TO LAMARTINE by James Russell Lowell: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
Written in 1848, this poem is James Russell Lowell's tribute to Alphonse de Lamartine, the French Romantic poet who briefly led France during that year's revolution before being sidelined by political forces.
The poem
1848 I did not praise thee when the crowd, 'Witched with the moment's inspiration, Vexed thy still ether with hosannas loud, And stamped their dusty adoration; I but looked upward with the rest, And, when they shouted Greatest, whispered Best. They raised thee not, but rose to thee, Their fickle wreaths about thee flinging; So on some marble Phoebus the swol'n sea Might leave his worthless seaweed clinging, But pious hands, with reverent care, Make the pure limbs once more sublimely bare. Now thou'rt thy plain, grand self again, Thou art secure from panegyric, Thou who gav'st politics an epic strain, And actedst Freedom's noblest lyric; This side the Blessed Isles, no tree Grows green enough to make a wreath for thee. Nor can blame cling to thee; the snow From swinish footprints takes no staining, But, leaving the gross soils of earth below, Its spirit mounts, the skies regaining, And unresentful falls again, To beautify the world with dews and rain. The highest duty to mere man vouchsafed Was laid on thee,--out of wild chaos, When the roused popular ocean foamed and chafed And vulture War from his Imaus Snuffed blood, to summon homely Peace, And show that only order is release. To carve thy fullest thought, what though Time was not granted? Aye in history, Like that Dawn's face which baffled Angelo Left shapeless, grander for its mystery, Thy great Design shall stand, and day Flood its blind front from Orients far away. Who says thy day is o'er? Control, My heart, that bitter first emotion; While men shall reverence the steadfast soul, The heart in silent self-devotion Breaking, the mild, heroic mien, Thou'lt need no prop of marble, Lamartine. If France reject thee, 'tis not thine, But her own, exile that she utters; Ideal France, the deathless, the divine, Will be where thy white pennon flutters, As once the nobler Athens went With Aristides into banishment. No fitting metewand hath To-day For measuring spirits of thy stature; Only the Future can reach up to lay The laurel on that lofty nature, Bard, who with some diviner art Hast touched the bard's true lyre, a nation's heart. Swept by thy hand, the gladdened chords, Crashed now in discords fierce by others, Gave forth one note beyond all skill of words, And chimed together, We are brothers. O poem unsurpassed! it ran All round the world, unlocking man to man. France is too poor to pay alone The service of that ample spirit; Paltry seem low dictatorship and throne, Weighed with thy self-renouncing merit; They had to thee been rust and loss; Thy aim was higher,--thou hast climbed a Cross!
Written in 1848, this poem is James Russell Lowell's tribute to Alphonse de Lamartine, the French Romantic poet who briefly led France during that year's revolution before being sidelined by political forces. Lowell suggests that Lamartine's political defeat was, in a way, a moral victory — that a person who is too virtuous and idealistic for the masses will inevitably face rejection, but history will ultimately clear his name. The poem concludes by likening Lamartine's sacrifice to Christ's crucifixion, asserting that his selfless service represents a greater achievement than any throne or dictatorship could provide.
Line-by-line
I did not praise thee when the crowd, / 'Witched with the moment's inspiration,
They raised thee not, but rose to thee, / Their fickle wreaths about thee flinging;
Now thou'rt thy plain, grand self again, / Thou art secure from panegyric,
Nor can blame cling to thee; the snow / From swinish footprints takes no staining,
The highest duty to mere man vouchsafed / Was laid on thee,--out of wild chaos,
To carve thy fullest thought, what though / Time was not granted?
Who says thy day is o'er? Control, / My heart, that bitter first emotion;
If France reject thee, 'tis not thine, / But her own, exile that she utters;
No fitting metewand hath To-day / For measuring spirits of thy stature;
Swept by thy hand, the gladdened chords, / Crashed now in discords fierce by others,
France is too poor to pay alone / The service of that ample spirit;
Tone & mood
The tone is respectful but not overly flattering — Lowell admires Lamartine as one might admire someone who made the right choice and faced the consequences. There's a restrained sorrow beneath the surface, particularly in the stanza where Lowell urges his own heart to find its calm. By the end, the poem rises into a sense of reverence, likening Lamartine's selflessness to crucifixion. Throughout, Lowell maintains a steady, dignified tone — this is a poem crafted by one serious individual about another serious individual, without any inclination towards sentimentality.
Symbols & metaphors
- Seaweed on the marble Phoebus — The crowd's adoration is fleeting and meaningless—it clings to a great man like seaweed clings to a statue of the sun-god, but it doesn't alter who he is. Dedicated hands will always remove it.
- Snow and footprints — Snow trampled by pigs doesn’t stay dirty; it rises back to the sky and returns as rain. This reflects Lamartine’s pure character—political attacks and failures can’t permanently tarnish a truly noble soul.
- Michelangelo's unfinished Dawn — The mention of Angelo's unfinished sculpture suggests that sometimes, what isn't finished can be more impressive than what is complete. Lamartine's political project may have been abruptly halted, but similar to the raw marble face, the intrigue and ambition behind his efforts enhance their impact rather than diminish it.
- The lyre / national heart — The nation's collective sentiment is like a musical instrument. Lamartine, both a poet and a statesman, played it in a way that resonated with human brotherhood. Others who followed him have only created discord on those same strings.
- The Cross — The final image compares Lamartine's choice to give up power willingly to Christ's crucifixion. He prioritized a greater purpose instead of seeking earthly rewards, and the Cross represents that such sacrifices are both difficult and redemptive.
- Aristides in banishment — The Athenian statesman Aristides faced ostracism from his city, possibly due to his renowned sense of justice. Lowell points to his story to suggest that when a society turns its back on its finest individual, the real shame lies with the society itself, not with the one who is exiled.
Historical context
Alphonse de Lamartine was a well-known French Romantic poet who rose to prominence during the revolutionary year of 1848, becoming a key figure in France's brief Second Republic. As part of the provisional government, he famously calmed a mob that was ready to replace the tricolor flag with the red flag of radicalism — a moment that showcased his remarkable courage. However, he struggled politically, and by December 1848, Louis-Napoleon Bonaparte defeated him in the presidential election, securing over 74% of the vote compared to Lamartine's less than 0.3%. Lowell, writing from America, recognized in Lamartine's downfall the familiar tale of an idealist overwhelmed by the machinery of power. As a committed abolitionist and social reformer, Lowell's sympathy for Lamartine, who sought to infuse poetic idealism into politics, was truly heartfelt. The poem was published in 1848, the same year that witnessed these events.
FAQ
Alphonse de Lamartine was a renowned French Romantic poet who emerged as a prominent political figure during the 1848 French Revolution. He briefly wielded significant influence in the provisional government but was soon overshadowed when Louis-Napoleon won the presidential election decisively. Lowell, another poet and idealist, held Lamartine in high regard and penned this poem as a public defense of him during his political downfall.
Lowell is flipping the concept of exile on its head. When a nation forces out its most exceptional individual, it doesn't lessen that person — it lessens itself. France hasn't expelled Lamartine; it has abandoned its own highest ideals. The comparison to Aristides highlights this point: Athens ostracized its most just citizen, and history holds Athens accountable for that decision, not Aristides.
Michelangelo left a number of sculptures unfinished, including ones often referred to as the "Prisoners" or "Slaves," along with a figure connected to Dawn in the Medici Chapel. Lowell uses this to suggest that Lamartine's incomplete political work isn’t a failure; instead, it represents a form of sublime incompleteness—similar to a rough-hewn face that conveys more power through its implications than a polished portrait ever could.
Lowell is drawing a parallel between Lamartine's decision to willingly give up power and Christ's crucifixion. Lamartine had the option to compromise his principles for the sake of political gain, but he chose not to. Lowell portrays that choice as a form of martyrdom — it’s painful, yet spiritually more elevated than any throne or dictatorship could provide.
It captures the essence of human solidarity that Lamartine's speeches and poems ignited during the 1848 revolution. Lowell likens it to a chord played on the heart of a nation — a note of universal brotherhood that echoed well beyond France. This stands in sharp contrast to the "discords fierce" created by those who followed him.
Each stanza consists of six lines, following an ABABCC rhyme scheme. The final couplet adds an epigrammatic punch to each stanza. The line lengths vary, blending longer iambic lines with shorter ones, creating a stately yet flexible tone—suitable for a formal tribute that conveys genuine personal emotion.
Aristides was an Athenian general and statesman from the 5th century BC, known for his unwavering sense of justice—he was even given the nickname "the Just." Despite this, Athens ostracized him, primarily due to envy. Lowell points to him as a historical example: great, just individuals often face rejection from the very societies they serve, and this rejection reflects the moral shortcomings of those societies, not the individuals.
Imaus is an ancient name from Greek and Latin for the Himalayan mountain range, often found in classical literature to represent the most remote and untamed parts of the world. Lowell employs this term to convey that the looming threat of war in 1848 felt both primal and immense — like a vulture circling from the furthest ends of the earth — which makes Lamartine's call for peace even more heroic.