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Catullus et Cicero:   A dive into
the twilight of the Roman Republic

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Catullus et Cicero: Selected Works contains Remy Woobin Lee’s English translations of Catullus’ select poems and Cicero’s first Catilinarian Oration. Woven through this volume is a conversation of two great forces at odds—the traditional, collective, and rational of Cicero’s In Catilinam, and the progressive, personal, and humanistic of Catullus’ verses—that marked the heightening impetus for change in the last decades of the Roman Republic, as it foresaw the years ahead of what is to be known as the most influential empire in history. A close examination of the two writers will inspire a deeper reflection on the nature of social change, and within, the tension between self and collective, emotion and rationality, and freedom and duty, which have resonated in many societies around the world throughout time, and especially in the strikingly polarized world of today. 

Foreword

 

Rome of the 1st century BC saw the emergence of two prominent voices —in the names of Cicero and Catullus—as sociopolitical tensions tightened the Republic in its twilight years. 

Marcus Tullius Cicero, born 106 BCE, was a celebrated orator, lawyer, and statesman who championed tradition. Originally of Equestrian rank, he wore the title novus homo for his rhetorical skills, which won him great auctoritas among other honors. Particularly, his successful quelling of the Catilinarian conspiracies—an attempted coup d'état in 63 BC by the debt-ridden nobleman Lucius Sergius Catilina—won him his later title as pater patriae, albeit not without qualms of legitimacy that led to his exile in 58 BC. In four volumes of speech, the first of which is featured in this book, Cicero protected the voice of the conservative aristocrats, known as the optimates, condemning Catiline’s attempts as subversive to order and detrimental to the Republic’s health. His passionate, and oftentimes, unrelenting advocacy of the conservative order, including his scathing criticism of Caesar and Antony via The Philippics, ultimately brought his severe death by proscription in 43 BC.

Standing in contrast to the austere orator Cicero was the neoteric poet Gaius Valerius Catullus, born just two decades later, in 84 BCE. As a prominent figure of the νεωτερικοί—avant-garde Latin poets—he worshipped poetry of deep personal reflection and venustas and brevitas, marking a major deviation from the verbose, collective-oriented, and narrative-leaning epic tradition. Just as his voice, his themes were progressive, often challenging the cultural norms of Roman society regarding sexuality and gender roles, nor did he shy away from indulging in mischief and the occasional vulgarity. 

Cicero and Catullus, as one may postulate, were far from being favorite contemporaries of each other. Cicero despised all things subversive to tradition; Catullus disdained all things political, as demonstrated by his playful address to Cicero in poem #49 and other satirical pieces about Caesar and Pompey. However, woven through this volume is a conversation of two great forces at odds—the traditional, collective, and rational of Cicero’s In Catilinam, and the progressive, personal, and humanistic of Catullus’ verses—that marked the heightening impetus for change in the last decades of the Roman Republic, as it foresaw the years ahead of what is to be known as the most influential empire in history. 

Through the pages of these volumes, the reader will find a flame burn in their innermost marrows through Catullus’ impassioned confessions of love affair with Lesbia, or his civil duties prompted by Cicero’s call for the restoration of virtues in the Republic. A close examination of the two writers will inspire a deeper reflection on the nature of social change, and within, the tension between self and collective, emotion and rationality, and freedom and duty, which have resonated in many societies around the world throughout time, and especially in the strikingly polarized world of today 

Samples

Catullus' Poem                                                                  Translation

 

 

To whom am I giving this charming new little book, just polished with a dry pumice? To you, Cornelius, and for you were accustomed to think that my trifles amount to something, at that time when you alone dared to explain all ages of Italy in three Papyri, learned and worked, O Jupiter! Therefore, have for yourself whatever of this book is worth: let it stay forever for more than one generation, 

O Patron Virgin.

 

 

Let us live, my Lesbia, and let us love, let all rumors of austere old men be worth one Ass! The suns are able to set and rise again; as soon as the bright light sets, one perpetual night must be slept by us. Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred; then another thousand, then a second hundred; then, continuously, another thousand, then a hundred, then, when we will have made many thousands, we will throw those into confusion, so that we may not know, or so that any bad man may not able to look upon, when he knows that there were many of kisses.

 

Carried through many tribes and through many seas, brother, I come to these miserable funeral rites, so that I might gift you the final gift of death, and so that I might address the silent ashes in vain, since fate has stolen you yourself away for me, o miserable brother taken away from me undeservingly. Now, however, meanwhile, accept these things dripping much with fraternal tears, which have been passed down by ancient customs of ancestors as a sad gift for the funeral rites. But forever, brother, goodbye and farewell.

Cicero, from In Catilinam I.                                         Translation

Quo usque tandem abutere, Catilina, patientia nostra? quam diu etiam furor iste tuus nos eludet? quem ad finem sese effrenata iactabit audacia? Nihilne te nocturnum praesidium Palati, nihil urbis vigiliae, nihil timor populi, nihil concursus bonorum omnium, nihil hic munitissimus habendi senatus locus, nihil horum ora voltusque moverunt? Patere tua consilia non sentis, constrictam iam horum omnium scientia teneri coniurationem tuam non vides? Quid proxima, quid superiore nocte egeris, ubi fueris, quos convocaveris, quid consilii ceperis, quem nostrum ignorare arbitraris? O tempora, o mores! Senatus haec intellegit. Consul videt; hic tamen vivit. Vivit? immo vero etiam in senatum venit, fit publici consilii particeps, notat et designat oculis ad caedem unum quemque nostrum.

To where, finally, will you continuously abuse your patience, Catiline? Also, for how longer will that damn madness of yours elude us? To what end will your unbridled audacity continuously throw itself? Did the night guard of the Palatine, the guards of the city, the fear of the people, the running together of all good people, this very fortified place of holding the Senate, the faces and expressions of these men not move you at all? Do you not feel that your plans lie open, do you not see that your conspiracy, restrained already, be held open by the wisdom of all these men? Who of us do you think does not know what you did last night, the night before, where you were, whom you called together, what of plan you took? O times, O customs! The Senate understands this matter. The Consul sees; however, this man lives. He lives? Yes, indeed, he even comes into the Senate, is made a participant of public plans, and marks and designates every one of us with his eyes for murder.

© 2025 Remy W. Lee. All rights reserved.
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