Momus Criticises God's Creations

Together with Jan Gossart, Jan Scorel, and later Frans Floris, Maarten van Heemskerck belonged to a circle of Netherlandish artists who travelled to Rome in the 16th century in order to study the remains of antiquity and the art of the High Renaissance. Judging by the 100 or so drawings from his pen that are preserved in the Berlin Kupferstichkabinett alone, Heemskerck’s stay there (1532–36/37) must have exercised a formative influence. He not only captured views of antique monuments and squares such as the Colosseum, the Forum Romanum, and the Capitoline Hill from the most diverse perspectives, but also numerous antique sculptures found in public places or private collections, among them the celebrated Belvedere Torso, the Laocoon in the statue garden of the Belvedere, and the equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius, which then stood in front of the Lateran Basilica. In addition
to such visual documents, Heemskerck also turned his attention towards ancient literature, which would remain an inexhaustible and lifelong source of inspiration alongside his drawings. It was in this intellectual milieu that Heemskerck developed into a learned artist, a doctus artifex.
The panel entitled Momus Criticises the Creations of the Gods is an eloquent instance of this. Five gods have lined themselves up in front of the park-style landscape, which is decorated with antique monuments and sculptures. The nude figure on the left, which is seen from the rear, is the sea god Poseidon (Neptune), who holds the Trident in his left hand, and the reins of a splendidly arrayed horse with his right. Positioned at the centre of the composition is Hephaestus (Vulcan), the god of fire and of the forge. With his right hand, he gestures towards the young, all but naked woman who stands to his right, who resembles an ancient antique statue of Venus that has been awakened to life. Standing next to him is Athena, the sumptuously clad goddess of wisdom and war, who carries the shield of Medusa, and who turns – while at the same time, gesturing towards the triple-winged palace in the background with her raised right hand – towards the winged person who stands at the right hand edge of the picture. This is Momus, the god of criticism and censure, the titular hero of this painting.
The mythological theme of this unusual gathering – which has never been taken up as the subject for a painting by any other artist (besides his friend, the humanist Hadrianus Junius) – calls for some explanation, which Heemskerck has moreover provided in written form along the lower edge of the picture, on a sheet of paper that is rendered in trompe-l’oeil. Translated, it says: “Born of the night, fatherless, I call myself Momus. As the companion of Invidia (envy), I love to criticise everything, down to the smallest detail. I make the case for every man being provided with a grate in his chest, so that their eyes and ears open, that cavity is incapable of concealing anything.” To illustrate the text, the artist has Momus holding a statuette in the form of a herm, which has a barred window positioned above its heart, in the bend of his left arm, towards which Momus gestures demonstratively with his right hand.
Here, Heemskerck takes up a dialogue from Lucian’s Hermotimus: in it, the greek satirist depicts the dispute between Athena, Poseidon, and Hephaestus over which of them is capable of creating the most perfect work of art. “Poseidon modeled a bull [sic!], Athena designed an ingenious plan for a house, and Hephaestus created a man. When they went with their creations to Momus, whom they had selected as a judge, he examined each one carefully. Lucian does not tell us what he thought of the first two works, but he rebukes Hephaestus for failing to set a little door in the chest of the man, which one would only need to open in order to know immediately what the man was thinking, and whether he was lying or telling the truth.”
We learn what displeased Momus about the works of Poseidon and Athena from the Greek poet Aesop, who dedicated one of his fables to Momus already around the year 600 B.C.E. Momus objects that Athena’s house lacks wheels that would allow it to be transported easily from a bad neighborhood to another location. He reproaches Poseidon for not positioning eyes above the horns of his steer, so that it can see more easily where it was thrusting them. Since Heemskerck however depicts a horse, he
must have relied on a different textual source. In a guide to the picture gallery of the Berlin Palace, dated 1790, Johann Gottlieb Puhlmann describes the scene that concerns Poseidon as follows: “Neptune [Poseidon] shows him his masterpiece, a beautiful neighing horse; but Momus laughs at him for having given the animal the means to defend itself with its rear legs, yet at the same time placing the eyes at its head so that it cannot see where it is kicking.”
What prompted Heemskerck to select this theme, which had been addressed only in literature up until that point? His impulse is probably explicable less with reference to unjustified criticism than to the so-called paragone debate, underway at the time, concerning which art form ranked highest. Telling here is a hitherto undiscovered detail: it seems to have been overlooked up to this point that Heemskerck portrays himself here as Poseidon or Neptune, as clearly shown by a securely identified self-portrait of 1568 (fig. left above). An engraved version of 1569 by Philipp Galle appends a dedication to the portrait, which celebrates Heemskerck as the “second Apelles – the one belonging to our century” (fig. left below). The comparison with Apelles, the legendary painter, who served Alexander the great, is significant in another respect as well, as transmitted through another
episode in which the horse belonging to the ruler also plays a significant role: according,to Pliny (Historia naturalis, XXXV, 95) and Aelian (Varia historia, 2.3), Apelles enjoyed the favour of Philip of Macedonia and Alexander the Great. Apelles had depicted Alexander on horseback, astonishing the leader during his entry into Ephesus. When Alexander saw the painting, he failed to praise it according to its merits. Later, however, Alexander’s horse, brought to see the picture, whinnied at the painted animal as though it were alive. Whereupon Apelles said to Alexander: “My king, your horse seems to possess a far greater understanding of art than you yourself.”
At the same time, the rear view of the nude god of the sea recalls the celebrated Roman statues of the Horse Tamers on the Quirinal Hill. Noteworthy as well is the circumstance that when Heemskerck lived in Rome in 1532–36, both pairs were identified as Alexander the Great with his horse Bucephalus. When we examine the other figures in this painting, it becomes evident that all of them cite famous antique statues as well. Doesn’t the female figure fashioned by Hephaestus resemble an antique statue of Venus? And doesn’t the muscular upper body of Hephaestus, bend forward slightly, recall the Belvedere Torso? The figure of Athena too, with its crossed legs, can be related to the statue of Thusnelda that is displayed today at the Loggia dei Lanzi in Florence. Momus’ powerfully expressive face, meanwhile, cites the head of the Scipio Africanus, executed in black marble, the so-called “pietra di paragone” (the stone of competition).
At the same time, Heemskerck depicts Momus as a fool, giving him a herm as an attribute that is readily identified as a marotte, the sceptre of the fool, through which he illustrates his criticism. Momus’ unjustified, unfounded criticism falls on barren soil, as Heemskerck
underscores with the rocky ground upon which Momus, the personification of Censure, stands.
As the numerous classical citations suggest, Heemskerck sought – like so many of his artist colleagues during the Renaissance – to surpass the works of antiquity. And he succeeds, endowing these monochrome statues with colour in order to awaken them to life. Ulrich Kessler