Some say we’re fundamentally  foul, miserable creatures; others that we’re full of beauty and usefulness. Tom Hodgkinson puts the Two Views of Man to the vote

An unusual event at our retreat in Italy last week was a performed dialogue called Two Views of Man. Assembled by Chris Goodwin, editor of Lute News, who was performing at the retreat, this mini theatrical piece consisted of a debate between the 13th century Pope Innocent and the later Renaissance humanist, Giannozzo Manetti. The piece alternates bits of the original text of a book by the Pope called On the Misery of Man with refutations written by Manetti in his book, On Human Worth and Excellence.

Victoria read out the Pope’s bitter lamentations, and the job of refuting the Pope and presenting a more cheerful view was down to me.

The readings concluded with a vote for the assembled retreaters on whether human life was miserable or great.

It was a huge success so I thought I might attempt the same thing with you, our readers.

The Pope opens with these cheering words:

“Man has been formed of dust, clay, ashes, and of a thing far more vile: the filthy sperm. He is conceived in the desire of the flesh, in the foul stench of wantonness. He was born to labour, to fear, to suffering, and, most miserable of all, to death. His evil doings offend God, offend his neighbour, offend himself. His destiny is to be a putrid mass that eternally emits a most horrible stench.”

Which is almost Beckettian in its gloom. The Pope goes on to compare man in all his disgustingness with fruitful and bounteous nature:

“Consider the grasses and the trees; out of their substance they produce flowers, leaves and fruit. But man brings forth louse eggs, lice and stomach worms. Trees on the other hand yield oil, wine and balsam. Man spews forth sputum, urine, and excrement. Trees breathe forth a sweet odour.”

Manetti argues that the secretions of man are in fact useful:

“The saliva of a fasting man cures the sting of snakes and eye troubles; his urine contributes to easing the stomach and to the preservation of sight in a wonderful fashion. Wax from human ears smeared on the nostrils seems to induce sleep for insomniacs. Human excrement and hair fertilise the fields more copiously and abundantly than any other kind of excrement.”

Manetti pursues his point by declaring the human form is a thing of beauty:

“Let me speak a little further on the great beauty of the human form. What about the legs and shins, and what to say of the knees and hips? Do we not see that they have all been constructed with intricate and exact artifice, and then put together so that they can easily move on their own, bear the rest of the body’s weight and hold it up? And then the testicles and private parts: the great skill that produced and arranged them for procreation would be hard to explain.”

The Pope then attacks the rich: “The rich man is destroyed by his abundance. Pride gets hold of him, and he turns to pleasure and from pleasure to evil. What has been sinful enjoyment soon becomes the instrument of punishment. His soul is ever weary, solicitous and afflicted by the burden of acquiring, by fear in possessing, and by suffering in losing riches.”

But being a servant is no good, either.

“The servant is terrorised by threats, exhausted by service, afflicted by diseases and robbed of his goods. If he has nothing he is forced to earn something; if he has something it will be taken away. If a master is cruel let him fear the hatred of his subjects; if he is lenient his insolent servants will despise him. The severe master is therefore tortured by fear, the kind master is the ridicule of the worthless servant.”

Married or unmarried – all is misery, says the Pope. “The married man’s anxieties disturb, his cares give him no rest. He has to provide for his wife and servants. The wife wants to possess costly jewels, and a great variety of dresses. What she spends on beauty aids may be more than the husband’s income can stand. If her whims are not satisfied she will sigh and complain day and night, garrulously or murmuringly.”

When it came to the vote, Victoria won quite easily. The miserable view was the most popular.
But this was surely because the miserable view is funnier, it’s simply more entertaining, in the same way that negative news is more gripping that positive news.

I now solicit your comments. Is life a vale of tears and misery, or a merry jaunt?

Live well
Tom

PS Irvine Welsh kicks off a new season of “A Drink with the Idler” on Thursday 9 October. Book here (it’s free for subscribers).

Subscribers may comment. Please add your idle thoughts using the box below.

SELECTED COMMENTS

These comments were mailed to us after an earlier version of this piece was sent out as a newsletter. We like to publish a selection and reserve the right to edit them for clarity. Please add your thoughts in the box below.

Sir: That human wit can make a vale of tears into a merry jaunt surely proves the merry wins!
Dr Mark Vernon

Sir: I can’t take either side. However, I do believe humans have a much greater potential for joyful lives than recent history would suggest.
Nev

Sir: It is the latter, because the former is true.
Guy Hall

Sir: Man is born into a burning house, his days lit by the flames of impermanence. His body, however carefully tended, will sag, rot, and return to dust. His labors end in futility, his memories dissolve, his loves vanish into silence. On this side, Pope Innocent speaks true: life is passing, and its fruits are eaten by worms. And yet – within that same passing, a strange radiance abides. In the sadness of seeing everything go, love appears, vast and impersonal, shining through the cracks of impermanence. This jewel does not erase decay; it coexists with it. It does not “make sense” of futility; it burns inside it, without reason, without permanence. Thus man is both miserable and luminous: a “putrid mass,” yes, and also a fleeting vessel of tenderness. Trees yield fruit; man yields laughter, tears, fleeting songs. All vanish, yet while they shine, they shine.
To say life is misery is true.
To say life is wonderful is true.
To see both at once is entrance.
Dale Allen

Sir: I agree with the Cathars. We are in Hell. Right now. Sigh.
Rona Topaz

Sir: It’s a merry jaunt for certain. Particularly if one substitutes bicarb for the urine of a fasting man. Although, I have not tried both.
Steve Bithell

Sir: The obvious answer – it’s both.
Martin Cassini

Sir: These are philosophical issues, perhaps you should read Philosophy Now magazine. I used to. Perhaps you could reread The Outsider by Colin Wilson – he wrote on existential philosophy – but I think we just need to try enjoy each day as it comes. I bunked off charity shop volunteering today as son not been well and wanted to be near his school in case he needed to come home. Did washing, watched some Netflix, read a bit of 1984. Collected son from school, made him steak pie, chips, carrots for dinner, took him to beavers. Collected him. Watched him play in park with a beavers friend. Double plus day. Simple pleasures… son reading a book on Minecraft he got from library, then supper at half past and bedtime. Am reading him Witches by Roald Dahl – he had it read to him before but got it out of the library again. On balance I think life is great, we have advanced from medieval times of disease and struggle. Hurrah for central heating, less hassle than chopping logs. Have a heated throw I can plug in we use some evenings if we don’t want to put the heating on. Will be wearing thermal base layers again soon, winter is coming.
Jason Palmer

Sir: Spinoza, please, to the rescue!
Vivian Gallaher

Sir: +1 for the Pope.
Andrew Kortz

Sir: My husband, Laurie, died earlier this month, so life is certainly a vale of tears for me at the moment. And yet… and yet… there are spells of enjoyment still that are giving me a rest from my misery. Laurie had a very rare and incurable cancer that we knew for the last couple of years would kill him. But until his last 6 weeks of sepsis, we determinedly ran all the real misery alongside the pleasures of life. We missed the summer, which became a round of medical appointments and hospitalization, and I deeply regretted that. But that simply shows that the lost summer is something that is usually a great pleasure. I do hope that the vote in favour of life being a vale of tears wasn’t skewed by a disproportionate number of widows, because that doesn’t bode well for me. But I strongly believe that you don’t simply have to let life’s negatives dominate: there is still a great deal of pleasure to be had.
Lesley James

Sir: Pope Innocent III: Surely false prophet, no? The sacrilege for a start. How can he despise creation this way? Isn’t the point of him not to? With all the aversion to wet and muck would he likely be labeled today with having sensorial issues? This is not to judge. He could have done with a bit of help. As for Manetti, I am sorry, but this seems to be a misattribution.
The saliva of a fasting man cures the sting of snakes and eye troubles; his urine contributes to easing the stomach and to the preservation of sight in a wonderful fashion. Wax from human ears smeared on the nostrils seems to induce sleep for insomniacs.
Yes, I think you’ll find this was not Manetti, but comments made by RFK jr out of the US CDC this week. Miserable or Great? Life is miserable AND great.
Juana

Sir: I can only reply to this choice with two quotations: one is from Kurt Vonnegut (I think): “We’re put on this earth to goof around – and don’t let anyone tell you different!” The other is from the War artist, author and friend of my father, Keith Henderson; writing home from the trenches to his wife Helen, only weeks after the battle of the Somme had ended: “After seeing a certain amount of human misery… I believe more than ever that the whole aim of the world is in the direction of joy. And as dancing is one of the most primitive expressions of joy, give me dancing, says I. This is all said in the middle of dictating orders, and so I expect it’s ungrammatical, but you know what I mean.” I met Keith in his old age, and it was apparent this was still his credo. He lived to be 99, dancing, at least metaphorically, to the end.
David Gordon, Allowenshay, Somerset

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