pressin' ez a deppity Shiriff. Sence Mr. Wilbur's disease I hevn't hed no one thet could dror out my talons. He ust to kind o' wine me up an' set the penderlum agoin' an' then somehow I seemed to go on tick as it wear tell I run down, but the noo minister ain't of the same brewin' nor I can't seem to git ahold of no kine of huming nater in him but sort of slide rite off as you du on the eedge of a mow. Minnysteeril natur is wal enough an' a site better'n most other kines I know on, but the other sort sech as Welbor hed wuz of the Lord's makin' an' naterally more wonderfle an' sweet tastin' leastways to me so fur as heerd from. He used to interdooce 'em smooth ez ile athout sayin' nothin' in pertickler an' I misdoubt he didn't set so much by the sec'nd Ceres as wut he done by the Fust, fact, he let on onct thet his mine misgive him of a sort of fallin' off in spots. He wuz as outspoken as a norwester _he_ wuz, but I tole him I hoped the fall wuz from so high up thet a feller could ketch a good many times fust afore comin' bunt onto the ground as I see Jethro
This is the prefatory letter from Hosea Biglow, the fictional Yankee farmer-poet at the center of James Russell Lowell's *Biglow Papers*, written in a hearty New England dialect. Hosea is telling the editor why he’s sending one last poem, lamenting the loss of his old mentor Parson Wilbur, who used to "wind him up" and inspire his creativity. Without Wilbur, Hosea feels like a clock nobody takes the time to set anymore.
Line-by-line
(an' noticin' by your kiver thet you're some dearer than wut you wuz, I enclose the deffrence)
I dunno ez I know Jest how to interdoose this las' perduction of my mews
Sence Mr. Wilbur's disease I hevn't hed no one thet could dror out my talons.
He ust to kind o' wine me up an' set the penderlum agoin' an' then somehow I seemed to go on tick as it wear tell I run down
but the noo minister ain't of the same brewin' nor I can't seem to git ahold of no kine of huming nater in him but sort of slide rite off as you du on the eedge of a mow.
Minnysteeril natur is wal enough an' a site better'n most other kines I know on, but the other sort sech as Welbor hed wuz of the Lord's makin' an' naterally more wonderfle an' sweet tastin'
He wuz as outspoken as a norwester _he_ wuz, but I tole him I hoped the fall wuz from so high up thet a feller could ketch a good many times fust afore comin' bunt onto the ground
Tone & mood
Warm, witty, and tinged with sadness. Hosea seems humorous at first glance — with the playful dialect spelling, the amusing comments about subscription prices, and the clock metaphor — but beneath that laughter lies a heartfelt sorrow for a departed friend and mentor, along with a deep uncertainty about his own voice without that person by his side. The tone stays clear of self-pity; Hosea is too grounded and too sardonic for that.
Symbols & metaphors
- The wound-up clock — Hosea portrays himself as a clock that Wilbur would wind up and set in motion. This image illustrates the nature of creative inspiration as a relational process — another person initiates the mechanism, and then the poet continues on his own until the energy depletes. Without Wilbur, no one is there to wind the clock.
- The Muse ('mews') — Hosea's jumbled take on the classical Muse is both humorous and a sincere recognition that poetry originates from a place beyond the poet's complete control. By mispronouncing it, Lowell grounds this lofty literary idea, making it feel more authentic and relatable instead of snobbish.
- The edge of a mow (haystack) — The sloped, slippery side of a haystack symbolizes the new minister's coldness — there's nothing to hold onto, no friction, no real connection. It's a vivid image from farm life that captures a deeper spiritual and emotional issue, showcasing exactly what Lowell's dialect poetry excels at.
- The nor'wester wind — Wilbur's straightforward honesty is likened to a nor'west wind — cold, direct, and impossible to overlook. This comparison serves as a compliment disguised as a weather forecast, revealing that Hosea cherished unvarnished truth in his friend more than just about anything else.
- Talons — Hosea notes that Wilbur could 'dror out his talons' — which means to unleash his sharp poetic talents. This phrase hints that Hosea's true voice is fierce and captivating, rather than soft, and it requires a skilled touch to reveal it without harm.
Historical context
James Russell Lowell published the *Biglow Papers* in two series: the first in 1848 criticized the Mexican-American War and American expansionism, while the second in 1867 focused on the Civil War. Both series feature the fictional Yankee farmer Hosea Biglow and his editor Parson Wilbur as a framing device. A Harvard-educated poet and abolitionist, Lowell employed a thick New England dialect to lend his political satire the moral weight of ordinary people. By the time of this prefatory letter, Wilbur has died within the narrative, and Lowell reflects on his own creative fatigue after years of writing about war. The letter also subtly mourns the fading political urgency that had fueled the entire project — with the war ended and slavery abolished, Lowell was uncertain about what his rustic alter ego had left to express.
FAQ
The *Biglow Papers* is a two-part satirical piece by Lowell featuring a fictional New England farmer named Hosea Biglow, who expresses his thoughts on American politics through dialect poetry. This letter serves as a preface from Hosea to the editor, in which he shares his reasons for submitting what he believes will be his last contribution.
Lowell is transcribing New England's rural dialect phonetically—reflecting how Hosea would actually pronounce the words. For instance, 'kiver' stands for 'cover', 'deffrence' for 'difference', and 'disease' for 'decease'. This approach is a conscious literary choice to present Hosea as a genuine person rather than an elegant poet, lending his opinions a sense of grassroots authenticity.
Within the fiction of the *Biglow Papers*, Parson Wilbur is the educated minister who edits and introduces Hosea's poems. He connects Hosea's raw dialect voice with the reading public. His death ends the creative partnership that made the project successful, which is why Hosea feels unable to continue without him.
He means Wilbur could tap into his sharpest, most potent poetic talents. 'Talons' evokes something fierce and gripping — it's not about gentle inspiration but about having a real fighting spirit. Wilbur had a knack for provoking and inspiring Hosea in a way that the new minister just can't match.
It's a prose letter that acts as a preface to a poem. Lowell frequently included framing letters and editorial notes in the *Biglow Papers* to introduce the verse pieces. This letter is a literary performance in its own right — Hosea's voice is just as skillfully crafted here as it is in the poems.
Hosea describes how Wilbur would 'wine him up' (wind him up) like a clock and get the pendulum swinging. After that, Hosea would keep going on his own until he eventually slowed down. This captures how their friendship sparked his creativity — Wilbur supplied the initial push, and Hosea kept it going. Without Wilbur, the clock just stops.
He’s saying there’s nothing to hold onto. The sloped edge of a haystack, or 'mow,' is smooth and angled — it’s hard to find your footing. The new minister has a polished clerical demeanor but lacks genuine warmth, so Hosea can’t connect with him like he did with Wilbur.
Wilbur candidly told Hosea that he felt the second series of the *Biglow Papers* didn't match the quality of the first. Hosea's reply is both loyal and humorous: he points out that even if the quality did dip, it dropped from such a high point that there was still ample space before it hit rock bottom. He’s standing up for his friend’s work while also admitting that the criticism could have some merit.