Background: Lucretius was a Roman philosopher and poet (c. 99BC - 55BC). His most notable work is De Rerum Natura – “On the Nature of Things.” He discusses nature, the universe, and philosophy in this text, drawing upon Epicurean thought.
Suave, mari magno turbantibus aequora ventis
e terra magnum alterius spectare laborem;
Sweet it is, when on the great sea the winds disturb the waters,
To see from land the great struggle of someone else.
– Lucretius, De Rerum Natura
Lucretius’ first word, “suave” (sweet), immediately indicates where his writing is going. He emphasizes his personal feeling, joy, before describing the situation at hand. He then quickly broadens the reader’s view, taking them out of his world and onto the “mari magno” (great sea).
A deeply rooted theme shown in these lines is the detachment between Lucretius and the world. As the winds make the waters turbulent and tumultuous (“turbantibus aequora ventis”), Lucretius sits in a quiet state of joy. The word “aequora” denotes that, before the turbulent winds, the water was a calm plain. He relishes his own peace and remains unaffected by the natural bedlam around him. There is a clear separation between Lucretius and the natural world; he observes while it happens.
The second line continues to describe Lucretius’ disconnect. The word “spectare” reaffirms that he is only spectating rather than participating in nature’s events. This detachment seems to be somewhat ethereal – Lucretius spectates much like how the gods would watch the Earth and humanity. He seems to be beyond humanity and instead of another realm.
The rest of the line further reveals his ethereal separation. The “sweet” feeling Lucretius held at the beginning refers to watching another human struggle intensely. The reader’s immediate reaction is to accuse Lucretius of being sinister and inhumane. On further review, however, this last statement proves to be quite interesting.
Lucretius’s sickly pleasure is rather similar to the German concept of schadenfreude: (n.) pleasure derived by someone from another person's misfortune. His detachment is entirely finalized; he is an unearthly spectator who takes pleasure from the chaos and suffering of nature and humanity. His actions are not unlike the Greco-Roman gods who also acted selfishly, succumbing to desire and pleasure; after all, they are practically based on us humans.
This raises the question: Is Lucretius ethereal for his unearthly spectation and inhumane joy when the gods themselves suffer similar human struggles? He may not be the blood-thirsty, desirous figure he seems to be. Instead we must ask ourselves when have we taken pleasure in the joy of others — an uncomfortable question, no doubt, but a necessary one.
So what is Lucretius’ philosophy? It seems like a hot-mess of ideas revolving around the shortcomings of humanity and the gods. He touches upon ideas of Epicurean thought, such as ἀταραξία / ataraxia, mental tranquillity and freedom from disturbance and suffering (discussed in Catullus and the contradictions of existence). He breaks away, over, and recognizes a Stoic idea, that the struggle is integral to the human experience.