G.P. PUTNAM, BROADWAY. by James Russell Lowell: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
This is the preface poem to James Russell Lowell's *A Fable for Critics* (1848), a lengthy satirical piece that takes jabs at the American poets of his time.
The poem
It being the commonest mode of procedure, I premise a few candid remarks TO THE READER:-- This trifle, begun to please only myself and my own private fancy, was laid on the shelf. But some friends, who had seen it, induced me, by dint of saying they liked it, to put it in print. That is, having come to that very conclusion, I asked their advice when 'twould make no confusion. For though (in the gentlest of ways) they had hinted it was scarce worth the while, I should doubtless have printed it. I began it, intending a Fable, a frail, slender thing, rhymeywinged, with a sting in its tail. But, by addings and alterings not previously planned, digressions chance-hatched, like birds' eggs in the sand, and dawdlings to suit every whimsey's demand (always freeing the bird which I held In my hand, for the two perched, perhaps out of reach, in the tree),--it grew by degrees to the size which you see. I was like the old woman that carried the calf, and my neighbors, like hers, no doubt, wonder and laugh; and when, my strained arms with their grown burthen full, I call it my Fable, they call it a bull. Having scrawled at full gallop (as far as that goes) in a style that is neither good verse nor bad prose, and being a person whom nobody knows, some people will say I am rather more free with my readers than it is becoming to be, that I seem to expect them to wait on my leisure in following wherever I wander at pleasure, that, in short, I take more than a young author's lawful ease, and laugh in a queer way so like Mephistopheles, that the Public will doubt, as they grope through my rhythm, if in truth I am making fun _of_ them or _with_ them. So the excellent Public is hereby assured that the sale of my book is already secured. For there is not a poet throughout the whole land but will purchase a copy or two out of hand, in the fond expectation of being amused in it, by seeing his betters cut up and abused in it. Now, I find, by a pretty exact calculation, there are something like ten thousand bards in the nation, of that special variety whom the Review and Magazine critics call _lofty_ and _true_, and about thirty thousand (_this_ tribe is increasing) of the kinds who are termed _full of promise_ and _pleasing_. The Public will see by a glance at this schedule, that they cannot expect me to be over-sedulous about courting _them_, since it seems I have got enough fuel made sure of for boiling my pot. As for such of our poets as find not their names mentioned once in my pages, with praises or blames, let them SEND IN THEIR CARDS, without further DELAY, to my friend G.P. PUTNAM, Esquire, in Broadway, where a LIST will be kept with the strictest regard to the day and the hour of receiving the card. Then, taking them up as I chance to have time (that is, if their names can be twisted in rhyme), I will honestly give each his PROPER POSITION, at the rate of ONE AUTHOR to each NEW EDITION. Thus a PREMIUM is offered sufficiently HIGH (as the magazines say when they tell their best lie) to induce bards to CLUB their resources and buy the balance of every edition, until they have all of them fairly been run through the mill. One word to such readers (judicious and wise) as read books with something behind the mere eyes, of whom in the country, perhaps, there are two, including myself, gentle reader, and you. All the characters sketched in this slight _jeu d'esprit_, though, it may be, they seem, here and there, rather free, and drawn from a somewhat too cynical standpoint, are _meant_ to be faithful, for that is the grand point, and none but an owl would feel sore at a rub from a jester who tells you, without any subterfuge, that he sits in Diogenes' tub.
This is the preface poem to James Russell Lowell's *A Fable for Critics* (1848), a lengthy satirical piece that takes jabs at the American poets of his time. Lowell feigns an apology for writing the book while actually boasting about its likely success, since every poet he pokes fun at will want to buy a copy just to see what he has to say about them. He dresses it all up with self-deprecating humor, but ultimately, the real punchline is aimed at the literary scene he's critiquing.
Line-by-line
This trifle, begun to please only myself and my own private fancy, was laid on the shelf.
I began it, intending a Fable, a frail, slender thing, rhymey-winged, with a sting in its tail.
Having scrawled at full gallop (as far as that goes) in a style that is neither good verse nor bad prose,
So the excellent Public is hereby assured that the sale of my book is already secured.
As for such of our poets as find not their names mentioned once in my pages, with praises or blames,
One word to such readers (judicious and wise) as read books with something behind the mere eyes,
Tone & mood
The tone is playfully self-aware and satirical from start to finish. Lowell adopts a false modesty that’s so over-the-top it circles back to confidence — he’s fully aware of his intentions. There’s a devilish mischief in his approach, with the humor operating on two levels simultaneously. He’s teasing literary culture, himself, and the reader all at once, and it’s clear he’s relishing every moment of it.
Symbols & metaphors
- The calf grown too large to carry — Lowell's image of the old woman who raised a calf only to carry it around when it's fully grown represents any creative project that expands beyond its initial purpose. What begins as a small, manageable idea can turn into a heavy load — yet the author must deal with it.
- G.P. Putnam, Broadway — The publisher's address serves as a satirical punchline. By instructing vain poets to send their cards there, Lowell transforms the serious business of publishing into a joke about literary ego — the address becomes a symbol of a marketplace where reputations are bought and sold.
- Diogenes' tub — The ancient Greek philosopher Diogenes is well-known for residing in a large ceramic jar while ridiculing the powerful from that modest spot. Lowell sees himself in a similar light: the straightforward cynic who has no interest in buttering anyone up, making his rudeness a matter of integrity.
- The bird in the hand vs. two in the tree — Lowell deliberately flips the proverb — he keeps letting go of the bird he already has to pursue those just out of reach. This self-mocking portrayal captures a writer who can’t help but stray from the main point, consistently leaving behind the focused argument for a more enticing diversion.
- The ten thousand bards — The mock-statistical count of American poets highlights the inflated, self-satisfied literary culture that Lowell criticizes. The overwhelming number turns the entire situation into a joke — a country overwhelmed by 'lofty and true' poetry that no one but the poets themselves seems to read.
Historical context
Lowell published *A Fable for Critics* anonymously in 1848, but his authorship was widely known almost right away. This poem is a lengthy satire that targets the leading American literary figures of the time, including Emerson, Poe, Hawthorne, Margaret Fuller, and others. The preface sets the tone for the entire piece. The 1840s marked a period of deep self-reflection in American literature, as writers debated what an authentic American literature should entail, and critics held significant influence through major reviews and magazines. Already an established poet and editor, Lowell used the Fable to deflate the pretensions of that literary world, including his own. The mention of G.P. Putnam refers to George Palmer Putnam, a key figure among American publishers of the time, whose offices on Broadway were a hub for the literary trade.
FAQ
It's the opening piece of Lowell's *A Fable for Critics* (1848), a lengthy satirical poem where he sketches humorous portraits of the prominent American writers of his era — including Emerson, Poe, Hawthorne, Margaret Fuller, and more. This preface establishes the joke and tone before diving into the main content.
Because he's made fun of so many poets by name, each of them will want to buy a copy to find out what he said about them — and their friends will want to buy copies as well. This highlights a keen insight into literary vanity: even negative reviews can boost sales, as writers can't help but check how they’re portrayed in print.
Mephistopheles is the devil from the Faust legend—charming, clever, and always a bit untrustworthy. Lowell draws this comparison to highlight that his humor carries a dark, ambiguous twist. You can never really tell if he's on your side or out to get you, which is precisely where a good satirist likes to be.
Diogenes of Sinope was an ancient Greek philosopher known for his rejection of social norms and his reportedly simple life in a large ceramic jar. He gained fame for ridiculing the powerful and wealthy while embracing his own deliberate poverty. Lowell aligns himself with this tradition, embodying the honest outsider who shares uncomfortable truths, unburdened by the fear of losing anything.
It's written in anapestic couplets — a lively, quick meter where two unstressed syllables come before a stressed one. This creates a comic, almost breathless energy, as if someone is talking rapidly and finding it all hilarious. Lowell himself describes the style as 'neither good verse nor bad prose,' which adds to the humor.
It's a flattery trap. By claiming there are only two genuinely insightful readers — himself and the current reader — he makes the reader feel special and part of the joke instead of its target. This is a classic tactic of satirists: invite the audience inside the tent so they can laugh along rather than feel attacked.
Almost entirely ironic. The false modesty is so exaggerated that it turns into its own punchline. Lowell was aware that the book was good and that it would create a buzz. His self-deprecation acts as a rhetorical shield—by poking fun at himself first, he disarms critics and makes his jabs at others feel more like lighthearted teasing instead of real hostility.
It's a French phrase that translates to 'play of the mind' or 'witticism' — a light, clever piece crafted more for enjoyment than for serious artistic intent. Lowell uses it to characterize the entire *Fable*, modestly suggesting that the work is sophisticated enough to warrant a French label.