Longixus by James Russell Lowell

Lowell's "Longixus" takes a humorous swipe at the pretentiousness of lengthy public speaking and the empty rhetoric often found in formal oratory training. With a clever quote from Montaigne — who preferred that his son learn to speak in taverns rather than in speech schools — Lowell crafts a joke about a speaker so boring that his audience either dozes off or runs away. The poem serves as a comedic critique of the pompous, self-important style of speaking that was considered eloquent in 19th-century American public life.

Wry and satirical, Lowell is clearly enjoying himself — the mockery has a playful quality, resembling a knowing smirk rather than an angry outburst. The humor is dry and intellectual, targeting readers who have endured one too many pompous speeches.

James Russell Lowell wrote at a time when public speaking was a major art form and cultural fixture in America. Figures like Daniel Webster and Edward Everett were almost worshipped as stars of the lecture circuit, while the lyceum movement drew large crowds eager for speeches. As a Harvard professor, editor, and poet, Lowell was deeply involved in this scene, yet he harbored a strong skepticism about its excesses. His *Biglow Papers* showcased his talent for comic verse and satire. "Longixus" fits well within this tradition, featuring a Montaigne epigraph to ground a distinctly American critique: that polished rhetoric often replaces genuine communication. The mock-Latin name reflects the satirical naming styles seen in classical Roman comedy and 18th-century English satire.