Latin is a dead language,
As dead as dead can be,
It killed the ancient Romans,
And now it’s killing me.
Variations of that ditty have long graced the notebooks and texts of Latin students. The difficulties of learning this inflected language, which means that the endings of nouns and verbs rather than placement determine their meaning in a sentence, undoubtedly gave life to this lament.
Yet Latin is far from dead. It lives on as the great influencer of Romance languages. While English with its Anglo-Saxon roots is considered a derivative of German, Latin and Greek account for some 60% of our vocabulary. In classical schools and among homeschoolers, Latin has made a comeback in the last 40 years, and to the chagrin of the Vatican, many American Catholics, including growing numbers of young people, favor the Traditional Latin Mass.
English textbooks and guides on writing and composition frown on the use of foreign terms. In William Strunk and E.B. White’s influential classic “The Elements of Style,” for example, the authors note that “the writer will occasionally find it convenient or necessary to borrow from other languages,” but the general rule is “Avoid foreign languages.” The Latin caveat and alter ego are perfectly fine in writing and speech, but “Alea iacta est”—Caesar’s “The die is cast” uttered when he decided to cross the Rubicon and launch a civil war—probably won’t work, though you might take delight in shouting out those words while playing craps in a casino.
Nevertheless, a good number of Latin tags, some as common as coffee in a diner and some less familiar but still useful, either for elucidation or entertainment, remain alive in our culture.
Mottos
Most Americans, we may hope, recognize that one of our slogans, “E Pluribus Unum,” translates as “Out of many, one.” Though we’ve used dollar bills our entire lives, some may be less familiar with the words inscribed there from the Great Seal of the United States, “Annuit Coeptis” and “Novus Ordo Seclorum,” which respectively translate as “He has favored our undertakings” and “A new order of the ages.”
A patriotic illustration of an eagle, representative of the spirit of the United States. A typically American motto, "E Pluribus Unum" ("Out of many, one") decorates the ribbon at the eagle's feet. Public Domain
Twenty of our states feature mottos in Latin. Virginia’s state seal reads “Sic Semper Tyrannis,” or “Thus always to tyrants,” which depicts Virtue holding a sheathed sword and a spear standing in triumph over tyranny. North Carolina’s “Esse Quam Videri,” which is “To be, rather than to seem,” may be a slap at what the Old North State once regarded as its more pretentious neighbors, Virginia and South Carolina. New York’s “Excelsior” means “Ever upward,” a sentiment that Kansas reflects in its beautiful “Ad Astra per Aspera,” or “To the stars through difficulties.” The District of Columbia, though not a state, claims as its motto “Justitia Omnibus,” though these days “Justice for all” seems like a stretch to many observing that city. One of South Carolina’s mottos is “Dum Spiro Spero,” a sentiment (“While I breathe, I hope”) that has doubtless inspired some Latin students before final exams.
Several branches of the military have also adopted Latin mottos. Everyone knows the Marine Corps’ “Semper Fidelis,” or “Always faithful.” But two other outfits, the Coast Guard and the Space Force, also stake out their missions with “Semper Paratus” and “Semper Supra,” respectively “Always prepared” and “Always above,” with the latter referring both to looking up and to the vast bounds of space.
Common Usage
Most of us unthinkingly toss off Latin expressions. We speak of politicians or commentators engaging in ad hominem attacks, we employ quid pro quo when we exchange favors, and we fondly remember our college days at our alma mater. Depending on our bent for description, our Aunt Sadie talks ad infinitum or ad nauseam about fashion and makeup. We use “et cetera,” Latin for “and other similar things,” without once thinking of ancient Rome. Carpe diem is surely familiar to nearly all of us, and anyone who knows Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar” recognizes “Et tu, Brute?” as words indicating betrayal. When we’re setting our alarm for 6 a.m., we rarely consider that those long-serving initials stand for “ante meridiem,” or “before midday.”
The Latin phrase "carpe diem," meaning "seize the day," has made its way into modern American lexicon. Immanuel Giel/CC BY-SA 3.0
Speaking of Shakespeare, we can take “Nothing will come from nothing” from “King Lear” and give it some punch with the same line from Lucretius, “Ex nihilo nihil fit.” Augustus Caesar’s favorite saying, “Festina lente,” or “Hurry slowly,” brings to mind some of those quaint Amish proverbs. “Audentes fortuna iuvat” is an excellent mantra—“Fortune favors the brave”—when you’re on your way to propose marriage or ask for a raise at work.
Many people may have come across “Memento mori,” meaning “Remember that you’re going to die,” but “Memento vivere” reminds of the equally important injunction “Remember to live.” “Mehercule!” is a great interjection that can be useful on any number of occasions. It literally means “By Hercules!” but can be used to say “Most assuredly,” “Good grief,” and even as a mild oath.
Amusements
You’ve got breakfast on the table and the kids are lollygagging upstairs, so you go to the stairwell and roar “Venite et capite!” This loose usage echoes the old chow call “Come and get it!”
Rene Descartes gave us “Cogito, ergo sum,” but wits have taken “I think, therefore I am” and given it numerous twists and turns. “Cogito, ergo doleo” (“I think, therefore I am depressed”), “Cogito, ergo spud” (“I think, therefore I YAM”), and “Cogito cogito, ergo cogito sum” ("I think I think, therefore I think I am.”) Loosely translated, “Emo, ergo sum” is “I shop, therefore I am.” And then there’s “Sum, ergo edo,” or “I am, therefore I eat.”
Absurd blends of Latin and English can also bring a chuckle. Coffee cups sport “Mea maxima cuppa,” taken from the Confiteor of the Latin Mass, “mea maxima culpa,” or “my most grievous (greatest) fault.” To a citizen of Old Rome, “Semper ubi sub ubi” would have been meaningless, but a literal translation gives us that old saw among Latin students: “Always wear underwear.” One of the best known of these concoctions is the mock-Latin “Illegitimi non carborundum,” which translates as “Never let the bastards grind you down.”
Join the Fun
Custodians of the English language are correct to oppose the overuse of foreign phrases in essays, articles, and books. Few of us would want a return of works like Richard Burton’s classic “The Anatomy of Melancholy,” where the author decorates paragraph after paragraph and page after page with Latin sentences and phrases. This worked in an age when Latin usage ran alongside English among the educated, but today “The Anatomy of Melancholy” requires an army of explanatory notes. Much more recently, in a review of T.S. Eliot’s “The Waste Land,” Conrad Aiken criticized the poet’s deployment of foreign words, writing: “We could dispense with the French, Italian, Latin, and Hindu phrases—they are irritating.”
On the other hand, English is a playground of language. It has a huge vocabulary, with euphemisms, jargon, and synonyms galore. We lift words willy-nilly from countries around the world and make them our own, and we take up slang and toss it aside with all the abandon of a 2-year-old rummaging through a toy box. Simon and Garfunkel’s 1966 “59th Street Bridge Song (Feelin’ Groovy)” with the line “Looking for fun and feeling groovy” was a hit in its day, but I haven’t heard anyone use “groovy” in nearly 50 years.
The 59th Street Bridge still stands, but even Simon and Garfunkel's catchy ditty "The 59th Street Bridge Song" lacks the enduring popularity of ancient Latin phrases and mottos. Public Domain
Near the end of “The Ode Less Travelled: Unlocking the Poet Within,” actor, director, and author Stephen Fry writes, “The English language is like London: proudly barbaric yet deeply civilized too, common yet royal, vulgar yet processional, sacred yet profane.” In this festive procession, there’s plenty of room for Latin mottos, maxims, quips, and barbs.
Jeff Minick
Author
Jeff Minick has four children and a growing platoon of grandchildren. For 20 years, he taught history, literature, and Latin to seminars of homeschooling students in Asheville, N.C. He is the author of two novels, “Amanda Bell” and “Dust On Their Wings,” and two works of nonfiction, “Learning As I Go” and “Movies Make The Man.” Today, he lives and writes in Front Royal, Va.