James Vila Blake, Sonnets from Marcus Aurelius 1

Much like the poems by Ellis Walker on Epictetus, I came across these sonnets by James Vila Blake on Marcus Aurelius quite by accident. This time, in search of poetry with a Stoic character, I found them scanned in an obscure corner of the internet, the digital equivalent of a dusty shelf in a back room, and I have yet to hold a physical copy in my hands. Though I have always preferred the feel of real paper, this version will surely do for the moment. 

I had never heard of the author before, and a bit of digging revealed that James Vila Blake (1842-1925) was a Unitarian minister, best known for his essays, sermons, and as an editor of hymns. Though I am largely unfamiliar with the Unitarian tradition, I was quite taken by his words on the mission of his church: 

Love is the spirit of this church,
and service is its law.
This is our great covenant:
To dwell together in peace,
to seek the truth in love, 
and to help one another. 

Beyond all our theological bickering, it would be nice if more of us could hold to such basic principles. 

In his foreword, Rev. Blake explains how he came to write these poems, so I will only add how happy I was to see someone taking the time to reflect on the writings of Marcus Aurelius with such reverence and affection. If I had a gift for verse, I would attempt something similar, as a sort of homage, but I can only manage my cumbersome reflections. 

There are 31 sonnets here, each working from a specific passage in the Meditations, plus a proem and and epode. Blake includes these sections of the original text before the poems, both in the Greek and his own translation. 

Now while my Latin has become passable over the years, I have sadly never been able to move beyond the most rudimentary grammar and vocabulary for Greek, and so I cannot make any judgments about the quotations I see here. For the sake of completeness, I have included the Greek as it appears in the scan, fixing only the most obvious typos, and I have left the rest as it is. 

If you happen to have any talent in Greek, and you find glaring mistakes, which are quite likely in such a transcription, I would encourage you to embrace the task of a thorough edit. I'm sure a proper academic could do this in very little time, by comparing the Blake copy to a scholarly edition. Your effort would be of great help in keeping this fine work alive! 

—3/2010 

* * * * * 

Sonnets from Marcus Aurelius 

James Vila Blake 

THOS. P. HALPIN COMPANY, CHICAGO, ILLINOIS 

Copyright by JAMES VILA BLAKE, 1920 

TO THE Rev. A. W. OXFORD, M. O. 

LONDON, ENGLAND


FOREWORD

When I had read the book of Marcus Aurelius many times, and was reading it after a long interval once again, which was also in company and aloud, I noticed the worthy matter for poetic treatment presented by the great Emperor’s noblest and most characteristic sayings. I marked such passages, and they remained for many years marked and no more. 

Then I remembered them, recurred to them, and found my former impression confirmed. Hence these heroic hymns, as perhaps I may call them, the sonnet appearing to me the poetic form most suitable and germane. Do or can the lofty thoughts herein versed, gain from verse? The reader must judge, and possibly the fortunes of the present recital may afford some indication whether the stern and high terseness of the original can profit by the expansion, diction and imagery of verse. 

Certainly in clarity, no; but in persuasiveness, possibly yes. The question seems much like a query whether excellent drawing in ink can gain by brush and color. What is proper matter for poesy, is a question belonging to poetic technics, and there is wide space and a thousand species between a geometrical demonstration or a bit of chemical nomenclature, and the heroics of a ballad; but at first blush perhaps it may be surmised that whatever thought is big enough and humane enough, may lay all Nature under contribution, and need not disdain the warrant of poetic fancy, trope, form or diction. 

As to the diction, for aught that appears, the word rondure which Shakespeare liked, is as good as roundness, or sphericity, or circularity, or curve, or curvature, or concavity, or convexity, or circumbendibus, and if this be granted, poetic language scores a point perhaps, though I have known poets and others look askance at “rondure.” 

The Greek and a prose rendering are placed together, and the sonnet opposite them. In the rendering I have not sought to give a literal transcription of the original, but rather the embosomed spirit and redolence of it. But it may be hoped this will be acceptable, since for those who might disapprove the Greek is added. 

The text is accepted from “The Communings with Himself of Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, Emperor of Rome, together with his Speeches and Sayings. A Revised Text and a Translation into English, by C. R. Haines, M.A.,, F.S.A. London, William Heinemann. New York, G. P. Putnam’s Sons.” 

—J. V. B. 

The Greek excerpts are taken by means of a photo-etching process. Of course the result would have been more elegant if I had employed a Greek compositor; but the virtue of the text is not affected, and J have done what I could under the conditions.

* * * * * 

PROEM 

Marcus, thy stoic wit lacks naught in-door; 

Out-door methinks thou shouldst be more at play, 

Hill, vale, wood, brook, be fellows by thy way, 

And wider wanderings on the sea-green shore. 

Thou shouldst a stilly meadow pool explore 

For doubled lustres of the early day, 

Or soft reflections of capacious gray 

That hath the meadow’s verdure tented o’er. 

O if a rose had trembled to thy kiss 

More than some culprit quailed before thy power, 

Mayhap I had not now been writing this, 

Thou being too great to gain thy day and hour. 

Well, well, wide soul thou wert, kind heart, mind’s dower, 

And to thee I am pious and submiss. 

* * * * * 

1. 

Εωθεν προλέγειν ἑαυτῷ: συντεύξομαι περιἔργῳ, ἀχαρίστῳ, ὑβριστῇ, δολερῷ, βασκάνῳ, ἀκοινωνήτῳ. πάντα ταῦτα συμβέβηκεν ἐκείνοις παρὰ τὴν ἄγνοιαν τῶν ἀγαθῶν καὶ κακῶν. ἐγὼ δὲ τεθεωρηκὼς τὴν φύσιν τοῦ ἀγαθοῦ, ὅτι καλόν, καὶ τοῦ κακοῦ, ὅτι αἰσχρόν, καὶ τὴν αὐτοῦ τοῦ ἁμαρτάνοντος φύσιν, ὅτε μοι συγγενής, οὐχὶ αἵματος ἣ σπέρματος τοῦ αὐτοῦ, ἀλλὰ νοῦ καὶ θείας ἀπομοίρας μέτοχος, οὔτε βλαβῆναι ὑπό τινος αὐτῶν δύναμαι: αἰσχρῷ γάρ με οὐδεὶς περιβαλεῖ: οὔτε ὀργίζεσθαι τῷ συγγενεῖ δύναμαι οὔτε ἀπέχθεσθαι αὐτῷ. 

At early morning warn yourself thus: Today I shall happen on busy-bodies, ungrateful fellows, insolent boors, deceitful plotters, spiteful churls, unkind neighbors. All these ills have befallen them by reason of their ignorance of good and evil. But I have understood the nature of the good, that it is beautiful, and of the evil, that it is ugly, and of the ill-behaved man himself, that he is of the same source, kith and kin, with me—not of the same blood and flesh, but sharing in reason and a divine part; for which cause I neither can be injured by any one of them (since no one can wrap me up in baseness) nor can I be angry or hold bitter feeling against this kinsman of mine. 

—Marcus Aurelius, Meditations 2.1 

1. 

When the sun riseth, consider what he sees, 

And tell thyself that surely through the day 

Thou shalt see like the sun. Not hills, and trees 

On them, green meads, kine grazing, lambs at play, 

Soft clouds, and birds sipping at brooks—not these 

I mean, albeit they sparkle wide away; 

But surly men, churls, fops at insolent ease, 

The gossip, knaves that envy, steal, betray. 

But what! If so they be, be so must I? 

Or to do like them, is that arms to meet them? 

So hapless they in sense, ’tis mine to ply 

My wisdom for them, not flout or ill-entreat them. 

Fine wit ’s most dowered, and hath his best estate, 

When civil most to wits less fortunate.