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P.S. by James Russell Lowell: Summary, Meaning & Analysis

James Russell Lowell

A questionable political deal is unfolding right before our eyes: the speaker is offering a cozy lighthouse appointment in return for a chance at the White House, promising to help you out if you help him first.

The poem
Ez we're a sort o' privateerin', O' course, you know, it's sheer an' sheer, An' there is sutthin' wuth your hearin' I'll mention in _your_ privit ear; Ef you git _me_ inside the White House, Your head with ile I'll kin' o' 'nint By gittin' _you_ inside the Lighthouse Down to the eend o' Jaalam Pint. An' ez the North hez took to brustlin' At bein' scrouged frum off the roost, 90 I'll tell ye wut'll save all tusslin' An' give our side a harnsome boost,-- Tell 'em thet on the Slavery question I'm RIGHT, although to speak I'm lawth; This gives you a safe pint to rest on, An' leaves me frontin' South by North. [And now of epistles candidatial, which are of two kinds,--namely, letters of acceptance, and letters definitive of position. Our republic, on the eve of an election, may safely enough be called a republic of letters. Epistolary composition becomes then an epidemic, which seizes one candidate after another, not seldom cutting short the thread of political life. It has come to such a pass, that a party dreads less the attacks of its opponents than a letter from its candidate. _Litera scripta manet_, and it will go hard if something bad cannot be made of it. General Harrison, it is well understood, was surrounded, during his candidacy, with the _cordon sanitaire_ of a vigilance committee. No prisoner in Spielberg was ever more cautiously deprived of writing materials. The soot was scraped carefully from the chimney-places; outposts of expert rifle-shooters rendered it sure death for any goose (who came clad in feathers) to approach within a certain limited distance of North Bend; and all domestic fowls about the premises were reduced to the condition of Plato's original man. By these precautions the General was saved. _Parva componere magnis_, I remember, that, when party-spirit once ran high among my people, upon occasion of the choice of a new deacon, I, having my preferences, yet not caring too openly to express them, made use of an innocent fraud to bring about that result which I deemed most desirable. My stratagem was no other than the throwing a copy of the Complete Letter-Writer in the way of the candidate whom I wished to defeat. He caught the infection, and addressed a short note to his constituents, in which the opposite party detected so many and so grave improprieties (he had modelled it upon the letter of a young lady accepting a proposal of marriage), that he not only lost his election, but, falling under a suspicion of Sabellianism and I know not what (the widow Endive assured me that he was a Paralipomenon, to her certain knowledge), was forced to leave the town. Thus it is that the letter killeth. The object which candidates propose to themselves in writing is to convey no meaning at all. And here is a quite unsuspected pitfall into which they successively plunge headlong. For it is precisely in such cryptographies that mankind are prone to seek for and find a wonderful amount and variety of significance. _Omne ignotum pro mirifico_. How do we admire at the antique world striving to crack those oracular nuts from Delphi, Hammon, and elsewhere, in only one of which can I so much as surmise that any kernel had ever lodged; that, namely, wherein Apollo confessed that he was mortal. One Didymus is, moreover, related to have written six thousand books on the single subject of grammar, a topic rendered only more tenebrific by the labors of his successors, and which seems still to possess an attraction for authors in proportion as they can make nothing of it. A singular loadstone for theologians, also, is the Beast in the Apocalypse, whereof, in the course of my studies, I have noted two hundred and three several interpretations, each lethiferal to all the rest. _Non nostrum est tantas componere lites_, yet I have myself ventured upon a two hundred and fourth, which I embodied in a discourse preached on occasion of the demise of the late usurper, Napoleon Bonaparte, and which quieted, in a large measure, the minds of my people. It is true that my views on this important point were ardently controverted by Mr. Shearjashub Holden, the then preceptor of our academy, and in other particulars a very deserving and sensible young man, though possessing a somewhat limited knowledge of the Greek tongue. But his heresy struck down no deep root, and, he having been lately removed by the hand of Providence, I had the satisfaction of reaffirming my cherished sentiments in a sermon preached upon the Lord's day immediately succeeding his funeral. This might seem like taking an unfair advantage, did I not add that he had made provision in his last will (being celibate) for the publication of a posthumous tractate in support of his own dangerous opinions. I know of nothing in our modern times which approaches so nearly to the ancient oracle as the letter of a Presidential candidate. Now, among the Greeks, the eating of beans was strictly forbidden to all such as had it in mind to consult those expert amphibologists, and this same prohibition on the part of Pythagoras to his disciples is understood to imply an abstinence from politics, beans having been used as ballots. That other explication, _quod videlicet sensus eo cibo obtundi existimaret_, though supported _pugnis et calcibus_ by many of the learned, and not wanting the countenance of Cicero, is confuted by the larger experience of New England. On the whole, I think it safer to apply here the rule of interpretation which now generally obtains in regard to antique cosmogonies, myths, fables, proverbial expressions, and knotty points generally, which is, to find a common-sense meaning, and then select whatever can be imagined the most opposite thereto. In this way we arrive at the conclusion, that the Greeks objected to the questioning of candidates. And very properly, if, as I conceive, the chief point be not to discover what a person in that position is, or what he will do, but whether he can be elected. _Vos exemplaria Græca nocturna versate manu, versate diurna_. But, since an imitation of the Greeks in this particular (the asking of questions being one chief privilege of freemen) is hardly to be hoped for, and our candidates will answer, whether they are questioned or not, I would recommend that these ante-electionary dialogues should be carried on by symbols, as were the diplomatic correspondences of the Scythians an Macrobii, or confined to the language of signs, like the famous interview of Panurge and Goatsnose. A candidate might then convey a suitable reply to all committees of inquiry by closing one eye, or by presenting them with a phial of Egyptian darkness to be speculated upon by their respective constituencies. These answers would be susceptible of whatever retrospective construction the exigencies of the political campaign might seem to demand, and the candidate could take his position on either side of the fence with entire consistency. Or, if letters must be written, profitable use might be made of the Dighton rock hieroglyphic or the cuneiform script, every fresh decipherer of which is enabled to educe a different meaning, whereby a sculptured stone or two supplies us, and will probably continue to supply posterity, with a very vast and various body of authentic history. For even the briefest epistle in the ordinary chirography is dangerous. There is scarce any style so compressed that superfluous words may not be detected in it. A severe critic might curtail that famous brevity of Cæsar's by two thirds, drawing his pen through the supererogatory _veni_ and _vidi_. Perhaps, after all, the surest footing of hope is to be found in the rapidly increasing tendency to demand less and less of qualification in candidates. Already have statesmanship, experience, and the possession (nay, the profession, even) of principles been rejected as superfluous, and may not the patriot reasonably hope that the ability to write will follow? At present, there may be death in pothooks as well as pots, the loop of a letter may suffice for a bowstring, and all the dreadful heresies of Antislavery may lurk in a flourish.--H.W.] No. VIII

Public domain · sourced from Project Gutenberg

Quick summary
A questionable political deal is unfolding right before our eyes: the speaker is offering a cozy lighthouse appointment in return for a chance at the White House, promising to help you out if you help him first. The conversation is laced with a casual tone that makes the corruption seem friendly and innocuous. Lowell's punchline is that the speaker's stance on slavery is intentionally vague, allowing him to appear agreeable to everyone and avoid offending anyone.
Themes

Line-by-line

Ez we're a sort o' privateerin', / O' course, you know, it's sheer an' sheer,
The speaker begins by likening their arrangement to privateering — essentially, licensed piracy — and mentions they'll divide the spoils fifty-fifty ('sheer an' sheer'). From the start, Lowell indicates that what comes next is a shady deal disguised in folksy terms.
An' there is sutthin' wuth your hearin' / I'll mention in _your_ privit ear;
The speaker leans in to make a whispered deal. The italicized 'your' captures the secretive hush of a backroom chat, while the dialect spelling ('sutthin'', 'privit') maintains a folksy feel, despite the content being openly corrupt.
Ef you git _me_ inside the White House, / Your head with ile I'll kin' o' 'nint
Here’s the straightforward exchange: help me become president, and I’ll appoint you — 'ile' refers to oil, a biblical sign of blessing and appointment. The use of the term 'anoint' in this sleazy patronage arrangement is the punchline.
By gittin' _you_ inside the Lighthouse / Down to the eend o' Jaalam Pint.
The reward is a lighthouse keeper's position at the fictional Jaalam Point — a small, easy government job. Lowell is criticizing the spoils system, in which political loyalty earned people plush federal appointments without regard for their qualifications.
An' ez the North hez took to brustlin' / At bein' scrouged frum off the roost,
'Brustling' refers to being filled with anger, while 'scrouged' means to be squeezed or shoved. The North is tired of being overlooked due to Southern political dominance, and the speaker recognizes this tension as an issue that requires management — not necessarily a solution.
I'll tell ye wut'll save all tusslin' / An' give our side a harnsome boost,--
The speaker offers a clever trick that sidesteps any actual confrontation ('tusslin'') while still securing votes. The term 'harnsome' (handsome) reeks of salesmanship — the entire pitch focuses on appearances rather than genuine content.
Tell 'em thet on the Slavery question / I'm RIGHT, although to speak I'm lawth;
The punchline of the poem is to assert a position on slavery without clearly stating which side it is. 'Lawth' is a play on 'loath' — the speaker hesitates to be direct, which is exactly the point. This ambiguity is intentional.
This gives you a safe pint to rest on, / An' leaves me frontin' South by North.
'South by North' is a compass direction that points in two ways at once — an ideal metaphor for a candidate aiming to attract both slaveholding Southerners and antislavery Northerners at the same time. Lowell concludes with this image of intentional, strategic ambiguity.

Tone & mood

Satirical and delightfully cynical, Lowell adopts the voice of a self-incriminating political operator who is too self-satisfied to realize how much he reveals about himself. The dialect—dropped g's, phonetic spelling, rural idioms—highlights an ironic contrast between the speaker's folksy charm and the blatant corruption he discusses. The result is humorous, yet the subject matter is serious: the spoils system and the intentional evasiveness of antebellum candidates regarding slavery.

Symbols & metaphors

  • The Lighthouse at Jaalam PointA representation of the spoils system — where government jobs are distributed as political favors. Its intentionally small and obscure nature makes the corruption seem both minor and widespread.
  • PrivateeringLicensed piracy serves as a metaphor for electoral politics. In both cases, individuals take advantage of what they can get away with, operating under a flimsy guise of legality, and both rely on partners who share the spoils.
  • South by NorthA compass bearing pointing in two opposite directions at the same time. This is Lowell's clearest metaphor for the antebellum politician's approach of avoiding any firm stance on slavery to avoid offending anyone and to appeal to everyone.
  • Anointing with oil ('ile')A biblical gesture of consecration is used to describe a shady patronage deal. This mock-sacred language undermines the speaker's self-importance and exposes the pretentiousness of political ritual.
  • The White HouseThe speaker aims to control not only the presidency but also the entire federal power structure and its patronage. This control is the incentive that makes the backroom deal appealing.

Historical context

James Russell Lowell published his *Biglow Papers* in two series, with the first series debuting in 1848 during the Mexican-American War. "P.S." is part of that initial series, where Lowell created the character of Hosea Biglow, a Yankee farmer-poet, along with his neighbor Birdofredum Sawin, to poke fun at American expansionism, the spoils system, and especially the political cowardice of candidates who dodged taking a clear stance against slavery. The prose commentary attributed to the Reverend Homer Wilbur (found in the long footnote after the verse) allows Lowell to provide more scholarly and ironic insights. The poem targets a familiar figure: the candidate who disguises a corrupt deal in simple language and refers to his deliberate vagueness on slavery as a "position." Lowell was writing at a time when the debate over the Wilmot Proviso was compelling politicians to either face the issue of slavery's expansion or sidestep it — and most opted for evasion.

FAQ

The speaker is Birdofredum Sawin, a character created by Lowell in the *Biglow Papers*. He's a self-serving, morally flexible Yankee who has ventured south and taken in the local political culture. In this postscript (that’s what 'P.S.' stands for), he shares a behind-the-scenes deal with his correspondent.

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