No Comment — September 13, 2007, 12:10 am

Novus Ordo Seclorum

It’s there on every dollar bill. Turn it over and read the legend under the pyramid–“novus ordo seclorum”–“a New Order of the Ages.” Hollywood makes it the center of a treasure hunt. Religious nuts who populate the world of cable TV shows like the 700 Club, rail on about Masonic Lodges. But these words had a meaning that would be immediate to all of the Founding Fathers with an education in the classics (which was nearly all of them). Unlike most Americans today, they would have read Virgil’s Aeneid, in which these words play a powerful role (bk vii, 44), and they would know Virgil’s Fourth Eclogue, which is reproduced as today’s poem.

In the Middle Ages an effort was made to reconcile Virgil to Christianity. He was made the John the Baptist of Latin literature, the man who foretold the arrival of the Christ—the child of the Fourth Eclogue, whose coming would bring a New Order of the Ages to the world. That was a fanciful interpretation, since literary researchers have since developed the facts of this poem in some detail. It was crafted for Virgil’s patron, the consul Pollio, then in the first year of his office, and at the same time a son had been born to him. It is that rather tedious domestic detail that provides the basis for the work–at one level. But at another, clearly the “father” to whom he refers would be Octavian, to be known as Caesar Augustus, and the “son” the offspring the Empire anticipated in 44 BCE, as this was being written. In any event, these lines are glorious and noble, and they express the aspiration that Virgil had for the times. The battle of Brundisium was over; Octavian was triumphant. The hope was for an end to the strife that marked the death of the Republic and the rise of Empire, and instead for peace, for the pax romana.

Virgil’s lesser works and the Aeneid are arguably the greatest poetical works in the Latin language, but they can and should also be seen as political works. Virgil seeks to create a Foundation myth for Rome–and in the process, he struggles to reconcile the values of the Republic and the Empire. As Hermann Broch showed in his novel Der Tod des Vergil, one of the greatest literary works of the last century (in any event, certainly the best crafted by a professor at Yale), this has immediate relevance to political and social developments in the twentieth century. It parallels in a striking way the debate over liberal democracy and fascism within the Europe of the 1920s and 1930s, a debate that echoes today. In fact, I came back to Virgil recently, led there by Leo Strauss. I have been trying to understand Strauss and his rather problematic relationship with the Neocons, and in the process was reading through Strauss’s works from the period immediately after he left Germany in the early thirties. I found his writings and his correspondence replete with Virgil citations, many of which struck me as odd—this was not the Virgil I learned in school. It was a Virgil crafted in the shape of Wilhelmine Germany: Strauss had conjured up a curiously bellicose Virgil.

In the critical Fourth Eclogue, with its notion of a new-born age, Virgil is marking the transition from the Hellenic/Homeric era to a new Roman one. And in the Aeneid he develops this much further, writing a response to the poet Lucretius, and specifically to Lucretius’s appeal for world peace. The first three words herald this: “arma virumque cano“–“I sing about arms and man.” The Homeric epic focuses on heroes and kings; the role of law in this order is limited, largely set in terms of divine wrath, and often conflicted. There is the law of hospitality writ large; there are some customs of war, but they are minimal and irregularly observed.

But when Virgil writes “arms,” he means not just feats, but customs and rules; he is writing in the wake of Lucretius, who decried the violence and suffering of the Homeric world. Lucretius wanted a new world in which humans achieve a more dignified life through art and philosophy. He sees peace as essential to this vision. Virgil tells us that Lucretius’s aspiration is fair, but his formula will never achieve it. At the core of Virgil’s reply, the essential foundation for a peace, is the concept of novus ordo seclorum, a New Order for the Ages–and this order rests on law, justice and piety. The legal component of the Aeneid is striking and not much commented upon.

No other poet of the Augustan age is so obsessed with law. But not just law. A large part of Virgil’s new order consists of the laws of war. This is a hallmark of the new order. A nation is civilized if it follows the laws of war; otherwise it has descended into barbarity. The new order of the Augustan age included a law of nations and a law of war. These were seen as essential tools to the creation of an Empire and to the assimilation of the newly incorporated peoples. They were seen as the foundation for the pax romana.

When the American Founding Fathers turn to this classical phrase, they are making a proud claim–that the introduction of democracy in America would mark a new age for mankind–just as the Augustan age saw its law-based state as the natural next step in the evolution of humanity from the Homeric world. The Americans stake this claim on the new social and political order they have created, one in which heroes and kings pass into the mist, and the citizen rises as sovereign. And again, a new concept of the laws of war lies at the center of this idea. Their novus ordo seclorum is not only about democracy; it is also about the concept of humanitarian warfare. Indeed, the new order could never be without this. Virgil’s claim is crafted in literature and sustained by history. The Roman dream faded and their Empire fell, as is the invariable fate of all empires.

The claim of the Founding Fathers likewise has withstood the test of time and the American Republic today faces the test of Empires. How will it weather this test. How can anyone say? On the back of the Great Seal of the United States, above the phrase novus ordo seclorum appears an all-seeing eye, and the phrase annuit coeptis, adapted from another work of Virgil’s (Georgics, bk i, l 40: Da facilem cursum, atque audacibus annue cœptis, “Let me take the easy way and favor my audacious efforts”). Thus it is a plea for divine favor, but also a reminder of our accountability before God and our fellow man. The words of the Great Seal reflect a deep vision of the Founding Fathers, an understanding wrestled from Virgil, a faith in a new order that the American Republic would bring the world. But with it rested a conviction that each generation would face a test, simple and profound: of fidelity to foundational values. When I think how we must score in this test today, I fear for my nation and my fellow citizens.

Share
Single Page

More from Scott Horton:

Conversation August 5, 2016, 12:08 pm

Lincoln’s Party

Sidney Blumenthal on the origins of the Republican Party, the fallout from Clinton’s emails, and his new biography of Abraham Lincoln

Conversation March 30, 2016, 3:44 pm

Burn Pits

Joseph Hickman discusses his new book, The Burn Pits, which tells the story of thousands of U.S. soldiers who, after returning from Iraq and Afghanistan, have developed rare cancers and respiratory diseases.

Context, No Comment August 28, 2015, 12:16 pm

Beltway Secrecy

In five easy lessons

Get access to 167 years of
Harper’s for only $45.99

United States Canada

CATEGORIES

THE CURRENT ISSUE

November 2017

Preaching to The Choir

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Monumental Error

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Star Search

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Pushing the Limit

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Bumpy Ride

Bad Dog

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

view Table Content

FEATURED ON HARPERS.ORG

Article
Monumental Error·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

In 1899, the art critic Layton Crippen complained in the New York Times that private donors and committees had been permitted to run amok, erecting all across the city a large number of “painfully ugly monuments.” The very worst statues had been dumped in Central Park. “The sculptures go as far toward spoiling the Park as it is possible to spoil it,” he wrote. Even worse, he lamented, no organization had “power of removal” to correct the damage that was being done.

Illustration by Steve Brodner
Article
Star Search·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

On December 3, 2016, less than a month after Donald Trump was elected president, Amanda Litman sat alone on the porch of a bungalow in Costa Rica, thinking about the future of the Democratic Party. As Hillary Clinton’s director of email marketing, Litman raised $180 million and recruited 500,000 volunteers over the course of the campaign. She had arrived at the Javits Center on Election Night, arms full of cheap beer for the campaign staff, minutes before the pundits on TV announced that Clinton had lost Wisconsin. Later that night, on her cab ride home to Brooklyn, Litman asked the driver to pull over so she could throw up.

Illustration by Taylor Callery
Article
Pushing the Limit·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

In the early Eighties, Andy King, the coach of the Seawolves, a swim club in Danville, California, instructed Debra Denithorne, aged twelve, to do doubles — to practice in the morning and the afternoon. King told Denithorne’s parents that he saw in her the potential to receive a college scholarship, and even to compete in the Olympics. Tall swimmers have an advantage in the water, and by the time Denithorne turned thirteen, she was five foot eight. She dropped soccer and a religious group to spend more time at the pool.

Illustration by Shonagh Rae
Article
Bumpy Ride·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

One sunny winter afternoon in western Michigan, I took a ride with Leon Slater, a slight sixty-four-year-old man with a neatly trimmed white beard and intense eyes behind his spectacles. He wore a faded blue baseball cap, so formed to his head that it seemed he slept with it on. Brickyard Road, the street in front of Slater’s home, was a mess of soupy dirt and water-filled craters. The muffler of his mud-splattered maroon pickup was loose, and exhaust fumes choked the cab. He gripped the wheel with hands leathery not from age but from decades moving earth with big machines for a living. What followed was a tooth-jarring tour of Muskegon County’s rural roads, which looked as though they’d been carpet-bombed.

Photograph by David Emitt Adams
Article
Bad Dog·

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

Abby was a breech birth but in the thirty-one years since then most everything has been pretty smooth. Sweet kid, not a lot of trouble. None of them were. Jack and Stevie set a good example, and she followed. Top grades, all the way through. Got on well with others but took her share of meanness here and there, so she stayed thoughtful and kind. There were a few curfew or partying things and some boys before she was ready, and there was one time on a school trip to Chicago that she and some other kids got caught smoking crack cocaine, but that was so weird it almost proved the rule. No big hiccups, master’s in ecology, good state job that lets her do half time but keep benefits while Rose is little.

Illustration by Katherine Streeter

Tons of invasive carp that the Australian government plans to eradicate by giving them herpes:

1,137,000

Contact lenses change the microbiome of the eye such that it resembles skin.

A reporter asked Trump about a lunch the president was said to have shared the previous day with his secretary of state, Trump said the reporter was “behind the times” and that the lunch had occurred the previous week, and the White House confirmed that the lunch had in fact occurred the previous day.

Subscribe to the Weekly Review newsletter. Don’t worry, we won’t sell your email address!

HARPER’S FINEST

Report — From the June 2013 issue

How to Make Your Own AR-15

= Subscribers only.
Sign in here.
Subscribe here.

By

"Gun owners have long been the hypochondriacs of American politics. Over the past twenty years, the gun-rights movement has won just about every battle it has fought; states have passed at least a hundred laws loosening gun restrictions since President Obama took office. Yet the National Rifle Association has continued to insist that government confiscation of privately owned firearms is nigh. The NRA’s alarmism helped maintain an active membership, but the strategy was risky: sooner or later, gun guys might have realized that they’d been had. Then came the shootings at a movie theater in Aurora, Colorado, and at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut, followed swiftly by the nightmare the NRA had been promising for decades: a dedicated push at every level of government for new gun laws. The gun-rights movement was now that most insufferable of species: a hypochondriac taken suddenly, seriously ill."

Subscribe Today