Catullus 12: A Poetic Analysis

Everyone has that one friend who refuses to pay for anything. Any activity in which the tickets aren't free? You'll have to pay for both of you. Uber or Taxi? Sorry, they don't have any cash on them and are without a doubt lying about sending you money via Venmo at a "later date." But the outing that most accurately reveals their true colors as clear as day? Food. Indeed, this friend is the one conspicuously missing whenever the check arrives at the table, or, if the bathroom excuse has been overused, refuses to acknowledge the bill's existence. And if all else fails, they look at you with pleading, puppy dog eyes and lament how stripped for cash they are.

This friend is, without a doubt, annoying, and you'll likely want to stop inviting them out once this pattern gets unbearably obvious. But why? Why is it so insufferable when someone refuses to pay their fair share? After all, their slice of the bill is likely not a strain on your finances, but their outright refusal to contribute continues to irk you to no end... why? Because the money we are spending on them feels like it's being stolen. Instead of a gift, your hand was forced, resulting in you acquiescing to a passive-aggressive robbery. Sadly, this post cannot give back the likely hundreds of dollars lost to grifter friends over the years. However, you may take solace in knowing that your situation is far from unique, dating back to Ancient Rome. Perhaps, after reading Catullus 12, you'll be inspired to write your protest poem. Do let me know if that makes you feel even the slightest bit better.

The Poem Itself

*English Translation by A.S. Kline, chief translator of "Poetry in Translation"

Latin Text

Marrūcīne Asinī, manū sinistrā

nōn bellē ūteris: in iocō atque vīnō

tollis lintea neglegentiōrum.

Hoc salsum esse putās? Fugit tē, inepte:

quamvīs sordida rēs et invenusta est.

Nōn crēdis mihi? Crēde Polliōnī

frātrī, quī tua fūrta vel talentō

mūtārī velit—est enim lepōrum

differtus puer ac facētiārum.

Quārē aut hendecasyllabōs trecentōs

exspectā, aut mihi linteum remitte,

quod mē nōn movet aestimātiōne,

vērum est mnēmosynum meī sodālis.

Nam sūdāria Saetaba ex Hibērīs

mīsērunt mihi mūnerī Fabullus

et Vērānius; haec amem necesse est

ut Vērāniolum meum et Fabullum.

English Translation

Asinius Marrucinus, you don’t employ

your left hand too well: in wine and jest

you take neglected table-linen.

Do you think that’s witty? Get lost, you fool:

it’s such a sordid and such an unattractive thing.

Don’t you believe me? Believe Pollionus

your brother, who wishes your thefts

could be fixed by money: he’s a boy

truly stuffed with wit and humour.

So expect three hundred hendecasyllables

or return my napkin, whose value

doesn’t disturb me, truly,

it’s a remembrance of my friends.

Fabullus and Veranius sent me the gift,

napkins from Spain: they must be cherished

as my Veranius and Fabullus must be.

Part I: Theme & Voice

Catullus, throughout his career, made a name for himself by his unafraid confrontation of emotion. Ranging from heartwrenching love confessions to devastating funeral elegies, Catullus's subject matter was always a representation of how he felt at any given moment. Catullus 12 is no different. Although presenting itself as a humorous protest, beneath the banter lies Catullus's serious ruminations on what qualifies as a genuine friendship. The tension between playful jest (the witty rebuke of his friend, who tends to steal napkins at dinner parties) and genuine violation reveals the central theme of the poem: no matter how seemingly insignificant, objects carry with them emotional weight, and stealing them is a breach of loyalty. Rather than simply a poem urging its audience not to steal, Catullus 12 argues instead that readers should not mock friendship by stealing what carries with it memories and affection.

To deliver this message, Catullus invokes a voice that is both comic and biting. Positioning himself as the arbiter of social norms, Catullus mocks his friend, Asinius, for his foolishness and directly addresses his thieving infractions. In doing so, Catullus creates an intimate, confrontational tone, positioning the audience as onlookers to a deeply personal feud between friends. Yet, Catullus, through his comedic charm, never alienates the reader and instead invites them to laugh alongside him at his nuisance of a friend. Concurrently, however, Catullus also makes clear to the reader the emotional core of the poem, inviting them to sympathize with his insistence as to the sentimental value of the napkin and share similar outrage at Asinius for stealing it.

Part II: Meter

Catullus 12 is written in Catullus's favorite form for witty, personal poetry: hendecasyllabic meter. First used in ancient Greece and passed on to Roman poets, hendecasyllabic meter is composed of hendecasyllables-- lines consisting of 11 syllables. This syllable count mirrors that of conversational speech, while simultaneously having a sharper edge, precipitated by its strict adherence to the 11-syllable structure. While still allowing for a lively, almost mocking cadence suited for scolding and banter, the meter simultaneously mirrors Catullus's indignation and anger. Therefore, the meter itself is an encapsulation of the themes addressed in Catullus 12; on the surface, it is, much like Catullus's address of Asinius's theft, seemingly casual, but upon further investigation, the meter and the poem writ large carry with them serious emotional weight.

The meter, moreover, also pushes forth Catullus 12's duality of lightness and seriousness on a metatextual level. Indeed, the quick beat of the hendecasyllables, by keeping the mood playful, prevents the poem from appearing as a solemn elegy for a napkin (something readers of Catullus would likely not be surprised if he had written). However, by employing his personal, "signature" meter, Catullus also signals that this poem is not any more trivial than the rest of his collection. The hendecasyllabic meter, while forging Catullus 12's unique identity separate from the rest of Catullus's repertoire, still embeds the verse within the larger refined tradition of lyric poetry, helping elevate this personal slight into the realm of other, more "serious" poetic subjects.

Part III: Rhetoric

Establishing the Stakes: Apostrophe & Rhetorical Question

Catullus 12 opens with a direct address of Catullus's thieving friend: "Marrucine Asini" or "Marcus Asinius" (who would likely have been referred to as just Asinius). By directly naming his friend, Catullus immediately frames the poem as a public shaming. The second-person vocative eliminates any distance between the target of Catullus's wrath and his friend, forcing the audience not to grapple with the theft in the abstract but rather to view it as a personal violation of the author's trust. In doing so, Catullus encourages the reader's emotional investment in the poem and invites them to partake in chastising Asinius with him. Additionally, the direct address also transforms the napkin into a character in its own right, and a helpless one at that, which must be defended in verse. By emphasizing that this feud is not one of abstract ideals but reflects a lived reality, the apostrophe within Catullus 12 reinforces the significance of the seemingly innocuous theft that the poem revolves around.

Catullus also addresses Asinius by asking him a rhetorical question: "hoc salsum esse putās?" Translated as "do you think that’s witty?," it is immediately made clear to the reader that this question was not posed for Asinius to answer when Catullus carries on with his berating, uttering "fugit tē, inepte" ("get lost, you fool"). On an emotional level, this question aligns the audience with Catullus, exposing the hollowness of Asinius's actions. However, on a thematic level, this question is not just addressed to Asinius, but also to the audience. Indeed, Catullus is confronting readers who he assumes lightly laughed off Asinius's theft as something silly or clever, and exposing to them just how easily wit can morph into cruelty when it disregards personal bonds. Therefore, by posing this rhetorical question, Catullus inquires whether his audience is willing to subscribe to his ideology, which posits that breaches of friendship have genuine emotional consequences. If not, then those readers, alongside Asinius, can get lost.

Raising the Stakes: Hyperbole

Catullus 12's most memorable lines are arguably the two that employ his characteristic hyperbolic exaggeration: "quārē aut hendecasyllabōs trecentōs/ exspectā, aut mihi linteum remitte," which can be idiomatically translated as "So expect three hundred hendecasyllables/or return my napkin." His threat of composing three hundred hendecasyllables to avenge a stolen napkin is simultaneously absurd, self-referential, and effective. Catullus and his audience both know that dedicating three hundred lines to any subject matter, let alone a napkin, is unfeasible and reserved primarily for mythological epics. Yet by comparing the emotional stakes of this poem to those of an epic, Catullus makes startlingly clear just how vital this napkin is to him. Additionally, this hyperbole references poetry, and by extension, Catullus 12 itself, framing this poem not as a silly complaint but as a weapon of justice. Indeed, by recasting the theft into epic proportions, Catullus highlights the value of friendship and memory, which outweighs the material worth of the objects associated with them.

Reframing the Narrative: Juxtaposition & Symbolism

Throughout Catullus 12, his napkin serves not as mere fabric but as a symbol for all "mnemosynum," or "remembrances," that Catullus associates with his friends. Indeed, Catullus makes this abundantly clear when writing "haec amem necesse est/ut Vērāniolum meum et Fabullum," ("they [the napkins] must be cherished/as my Veranius and Fabullus must be"). By inextricably tying the napkins to the friends who gifted them, Catullus reframes the conversation from one of property to one of sentiment. He reminds Asinius and the audience that objects can be worth more than their monetary value, and instead embody the bonds of affection they helped forge. In doing so, Catullus robs Asinius of the defense that he merely committed a harmless offense; he not only stole cloth, but the representation of friendship itself.

In a similar vein, Catullus uses juxtaposition to emphasize the contrast between material and sentimental value. In the lines "quod mē nōn movet aestimātiōne,/ vērum est mnēmosynum meī sodālis," translated as "whose [the napkin's] valuedoesn’t disturb me, truly,/it’s a remembrance of my friends," Catullus instills that the napkin's sentimental value is more meaningful than its monetary worth. This juxtaposition forces the reader to consider just how cruel Asinius's actions were: he mistreated a sacred memory as a joke. On an ideological level, by contrasting the two modes of valuation, Catullus argues for the triumph of friendship above material wealth, reinforcing the infinite value he asserts should be ascribed to loyalty.

Emphasizing Emotion: Hyperbole

Catullus 12's most memorable lines are arguably the two that employ his characteristic hyperbolic exaggeration: "quārē aut hendecasyllabōs trecentōs/ exspectā, aut mihi linteum remitte," which can be idiomatically translated as "So expect three hundred hendecasyllables/or return my napkin." His threat of composing three hundred hendecasyllables to avenge a stolen napkin is simultaneously absurd, self-referential, and effective. Catullus and his audience both know that dedicating three hundred lines to any subject matter, let alone a napkin, is unfeasible and reserved primarily for mythological epics. Yet by comparing the emotional stakes of this poem to those of an epic, Catullus makes startlingly clear just how vital this napkin is to him. Additionally, this hyperbole references poetry, and by extension, Catullus 12 itself, framing this poem not as a silly complaint but as a weapon of justice. Indeed, by recasting the theft into epic proportions, Catullus highlights the value of friendship and memory, which outweighs the material worth of the objects associated with them.

Part IV: Audience Reception

For an elite Roman audience, dinner parties were an incredibly familiar subject. Whether hosting or attending, these parties functioned not only as gatherings for friends or even business meetings, but as showcases of wealth. Yet, even if the cohort of attendees was all wealthy themselves, the disreputable practice of stealing napkins was a common one. Therefore, Catullus 12 would have resonated as both humorous and socially instructive. Although most readers would have chuckled at the dramatization of such a seemingly innocuous offense, Catullus's reframing of napkin theft as a violation of trust and friendship would have resonated with readers devoted to Roman values of loyalty and honesty. They would have likely been convinced to see Asinius's behavior not only as a breach of etiquette but as a cruel offense against Catullus's closest bonds.

In Conclusion...

Although the "cheap" friends within our closest social circles are likely not stealing napkins, most of us can likely relate to Catullus's anger. I, for one, have always wanted to chastise my freeloading friends the same way that Catullus does Asinius. Yet Catullus 12 reveals precisely why these friends' offenses evoke such intense rage: they violate our trust. Just like Catullus's napkin is not merely linen but a symbol of his closest friendships, our extra five, ten, or fifty bucks are worth more than their face value: they represent how much we value our emotional connections. And when a friend continues to take without giving, it signals to us that perhaps they don't care to the extent we care for them. Maybe it's time we start saving some money and losing some friends.

We hope you enjoyed this poetic analysis of Catullus 12. Please leave any comments, questions, or concerns below, and be sure to recommend future poems for us to dive into!