BOOK: Leon Battista Alberti, "Momus"

Leon Battista Alberti: Momus. Translated by Sarah Knight. The I Tatti Renaissance Library, Vol. 8. Harvard University Press, 2003. 0674007549. xxv + 407 pp.

I vaguely remembered hearing of Leon Battista Alberti as having been an architect, but it turns out that he also wrote quite a few books on a variety of subjects. The present work, Momus, is a novel (or, at any rate, a longish story in prose), but a very strange one. In a preface, Alberti explains that his aim is partly to philosophise, partly to entertain (¶5), and that he follows the example of ancient writers by using gods as personifications of different “mental qualities” (¶6).

I liked almost nothing about this novel. We are told it is satirical and darkly comical; but I found pretty much nothing in it funny (not that I expected to find it funny; I already know that comical works from the past generally don't strike me as funny — either my sense of humor is broken or, more likely, humor is just too culturally specific).

I also couldn't help thinking that for a story to be satire, there should be something more to it than merely showing a bunch of characters acting like fools and scumbags all the time. But then they are hardly characters at all; they aren't persons — they are “mental qualities”, as the author himself tells us. The eponymous protagonist, Momus, is the god of strife and criticism, a trickster, intriguer, shape-shifter, and all-round asshole. Jupiter, king of the gods, is a vaccilating, weak, and incompetent ruler, and all too often behaves in a capricious and tyrannous fashion. Most of the other gods behave like your typical spineless, scheming courtiers. The human species is represented by a broad assortment of fools and knaves, from philosophers like Socrates and Diogenes to various random fictional actors and rogues. There's almost no character in the book that you could call really decent, and none at all that would be decent *and* effective. Well, I guess that makes it a perfect reflection of the rough-and-tumble society of Renaissance Italy that the author actually lived in, so we shouldn't blame him for it.

But the thing that bothered me the most is the complete and deliberate absence of any coherent plot; it's just one damn random thing after another, with new and unrelated events and characters constantly showing up unexpectedly out of nowhere. The author isn't *really* trying to tell us a story, he's just touching himself under the table while writing. There are some subjects that clearly interested him so he keeps returning to them, e.g. architecture and especially its decline. Juno tries building a golden arch but it soon collapses ignominiously (2.100–1); and when Jupiter considers dismantling the world to build a new one, he is warned that the new one wouldn't be any better than the old one because the architects nowadays aren't as good as they used to be (3.69).

Another topic that Alberti is interested in is rulership; we mostly see this through the negative example of Jupiter, who does not seem to particularly like being a ruler, and certainly isn't good at it (2.104). But if the book gives us a vivid enough example of a bad ruler, it doesn't have much in the way of suggestions on how to devise better modes of government. Towards the end of the book we see some explicit advice on how to be a good prince (4.101–2), but it proves to be such bland moderationism that I doubt we're meant to take it seriously. In any case, Machiavelli this is not, though in Alberti's defense his book did predate The Prince by more than 50 years.

Another interesting recurring subject is that of disbelief in the gods, a view espoused by several characters here and there in the book, mostly as a philosophical position. I guess you could say that the gods appear as such unappealing characters in this book that this in itself constitutes an inducement towards disbelief. But, in Alberti's defense, perhaps he would say that this is just as intended since he really doesn't believe in the Olympian gods anyway, besides which his gods aren't really gods but mere personifications of mental qualities.

One thing that I did like about this book, however, is the style of the translation, which is a good deal more lively, and a good deal less stiffly formal, than we usually find in the ITRL seties. One concrete example: Jupiter is often referred to as “best and greatest” (a standard Latin phrase: Jupiter optimus maximus), but at one point, where Juno is ranting at him and uses this phrase sarcastically, it is translated very appropriately as “High and Mighty Jupiter” :)) (2.30)

Book I

We are introduced to Momus behaving in his typical way: when Jupiter calls upon the other gods to improve his creation by adding various useful things to it, Momus ‘contributes’ by releasing verminous insects into the world (1.6), while criticizing the gifts provided by other gods (1.7). The goddess Mischief (Fraus in Latin, the same word that is also the source of the English ‘fraud’) ensures that numerous complaints against Momus reach Jupiter, while pretending to be on his side (1.10).

Momus thinks Jupiter is doing a poor job as the king of the gods; he changes his mind too much, he has delegated too much power to Fate, he has not insured himself well enough against the efforts of humankind, etc. (1.19–22). Hearing of this, Jupiter banishes Momus to earth; in the process, Momus loses some aspect of his divinity (“the sacred flame that identifies all gods”, 1.26). To revenge himself on the gods, he poses as a philosopher, preaching atheism and fomenting discord amongst philosophical schools (1.27–31).

Jupiter sends the goddess Virtue to earth to intervene and calm the situation (1.36). Throngs of people come to do homage to Virtue and her children (Triumph, Trophy, Praise, and Posterity); 1.41, 48. Momus pretends to be contrite and submissive during his meeting with Virtue (1.47), but soon reverts to his old self and starts riling the humans up against gods again (1.49–50). Changing to human shape, he teaches girls the arts of cosmetics (1.58–62), seemingly for no other reason than that he likes deceit and (dis)simulation in all of their forms. He also has a plan to annoy the gods indirectly by inciting humans to pester them with prayers (1.65–6).

Next, Momus falls in love with Praise, the daughter of Virtue, turns himself into a vine of ivy so he can climb the wall to reach her (1.68–70). He successfully molests her, but a funny scene happens soon afterwards: he is still in the form of ivy when some human ruffians start climbing him (1.71–2). Praise soon gives birth to a baby named Rumor (Fama), who looks rather like a Lovecraftian monster: “thick with eyes, ears and darting tongues” (1.74). It begins flying around the world and spreading gossip, much to Momus's satisfaction (1.79).

The goddess Fortune, who regards Virtue as a hated rival, arranges for Hercules to be carried off by Rumor to heaven, where he will become a god (1.84); the gods welcome him as an ally against Rumor (1.92). Momus takes on the shape of Hercules and tries to incite other humans to try reaching heaven too, to cause more trouble there (1.88–90). Other humans are planning an attack on Virtue and her offspring, who all disappear in panic when Rumor alerts them to the danger (1.94–96).

Book II

Since Momus's invention of prayer, more and more prayers from the mortals are reaching the gods, who initially enjoy the attention and decide to recall Momus from his exile (2.2–3). They send the goddesses Pallas and Minerva to fetch him (surprisingly, to Alberti these are two different deities rather than two names of the same deity). Momus is delighted by this and plans to continue his policy of deceit and dissimulation against the gods who had slighted him (2.12–14). He acts suitably humble when brought before Jupiter, but he is also glad to see that the masses of prayers and votive offerings that are coming from the mortals are an increasingly serious nuisance to the gods on Olympus (2.18–19).

Momus gives an account of his experiences on earth, trying to paint the mortals in a bad light, and suggests that Rumor be sent to report on their doings (2.23–5). Juno appears and harangues Jupiter for forgiving Momus, whom she dislikes (2.26–30); Jupiter allows her to take, from the mortals' offerings, those items that are made of gold — all others are being discarded as a worthless nuisance (2.32–5).

Momus also describes the various occupations he had tried while amongst the mortals; he didn't much like being a soldier (2.39–41) or a king (2.42–6), but he has great praise for the life of a beggar (2.47–58): many social conventions do not apply to you, nobody cares how you behave or how you dress, you have nothing to lose, the job requires no skill, etc. But much of this speech in praise of beggardom is surely deeply sarcastic, e.g. when he says that it makes no difference whether one sleeps on the ground or on a bed (2.53). Owing to his entertaining stories, Momus becomes Jupiter's favourite, and some of the other deities try making up with him (2.65–9).

However, Momus resents being thought of as merely a buffoon who tells entertaining stories at banquets (2.70–1). Asked to tell the story about how mortals attacked him and tore his beard, he decides to focus on the more serious parts of the story: he had long debates with philosophers who denied the existence of gods (2.75–90), and they attacked him when he tried to provide counter-arguments (2.91–2). After Momus is done with his story, Hercules, who is also present, makes some remarks defending the philosophers, saying that they are not all like that (2.93–9).

Jupiter complains about his role as the ruler of the gods, especially because he has to mediate in their endless quarrels (2.103–4) and listen to prayers from ungrateful mortals (2.107–9); and the aforementioned votive offerings are piling up everywhere (2.105–6) and causing discord among the gods. Momus is delighted by all this and gives various half-serious suggestions on how Jupiter could punish the mortals (2.111–12; e.g. by sending them more women, who are sure to cause plenty of trouble :]). As for the offerings, they will be moved out of the way at Momus's suggestion (2.114–15). Mischief is so impressed by Momus's powers of deceit that she tries to regain his favour (2.116–19).

Book III

Jupiter decides he wants to build another world to replace the current one; opinions among the other gods vary, but Momus is of course delighted to have caused so much trouble (3.1–5). Jupiter is unsure how to go about his task; some of the gods suggest that he consult human philosophers (3.7–9). He talks to a few of them in disguise, and although they are all behaving more or less ridiculously, Jupiter is impressed and thinks highly of their intelligence (3.12–17).

Next he dispatches Mercury to go talk to philosophers and also to bring Virtue back to Olympus (3.18–19); Mercury meets Socrates and Diogenes, who behave as they usually do, and he returns to heaven without accomplishing anything (3.22–6). Next Jupiter sends Apollo on a similar mission (3.29–30), and meanwhile summons a big assembly of the gods, to be timed with Apollo's return (3.31). To Jupiter's embarrassment, Apollo is late, and there is much commotion among the gods about how to proceed with the project (3.34–9).

Momus, appointed by Jupiter to preside over the meeting, blames the tumult on the presence of female deities, which outrages them enough that they castrate him (3.40–1). By the time Apollo returns, the meeting is over; he describes his encounters with the philosophers, including Diogenes who was dissecting a crab and was puzzled at the absence of any visible brain (1.44–60).

Hunger, Fever and other such deities begin tormenting mankind since they figure that the world is going to be destroyed soon anyway; humans respond by building more temples and the like, hoping to regain the gods' favour (1.65–6). This finally persuades the gods — including Jupiter, who has been getting cold feet about the project anyway — not to proceed with the plan of destroying and remaking the world (1.67–70). To avoid appearing weak and indecisive, Jupiter tries to shift the blame for the original plan onto Momus, and condemns him to being chained to a rock (1.71–4).

Book IV

Humans have built a large amphitheatre and are about to hold games in honour of the gods; but the gods can't watch the event from heaven because Momus has persuaded certain nymphs to veil the sky with a cloud (4.4–7). Therefore they descend to earth; to watch the show discretely, they take the place and shape of statues of the gods that stand in the theatre, moving the original statues out of the way (4.10). The god Stupor moves his statue to a cave, where it later gives a good fright to a gang of robbers who has dragged their prisoner, an actor-philosopher named Oenops, there (4.12–15). Impressed by this, Oenops mends his previously atheistic ways and becomes a fervent worshipper of the gods (4.18–24).

Meanwhile, Charon arrives from the underworld, wishing to see the world before it gets destroyed; he is accompanied by a dead philosopher named Gelastus, and on the way they have a discussion about his pursuits as a philosopher: Charon points out that they mostly just say trivial things in complicated-sounding ways (4.26–39). Charon tells an alegorical tale of an artificer who created homunculi of different kinds, and encouraged them to climb to his house on a mountain, but only by the steep and straight road (4.43–45). Charon also doesn't quite see the point of theatrical performances (4.48–49). Gelastus gets into a fight with Oenops; the actors respond by throwing stones at Gelastus and Charon, who beat a hasty retreat (4.51–3).

They board Charon's boat again, and, after an uncomfortably close encounter with a group of pirates (4.61–71), they reach the spot where Momus is chained (4.72). Meanwhile great upheaval is taking place at the theatre: strong winds caused parts of it to collapse, injuring some of the gods; Jupiter decides they must put the statues back and leave immediately, though this does not happen without further complications (4.73–8).

Momus observes that he had been in Jupiter's favour for as long as he had behaved as a flatterer, but then got into trouble when he tried to start providing honest advice (4.81–4). By way of commiseration, Gelastus relates the story of his own and Charon's hardships (4.85–6). They observe that Jupiter is not a wise ruler. As they continue their journey, Charon tells an anecdote about a king and his herald; the later provided various more or less philosophical arguments as to why he is just as important as the king (4.92–8).

Jupiter, meanwhile, having returned to heaven, is disappointed with the failure of all his plans, and finally picks up the notebooks with advice on government that Momus had given him a while ago. The advice there seems to be mostly about moderation and seeking the middle course in everything (4.99–102).

*

Now I have not only finished reading all the volumes so far published in the ITRL series, but also written blog posts about them all; and I can't help noticing that the last few volumes were published last September, and no new ones have been even announced since then, let alone published. I don't think they've ever had such a long pause before, and I wonder if something went wrong. Were they afflicted by the epidemic? Did they run out of money? But Harvard University Press's other similar series, such as the Murty Classical Library of India, seem to be proceeding at their usual pace.

Could there be something more sinister at play? I remember that last July, James Hankins, the general editor of the ITRL ever since its inception, published an essay in Quillette where he stood up boldly to the woke cultists that have come to colonize Renaissance studies, as they have done to so many other academic fields before; and so I can't help but wonder now — could it be that he is getting cancelled over it, with the ITRL series suffering as a sort of collateral damage? I hope not; but nowadays you never know.

Or could it be some bean-counter's business decision without any influence from the culture wars? A year or two ago they thought it necessary to meddle with the I Tatti logo (old, new); the bee is now an unrecognizable shadow of its former self, and Bernard Berenson's initials are completely gone. You can see right away that some overconfident imbecile with no appreciation of tradition saw an opportunity to make his mark by meddling and ruining something, and so proceeded at once to do just that. Once an organization starts meddling with its own logo for no good reason, you can usually be sure that the people now in charge there are those whose only skill is in polishing turds, and that they will turn the organization itself into a turd before long as well.

In any case, it would be unfortunate if the ITRL series ended so abruptly, with a number of multi-volume works being only partly done. Let's hope we'll see the announcement of some new volumes soon.

[Update: some time after I published the above post, I had a look at Hankins' list of publications and he seems to publish a good deal of political commentary from a conservative point of view, so if the woke people ever do decide they want to cancel him, I'm sure they'll find plenty of excuses there to do so.

But I think that's not what's happening here. I also found an interesting review of a volume titled The Loeb Classical Library and its progeny: proceedings of the First James Loeb Biennial Conference, Munich and Murnau, 18–20 May 2017 (Harvard University Press, 2020). According to this review, the volume contains a paper by Hankins (“The I Tatti Renaissance Library: A Personal Retrospect and Prospect”, pp. 19–46):

“Hankins' account of the creation and development of the I Tatti Renaissance Library starts off positively, revealing that the initial sales were surprisingly good, but he ends on an ominous note: the continuance of the series is by no means assured, owing to expiring financial resources. The addition of an appendix with a list of published, commissioned, and planned titles makes the project strikingly finite.”

So I guess there were dark clouds gathering over the ITRL as early as 2017, and perhaps by now it has really run out of money for good. :( ]