Laocoon in Germany: The Reception of The Group Since Winckelmann

Oxford German Studies
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Laocoon in Germany: The Reception of the Group

since Winckelmann
H. B. Nisbet
To cite this article: H. B. Nisbet (1979) Laocoon in Germany: The Reception of the Group since
Winckelmann, Oxford German Studies, 10:1, 22-63, DOI: 10.1179/ogs.1979.10.1.22
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Laocoon in Germany: The Reception of the Group
since Winckelmann
H. B. NISBET
THE Laocoon group in the Vatican, reputedly the work of the three Rhodian
artists Hagesandros, Athanodorus, and Polydorus, is one of the most famous
Downloaded by [University of Birmingham] at 17:57 06 May 2016
sculptures to have come down to us from antiquity. It depicts the Trojan

priest Laocoon and his sons being bitten and strangled to death by two
enormous serpents. There are various versions of the legend, but the most
familiar is that of Virgil, who, in the Aeneid, Book II, describes Laocoon's
fearful death as a punishment imposed on him by Minerva, the protectress
of the Greeks, for his temerity in warning his fellow Trojans against bringing
the Wooden Horse into Troy. Since its rediscovery in a vault on the Esquiline
Hill in Rome on 14 January 1506, the Laocoon group has been the subject
of controversy, probably more so than any other ancient sculpture.! But it
was in Germany, between the middle of the eighteenth and the first decades
of the nineteenth century, that the controversy reached its height. After
Winckelmann, in 1755, proclaimed it an exemplary instance of that Greek
beauty which he urged his contemporaries to emulate, it played a central
part in the rise of the neo-classical movement; and for over fifty years, many
of the foremost intellects in Germany contributed to the debate over its
significance, and its relationship to their own aesthetic and philosophical
principles. Perhaps the most remarkable feature of this .controversy is the
diversity of opinion which the statue generated-indeed, it is not too much to
say that, during this period, it became a touchstone of taste. But in one
respect, nearly all the participants were united; they regarded this sculpture
as of paradigmatic value in art and aesthetic theory, and spoke of it with
reverence.
The object of this paper is not to provide a history of the neo-classical
movement in Germany, a subject which has been amply treated elsewhere.2
IOn the Laocoon debate in general see Margarete Bieber, Laocoon: The Influence of
the Group Since its Rediscovery, revised edition Detroit 1967; Hellmut Sichtermann,
Laokoon, Werkmonographien zur bildenden Kunst, 101, Stuttgart 1964; Horst Althaus,
Laokoon: Stoff und Form, Berne 1968; William Guild Howard, Laokoon: Lessing,
Herder, Goethe. Selections, New York 1910; and Carl Justi, Winckelmann und seine
Zeitgenossen, third edition, 3 vols, Lepizig 1923, I, 474-98. I have not attempted to
discuss all the German writers who took part in the debate after 1800. Other contribu-
tions, mainly by art historians of the nineteenth century, are listed in Hugo BIUmner's
edition of Lessings Laokoon, second~dition, Berlin 1880, pp. 722-4.
2 See especially Walther Rehm, Griechentum und Goethezeit, Leipzig, 1936; the same
Laocoon in Germany 23
Its aim is rather, by examining salient points in the reception of a particular

work of art, to furnish a more concentrated, if more limited, perspective on
some of the changes in attitude towards art and life which took place during
the age of Goethe and its aftermath. I should add that I have chosen the
Laocoon group rather than any other work not merely because so much was
written about it at that time. It has for long struck me as strange that so
drastic a spectacle as the group affords should have fascinated so rational an
age as the eighteenth century, and that it was able to captivate such devotees
of classical beauty and serenity as Winckelmann and the older Goethe. None
of the explanations hitherto advanced for this phenomenon has impressed me
as satisfactory, and it may be that, if we can discover why so many leading

minds responded to the work's challenge, we stand to learn something signi-
ficant about their attitudes and the times they lived in, and perhaps also
about the statue itself. Such problems as when precisely the statue originated,
and which version of the Laocoon myth it represents-problems over which
art historians and archaeologists still argue1-I shall mention only in so far
as they impinge upon the interpretations of the group by the writers in
question.
The Laocoon debate in Germany begins with Winckelmann's Gedanken aber

die Nachahmung der griechischen Werke in der Malerei und Bildhauerkunst
of 1755. It was this short work, more than Winckelmann's later Geschichte
der Kunst des Altertums, which caught the imagination of his contemporaries,
and expressed most strikingly his vision of the ancient Greeks as a happy and
ideal race whose sculptures embodied a consummate beauty, a beauty to
which artists of every period should look as an unsurpassed model. The first
such masterpiece which Winckelmann mentions, and the main example of the
qualities he admires, in the Laocoon group. The group remains today what it
was in antiquity, he says, 'eine vollkommene Regel der Kunst'.2 And in his
celebrated lines on the excellence of the ancient statues, it is again the
Laocoon which serves as his example:
Das allgemeine vorziigliche Kennzeichen der griechischen Meisterstiike

[sic] ist endlich eine edle Einfalt und eine stille Grosse, sowohl in der
author's G6tterstiile und G6ttertrauer: Aufsiitze zur deutsch-antiken Bewegung, Salz-

burg 1951; E. M. Butler, The Tyranny of Greece over Germany, Cambridge 1935; and
H. C. Hatfield, Winckelmann and his German Critics 1755-1781, New York 1943.
10n recent stages of this debate see Gisela M. A. Richter, The Sculpture and Sculp-
tors of the Greeks, fourth edition, New Haven and London 1970, pp. 237 ff. and Bieber,
pp. 37-41. For the latest archaeological evidence, and detailed bibliographical references
to current research, see A. F. Stewart, 'To Entertain an Emperor: Sperlonga, Uiokoon
and Tiberius at the Dinner Table', Journal of Roman Studies, 67 (1977) 76-~4.
2 Johann Joachim Winckelmann, Siimtliche Werke, edited by Joseph Eiselein, 12 vols,
Donaueschingen 1825-9, I, 9. Subsequent references to Winckelmann's works are to this
edition.
24 Laocoon in Germany
Stellung als im Ausdruke. So wie die Tiefe des Meers allezeit ruhig bleibt,
die Oberflache mag noch so wuten, eben so zeiget der Ausdruk in den
Figuren der Griechen bei allen Leidenschaften eine grosse und gesezte
Seele. Diese Seele schildert sich in dem Gesichte Laokoons, und nicht in
dem Gesichte allein, bei dem heftigsten Leiden. Der Schmerz, welcher sich
in allen Muskeln und Sehnen des Kerpers entdeket, und den man ganz
allein, ohne das Gesicht und andere Theile zu betrachten, an dem schmerz-
lich eingezogenen Unterleibe beinahe selbst zu empfmden glaubet: dieser
Schmerz, sage ich, aussert sich dennoch mit keiner Wuth in dem Gesichte
und in der ganzen Stellung. Er erhebet kein schrekliches Geschrei, wie
Virgil von seinem Laokoon singet. Die Ofnung des Mundes gestattet es
nicht; es ist vielmehr ein angstliches und beklemmtes Seufzen . . . Der
Schmerz des Korpers und die Grosse der Seele sind durch den ganzen Bau
der Figur mit gleicher Starke ausgetheilet, und gleichsam abgewogen.
Laokoon leidet, aber er leidet wie des Sophocles Philoktetes: sein Elend
gehet uns bis an die Seele; aber wir wunscheten, wie dieser grosse Mann
das Elend ertragen zu kennen. (I, 30-31)
'Eine edle Einfalt und eine stille Grosse' -these are the qualities' which
Winckelmann glorifies in the statues of the Greeks and which become the
ideals of the neo-classical movement in Germany. He holds them up in oppo-
sition to the baroque art of the preceding century with its movement,
passion, and extravagance-the art of Bernini, whom he explicitly attacks in
the essay (I, 20). For the state in which 'edle Einfalt' and 'stille Grosse' are
seen to their best advantage is not that of motion, but of rest.1
On the face of it, the Laocoon group is scarcely the most obvious instance
Winckelmann could have chosen to demonstrate his thesis. Numerous other
Greek sculptures were known, even then, which display the simplicity and
tranquillity he admires in.a far higher degree than the complex and contorted
Laocoon-the Belvedere Apollo, for example, to which he refers briefly, or
the so-called Antinous, both of which Hogarth had praised two years before
as models of classical perfection.2 As one critic remarks (Butler, p. 47), 'Why
he should have chosen this particular group as an example of the very
qualities it lacks, is no easy question to answer'.
It is simply not enough to say, as some scholars have done, that the
Laocoon group seemed moderate to Winckelmann in comparison with the
1 'Kenntlicher und bezeichnender wird die Seele in heftigen Leidenschaften; gross

aber und edel ist sie in dem Stan de der Einheit, in dem Stande der Ruhe. 1m Laokoon
wUrde der Schmerz, ailein gebildet, Parenthyrsus gewesen seyn; der Kiinstler gab ihm
daher, urn das Bezeichnende und das Edle der Seele in Eines zu vereinigen, eine Action,
die dem Stande der Ruhe in solchem Schmerze der nachste war' (I, 33). .
2 William Hogarth, The Analysis of Beauty, London 1753, pp. 66, 86, 128, etc. It is
significant, however, that Hogarth also describes the Laocoon as 'as fine a group of
figures in sculpture, as ever was made, either by ancients or moderns' (p. 21).
excesses of Bernini, Puget, Falconet, and other sculptors of the baroque and
rococo eras.! This may well be true, but it does not alter the fact that more
moderate examples still were available, to which the terms Winckelmann uses
would have been much more appropriate. And as for E. M. Butler's explana-
tion that, 'dazzled by the flash of a great revelation', Winckelmann 'was in
fact in a trance; and like many another clairvoyant, he was uttering truths
which did not apply to the object before him, but were associated with it
in his mind', this does not answer the problem at all, but simply evades it.
By such reasoning, Winckelmann might just as well have chosen one of the
ecstatic figures of Bernini as his example.
The true explanation is that Winckelmann had no choice but to show that
his thesis applied to the Laocoon; and the reason for this lies in the work's
earlier reception. For it was realized, from the moment of its discovery in
1506, that this was the very work which Pliny, in his Natural History
(XXXVI, 37), had described as 'opus omnibus et picturae et statuariae artis
praeponendum'; and for the Renaissance, Pliny's judgement was axiomati-
cally valid. When his praise was echoed by Michelangelo, who was present
immediately after the discovery, the work's reputation was further enhanced.
Not only Michelangelo, however, but Titian, Rubens, and other great artists
revered and copied the group (Bieber, pp. 18 f.), and the verdicts passed upon
it down to the time of Winckelmann are one long succession of superlatives.
Since it influenced the art of the late Renaissance and baroque periods
directly, its affinity with baroque sculpture is a very real one-indeed, the
period of Greek art from which it dates is often described as 'Hellenistic
baroque'. The artists of the seventeenth century saw in it an example of ex-
treme naturalism and unrestrained emotion (Bieber, p. 12), and it is not
at all surprising that Bernini himself, no less than his detractor Winckelmann,
regarded it as the greatest masterpiece of antiquity.2
Given the immense reputation of th,e Laocoon, Winckelmann had at least
to accommo~ate the work to his thesis, if not to use it as his principal
example. To ignore it would have been to lay himself open to immediate
refutation. He opted for the bolder alternative, that of undermining his oppo-
nents' case from within, and based his argument squarely upon the Laocoon.
In order to succeed, however, he had to demonstrate that, for all its baroque
affmities, its greatness lay not in those aspects which Bernini and his successors
admired, but in the precise opposite of these. And if he could persuade his
readers that this extreme case was indeed characterized by 'edle Einfalt'
and 'stille Grosse', his thesis would automatically be accepted for almost any
other Greek work his critics cared to name. Just how successful his gamble
was is shown by the subsequent history of neo-classicism in Germany.
Winckelmann could not deny the obvious, however. He readily admits
1 Justi, 1,484 and 496; see also Bieber, p. 33.
2 See Max Pohlenz, 'Laokoon', Die Antike 9 (1953) 54.
that every muscle and sinew of Laocoon is racked by violent torment, and
that his body is by no means at rest. But this physical upheaval is counter-
balanced ('abgewogen') by certain qualities of mind which counteract the
pain and reduce its expression to the minimum consistent with the priest's
predicament. This is the sense of his famous metaphor of the sea, so often
repeated by later writers: what really matters is not the visible surface of the
water, which may rage and boil as it will, but the unseen depths, which are
forever calm. Not the superficial appearance of the group, but its spiritual sig-
nificance, is what counts, and by implication, the baroque artists who venera-
ted the group were themselves of a superficial turn of mind. In short, the
qualities Winckelmann detects are moral rather than aesthetic, and the only
tangible evidence he adduces for them is the fact that Laocoon does not cry
out, and therefore appears to restrain his emotions. His argument transcends
those of his adversaries because it accommodates their case, along with his
own, in a series of antitheses: motion and rest, passion and composure, pain
and nobility, body and soul, are the co-determinants of the sculpture. And
in each case, ,the second component is not only the more important of the
two-its connotations are spiritual rather than physical, which makes it a
relatively intangible quality.
The triumph of Winckelmann's .idealistic aesthetics was made possible,
however, not just by his skill in dialectics, but also by the temper of his
age, the age of the Enlightenment. By showing that the Laocoon group em-
bodied an idea, a stoical ethos, he succeeded in rationalizing a respected but
disquieting work. This strongly commended both his own cult of Hellenism,
and the statue itself, to his countrymen. It has rightly been observed that his
conception of the Greeks and their moral excellence is of literary, rather than
artistic origin, and that he derived it rather from Plato and Sophocles than
from the much later products of Hellenistic art.! His fondness for all~gorical
art reflects this same didactic bias.
In his later Geschichte der Kunst des Altertums, Winckelmann discusses
the art of antiquity much more fully and empirically, and the work is rightly
regarded as a milestone in art history.2 But although his analysis of the
Laocoon group is more detailed, he again dwells on Laocoon's facial expres-
sion. As in the earlier e~say, the physical is significant only in so far as it
reflects the spiritual conflict: .
1 See Hatfield, p. 9. Winckelmann suggests as much himself when he comments in the
Gedanken: 'Die edle Einfalt und stille Grosse der griechischen Statuen ist zugleich das
wahre Kennzeichen der griechischen Schriften aus den besten Zeiten, der Schriften aus
Sokratis Schule' (I, 34).
2 So convinced was Winckelmann, however, that the values he discerned in the
Laocoon group were identical with those of the Socratic age that he allowed this belief,
rather than archaeological or epigraphical evidence, to determine its date. He placed it
as far back in time as possible, in the age of Alexander the Great (VI, 16). On Winckel-
mann as a historian see M. Kay Flavell, 'Winckelmann and the German Enlightenment:
On the Recovery and Uses of the Past'"MLR, 74 (1979) 79-96.
das vaterliche Herz offenbaret sich in den wehmiithigen Augen, und das
Mitleiden scheinet in einem triibell Dufte auf denselben z:u schwimmen.
Sein Gesicht ist klagend, aber nicht schreiend, seine Augen sind nach der
h6heren Hiilfe gewandt. Der Mund 1st voll yen Wehmuth, und die gesen-
kete Unterlipe [sic] schwer von derselben; in der iiberwarts gezogenen
Oberlipe aber ist dieselbe mit Schmerz vermischet, welcher mit einer
Regung von Unmu:th, wie iiber ein unverdientes unwiirdiges Leiden, in die
Nase hinauftritt, dieselbe schwiilstig machet, und sich in den erweiterten
und aufwarts gezogenen Niistern offenbaret. Unter der Stirn ist der Streit
zwischen Schmerz und Widerstand, wie in einem Punkte vereiniget, mit
grosser Weisheit gebildet ... [etc.] (VI, 22)
He does proceed to emphasize the statue's 'sch6nheit' soon afterwards (VI,

23), but he comes no nearer than in the previous essay to defining what con-
stitutes it.l This passage, in fact, is an exercise in physiognomy rather than
objective description, and it was no doubt on such models as this that the
physiognomist Lavater, in the 1770s, based his own fanciful interpretations
of Greek and Roman countenances?
The success of Winckelmann's arguments began a fateful trend in German
criticism of the Laocoon, and indeed of ancient art in general. His visionary
approach encouraged his successors to speculate, to read their own ideas into
.the work, and his concern with its ethical significance and exemplary status
as a product of Greek humanity aroused enthusiasms which bore little rela-
tion ~o historical fact. As the archaeologist Heyne ruefully commented on
Winckelmann's description in 1779:
einen d~utlichen Begriff und Vorstellung von der Gruppe zu geben, ist sie
nicht entworfen: und man muss diese Figur schon genau kennen und
iiberdacht haben, ehe jene Beschreibung ihre rechte Wirkung thun kann;
sonst ist man in der Gefahr, in welche vor wenigen J ahren so viele unsrer
jungen Landsleute zu gerathen pflegten, dass man sich, wie der Ritter von
Mancha, in eine Entziickung und Begeisterung hineinarbeitet, wozu nichts
weiter fehlt, als nur - ein wirklicher, oder doch ein bestimmter Gegen-
stand.3
1 Compare Bliimner, Lessings Laokoon, p. 496: 'Fur Winckelmann ist die Schonheit
eine gewissermassen undefinierbare SUbstanz, von welcher leichter gesagt werden konrie,
was sie nicht ist, als was sie ist.'
2 See Johann Caspar Lavater, Physiognomische Fragmente, 4 vols, Leipzig and Winter-
thur 1775-8, II, 254-9, 'H.elden der Vorzeit'; III, 48-57, 'Ueber griechische Gesichter';
and IV, 169-75, annotated extracts from \Vinckelmann.
3 Christoph Gottlob Heyne, 'Prufung einiger Nachrichten und Behauptungen vom
Laocoon im Belvedere', in Heyne, Sammlung antiquarischer Au[siitze, 2 vols, Leipzig
1778-9, II, 1-52 (p. 18).
To Winckelmann's immediate successor in the Laocoon debate, however,

Heyne's strictures do not apply. For Lessing's Laokoon, oder uber die Gren-
zen der Malerei und Poesie of 1766 is renowned for its precise reasoning, and
what Lessing has to say on the beauty of Greek sculpture betrays nothing of
Winckelmann's Platonic enthusiasms.
Nevertheless, Lessing adopts several of Winckelmann's most important
premises. like his predecessor, he regards the Greeks as representatives of an
ideal humanity, even if his opinion of them differs in some respects from
Winckelmann's; and he agrees with him that the Greek masterpieces provide
a standard against which the art of all subsequent ages should be measured.
For both writers, the highest beauty is that of the human form, and its
supreme expression is found in the sculpture of the Greeks.
Lessing's primary purpose in the Laokoon, of course, is not to discuss the
statue of that name, but to define the respective provinces of poetry and
visual art. But in this enterprise, the Laocoon group serves as his main example
in the visual arts, to which he contrasts Homer, and to a lesser extent Virgil,
as his criteria in poetry. In placing the statue on a level with the greatest epics
of antiquity, he implicitly acknowledges Winckelmann's opinion of its merit.
Indeed, the first works of Greek art which the latter had named, in conjunc-
tion, in his essay of 1755, were the Laocoon group and the epics of Homer,
and in his central passage on the group, already quoted above, the statue was
compared with Virgil's rendering of the Laocoon episode in the Aeneid.
Lessing, then, respected Winckelmann as the foremost German authority on
ancient art, and in choosing the title Laokoon for his treatise, he is both com-
plimenting Winckelmann and endorsing his admiration of the statue.
Immediately after his preface, Lessing opens his treatise with Winckel-
mann's words on Laocoon as an example of 'edle Einfalt' and 'stille Grosse'.l
Winckelmann, it will be remembered, paid much attention to Laocoon's face
and had relatively little to say about the group as a whole. This followed from
his interpretation of Laocoon as a paragon of fortitude, for which his face,
more than his stricken body and struggling sons, furnished the main evidence.
Lessing, however, is more specific still: the one feature which he· stresses
throughout the first thirty pages of his work is Laocoon's mouth, and the fact
that it is not wide open as if to emit a cry, despite his obvious anguish, but
half-closed, as if he were merely sighing. Here again, he concurs with Winckel-
mann - except that he rejects Winckelmann's explanation of the half-closed
mouth as a sign of 'edle Einfalt' and 'stille Grosse'.
Lessing suggests another reason, or rather two reasons, for Laocoon's
apparent restraint; and both of them are aesthetic, rather than ethical, in
character. Having cited examples from· Homer and Sophocles of Greek heroes
1 Bliimner, Lessings Laokoon, pp. 149-50. All references to the Laokoon are to this
edition, which is still unsurpassed by any in the various editions of Lessing's collected
works.
who did not hesitate to cry out in pain, he concludes that Laocoon's heroic
qualities cannot account for his suppressing his cries: and the first reason he
advances is the law of beauty, by which, he argues, all Greek sculpture was
governed. He explains this further in the following passage, which contains
some of his central observations on the statue:
Der Meister arbeitete aufdie hochste Schonheit, unter den angenommenen

Umstanden des k6rperlichen Schmerzes. Dieser, in aller seiner entstellenden
Heftigkeit, war mit jener nicht zu verbinden. Er musste fun also herab
setzen; er musste Schreyen in Seufzen mildern; nicht weil das Schreyen
eine unedle Seele verrath, sondem weil es das Gesicht auf eine eckelhafte
Weise verstellet. Denn man reisse dem Laokoon in Gedanken nur den
Mund auf, und urtheile. Man lasse ihn schreyen, und sehe. Es war eine
Bildung, die Mitleid einflosste, weilsie Schonheit und Schmerz zugleich
zeigte; nun ist es eine hassliche, eine abscheuliche Bildung geworden, von
der man gern sein Gesicht verwendet, well der Anblick des Sc~merzes
Unlust erregt, ohne dass die Schonheit des leidenden Gegenstandes diese
Unlust in das siisse Gefiihl des Mitleids verwandeln kann.
Die blosse weite Oefnung des Mundes ... ist in der Mahlerey ein Fleck
und in der Bildhauerey eine Vertiefung, we1che die widrigste Wirkung von
der Welt thut. (p. 162)
It could well be argued, however, that Lessing's disagreement with Winckel-

mann here is more apparent than real. For in his Geschichte der Kunst of
1764, Winckelmann had himself declared that the visual artist, unlike the
poet, is constrained by the imperative of beauty:
In der Vorstellung der Heiden ist dem Kiinstler weniger als dem Dichter
erlaubet ... J ener ... , da er das Schonste in den sch6nsten Bildungen
wahlen muss, ist auf einen gewissen Grad des Ausdrucks der Leidenschaften
eingeschranket, die der Bildung nicht nachtheilig werden solI. (Siimtliche
Werke ~IV, 204 f.)
And the examples he gives of such restraint actually include the Laocoon
group.1 Lessing was undoubtedly aware of this, for he ~rites in one of the
drafts of his Laokoon: 'Uebrigens hat sich Winkelmann [sic] wegen der Ruhe
des Laokoon naher erklart, und er ist meiner Meinung, dass die SChonheit
diese Ruhe veranlasst habe' (p. 392). Despite this, he kept up the fiction that
he had first encountered Winckelmann's Geschichte only after his treatise was
virtually completed (p. 324), and stuck to his original intention of refuting
the argument in Winckelmann's earlier essay of 1755 on Laocoon as a 'grosse
1 Siirntliche Werke, IV, 205. Hatfield (p. 53) notices this parallel, and points out that
Winckelmann's other examples- representations of Niobe, Philoctetes, Ajax, Clytem-

nestra, and Medea - are almost the same as those which Lessing discusses. He sees in this
- rightly, in my opinion - an unacknowledged debt of Lessing to Winckelmann's
Geschichte.
Seele'. Various reasons have been given by critics for Lessing's pretended ig-
norance of the Geschichte.1 Perhaps he merely wished to emphasize that he
had discovered the law of beauty independently of Winckelmann (see Howard,
p. cxliv). Or perhaps there was something about Winckelmann's original moral
interpretation which he wished at all costs to oppose.
Whatever the reasons for his subterfuge, the beauty which Lessing discerns
in the Laocoon group is much more clearly defined than Winckelmann's,
although it is still of a very general nature. As he remarks in one of his drafts,
Winckelmann's beauty is a quality which he appears to have abstracted from
the works he admired (p. 399); Lessing, on the other hand, concludes by a
priori deduction that it is a necessary property of the visual arts, since they
alone can render it:
Denn da die bildenden Kiinste allein vermogend sind, die Schonheit der
Form hervorzubringen; da sie hierzu der Hiilfe keiner andern Kunst
bediirfen; da andere Kiinste ganzlich darauf Verzicht thun mussen: so ist
es wohl unstreitig, dass diese Schonheit nicht anders als ihre Bestimmung
seyn kann. (p. 399)
Since his treatise is built upon the antithesis between visual art and ~oetry,
it is very much in Lessing's interest to account for Laocoon's expression by
the nature of the art in question; for Winckelmann's moral argument, which
could apply just as well to poetry, blurs the distinction Lessing wishes to
make. Furthermore, the explanation by the law of beauty has the virtue of
economy. For although Winckelmann's moral explanation is not necessarily
incompatible with the argument from beauty (see Hatfield, p. 53), it is
logically superfluous: principia praeter necessitatem non sunt multipIicanda.
Finally, Winckelmann's concept of beauty is empirically vague as well as
logically imprecise, whereas Lessing, who declares that violent passions distort
the body and 'die schonen Linien, die ihn in einem ruhigen Stan de um-
schreiben' (p. 159), has observable, linear properties in mind. And when he
says later in his treatise that Virgil's description of the snakes wound repeatedly
round Laocoon's neck would destroy 'die pyramidalische Zuspitzung der
Gruppe, welche dem Auge so angenehm ist' (p. 190), it is obvious that his
conception of beauty is close to that of Hogarth, for whom it is associated
with serpentine lines and pyramidal figures. Hogarth, whose Analysis of Beauty
Lessing had reviewed favourably in 1754,2 had in fact singled out the
1 See, for example, Elida Maria Szarota, Lessings Laokoon: Eine Kampfsclz.rift fiir
eine realistische Kunst und Poesie, Weimar 1959, p. 11. Szarota's reasons are that the
Laocoon group is· more central in Winckelmann's earlier work, that Lessing wished to
keep off technical matters he knew little of, that he wished to avoid a full-scale polemic
against the respected Winckelmann, and that he may in any case have preferred Winckel-
mann's earlier to his later work.
2 See G. E. Lessing,Siimtliche Schriften, edited by Karl Lachmann and Franz Muncker,
23 vols., Stuttgart 1886-1924, V, 405-7 (1754).
pyramidal shape of the Laocoon group for special praise (Hogarth, p. 21).
The second reason Lessing suggests for Laocoon's failure to cry out is
again derived from the nature of the art in question. But although Lessing
does not say so, it is very much a secondary reason, for it is valid only for
sculptures or paintings which, like the Laocoon group, represent an action in
time in such a way as to create an illusion of reality.
Works which represent an action can represent. only a single moment
within it. This being so, the artist must select the most fruitful or 'pregnant'
moment possible - that is, the moment which affords the greatest scope for
the imagination (p. 165), the moment 'aus welchem das Vorhergehende und
Folgende am begreiflichsten wird' (p. 251). And since it is to be given an

unnatural permanence in the work of art, it must correspond to a state which
is more than fleeting or instantaneous (p. 165). For these reasons, the moment
represented in Laocoon's conflict with the serpents is not the clitnax of his
agony, the final cry of pain before his collapse, but a moment just before it,
to which the imagination can readily add the climax, and in which Laocoon's
expression is more compatible with the permanence of statuary than a
momentary shriek of pain would be.
Like Winckelmann, Lessing sees the group as governed by two opposing,
but balancing principles. Since it depicts an action, it has motion as well as
rest, 'Ausdruck' as well as 'Schonheit'. And the expression - in this case, of
pain - is tempered both in the interests of beauty, which is the overriding
principle in all visual art, and because it lnust be appropriate to the most
suggestive moment in the action depicted.
Lessing's secondary argument concerning the 'pregnant moment', unlike
his reflections on beauty, reveals a peculiarity of the group which neither
he nor Winckelmann chose to acknowledge - namely that it is a thoroughly
untypical sculpture. For it portrays a highly dramatic event which, as Lessing
knew (p. 154), had been the subject of a lost tragedy by Sophocles. This, far
more than its abstract, linear beauty, is why it appealed so much to the
dramatist Lessing. For him, it is a tragedy in nuce, which lends itself admir-
ably to a literary approach. Accordingly, he even proceeds to apply his own
neo-Aristotelian theory of tragedy to it. His concept of the 'pregnant
moment', which suggests as much as possible of the preceding and succeeding
action, and which in the case of Laocoon corresponds to the peripeteia of a
tragedy, itself underlines the group's dramatic qualities (see Szarota, p. 105).
And as the first quotation from his Laokoon above makes clear, the emotion
which the statue arouses is 'das susse Gefuhl des Mitleids', the tragic emotion
of pity. Here, perhaps, is the main reason why he decided to attack Winckel-
mann's original interpretation of Laocoon's restraint as a sign of stoic self-
control,l and to feign ignorance of his revised interpretation. Like Corneille's
1 Compare E. H. Gombrich, 'Lessing: Lecture on a Master Mind', Proceedings of the
Bn:tish Academy 43 (1957), 133-56, who sees Lessing's opposition to Winckehnann as a
theory of tragedy, Winckelmann's picture of Laocoon as a stoic hero and

'grosse Seele' demands admiration, not pity. And admiration is an unproduc-
tive emotion which cannot further the cause of human brotherhood:
Alles Stoische ist untheatralisch; und unser Mitleiden ist allezeit dem
Leiden gleichmassig, welches der interessierende Gegenstand aussert. Sieht
man ihn sein Elend mit grosser Seele ertragen, so wird diese grosse Seele
zwar unsere Bewunderung erwecken, aber die Bewunderung ist ein kalter
Affekt, dessen unthatiges Staunen jede andere warmere Leidenschaft, so
wie jede andere deutliche Vorstellung, ausschliesset. (p. 1..54)
That Winckelmann had chosen the Laocoon group as his main example in
1755 was a godsend to Lessing, whose dramatic theory enabled him to
rationalize the group even more fully than the law of beauty did. Winckel-
mann's admiration lacked that 'deutliche Vorstellung' which Lessing was
looking for, in visual art as well as in poetry. And the fact that the dramatic
qualities which Lessing praised in this particular statue are purely contingent,
and absent in countless other sculptures and paintings which must rely on
'Sch6nheit' alone for their appeal, is one of the reasons why the visual arts
come off so poorly in his treatise in comparison with poetry, which can repre-
sent actions much more fully and effectively. 1
The only other aspect of the group which Lessing discusses in detail is the
date of its origin, a question which he treats at considerable length. It is not
so much the date in itself which interests him, for he is no archaeologist.
What interest.s him is whether the statue is earlier or later than Virgil's Aeneid,
and whether Virgil's narration of the episode is influenced by the group or
vice versa. Although he concedes that the two works may have been created
independently, or derived from an earlier common source, he does everything
he can to show that the statue is based on Virgil. His principal eVidence,
which is purely hypothetical, is that Virgil, had he followed the sculptors,
would have had no need to diverge from them in the way he does, with
Laocoon uttering terrible cries, the snakes wrapped round his body instead of
his limbs, etc.; whereas the sculptors, had they followed Virgil, would have
been· compelled by the nature of their art to make precisely the kind of
alterations they appear in fact to have made (pp. 181-200 and 324-32). Why
does Lessing argue at such length in support of a theory to which, as he is
aware, there are equally plausible alternatives?
He admits, near the beginning of his work (pp. 150 f.), that the first thing
which provoked him to disagree with Winckelmann was the latter's condem-
nation of Virgil for allowing his Laocoon to cry out, instead of controlling
veiled attack on the Cornelian theory of tragedy with its ideal of nobility as an object of
admiration (pp. 143 f.).
1 Gombrich, p. 140, even declares: 'The more one reads the Laokoon, the stronger
becomes the impression that it is not so much a book about as against the visual arts.'
his anguish like the Laocoon of the statue. The controversy began, then, as a
defence of Virgil against Winckelmann, and of literature against art. It could
well be that Lessing's determination to establish the primacy of poetry in
range of expression led him to argue in turn for its priority in time, and that
the more limited he perceived the statue to be in its rendering of a temporal
action, the more it came to look like a pale reflection of the poetic version
which interested him more profoundly.
Lessing's comments on the Laocoon group, despite his excessively literary
approach and circumscribed view of the visual arts, had far-reaching effects.
For he is one of those few writers who are just as impressive when they are
wrong as when they are right. His arguments on the date of the statue, for
example, have the excitement of a detective narrative, and it is from them
that the debate on this question, a debate which continues today, takes its
proper beginning. Similarly, his theory of the 'pregnant moment', which
applied the criterion of verisimilitude to the sculpture with unprecedented
rigour, started another controversy over precisely which moment in Laocoon's
death throes the work represents, and inaugurated a fashion for increasingly
realistic interpretations of the group. (These, a few decades later, were taken
to extremes Lessing would never have dreamed of.) But the main effect of his
comments on the statue, apart from enhancing its already immense prestige,
was to reinforce Winckelmann's cult of Greek beauty, while narrowing its
already narrow scope still further. The baroque view of the group was now
completely refuted, and the other extreme of a restrained, and in the last
resort empty, beauty had been reached. No one before or since Lessing has
rationalized this strange monument so ruthlessly or so completely. With his
law of beauty , 'pregnant moment', and concept of tragic pity, Lessing pressed
the statue, with its carefully balanced form and expression, into a logical
system which fitted it as neatly as the pyramidal box into which Hogarth had
said it could be packed. For Lessing, it held no further mystery. Gripped fast
by the coils of the serpents and the straitjacket of Lessing's system, Laocoon
was bound as firmly as Prometheus. But just as surely, he was to show that he
still had life in him, and the struggle he was soon to put up was the greatest
in his career. The first, tentative stirrings are to be found in the writings of
Herder.
Herder mentions the Laocoon group on several occasions. His first extended
reference to it is the poem 'Laokoons Haupte!', written at some time before
he left Riga in 1769.1 The following extracts should convey its temper:
o du, in einem grossen Seufzer
gen Himmel ziehend! zeuchst aus tiefen Herzens Abgrund
1 Johann Gottfried Herder, Siirntliche Werke, edited by Bernhard Suphan, 33 vats,
Berlin 1877-1913, XXIX, 303 f. See p. XXXV, editor's introduction, on the date of the
poem. This edition is referred to henceforth as SW.
der Deinen Seel' auf diesem Seufzer

gen Himmel mit empor!
Den Drachumwundnen Erdekorper,
wie Giftgeschwellt er unterliegt! .. :
o du, der hohen Himmelsgotter
ein stumm Erbarmungsbild! in aller Himmel Mitte
verlassen! - aller armen Menschheit
die hochste Majestat / Des Leidens! ...
Dnd aIle Engel ein dich hohlten,
Dnd offnen, lauten Munds, dich Engel, deine Kinder
umarmeten! Der Drachenknote

des Schicksals war zerstiickt ...
. ., . Sei 0 Haupt mir Bote
der Gottheit! - Leidens Bild! - wie Majestat des Schmerzes
auf ihrer Seele andrer Seele
gen Himmel zeucht und ruht!
The spirit of this poem is remote from Lessing's cool deliberations. The
sty Ie is exclamatory and incoherent - the young Herder cultivates the
manner of Klopstock - and the emphasis is on the group's pathos, to which
Herder gives a religious slant which is totally lacking in Lessing's and Winckel-
mann's descriptions. Laocoon here appears as an innocent sufferer on the
point of death - a victim of cruel fate, or cruel gods, as in the classical myths;
yet his passion, like that of Christ, is somehow representative of suffering
mankind. His soul, as he expires, is received by angelic embraces. In short,
Herder's poem is an incongruous blend of classical and Christian elements,
and its hero is a composite of Prometheus (see Hatfield, p. 91) and Christ.
What Herder has done is to isolate and amplify the pathetic side of
Winckelmann's description of the statue. His references to Laocoon's
'Seufzer', which he emphasizes nearly every time he mentions the group (cf.
SW, VIII, 20; XVII, 351; XXVIII, 281; etc.), and to the effects of the
poisonl point to Winckelmann's essay of 1755. He in fact cites Winckelmann's
description in his critique of Lessing's Laokoon, the first Kritisches Wiildchen
of 1769 (although he has surprisingly little to say on the statue itself in that
work); but significantly, he omits the first sentences on Greek self-control,
and quotes only the passage on Laocoon's suffering (SW, III, 74). For it is
neither the hero's supposed stoicism and restraint, nor the beauty, balance,
and symmetry of the group which captivate the young Herder, but its
emotional expressiveness. In his poem, Laocoon has become the pretext for
1 Winckelmann, I, 32 quotes Bernini's theory that the effects of the venom can be
detected in Laocoon's thigh. Heyne, II, 24, gives as the source of this reference 'Baldi-
nucci, Vita del Cav. Bernini, p. 72', a work which I have been unable to consult.
a sentimental effusion at a time when Empjindsamkeit was at its height.
But Herder has discerned something else which Winckelmann was careful
not to mention - the Christian associations which the group had acquired
during the late Renaissance and baroque eras, when artists had found in it
a religious pathos akin to their own (see Bieber, p. 12). Whether Herder
knew it or not, theologians of the Counter-Reformation had commended
the Laocoon to painters as a model for the Passion of Christ and the suffer-
ings of saints and martyrs,l and numerous examples of Christian art had been
influenced by it: for instance, the figures of Christ and St. Sebastian in
Titian's altarpiece of the Resurrection in the Church of SS Nazaro e Celso at
Brescia reflect the artist's studies of the group,2 as does the Christ in
Rubens' Elevation of the Cross in Antwerp Cathedral. 3
In his later discussions of the group, Herder again presents Laocoon in a
pathetic light, as an anguished father and innocent martyr (cf. SW, VIII, 20
(1778)). But in the Humanitiits-Briefe of 1795, in keeping with the older
Herder's increasingly secular leanings, he is cited as an example of 'reine
Formen der Menschheit' (SW, XVII, 351). On this occasion, Laocoon is
explicitly likened to the Christian martyrs, but it is a further sign of Herder's
growing secularism that he now regards the statue as superior to its Christian
counterparts:
Reiner kann schwerlich ein Martyrer gedacht, riihrender und zugleich
bedeutend schoner im Kreise der Kunst schwerlich vorgestellt werden. Die
Schlangen verunzieren nichts, und in ihren Banden macht der stumme
Seufzer des Leidenden eine Wirkung, die St. Sebastian, Lorenz, und
Bartholomiius nicht gewahren mogen.
In the commentary to his poem 'Pygmalion' of 1801, Herder again stresses
the expressive qualities of the group - its movement and its pathos. By this
time, however, the Promethean aspect has ousted the Christian associations
completely. Laocoon, though close to death, is no longer so passive as before:
he rightly resists the punishment of the gods - not in the cause of religion,
of course, but of secular morality: he is a 'Martyrer des Patriotismus und der
Wahrheit' (SW, XXVIII, 280 f.).4 For Herder bases his interpretation on
Virgil, but unlike Lessing, he considers that Virgil's priest is in no sense a
tragic hero. Laocoon's sole offence is that he defended his country, and he
dies as the innocent victim of a vengeful deity. By implication, the undeserved
1 See L. D. Ettlinger, 'Exemplum Doloris. Reflections on the Laocoon Group', in
De Artibus Opuscula XL. Essays in Honor of Erwin Panofsky, edited by Millard Meiss,
2 vols, New York 1961, I, 121-6 (p. 126).
2 See Bieber, p. 17; also Harold E. Wethey, The Paintings of Titian: Complete Edi-
tion. I: The Religious Paintings, London 1969, p. 127.
3 See Wolfgang Stechow, Rubens and the Classical Tradition, Cambridge, Mass. 1968,
pp. 22 ff.
4 Like so many of his contemporaries, Herder now emphasizes Laocoon's activity,
expressed in his 'Stellung einer ringenden Thiitigkeit' (Herder's italics).
fate of this virtuous man is an indictment of the gods. In these last, moralistic
observations on the group, Herder is in fact taking issue with Goethe, who
interprets the work in purely aesthetic terms, and dismisses the legend, with
all the awkward questions it raises, as irrelevant (see p. 50 below). .
To sum up: with Herder, the reception of the Laocoon group in Germany
enters a new phase. In his sentimental poem, the enthusiasm Winckelmann
had aroused becomes divorced from the statue as a work of art, and its emo-
tional potential is cultivated for its own sake. The Christian pathos of the
baroque era is revived, and reinforced by the Empfindsamkeit of the 1760s.
But along with this emotionalism, another characteristic begins to make itself
felt. Herder's Laocoon is the innocent, and at first passive, victim of higher
powers. But in the commentary of 1801, he is less submissive, and 'scheinet
... mit den G6ttern zu rechten' (SW, XXVIII, 280). He now dies fighting for
values he holds dear, and these values are human rather than divine. This new,
defiant quality of Laocoon comes truly into its own, however, in Wilhelm
Heinse's novel Ardinghello of 1787.
A device sometimes employed by those who have offered new interpretations

of the sculpture has been to look to other versions of the myth. Winckelmann,
Lessing, and Herder, although they were acquainted with other versions, fol-
lowed that of Virgil, in which Laocoon dies as a valiant patriot who has
unwittingly crossed the plans of Minerva. But Heinse, through the mouth of
the artist-hero of his novel, turns first to that of the fabulist Hyginus, whose
Laocoon is a priest of Apollo, punished for marrying and siring children
against the wishes of the god.1 He at once rejects this version, however, in
favour of the more colourful explanation of the grammarian Servius in his
commentary to Virgil:
Servius gibt jedoch die bessere ErkHirung und sagt, es sei deswegen gesche-
hen, wei! er [Laocoon] seine Frau aus Unenthaltsamkeit im Tempel des
Apollo beschlafen habe [Heinse's italics]. (p. 239)
From this beginning, Heinse constructs a picture of Laocoon as an audacious

opportunist who exploited his priestly office to increase his power, and to
indulge his carnal pleasures:
Seine Gesichtsbildung mit dem sch6nen gekrauselten Barte ist v611ig
griechisch und aus dem taglichen Umgang von einem tiefschauenden
Menschen weggefiihlt, und driickt einen gescheiten Mann aus, der wenig
ander Gesetz als seinen Vorteil und sein Vergniigen achtet, und der daiu
den besten Stand in der biirgerlichen Gesellschaft gewahlt hat; voll Kraft
und Starke des Leibes und der Seele.
1 Wilhelm Heinse, Ardinghello und die gliickseligen Inseln, edited by Max L. Baeumer,
Stuttgart 1975, p. 239. All subsequent references to the novel are to this edition.
In the statue, we see him punished for his final outrage, perpetrated within
sight of the altar; and lest we forget the nature of his offence, Heinse, towards
the end of his description, draws attention to the appropriate part of his
anatomy:
Das ganze vom Laokoon zeigt einen Menschen, der gestraft wird und den
endlich der Arm gettlicher Gerechtigkeit erreicht hat; er sinkt in die Nacht
des Todes unter dem schrecklichen Gerichte, und urn seine Lippen herum
liegt noch Erkenntnis seiner Sunden ...
Selbst die Schamteile des Alten richten .sich empor von der allgemeinen
Anspannung, Hodensack und Glied zusammengezogen. .. (pp. 239 f.)
Heinse's Laocoon dies, then, as a Dionysian criminal and public enemy. But
he is neither an object of pity, nor of condemnation. On the contrary, his
death is a glorious one, which is described with unconcealed admiration:
Es leidet ein machtiger Feind und Rebell der Gesellschaft und der Getter,
und man schaudert mit einem frohen Weh bei dem furchterlichen Unter-
gange des herrlichen Verbrechers. (p. 240)
It is hard to avoid the impression, however, that Heinse's Laocoon is rebel-

ling not against the majesty of Apollo, but against the moral idealism of
Winckelmann.1 Admittedly, both the statue, as a work of art, and Laocoon,
as a man, are just as much objects of admiration for Heinse as they were for
Winckelmann. But they are admired for precisely the opposite reasons. The
morality of Heinse's priest - if morality it can be called - is one of unscrupu-
lous and sensual egotism. In his coarse vitality and flaunting of religion, he is
as far removed from Winckelmann's noble stoic as he is from Herder's
seraphic martyr, and his apotheosis anticipates Nietzsche's cult of the power-
ful and ruthless individual. Similarly, the aesthetic qualities which Heinse
celebrates are the reverse of those praised by Winckelmann. The description
of the statue, as of the many other works of art analysed by the hero of
Heinse's novel, serves to illustrate the long dialogues on aesthetics which take
up much of the work. And although it is set in Renaissance Italy, the prob-
lems dealt with, and the terminology employed, are those of Lessing, Winckel-
mann, and the eighteenth century. Movement, expression, sensuality, and
individual character, not immobile serenity and idealized abstraction, are
what Heinse values in the art of the ancients: 'jede Form ist individuell, und
es gibt keine abstrakte; eine bloss ideale Menschengestalt Hisst sich weder von
Mann noch Weib und Kind und Greis denken' (p. 12). Such are the qualities
he discovers in the statue, and holds up in conscious opposition to Winckel-
mann:
1 Compare Max L. Baeumer, 'Heinse und Nietzsche - Anfang und Vollendung der
dionysischen Asthetik', in Baeumer, Heinse-Studien, Stuttgart 1966, pp. 116 f.
Sein ganzer Korper zittert und bebt und brennt schwellend unter dem
folternden totenden Gifte, das wie ein Quell sich verbreitet. ..
Die Schlangen vollziehen den Befehl des Obern feierlich und naturgross
in ihrer Art, wie Erdbeben die Lander verwiisten.
Das Fleisch ist wunderbar lebendig und schon; alle Muskeln gehn aus dem
Innern hervor, wie Wogen im Meere bei einem Sturm. Er hat ausgeschrien
und ist in dem Begriffe, wieder Atem zu holen. Der rechte Sohn ist hin,
der linke wird derweile festgehalten, und die Drachen werden bald hernach
mit ihm vollends kurzen Prozess machen. (pp. 239 f.)
With its picture of unmitigated violence, its vigorous, colloquial language, its'
reversal of Winckelmann's metaphor of the sea, and its mischievous sugges-

tion that, although Laocoon is not crying out, he is merely drawing breath to
renew his screams, this account is a counterblast to Winckelmann, and a
parody of his image of classical restraint. As if to underline this, the last sen-
tence on the main figure, 4Die linke Seite mag wohl zum Hochsten gehoren,
was die Kunst je hervorgebracht hat', ironically reaffirms Winckelmann's
4dieser Theil des Korpers kann ein Wunder der Kunst genennet werden'. 1
What is not apparent from the novel is that Heinse probably gave more
thought to the group than any of his contemporaries. The commonplace
books of his Italian journey, which were not published until the present cen-
tury, are full of conflicting interpretations of the group, in which he antici-
pates some of the main arguments of the nineteenth-century critics. For
whereas most of Heinse's contemporaries are content to admire Laocoon's
heroism in face of his punishment - whatever the cause of this punishment
may have been - or to feel secure in the knowledge that Sophocles had writ-
ten a tragedy in which Laocoon's fate would no doubt have been adequately
explained, Heinse recognized that the statue posed essentially the same prob-
lem as the Lisbon earthquake, the problem of theodicy (it is not for nothing
that he uses the metaphor of the earthquake to describe Laocoon's torments):
1st Laokoon ein Verbrecher, warum ist er so schon in seiner Bildung, so
weise und versHindig in seinen Ziigen? Dnd ist er tugendhaft, sind dann die
Gotter nicht ungerecht?2
Plagued by such doubts, Heinse concludes in turn that the group is an empty
exercise in technical virtuosity, likely to please only the most callous spec-
tator (VIII (1), 516 f.), and, in another of his inimitable passages, that it is
utterly contrived and devoid of beauty:
Ich weiss nicht, ob die Gruppe Laokoons wirklich so schon ist, als man sie
lWinckelmann, VI, 23.
2Wilhelm Heinse, Siimtliche Werke, edited by Carl Schiiddekopf, 10 vols., Leipzig
1903-25, VIII (1), 516. All subsequent references are to this volume, in which the main
discussions of Laocoon occur on pp. 282 ff., 295-301,311-14,433 f., 516 f., 536, and
562 f.
macht; mir kommt sie immer je mehr und mehr ich sie betrachte gekiin-
stelt vor, und wie eine Tanzmeisterstellung, als ob die Schlangen abgerichtet
waren, die eine oben herein durch die Arme, und die andere zwischen den
Beinen hinauf zu fahren, und den Vater mit den zwey Sohnchen zu einem
marmornen SonnenHicher gleichsam zu flechten; und damit er einen Stiel
hat, so muss der Papa auf dem Altar sitzen. (VIII (1), 536)
Set as it is amidst notes on Lessing's Laokoon, this irreverent outburst is
clearly directed as much against German neo-classicism as against the group
itself, and Heinse decided not to publish it. He finally included in his novel
the one interpretation which not only expressed the Dionysian philosophy of
his hero Ardinghello, and at the same time struck out at Winckelmann, but
seemed to do most justice to the problem of evil and providence. For as he
writes in his notebooks:
keine Uebel gefallen, die nicht zum besten eines grossen ganzen gehoren,
auch in der Nachahmung ... Laokoon ist am giitigsten ausgelegt weiter
nichts, als eine g6ttliche Hinrichtung eines verruchten Wolliistlings, samt
seinen in Ziigellosigkeit erzeugten Balgen, im Tempel des Apollo. .. Die
Griechen haben nie ein Uebel vorgestellt, das nicht zum besten eines
ganzen gehorte; ihren Oedip vielleicht ausgenommen. (VIII (1), 433 f.)
Heinse's rebellious Laocoon marks a further step away from neo-classical
idealism towards a more naturalistic interpretation of the group. The graphic
- description of his physical torments foreshadows an increasing interest in the
pathology of Laocoon's death. And for all its exaggeration, this exuberant
portrait cannot be dismissed as poetic fantasy. Laocoon's aggressively virile
nakedness, and its incongruity with his priestly function before the altar, has
often proved an embarrassment, and one of the fullest archaeological accounts
of the group in the present century suggests that the erotic version .of the
myth may well have influenced the statue. 1 Moreover, several commentators
mention other ancient representations of the legend in. which Laocoon is
accompanied by a winged Cupid.2 Be that as it may, Heinse's discussion tells
us as much about the author and his age as it does about the statue. His
Laocoon is a 'Kraftgenie', like the hero of Ardinghello, a work which Goethe
bracketed together with Schiller's Die Riiuber. 3 He represents a protest against
the social and religious constraints of the times, and the rage of Apollo found
a sympathetic echo in the reactions of many scandalized readers.4
1 R. Foerster, 'Laokoon', lahrbuch des Kaiserlichen Deutschen Archiiologischen Insti-

tuts 21 (1906) 1-32 (p. 23).
2 See Winckelmann, VI, 23; Heyne, II, 45; Bliimner, Lessings Laokoon, p. 706; and
Foerster, pp. 28 f.
3Goethes Werke, Hamburger Ausgabe, 14 vols, 1948-64, X, 538. This edition is re-
ferred to henceforth as HA.
4 See, for example, the comments on the novel by Stolberg, F. L. W. Meyer, Herder,
Jacobi, and others in Baeumer's edition, pp. 563-5,573, etc.

The Laocoon of Friedrich Schiller, however, is of a different stamp from

Heinse's irresponsible priest. For the Schiller who celebrates Laocoon's
heroism is no longer the dramatist of protest and author of Die Rauber; he is
the mature theorist of tragedy for whom greatness consists not in heroic
deeds as such, but in the moral freedom which manifests itself in them. Apart
from a short tribute to the statue in his Brief eines reisenden Diinen of 1785,
in which he praises it as a 'Muster der h6chsten Wahrheit und Schonheit', 1
Schiller does not discuss the work at length until 1793, in his essay Ober das
Pathetische. That he should select this work of sculpture, along with Virgil's
narrative of the legend, as his chief illustration in an essay on tragedy indi-
cates just how immense the reputation of the group had become in Germany
by the last years of the century.
Schiller's Laocoon is conceived in the tradition of Winckelmann and Les-
sing, not of Herder and Heinse. Like Winckelmann's hero, he is caught up in a
conflict of mind and body, and it is his strength of will which transforms his
physical defeat into a moral triumph; to reinforce this point, Schiller quotes
the description from Winckelmann's Geschichte der Kunst des Altertums in
full (V, 251). At the same time, Schiller's account resembles that of Lessing,
in that his Laocoon evokes a reaction comparable to that which we experi-
ence on witnessing a tragedy. Laocoon controls the effects of his suffering by
a supreme effort of will, and according to Schiller, it is through overcoming
the natural inclinations in this way that the hero rises to tragic stature: 'in
einem Sturm, der die ganze sinnliche Natur aufregt, seine Gemiitsfreiheit zu
behalten, dazu gehort ein Verm6gen des Widerstandes, das tiber alle Natur-
macht unendlich erhaben ist' (V, 512).
The word 'erhaben' is fundamental to Schiller's interpretation. The first
ingredient of tragic art is suffering, and the greater the suffering, the greater
the mqral victory of the hero who resists it. In so doing, he attains sublimity
(V, ~ 15 and 517). What ~chiller admires in Winckelmann's description is not
the beauty he found in the statue, but precisely this conflict of spiritual and
physical principles:
Wie wahr und fein ist in dieser Beschreibung der Kampf der Intelligenz mit
dem Leiden der sinnlichen Natur entwickelt, und wie treffend die
Erscheinungen angegeben, in denen sich Tierheit und Menschheit, Natur-
zwang und Vernunftfreiheit offenbaren! (V, 521)
Schiller's Laocoon is altogether a more exalted character than his predeces-

sors: for he has passed through the school of Kant's moral philosophy. By
substituting Kant's terminology for. Winckelmann's, Schiller assimilates him
to his own theory of tragedy, which is based on Kantian premises; and he
1 Friedrich Schiller, Siimtliche Werke, edited by Gerhard Fricke and Herbert G. Gop-
fert, fourth edition, 5 vols, Munich 1965-7, V, 881. All subsequent references are to this
edition.
goes on to show, with reference to Virgil, how Laocoon evokes our pity by
choosing to suffer in a virtuous cause - that is, by attempting to rescue his
children (V, 526). The sculptor, unfortunately, cannot render this active sub-
limity ('das Erhabene der Handlung'), as it is not in his power to indicate
whether an action is freely chosen or not - in other words, the categorical
imperative cannot be expressed in marble. He can only depict a more passive
kind of sublimity, whereby the hero retains his moral freedom while sub-
mitting to his inevitable fate (V, 527). Laocoon, then, is a close relative of
Schiller's Maria Stuart. Like her, he displays 'das Erhabene der Fassung'.
Though an eminently virtuous character, Schiller's Laocoon has at least
one thing in common with Heinse's defiant rebel: the accent lies more on his
freedom than on his morality. As a true Schillerian hero, it is more important
that he should be morally free than that he should be freely moral. But unlike
Heinse, Schiller does not go into the rights and wrongs of Laocoon's punish-
ment. That he regards it as unmerited, however, is clear from his poem 'Das
Ideal und das Leben' of 1795:
Wenn der Menschheit Leiden euch umfangen,
Wenn Laokoon der Schlangen
Sich erwehrt mit namenlosem Schmerz,
Da empore sich der Mensch! Es schlage
An des Himmels W6lbung seine Klage
Und zerreisse euer fiihlend Herz! (I, 204)
Like Herder a few years later, Schiller here suggests that Laocoon's fate can-
not be reconciled with divine providence. But he does not pursue the question
further, and nothing more is heard of the Kantian Laocoon.
The best known contribution to the Laocoon debate in eighteenth-century

Germany, after those of Winckelmann and Lessing, is that of Goethe.1 It is
not surprising that he was fascinated by the statue and followed with interest
the controversy which Lessing's Laokoon aroused over the limits of poetry
and the visual arts.2 For as a young man, he had still not decided whether to
devote his main energy ~o poetry or to painting.
1 Since a good chronological survey of Goethe's many utterances on the group is pro-
vided by Gottfried von Lucken, 'Goethe und der Laokoon', in Natalicium: Johannes
Geffcken zum 70. Geburtstag, Heidelberg 1931, pp. 85-99, I shall confine myself here to
the principal ones. See also Ernst Grumach, Goethe und die Antike, 2 vols, Berlin 1949,
II, 547 ff. Heinrich Keller, Goethe und das Laokoon,-Problem, Frauenfeld and Leipzig
1935, deals not with Goethe's views on the statue but with his attitude towards the prob-
lem discussed in Lessing's Laokoon -.--:Le. the distinction between poetry' and visual art.
2 On Goethe's enthusiastic reaction to Lessing's Laokoon, and his interest in the ensu-
ing controversy, see HA, IX, 316 (Dichtung und Wahrheit) and Goet~es Briefe, Hambur-
ger Ausgabe (referred to henceforth as HA Briefe), edited by Karl Robert MandeIkow, 4
vols, Hamburg 1962-7, I, 98, to Langer, 30 November 1769. See also Georg Rosenthal,
'Das Laokoonproblem in Goethes Dichtung und Wahrheit', Neue Jahrbiicher fiir das
klassische Altertum 23 (1920) 171-7 (p. 172).
He first saw a plaster cast of the entire group in the collection of statuary
at Mannheim in October 1769. In his letter to Langer of 39 November 1769,
he describes the visit, and tells how the Laocoon in particular aroused his
enthusiasm:
Entre bien de jolies choses que j'y ai rencontre rien n'a pu tant attirer
tout mon etre, que la Grouppe de Laokoon J'en ai ete extasie, pour
oublier touttes les autres statues .... (HA Briefe, I, 97 f.)
He has set down some reflections on the group, he infonns Langer, which
should throw new light on the controversy, and has communicated these dis-
coveries to his teacher Oeser, with whom he studied art at Leipzig. He hopes
to put the finishing touches to his essay ('ce petit ouvrage') in the following
year. Unfortunately, this work is now lost.
Although Goethe may have visited Mannheim again in 1771, his remarks
concerning that visit in Dichtung und Wahrheit, composed many years later,
probably apply to the earlier occasion, which he had by that time forgotten.1
These remarks, at any rate, contain some clues as to what the discoveries he
mentioned to Langer may have been:
ich entschied mir die beriihmte Frage, warum er [Laocoon] nicht schreie,
dadurch, dass ich mir aussprach, er k6nne nicht schreien. AIle Handlungen
und Bewegungen der drei Figuren gingen mir aus der ersten Konzeption
der Gruppe hervor. Die ganze so gewaltsame als kunstreiche Stellung des
Hauptk6rpers war aus zwei Anlfissen zusammengesetzt, aus dem Streben
gegen die Schlangen, und aus dem Fliehn vor dem augenblicklichen Biss.
Urn diesen Schmerz zu mildem, musste der Unterleib eingezogen und das
Schreien umm6g1ich gemacht werden. So entschied ich mich auch, dass der
jiingere Sohn nicht gebissen seL .. (HA, IX, 502)
He adds, however, that Oeser was not greatly impressed by his findings; and it
is indeed understandable that the friend and teacher ofWinckelmann should
have looked askance at the young Goethe's account, since it eschews Winckel-
mann's moral interpretation completely in favour of a purely physical, ana-
tomical explanation. For Goethe, the group is governed by a tension of
opposites, just as it was for Winckelmann and Lessing. But the opposites he
has in mind are not those of pain and a moral or aesthetic restraint upon its
expression, but pain and physical resistance to its source. Undeterred by
Oeser's neo-classical teachings, the young Goethe simply follows the evidence
of his senses. If he did indeed fonnulate these conclusions in 1769, he was the
first to explain Laocoon's contracted abdomen and consequent silence not as
the result of a conscious effort, but as an involuntary reflex. This interpreta-
tion was to become widely accepted in the following century.
1 See the editor's comments in HA, XII, 584 f., and Humphry Trevelyan, Goethe and
the Greeks, Cambridge 1941, pp. 38 f. on the dates of the two visits.
Goethe had now come to believe, as a gloss on Lessing's Laokoon in his
Ephemerides of 1770 confirms, that truth, rather than beauty, is the govern-
ing principle in ancient art:
Die Alten ... scheuten nicht so sehr das hassliche als das falsche, und
verstunden auch die schrocklichsten Verzerrungen, in schonen Gesichtern,
zur Schonheit zu machen.1
He adds even more plainly a few lines further on 'dass man die Fiirtrefflich-
keit der Alten in etwas anders als der Bildung der Schonheit zu suchen hat'.
The position he has now reached is the one he develops a few years later in
the essays Von deutscher Baukunst and Nach Falconet und iiber Falconet,
where he rejects the cult of beauty ('die weiche Lehre neuerer Schonheitelei')
altogether and glorifies realistic and 'natural' forms of art instead (HA, XII,
7-15 and 23-8). To the ideal, the abstract, and the typical, the young Goethe
opposes an art informed by individual character and expression, such as Gothic
architecture and Dutch painting - an art which he describes as 'charakteris-
tisch'. 'Diese charakteristische Kunst', he declares, 'ist nun die einzige wahre'
(HA, XII, 13).
Given these sentiments, it is ironic that Goethe's chief work on the
Laocoon group, the essay Uber Laokoon of 1797, should have been written
to refute a theorist who summed up the essence of the group as 'Karakteristik'.
The theorist in question was Aloys Hirt, the authority on ancient art who
acted as Goethe's guide to the antiquities of Rome during the Italian journey.
Goethe was not the first, as has been maintained,2 to apply the term
'charakteristisch' to the visual arts.3 Hogarth, for example, speaks of the
'characteristic beauty' of Glycon's statue of Hercules, by which he means that
its beauty is not that of a general ideal, but of an individual character, appro-
priate to the exceptional physique of Hercules (Analysis of Beauty, p. 15).
Garve, in 1769, similarly declares:
Also wo es vornehmlich darauf ankam, gewisse Personen und Wesen kennt-

Hch zu machen, da musste oft der Kiinstler von seinem hochsten Gesetz
Ausnahmen machen, und das Charakteristische dem Schonen vorziehen.4
And Herder also applies the term to sculpture in that same year.5 The
1 Der junge Goethe, edited by Hanna Fischer-Lamberg, 6 vols, Berlin 1963-74, I, 431.
2 See E. C. Mason, 'Sch6nheit, Ausdruck und Charakter im asthetischen Denken des
18. lahrhunderts', in Geschichte - Deutung - Kritik: Literaturwissenschaftliche Beitriige
dargebracht zum 65. Geburtstag Werner Kohlschmidts, edited by Maria Bindschedler and
Paul Zinsli, Berne 1969, pp. 91-108 (p. 97).
3 On the history of the concept since Goethe see Ferdinand Denk, Das Kunstschone
und das Charakteristische von Winckelmann bis Friedrich Schlegel, dissertation, Munich
1925.
4 Review of Lessing's Laokoon, reprinted in Bllimner, p. 691.
5 SW, III, 90, Erstes Kritisches Wiildchen. Herder uses it in a rather different sense,
however, to represent that which characterizes a god as the god of war, love, or the like,
rather than as an ordinary individual, so that the sculptor may have to represent such _
significance of the word varies somewhat from one writer to the next, some-
times denoting a purely individual quality, and sometimes that of a particular
type; but in all cases it is distinct from, and often the antithesis of, the con-
cept of beauty as a universal ideal. Fluctuations of this kind also occur in
Goethe's use of the term 1 -, but 'das Charakteristische' for him is always
distinct from beauty in an ideal sense, and indeed it is often synonymous
with Winckelmann's and Lessing's term 'Ausdruck' (see Mason, p. 98).
For Aloys Hirt, truth and expression are the basis of all great art, particu-
larly that of antiquity. Its excellence lies in its ability to express individual
characters and emotions, rather than abstract ideals:
In allen Werken der Alten ohne Ausnahme, sowohl in Ruhe, als Bewegung
und Ausdruck zeiget sich Individue11heit der Bedeutung - Karakteristik. -
Dieser waren alle ubrigen Geseze untergeordnet in jeder Vorstellung, in
jeder Figur ... Wahrheit, als das erste Requisitum der Kanikteristik muss
also in jedem Kunstwerk herrschen. Sie bleibt und ist das Grundgesez des
Schonen, wie des Guten.2
From these remarks, it is obvious that Hirt's naturalistic aesthetic is akin to
that of the young Goethe (see Lucken, p. 92). What distinguishes it is not its
conception, but the one-sided way in which Hirt applies it. For despite his
premise of 'Karakteristik', Hirt is no Sturmer und Driinger, but a literal-
minded rationalist who pursues his theory to whatever extremes it may lead.
Humourless and "lacking in elegance - 'Er ist ein Pedante, weiss aber viel' was
Goethe's succinct judgement3 - he is inflexibly opposed to Winckelmann and
,Lessing, and determined to banish the last vestige of ideal beauty from the
ancient statues. 'Karakteristik' is to take its place. His main example, needless
to say, is the Laocoon, which is the subject of one of his two essays published
by Schiller in 1797 in Die Horen:
Wie aber - wenn der Ausdruk Laokoons weder ein Seufzen, noch Schreien
ware? wenn der Kunstler dabei weder Reflexion auf die stille Grosse, noch
figures 'mehr Charakteristisch, als Individuell'. Once again, however, a particular rather
than a general quality is envisaged.
IOn Goethe's use of the term, see Otto Harnack, 'Goethes Kunstanschauung in ihrer
Bedeutung fUr die Gegenwart', Goethe·Jahrbuch 15 (1894) 187-205 (pp. 198 f.), and
Ferdinand Denk, 'Ein Streit urn Gehalt und Gestalt des Kunstwerks in der deutschen
Klassik', Germanisch-Romanische Monatshefte 18 (1930) 427-42 (p. 435).
2 'Uber Laokoon', in Die Horen, XII, 10. StUck (1797), 1-26 (pp. 12 and 23 t.). On
Hirt's definition of 'Karakteristik' see also his earlier essay 'Versuch tiber das Kunst-
schone', Die Horen, XI, 7. Sttick (1797), 1-37 (especially pp. 34-6). For a full account
of Hirt's aesthetics, see Denk, Das Kunstschone ... ,pp. 50-100.
3 Ludwig Geiger,. 'Briefe von Goethe und Hirt', Goethe·Jahrbuch 15 (1894) 68-81
and 96-108 (p. 97). Compare Schiller's comment to Goethe on one of Hirt's essays he
accepted for Die Horen: 'In der That mtissen wir der schrecklichen Schwer~ des Hirtischen
Aufsatzes etwas entgegen setzen', to Goethe, 25 October 1796, in Briefwechsel zwischen
Schiller und Goethe, edited by Franz Muncker, 4 vols, Stuttgart 1892, II, 21.
auf die - den Ausdruk mildernde - Sch6nheit genommen, sondern
vielmehr den Moment des h6chsten Grades von Ausdruk zu seiner Wahl
gemacht hatte? ('Uber Laokoon', p. 7)
By arguing against Winckelmann that pain, and pain alone, determines the
expression and attitude of the main figure, and against Lessing that the
moment represented is the climax of Laocoon's agony, immediately before
his collapse, Hirt draws a horrifying picture which outdoes even Heinse's
in violence,l and from which all heroic elements, even those of the rebel, are
lacking. What we have here is not so much an aesthetic analysis, as,a patholo-
gist's report, in which, for good measure, not one but multiple causes of
death are enumerated:

Laokoon schreiet nicht, weil er nicht mehr schreien kann ... Das K rampf-
hafte, die h6chste Spannung, die wiithenden Zukungen zeigen sich in allen
Gliedem ... Das Gebliit, welches mit voller Emp6rung gegen die ausern
Theile dringt, und aIle Gefasse schwellen macht, stoket den Un1lauf, und
verhindert das Einathmen der Luft: die Lunge, durch die Haufung und
gedrangte Circulation des Blutes wird immer gedehnter; das azende Gift
von dem Bisse der Schlange hilft die heftige Gahrung beschleunigen; eine
erstickende Pressung beHiubt das Gehirn, und ein Schlagfluss scheinet den
Tod pl6zlich zu bewirken ... ('Uber Laokoon', p. 8)
After continuing for several paragraphs in this vein, Hirt concludes, with dis-
arming modesty, 'Ich glaube gezeigt zu haben, dass die Meister in dem Vater
den angestrengtesten Grad des Ausdruks darstellten' (p. 14).
Writing such as this, of course, lent itself to satire. In his Novelle Der
Sammier und die Seinigen of 1799, Goethe puts Hirt's arguments into the
mouth of the boorish and dogmatic guest, who is dubbed 'unser Charakteristi-
ker' (HA, XII, 78), and against whom the mild and civilized collector vainly
defends the beauty of ancient art. And although the guest is eventually
worsted in argument by another visitor, 'der Philosoph', whose views are
modelled on those of Schiller ,2 his thesis is refuted less by logic than by ridi-
cule (see Mason, p. 106). His following remarks are a pastiche of Hirt's
description:
Treten Sie vor den Laokoon, und sehen Sie die Natur in voller Emp6rung
und Verzweiflung, den letzten erstickenden Schmerz, krampfartige
1 Although I have no positive evidence, I strongly suspect that Hirt's account is

influenced by Heinse's. For example, Hirt's comment on 'das hochst mogliche Einziehen
des Unterleibes, wodurch selbst die Schamtheile vortreten' CUber Laokoon', p. 8), is all
too reminiscent of his predecessor. Hirt may well have read Ardinghello, or he may have
met Heinse in Rome, where Hirt was in residence from September 1782 and which
Heinse left in July 1783.
2Compare, for example, the views of 'de! ?hilosoph' on the treatment of horrific
subjects in poetry (HA, XII, 80 f.) with those of Schiller in his letter to Goethe of 7 July
1797 (Briefwechsel zwischen Schiller und Goethe, II, 122 f.).
Spannung, wutende Zuckung, die Wirkung eines atzenden Gifts, heftige

Garung, stockenden Ulnlauf, erstickende Pressung und paralytischen Tod.
(HA, XII, 76)
To this, the philosopher caustically replies that, if Laocoon really were as the
guest describes him, he would deserve to be smashed to pieces there and then
(p.80).
The unfortunate Hirt was further satirized on two occasions by August
Wilhelm Schlegel,l who labelled his method 'die chirurgische', ~nd took the
only step which remained to be taken beyond his diagnosis of apoplexy: is it
not possible that Laocoon is already dead? (I, 2, p. 261.) After repeating
Winckelmann's and Lessing's arguments that Laocoon's condition is tempered

by nobility of expression and beauty of execution, Schlegel concludes: 'Frey-
lich kann er nicht schreyen, sonst wiirde er gegen eine so entstellende
Beschreibung und Verkennung seiner heroischen Grosse die Stimme erheben'
(I, 2, p. 263). And although Hirt attempted to refute these accusations,2
Schlegel again offered only mockery in reply: 'Da ich mir nun merken Hess,
ich halte den Zustand Laokoons noch nicht fur so verzweifelt, hat er [Hirt]
sich so unmassigdariiber ereifert, dass er beynahe mit seinem HeIden die
Rolle gewechselt hatte' (II, 2, p. 227).
Hirt's views were completely at odds with those of Goethe, who had long
since outgrown his youthful love of 'das Charakteristische', and whose classi-
cal ideals, since the Italian journey, had filled him with a new respect for
Winckelmann. Why then, one may ask, did he and Schiller go out of their way
to publish Hirt's essay in Die Horen, of which Schiller was the editor?
Schiller welcomed the essay, for he believed that the time was ripe for the
'characteristic' - Le. expressive and realistic - elements in Greek art to be
brought to the fore:
denn allgemein herrscht noch immer der Winckelmannische und Les-
singische Begriff und unsere allerneuesten Aesthetiker, sowohl tiber Poesie
als Plastik, lassen sich's recht sauer werden, das Schone der Griechen von
allern Charakteristischen zu befreien und dieses zum Merkzeichen des
Modernen zu machen. Mir deucht, dass die neuern Analytiker durch ihre
Bemiihungen, den Begriff des Schonen abzusondern und in einer gewissen
Reinheit aufzustellen, ihn beinah ausgeh6hlt und in einen leeren Schall
verwandelt haben. . . (to Goethe, 7 July 1797; Briefwechsel zwischen
Schiller und Goethe, II, 122)
He is thinking above all of Friedrich Schlegel, whose eulogies of Goethe and
high-handed criticisms of Schiller had irritated them both, and who, in his
1 A theniium , edited by A. W. and F. Schlegel, 1798-1800 (reprinted Stut~~art 1960),

I, 2. Stuck, 261 ff. (Athenaumsfragment Nr. 310), and II, 2. Stuck, 226 f. ('Uber Zeich-
nungen zu Gedichten und John Flaxmans Umrisse').
2 In Berliner Archiv der Zeit und ihres Geschmacks (1798), 11. Stuck, 439.
pre-Romantic years, was outdoing even the Weimar classicist~ in his cult of
Greek beauty. In his Ober das Studium der griechischen Poesie of that very
year. Schlegel described the state of modern poetry, whose hallmark is
'das Charakteristische', as anarchic and decadent. The only way to salvation
was to follow the beginnings Goethe had made, and to cultivate 'das hochste
Schone', devoid of individual expression, as found in Greek poetry and art.1
To this extreme classicism, Hirt's essay offered the perfect antidote: the two
extremes would cancel each other out. Besides, Schiller nlust have found
Hirt's arguments a good deal more sympathetic than those of Schlegel, for
as we have seen, he had himself stressed not the beauty of the group, but its
sublimity, and the extreme suffering which Laocoon has to endure. Goethe
readily agreed that Hirt's essay should be published,2 not least because he saw
the benefits he stood to reap: as Schiller pointed out, the way would be open
for Goethe and his ally Heinrich Meyer3 to carry the day with their more
balanced views, before a public already disposed in their favour.4
Provoked by Hirt's ideas, Goethe had already almost completed his own
essay Ober Laokoon,reviving his plans of nearly thirty years before. He pub-
lished it in the first number of Die Propyiiien in the following year. Since
Goethe avoided naming him, Hirt could only reply in the most general and
indirect terms. Completely outmanoeuvred, he had only time to defend him-
self in a feeble postscript to his own essay in Die Horen,s before August Wil-
helm Schlegel's ridicule and the satire of Goethe's Der Sammier und die
Seinigen descended on him in tum. His more detailed reply, in which he con-
ceded many of Goethe's points but stuck firmly to his own theory of 'Karak-
teristik', remained unpublished.6
Like most of the previous theorists, Goethe was interested in the Laocoon
group for its exemplary qualities, and as a means of illustrating his own
aesthetic principles. The way in which he and Schiller treated Hirt was far
from admirable, but for the classicist Goethe, his theories posed a greater
threat than Friedrich Schlegel's insipid cult of beauty, for they implied that
the group had no exemplary status whatsoever, and reduced it to an interesting,
1 Uber das Studium der griechischen Poesie, in Friedrich Schlegel, Kritische Schriften,
edited by Wolfdietrich Rasch, Munich 1964, pp. 126, 148, and 154. On this whole
episode see also Mason, pp. 100-4 and John William Scholl, 'Friedrich Schlegel and
Goethe, 1790-1802', PMLA 21 (1906) 40-192 (pp. 106-18).
2To Schiller, 8 July 1797, Briefwechsel zwischen Schiller und Goethe, 11,124.
3 Heinrich Meyer's 'Einige Bemerkungen tiber die Gruppe Laokoons und seiner S6hne'
in Die Propyliien, I, 1. Sttick (1799), 175 f. was written, however, in 1796 and does not
take issue with Hirt. In his much later Geschichte der bilde.nden Kiinste bei den Griechen,
4 vols, Dresden 1824-36, Meyer dismisses Hirt, without naming him, as a past writer
whose exaggerated notion of 'das Charakteristische' has now disappeared without trace
(1,206), but does not mention him in his discussion of the Laocoon (III, 65-79).
4 See Schiller to Goethe, 7 July 1797, Briefwechsel zwischen Schiller und Goethe,
II, 123.
5 'Nachtrag tiber Laokoon', Die Horen, XII, 12. Sttick (1797), 19-28.
6 Hirt's remarks were rust published in Denk, Das Kunstschone ... ,pp. 110-16.
but purely individual case - a study of extreme physical pain. Such heresies
could not be left unchecked. And the method Goethe chose was the same as
that which Winckelmann had successfully employed before him: he would
transcend his opponent's views by incorporating them into his own, broader
'thesis, for Hirt had failed to realize 'das Lessings, Winckelmanns und seine, ja
noch mehrere Enunciationen zusammen, erst die Kunst begrenzen'.l Heinrich
·Meyer understood Goethe's tactic precisely when he wrote of his essay:
Es steht so schon in der Mitte zwischen den zwey Extremen, die da wech-
selweise behauptet worden, llClhmlich von der Schonheit ohne Teilnahm'
und Leidenschaft als hochster Zweck und Ziel der Kunst und der Wahrheit,
die man vorgestellt haben wollte?

Goethe's essay is open to fundamental objections, but as one might expect, it
is masterfully written, and contains many original observations on the group.
As so often, he has learnt from the limitations of his predecessors, and at the
same time availed himself of their positive achievements. One of the main
insights he brings to his study, and with which he introduces the work, is an
awareness of how limited the rational understanding is in face of a complex
work of art, whose significance is not finite, but inexhaustible (HA, XII, 56).
Accordingly, he does not apply a rigid conceptual framework to it, as Lessing
had done. The concepts he does employ are not narrow or restrictive, but of a
general kind, and he uses several of them, not just one or two as others had
done - knowledge of anatomy, individual character, degree of movement,
idealization, and appeal to the senses ('Anmut') are among the qualities he
looks for, as well as the traditional 'Schonheit' (pp. 56 f.). And aware of the
excesses to which Winckelmann's physiognomical approach had led, he
refuses to speculate on Laocoon's spiritual state, and warns us against read-
ing our own reactions into the work itself. In these, and in other respects,3
1 To Schiller, 5 July 1797, Briefwechsel zwischen Schiller und Goethe, II, 121. Pre-
cisely the same point is made by Carl Ludwig Fernow, another neo-classicist, in his
remarks on the Laocoon in his essay 'Uber das Kunstschone', in Fernow, Romische
Studien, 3 vols, Zurich 1806-8, I, 291-450. Winckelmann, Lessing, and Hirt discern
'Idealitat', 'Schonheit', and 'Karakter' respectively in the group: in fact, all three are
present (p. 430). This essay is a revised version of one which first appeared in the
Deutsches Magazin of April, 1799, and its attack on Hirt (pp. 435 ff.) was no doubt
intended to support Goethe.
2 To Goethe, 26 July 1797, Goethes Briefwechsel mit Heinrich Meyer, edited by Max
Hecker, Schriften der Goethe-Gesellschaft 34 (1919) 15.
3 For example, Heyne argues that the struggle is at its height, not at its end, and that
the ways in which the group can be interpreted are infinite. He also applies the formula
of unity in variety to it: 'Man denke sich die verschiedenen Stellungen der drey Personen,
die verschiedenen Empfindungen, das verschiedene Alter, den verschiedenen Ausdruck,
den Contrast und doch die Vereinigung durch die Umschlingungen der' Schlangen. Was
fUr Mannigfaltigkeit, und doch wie viel Vereinigungspunkte!' (Heyne, II, 20 and 27 f.).
Otto Harnack, 'Zu Goethes Laokoonaufsatz', Vierteljahrsschrift fur Litteraturgeschichte
6 (1893) 156-8, also notices Heyne's influence on Goethe, but only in relation to their
remarks on Virgil.
he has benefited from the work of the Gottingen archaeologist Heyne, whose
essay of 1779 on the group is distinguished by its common sense, its careful
scrutiny of the evidence, and its refusal to speculate.
Goethe is also the first to consider the statue almost exclusively in aesthetic
terms as a work of sculpture. For even Lessing, although his analysis is
primarily aesthetic, supplemented it with long historical reflections and an
elaborate philological apparatus, and his poetic interests influenced his inter-
pretation considerably (see Althaus, p. 80). As on his first visit to Mannheim,
Goethe is guided above all by his senses. And unlike most of his predecessors,
he treats the group throughout as an organic whole, instead of concentrating
his attention on the main figure. The properties he is most concerned with are
formal ones (see Lucken, p. 94) - symmetry, balance, gradation, co-ordination,
and unity in variety - and it is in this emphasis on form that the classical
values he has espoused since his journey to Italy, as well as the limitations of
his aesthetics, become most apparent.
Goethe's interpretation resembles those of Winckelmann and Lessing in
that he sees the statue as governed by a tension of opposites, the main ones
being beauty on the one hand, and passion and expression on the other. But
since the latter qualities had been given so much prominence by Hirt, Goethe
takes more account of them than the other neo-classicists had done, and,
doubtless as a concession to Hirt, even refers to them as 'das Charakteristische'.
The counterbalancing 'Schonheit' is not, however, a distinct quality of
attractiveness existing side by side with the group's expressive qualities -
Goethe reserves the separate term 'Anmut' for that which is visually agree-
able. It consists rather in the restraint or moderation with which the - in-
herently violent - expression of the group is executed. But he realizes that
the group is far too complex to be comprehended by a simple antithesis such
as that of beauty and expression. This is merely the dominant polarity within
which a whole series of subordinate contrasts can be discerned, and these in
turn call forth contrasting emotional reactions in the beholder:
Ich getraue mir daher nochmals zu wiederholen: dass die Gruppe des
Laokoons, neben allen iibrigen anerkannten Verdiensten, zugleich ein
Muster sei von Symmetrie und Mannigfaltigkeit, von Ruhe und Bewegung,
von Gegensatzen und Stufengangen, die sich zusammen, teils sinnlich teils
geistig, dem Beschauer darbieten, bei dem hohen Pathos der Vorstellung
eine angenehme Empfindung erregen und den Sturm der Leiden und
Leidenschaft durch Anmut und Schonheit mildern. (p. 58)
There is a similar conflict of opposites in the actions of all three figures. Each
of them performs not one, but two separate actions. The elder son attempts
to extricate himself from the coils, while reacting in horror to his father's
plight; the younger son fights for air with one hand, and fends off the snake
with the other; and Laocoon himself struggles actively with his arms, while
his body reacts convulsively as he is bitten in the loins: 'so entsteht eine
Zusammenwirkung von Streben und Fliehen, von Wirken und Leiden, von
Anstrengen und Nachgeben, die vielleicht unter keiner andern Bedingung
mcg1ich ware' (p. 61). This theory that everything is determined by the bite,
which is administered at the very centre of the group, is of course the one
which Goethe had framed on his visit to Mannheim almost thirty years earlier.
In analysing the temporal dimension of the group, Goethe is able to re-
formulate Lessing's idea of the 'pregnant moment'. Like Lessing, he believes
that the moment represented is not the climax ~f Laocoon's agony - as Hirt
had maintained - but the moment preceding it. Yet unlike Lessing, he argues
that this moment is both fleeting and climactic - the statue resembles 'ein
fixierter Blitz' (p. 60), and what we see is 'der Gipfel des vorgestellten Augen-
blicks' (p. 63). But the climax Goethe has in mind is not the climax which
Hirt spoke of: it is the climax of the action, not of the agony; and like
Lessing's 'pregnant moment', it is a transitional phase between two separate
actions (compare Bliimner, pp. 516 ff.) - the struggle against the snakes, and
the reaction to the bite.
In Laocoon himself, therefore, two successive actions are represented
simultaneously. And as Goethe points out, the three figures have succumbed
in varying degrees to the serpents' attack, from the peripheral involvement
of the elder son to the fatal wound of the father. The group thus conveys an
extended temporal sequence, and Goethe, like Lessing and Schiller, is aware
of its dramatic qualities. The elder son, the father, and the younger son evoke
fear, terror, and pity respectively (p. 65), and the elder son is not only a
participant in the action, but also a spectator (p. 64). The group as a whole
can be likened to a tragedy: it is in fact 'eine tragische Idylle'.
It is at this point that the limitations of Goethe's classicism become most
obvious. Despite his concessions to Hirt, he cannot bring himself to admit
that the group has anything remotely horrific about it - he therefore denies
that the younger son has been bitten at all (p. 60), although it has always
been accepted that he has, and he denies that any effect of the venom can be
seen in the father's body (p. 61). Similarly, his convictions demand that the
statue, like all great works of art, should represent a universally intelligible
human condition - in short, that it should be ideal rather than 'charakteris-
tisch'. It accordingly depicts not a specific event which can be understood
only by those who know the myth of Laocoon, but a scene of universal
human relevance:
von seiner Priesterschaft, von seinem trojanisch-nationellen, von allem

poetischen und mythologischen Beiwesen haben ihn die Kiinstler entklei-
det; ... es ist ein Vater mit zwei Schnen, in Gefahr, zwei gefahrlichen
Tieren unterzuliegen. So sind auch hier keine gcttergesandte, sondern bloss
natiirliche Schlangen. .. Ein Vater schlief neben seinen beiden Schnen,
sie wurden von Schlangen' umwunden und streben nun, erwachend, sich
aus dem lebendigen Netze loszureissen. (p. 59)
Here, for once, Goethe is demonstrably wrong. Apart from the fact that the
block on which Laoccon rests is plainly an altar, it was known before Goethe's
essay was written that he originally wore a laurel wreath, as a groove around
his head testifies;1 this at once identified him as a priest of Apollo. And as for
the snakes, they are zoological monstrosities, being too thin for constrictors,
and too long to be venomous? As Herder drily observed, 'Ein gewohnliches
Schlangen-Ereigniss erkHirt diese Darstellung nicht' (SW, XXVIII, 281); to
understand its significance, we have to know the legend - and even then, we
have to decide which version of it to follow. 3

Despite all Goethe's efforts, an unexplained residue remains. This late
attempt, at the end of the eighteenth century, to restore Laocoon to the
neo-classical niche which Winckelmann had created for him did not succeed.
It was to no avail that C. L. Fernow, in his R6mische Studien of 1806 (Fer-
now, II, 415-50) tried to defend the neo-classical interpretation against the
doubts which Hirt had disseminated, because the tide of opinion on the
statue had already begun to turn. One of the first signs of this change cjlme,
in fact, from within the neo-classical camp itself: as early as 1787, F. W. B.
Ramdohr, after reiterating the verdict of Winckelmann and his followers that
the statue displays unity in variety, and expression tempered by beauty, con-
fessed, after many apologies and hesitations, 'dass diese Gruppe aller ihrer
nicht zu bezweifelnden Vorziige ungeachtet, den angenehmen Eindruck, den
ich bei der Sch6nheit anderer Statuen erfahren habe, in mir nicht hervorge-
.bracht hat'.4 Try as he might, Ramdohr could not discover in the Laocoon
that beauty and restraint which he recognized in the Antinous and the Belve-
dere Apollo. And although the Schlegels joined Goethe in opposing the views
of Hirt, they were allies whose services he could well have done without. For
Friedrich Schlegel, who had defined the essence of modern art as 'das Charak-
teristische' and condemned it as inferior to 'das h6chste Schone' of Greek
art, soon reversed his position completely and held up 'das Charakteristische',
for which he now preferred the near-synonym 'das Romantische', as the ideal
to which modern art should aspire. In other words, Schlegel's aesthetic values
were by this time close to those of Hirt, who 'must therefore be regarded as a
ISee Ennius QUirinus'Yisconti, Oeuvres: Musee Pie-Clemen tin , 7 vols, Milan 1818-22,
II, 277. The volume in question first appeared in 1792. See also W. G. Howard, 'Goethe's
Essay Uber Laokoon',PMLA 21 (1906) 941.
2 See A. W. Lawrence, Greek and Roman Sculpture (London 1972), p. 250.
3 It is another irony of the Laocoon debate that Goethe's interpretation of the group
as a timeless tragic idyll was anticipated by none other than Heinse, who said that, if we
disregard the myth, the group will appear 'als Naturtrauerspiel fiir das ganze menschliche
Geschlecht: ein Yater, der bei Rettung seiner Kinder umk6mmt' (Arqinghello, p. 241).
4F. W. B. Ramdohr, Ueber Mahlerei und Bildhauerkunst in Rom, 3 vols, Leipzig
1787, 1,56-68 (p. 64).
forerunner of Romanticism (see Denk, Das Kunstschone ... , p. 108); the

main difference was that Hirt saw these values fulfilled in ancient art, and
Schlegel in modem art.· In short, the Romantic era had begun, and it faced
the task of explaining those aspects of the group which Goethe's elegant
analysis had failed to account for.
In the nineteenth century, more interpretations of the group than ever

appeared, but few of them were as independent or original as those of the
previous century. They began as reactions to, or developments of, earlier
points of view, and thenceforth, a few themes were enlarged upon with a
remarkable degree of continuity. Instead of analysing individual contributions
separately, in chronological sequence, it will therefore be more convenient to

follow each of the main tendencies within the nineteenth-century debate to
the point where they converge: that is, the point where the Laocoon debate
ceased to be an issue of importance in Germany.
One of the few facts of the Laocoon myth on which everyone agreed was
that his death was divinely ordained. Yet apart from Herder and Heinse, none
of the writers hitherto discussed had seriously considered the religious impli-
cations of the statue. Goethe, indeed, flatly denied that it had any. They
seem not to have been unduly troubled that the divine wrath may have struck
down an innocent victim.1 But in the nineteenth century, two questions of a
religious nature were discussed again and again: is Laocoon's punishment
justified? and does his death, as represented in the statue, have any religious
or spiritual significance?
For the classical scholar F. G. Welcker, whose study of the group first
appeared in 1827, Laocoon is above all else a man of religion: his expression
has 'etwas Priesterliches und Frommes' about it.2 To justify Laocoon's
punishment, Welcker argues that the statue is based on the lost tragedy of
Sophocles, in which Laocoon doubtless died for an erotic misdemeanour such
as that reported by Hyginus and Servius. But Welcker does not try, as Heinse
had done, to endow the death itself with any positive significance - it is not
the apotheosis of a Dionysian hero, but merely 'riihrend, Mitleid erregend,
hoffnungslos' (p. 325). Like Herder, he makes much of 'das Pathetische der
Scene' (p. 326), and does his best to arouse compassion in us for the dying
priest. Indeed, his efforts to extenuate Laocoon's transgression, which he
describes as 'eine jugendliche Uebereilung' (p. 346), are so successful that we
1 Compare Visconti, II, 268, for whom Laocoon is satisfied with the knowledge that
he is innocent: '11 ne se repent pas ... de son zele [in attacking the Wooden Horse], et
il prefere Ie temoignage de sa conscience a la colere des Dieux et a l'opinion des
hommes.'
2 F. G. Welcker, Alte Denkmiiler, 5 vols, Gottingen 1849-64, I, 322-51 (p. 326). An
earlier version of his remarks appeared in 1827 in Das akademische Kunstmuseum zu
Bonn. Welcker, incidentally, cites Visconti's observation of 1792 that Laocoon originally
wore a laurel wreath (p. 325).
are left with the impression that the punishment, after all, scarcely fits the
crime. Welcker is therefore aware of the problem which had troubled Heinse,
but he does not solve it satisfactorily. The same applies to the art historian
Heinrich Brunn, who interprets the group in a similar way in his Geschichte
der griechischen Kiinstler, and cites Welcker in support of his argument.1
Needless to say, later writers were not convinced by such explanations.
Adolf Stahr, in 1855, discerns 'ein Unversohntes ... , etwas Beklemmendes,
Beangstigendes, Qualendes' in the group, and calls Laocoon's death a
'hoffnungsloses Martyrium'. 2 And three years later, Johannes Overbeck,
while acknowledging that the snakes are unmistakably divine emissaries,
denies that any moral idea whatsoever can be gleaned from the statue; for
even if some versions of the myth attempt to justify Laocoon's death on
ethical grounds, none of this can be perceived from the group itself.3 In
short, Welcker, Brunn, and the other religious apologists do not carry convic-
tion, because the statue depicts only the terrible punishment, but gives us no
means of telling whether it is merited or not. Furthermore, the best known
version of the myth, that of Virgil, portrays Laocoon as entirely innocent.
This, perhaps, is why Novalis had declared: 'Es ist ein unmoralisches Kunst-
werk.'4
But there is a further reason why many nineteenth~century writers saw
Laocoon's death in a negative light. As Walther Rehm has shown, after Fritz
Stolberg visited Italy in 1791-2 and judged the ancient statues unfavourably
from a Christian point of view (Rehm, G6tterstille, p. 141), the opinion
steadily gained ground that even the most serene sculptures of gods and god-
desses were spiritually empty. It is unfortunate that Novalis's comments on
the group, jotted down after a reading of Goethe's essay, remained fragmen-
tary. From what he does say, however, it appears that, at a time when August
Wilhelm Schlegel was still paying homage to Greek beauty and defending
Winckelmann's views, Novalis had already found the group spiritually defi-
cient; not only does he describe it as immoral, he also feels that Laocoon is
not passive enough in his suffering:
Liesse sich nicht ein umfassenderer, kurz hohergradiger Moment im Lao-

contischen Drama denken - vielleicht der, wo der hochste Schmerz in
12 vols (Stuttgart 1857-9), I, 494. See also Brunn's later essay 'Die Sohne in der
Laokoongruppe', in Heinrich Brunns Kleine Schriften, edited by Heinrich Bulle and Her-
mann Brunn, 2 vols, Leipzig and Berlin 1905, II, 505-17: Brunn argues that only the
younger son, as the fruit of his father's misdemeanour, dies along with Laocoon, and
cites as evidence Goethe's theory that the elder son will escape.
2 Adolf Stahr, Torso: Kunst, Kiinstler und Kunstwerke des griechischen und romischen
Alterthums, second edition, 2 vols, Braunschweig 1878, II, 83-95 (p. 93). The first edi-
tion appeared in 1855.
3 Johannes Overbeck, Geschichte der griechischen Plastik, fourth edition, 2 vols,
Leipzig 1893-4, II, 296-336 (pp. 318-22). The work flIst appeared in 1857-8.
4Novalis, Schriften, edited by Paul Kluckhohn and Richard Samuel, second edition,
4 vols, Stuttgart 1960-75, III, 412.
Rausch - der Widerstand in Ergebung - das hochste Leben in Stein iiber-

geht. (Schriften, III, 412 f.)
Friedrich Thiersch, whose history of Greek art was published in 1825, goes
even further. He sees Laocoon's death not as a moral victory, but as a
spiritual failure, and says that the statue reveals 'ein im argsten Kampf unter-
liegendes Gemtith, schon nah, ja schon hingegeben dem Schreckniss der
Verzweiflung,.1 But once again, it was one of the greatest intellects of the age
who expressed the new attitude most memorably. Hegel, in his Vorlesungen
iiber die A.sthetik (1818-1828), contends that Christian art is superior to that
of antiquity because it possesses a higher degree of spirituality; and in particu-
lar, because it offers a hope of liberation and redemption through love, even
in suffering and death:
In den Idealen der Alten dagegen sehen wir ... wahl nur den Ausdruck des
Schmerzes edler Naturen wie z.B. in der Niobe und dem Laokoon; sie
vergehen nicht in Klage und Verzweiflung, sondern bewahren sich gross
und hochherzig darin, aber dieses Bewahren ihrer selbst bleibt leer, das
Leiden, der Schmerz ist gleichsam das Letzte, und an die Stelle der Aus-
sohnung und Befriedigung muss eine kalte Resignation treten, in welcher
das Individuum, ohne in sich zusammen zu brechen, das aufgiebt, woran
es festgehalten hatte ... den Ausdruck der Seligkeit und Freiheit hat erst
die romantische religiose Liebe.2
It is ironic that the philosopher Hegel, rather than the Schlegels or Navalis,
pronounced the most characteristically Romantic verdict on the group. He
goes on to say that, in the works of the Italian masters, Christ's spiritual,
as distinct from physical suffering, shows itself in a facial expression of
gravity - not, as in the figure of Laocoon, in a contraction of the muscles
which could be interpreted as a cry (II, 43).
For Winckelmann, Lessing, and Schiller, Laocoon's death was a triumph
of the spirit over matter. For Hegel, almost the reverse is true. Just as Lao-
coon had been pressed a few decades earlier into the service of Kantian
idealism, so now is he made to typify a phase in Hegel's world-historical
process. For as Hegel remarks elsewhere in his lectures, the statue is the
product of 'eine spate Epoche' (II, 439), so that the death of Laocoon repre-
sents the downfall of an era, before a new age of the World Spirit dawns.
As a corollary to this belief that the group is devoid of spiritual signifi-
cance, the critics shifted their attention more and more to Laocoon's physical
1 Friedrich Thiersch, Ueber die Epochen der bildenden Kunst unter den Griechen,
second edition, Munich 1829. The fust edition app'eared in 1825.
2 G. W. F. Hegel, Vorlesungen uber die Asthetik, edited by H. G. Hotho, second
edition, 3 vols, Berlin 1842-3, III, 35 f. For other negative judgements on Greek art
during the Romantic era see Rehm, Gotterstille ... ,pp. 151-67. As with Hegel, most of
them criticize the Ancients' view of death as inadequate by comparison with that of
Christianity.
state. Hirt's opinions were reiterated and confnmed: the group is nothing
more. than a study in extreme physical pain, in which the involuntary reflexes
of the main figure show little or no trace of heroic restraint.1 Heb bel, in his
poem 'Vor dem Laokoon', is clearly of this opinion. He blames Michelangelo
for having praised the group excessively, and sees the fact that Laocoon
rebelled against Apollo as symbolic: not beauty, but truth is the criterion
which the artists followed, and the group is criticized by implication as a
piece of unvarnished naturalism:
Michel Angelo hiess als Wunder der Kunst dich wi1lkommen,
Well du als Gegengewicht gegen den schonen Apoll,
Der den Raphael trug und ihn verneinte, ihm dientest;

Mancher sprach es ihm nach, aber er sagte zu vie!.
Was die Wahrheit vermag, das zeigst du deutlich, 0 Gmppe,
Deutlicherzeigst du jedoch, dass sie nicht Alles vermag!2
At around the same time, the argument as to whether or not Laocoon is
crying out was renewed, and it seemed to some writers that physical agony
such as Laocoon's must be matched by the loudest possible shouts.3 This was
denied, however, in 1862. W. Henke, on the strength of a medical diagnosis
of the stricken priest, concluded that the moment represented is that between
inhalation and exhalation.4 The canons of nineteenth-century realism were
applied to the group so uncompromisingly that it began to seem as if it were
made not of marble, but of flesh and blood, despite the fact that Schopen-
hauer had already supplied the necessary reductio ad absurdum:
Man konnte nicht aus Marmor einen schreienden Laokoon hervorbringen,
sondern nur einen den Mund aufreissenden und zu schreien sich fmchtlos
bemiihenden, einen Laokoon, dem die Stimme im Halse stecken geblieben
. . . man brachte dadurch den jedesmal lacherlichen Anblick einer ohne
Wirkung bleibenden Anstrengung hervor, wirklich dem zu vergleichen, wel-
chen sich ein Spassvogel verschaffte, indem er dem schlafenden Nacht-
wachter das Horn mit Wachs fest verstopfte, ihn dann mit Feuergeschrei
weckte und sich an dessen fmchtlosen Anstrengungen zum Blasen ergotzte.s
The realistic evaluations continued, and brought down new censures upon
1 See Thiersch, p. 375; Brunn, Geschichte, 1,488; Overbeck, 11,312; etc.
2 Friedrich Hebbel, Siirntliche Werke, edited by Richard Maria Werner, 12 vols, Berlin
1901-3, VI, 334. On the influence of the group on Michelangelo, see Arnold von Salis,
Antike und Renaissance, Erlenbach-Zurich 1947, pp.143 ff.
g Feuerbach, p. 391, speaks of Laocoon's 'lauter volltonender Weheruf'; see also
Overbeck, II, 315.
4W. Henke, Die Gruppe des Laokoon, Leipzig and Heidelberg 1862, pp. 20-25.
5 Arthur Schopenhauer, Die Welt als Wille und Vorstellung (1818, revised edition
1844), I, Book 3, §46, in Schopenhauer, Siirntliche Werke, edited by Wolfgang von
Lohneysen,5 vols, Stuttgart 1960-5, 1,320 f. Compare Gombrich, 'Lessing ... ', p. 140:
'To ask . . . what noise the poor priest emits is as useless as to ask after the colour of
his hair.'
Laocoon in 1876, when the anatomist Friedrich Merkel, after minute measure-
ments of the group, discovered that many of its proportions are wrong: by
their stature, the two sons should be around seven to eight and four to six
years old, yet their proportions resemble those of a man and a youth respec--
tively; besides, the necks of all three figures are too long. Merkel may, how-
ever, have hit upon the true reason why Laocoon failed to escape from the
serpents: he had a severe limp, for his right leg is at least seven centimetres
shorter than his left.t
By the end of the century, the excesses of realism were over. But it was
now widely accepted that the sculptors set out to express physical anguish
by every means at their disposal, and that they selected the moment of maxi-
mum muscular tension in Laocoon's body in order to display their virtuosity.2
This conviction that the physical aspects of the group are all-important could
only further reduce the work's already diminished reputation.
Another factor which helped to bring Laocoon down from his eminence
was the increase in knowledge of Greek art. When the Parthenon sculptures
were brought to England and purchased for the nation in 1816,3 art historians
began to realize that the restraint and serenity which Winckelmann had
admired are more _evident in the works of the Periclean age than in the much
later and more exaggerated sculptures of the Hellenistic era. It could no
longer be doubted that most of the works from the Roman collections,
including the Laocoon, were of a much later date than the masterpieces of
Phidias and his contemporaries; and although some writers tried for a time to
place the familiar works on the same level as the newly discovered older
sculptures,4 their efforts were fruitless. It was not that the Aegina marbles or
the Parthenon frieze received the same kind of adulation with which Winckel-
mann had greeted the later sculptures: Theseus and Poseidon did not replace
Laocoon, they merely reduced and diluted his appeal.
As the nineteenth century progressed, more and more was written on the
Laocoon, as on other ancient sculptures, but fewer and fewer of the writers
were anything other than art historians or archaeologists. The fragmentation
of knowledge into specialized disciplines is, of course, one of the main
reasons why Laocoon was left at the mercy of the specialists. Few now
dared to indulge in the dilettantism of the previous century, when every man
of classical education - and that meant practically every scholar - felt en-
titled to pronounce on works of art which, more often than not, he knew
1 Friedrich Merkel, 'Bemerkungen eines Anatomen tiber die Gruppe des Laokoon',
Zeitschri[t fur bildende Kunst II (1876) 353-62 (pp. 355 and 358).
2 See Foerster (1906), p. 32 and Wilhelm Klein, Geschichte der griechischen Kunst,
3 vols, Leipzig 1904-7, III, 315. Compare also Pohlenz, p. 66.
3 See William St. Clair, Lord Elgin and the Marbles, London 1967, pp. 250-62.
4 Thiersch, p. 384, following Visconti, admits that the Laocoon and other Hellenistic
works are much later than those of the Periclean era, but maintains that they are of
equal merit.
only from engravings. Hegel ridicules the armchair scholars ('Stubengelehrte')

of that era who had taken part in the debate without ever having set eyes on
the sculptures they held forth upon. Besides, the growth of science and posi-
tivism left little room for physiognomical speculation in classical archaeology,
and the literary associations which had made the statue so attractive to
philological critics suth as Lessing served only to alienate those who valued
art for art's sake.1 All these advances entailed losses as well as gains, for the
literary quality of what was written on the statue was never again to reach its
former standards, or the symbolic potentialities of the statue to be explored
so profoundly.
Spiritually empty, of doubtful morality, anatomically inaccurate, con-

trived, calculated, and inferior to earlier Greek art, the Laocoon group was
now reviled on every side. The standard verdict around the turn of the cen-
tury was that it was 'ein hervorragendes Werk der griechischen Dekadenz', 2
mannered and sensational, lacking depth of feeling,3 and even sinister and
brutal, displaying 'eine abgefeimte Grausamkeit des Geschmacks'.4 The neo-
classicists of Victorian times condemned it as alien to true Greek values, and
the painter Karl Stauffer-Bern blamed Laocoon, rather than Michelangelo,
for all the extravagances of baroque art since the group's discovery:
Es kommt mir vor, als htitte kein Kunstwerk solchen Schaden angerichtet
in der Welt wie die Laokoon-Gruppe; ich sehe ordentlich die Barockkunst
drin schlummern. .. Von da an fing man an, Kartoffelsticke zu meisseln
und gab sie fur HeIden aus. .. (Brahm, pp. 293 f.)
As the reverence in which the group had once been held evaporated, it
became an object not just of abuse but of caricature.s One of the earliest of
these (Titian's famous parody, with apes instead of human figures, was
probably aimed not at the group itself but at Bandinelli's imitation)6 is a
1 Overbeck, for example (II, 320 ff.), sees it as one of the group's major faults that it
is not fully intelligible as a work of art in its own right.

2 Karl Stauffer-Bern to Lydia Escher, 29 August 1889, in Otto Brahm, Karl Stauffer-
Bern: Sein Leben, seine Briefe, seine Gedichte, twelfth edition, Berlin 1911, p. 293.
3 Heinrich Bulle, Der schone Mensch im Altertum, second edition, Munich and Leip-
zig 1912, p. 503, also quoted in Sichtermann, p. 31.
4 August Schmarsow, Erliiuterungen und Kommentar zu Lessings Laokoon, Leipzig
1907, p. 38. Compare the negative judgements of English-speaking writers such as Lucy
M. Mitchell, A History of Ancient Sculpture, London 1883, p. 605, who speaks of 'the
revolting scene' the group affords, and Fred O. Nolte, Lessing's Laokoon, Lancaster, Pa.
1940, p. 34, who says that the merit of the snakes is 'about equal to dislocated plumbing'.
5 See Klein, Geschichte, 111,315.
6 There are two conflicting early reports, one that Titian was ridiculing the school of
Raphael and its enthusiasm for ancient art, and the other that he was ridiculing Bandi-
nelli (see Heyne, II, 41). Since Titian himself made many drawings of the group and
other ancient sculptures, since Bandinelli's imitation is exaggerated (see Bieber, p. 16),
and since apes or monkeys are an ancient symbol of crude imitation, the latter explana-
tion is the more likely~ Von Salis, Antike und Renaissance, p. 142, takes the opposite
view, however. \
\
characteristic poem of Heine, in which his mistress takes the place of the ser-
pents:
Du sollst mich liebend umschliessen,
Geliebtes, sch6nes Weib!
Umschling mich mit Armen und Fussen
Und mit dem geschmeidigen Leib.
Gewaltig hat umfangen,
Umwunden, umscWungen schon,
Die allersch6nste der Schlangen
Den gliicklichsten Laokoon.1
Such dignity as the group still possessed in Germany it owed to Lessing's

Laokoon, which was a standard text for senior pupils at the classically oriented
Gymnasien in the later nineteenth century and helped to keep the earlier neo-
classical values alive.2
By the early twentieth century, however, occasional voices were already
protesting that the group is not decadent at all (see Klein, III, 315), and that
it might well now be underrated (Foerster, p. 1). But by this time, one can no
longer speak of the reception of the work in Germany in isolation, for the
German writers were now reacting not so much to the earlier Laocoon cult
in their own country as to current opinions in European archaeology at large.
Negative judgements continue to be heard down to recent times,3 but the
critics are now on the whole more charitable. As a recent authority says -
and the first four words are significant - 'we must admit that it is a magnifi-
cent creation'.4
The Laocoon is now rarely mentioned outside the world of classical
studies. Nevertheless, there is evidence that its symbolic potential is not yet
exhausted, and that even the creative writer may still fmd a use for it. Peter
Weiss, in his address 'Laokoon oder Uber die Grenzen der Sprache' of 1965,
has found a new antithesis within the group: the father and the younger son
have lost all ability to communicate, but the elder son, who will perhaps
1 Heinrich Heine, Historisch-kritische Gesamtausgabe der Werke, edited by Manfred

Windfuhr, Hamburg 1975- ,1/1, 461. Nietzsche's reference to 'die Laokoongruppe, von
drei Clowns und ebenso vielen Regenschirmen dargestellt', may allude to another
nineteenth-eentury caricature: see Nietzsches Werke, 20 vols, Leipzig 1895-1926, XIII,
18. For a more recent English caricature of the group, with a father and two sons caught
up in a garden hosepipe, see W. C. Sellar and R. J. Yeatman, Garden Rubbish, London
1936, p. 82.
2 A work written for this school public is Julius Ziehen, Kunstgeschichtliches An-
schauungsmaterial zu Lessings Laokoon, second edition, Bielefeld and Leipzig 1905,
first published in 1899. Ziehen (pp. v-vi) lists other works on Laokoon useful to school-
teachers.
3 See, for example, Walter Herwig Schuchardt, Die Epochen der griechischen Plastik,
Baden-Baden 1959, p. 126 (also quoted in Sichtermann, p. 32), who sees the work as 'in
seiner Ausgedachtheit und Ausgefeiltheit ohne echtes, volles Leben'.
4 Richter, The Sculpture and Sculptors of the Greeks, p. 236.
escape to tell of what he has seen, may symbolize man's hopeless yet hopeful
attempts to transcend the limitations of language:
In diesem Bildwerk ist der Zwiespalt ausgedrtickt zwischen dem Ver-

stummten, Statischen, und dem, das sich der Aussenwelt zuwendet und
durch Bewegung deren Aufmerksamkeit herbeiruft. Laokoon und sein
jtingster Sohn setzen keinen Beschauer mehr voraus. Sie bilden nur noch
ein Monument tiber ihren eigenen Untergang. Nie mehr geben sie einen
Laut von sich. Der altere Sohn aber gehort noch einer belebten Welt an, er
bricht sich aus dem Statuarischen heraus, urn denen, die ihm vielleicht zur
Hilfe kommen, Bericht zu erstatten.1
Such was the reception of the group in Germany since Winckelmann. We have
seen how, during the nineteenth century, it fell completely from its former
eminence. What still has to be considered is why, apart from the fact that it
was championed by Winckelmann, it had been held in such esteem during the
previous century. The Renaissance and Counter-Reformation, of course, had
little difficulty in assimilating it to their own scheme of values, both because
of its provenance and its subject matter. It was a genuine relic of antiquity,
authenticated by Pliny himself. And its subject was congenial to those already
accustomed to the martyrdoms and crucifIXions of Christian art, of which it
could be seen as a typological forerunner. To the eighteenth century, however,
it presented more of a challenge. The authority of antiquity was as binding as
ever, and in some ways even more so than before. But the subject of the
group, as traditionally understood, made it less tractable to a rationalistic and
increasingly secular age. One of the problems the eighteenth century faced
was that of making sense of an extreme case of suffering, with strong religious
overtones, but without invoking religion to explain it. Only the young Herder
resorted to Christian analogies, but he later abandoned them. It is more
symptomatic of the times that Winckelmann, in his essay of 1755, warned
artists against depicting saints, and recommended the classical - that is,
heathen - myths instead (Siimtliche Werke, I, 50). Laocoon appealed to the
eighteenth century as a representative figure of human suffering - but unlike
its Christian equivalents, the suffering of Laocoon could no longer be given a
transcendental significance.
With the exception of Hirt, all of the eighteenth-century writers discussed,
even those who, liKe Lessing and Goethe, stuck mainly to aesthetic questions,
regarded Laocoon as a hero and exemplary figure. They saw in him a victory
of the human spirit, whether over bodily weakness, an: unjust fate, or the
1 In Peter Weiss, Rapporte, Frankfurt 1968, pp. 170-87 (pp. 180 f.). As the title of
the essay indicates, Weiss has come to the group via Lessing. A further sign that the
theme is still a living one is Zoltan Imre's new ballet 'Laocoon', written for the Ballet
Rambert and rust performed on 14 February 1978.
restraints of moral convention.' In death as in life, he had a Promethean

quality about him. According to the Aeneid, he defied the gods by hurling his
spear at the Wooden Horse, which he refused to accept on trust, and he ques-
tioned the arguments of those who were prepared to do so. For Virgil's
Laocoon is a sceptic, and this assuredly helped to endear him to the century
of the Enlightenment. But it was in his death that he seemed to display his
greatest strength: for the main difference between Laocoon and the Christian
martyrs - and, I would submit, the secret of his appeal to the eighteenth cen-
tury - is that he does not accept his suffering, any more than he did the
Wooden Horse, with resignation. His face, in which the Greek artists have
combined all the traditional signs of pain, admittedly has much in common
with the Christian art of the baroque. But he is no S1. Sebastian, immobile
and submissive - his body is still full of resistance. Lessing took great trouble
to show that the moment depicted is that before Laocoon succumbs to his
torment, as did Goethe when Hirt dared to suggest that Laocoon has already
succumbed. Heyne, too, stressed that he is struggling with all his might
(Heyne, II, 20). And we must not forget that, in Montorsoli's restoration by
which the group was known until the original right arm, bent back behind
Laocoon's head, was discovered in 1906, Laocoon held the serpent high
above him, in what might be interpreted as a last, triumphant, gesture of
defiance.! For most writers of the eighteenth century, then, the group was a
glorification of the human· spirit and its essential freedom, even in the direst
of predicaments, and it was in this freedom that they found a sense in Lao-
coon's terrible fate.
The other main reason why the group was so greatly revered was that,
from Winckelmann onwards, it was associated with those values which the
neo-classicists claimed to have found in ancient Greece. Despite the terror of
the scene, balance and restraint were preserved. Reason - whether moral or
artistic - presided over the catastrophe, and conferred a unity and harmony
on the whole. But it was possible to discover other, opposing principles in the
work, just as the baroque era had done, and, in Hegelian fashion, the anti-
thesis was soon to claim its rights. For Heinse already, it represented not
harmony and restraint, but violent and uncontrolled expression.
Once it had become identified with neo-classicism, however, it had to be
defended, and the conflict of Goethe, Schiller, and their allies with Hirt was
a campaign against a threat to their classicistic principles. But on several
counts, the position they held was untenable. Apart from the reasons aiready
given, the fact that men ceased to require the sanction of antiquity to justify
their aspirations rendered Laocoon superfluous in aesthetic theory. It is
appropriate that nearly all of the eighteenth-century commentators empha-
size how precarious the group's situation is. The balance cannot for long be
1 See Wolfgang Helbig, Fuhrer durch die offentlichen Sammlungen klassischer Alter-
tumer in Rom, fourth edition, 4 vols, Tiibingen 1963-72, I, 164.
maintained, and destruction .must shortly supervene. The Laocoon may there-
fore stand as a symbol of neo-classicism itself (see Butler, p. 81), as an
interlude, a 'pregnant moment' , between baroque extravagance and Romantic
self-abandon.
One of the most remarkable things about the Laocoon debate is the number
of different interpretations it has generated. And another is the extreme way
in which they diverge, and the vehemence with which they have been
defended. The debate, in fact, has been conducted in superlatives, with very
few signs of compromise. The group has been pronounced both the greatest
and the most pernicious work of art of all time. Part of the reason for this is
that the spectacle it affords is itself an extreme and dire eventuality, which is
bound to provoke a forceful reaction. The bizarre and horrible death of a
father and one or both of his sons, of whose agony their violent reactions can
leave us in no doubt, produces a powerful initial shock. As Winckelmann said,
we can almost feel the pain of the bite ourselves, accentuated as it is by
Laocoon's complete nudity and by the sensitivity of the area affected. To this
shock, we can either respond with revulsion, or master it by finding some
aesthetic or moral justification for the work.
If we analyse the spectacle further, we see that, as Goethe realized, it is
full of paradoxes and antitheses. Here is life at its most intense at the moment
of death. Here, with grim irony, a priest is immolated upon his own altar. The
three figures themselves are full of contrasts: youth contrasts with age; the
younger son is dying, the elder is almost free; the right hands are expressive
and gesturing, the left hands are active in defence. There are movements
throughout, voluntary and involuntary, human' and animal, and yet all the
participants are bound together and rooted to the spot. In the organisation of
the group, we find variety and unity, dissonance and harmony, expression
and formal control. And in this fearful conflict of man against nature, of
mind against matter, there are signs both of resistance and capitulation, of
defiance and resignation. To these, we ourselves react with admiration and
revulsion, pity and horror, hope and fear, so that a series of conflicts is set up
within us in tum.
In order to resolve these, we must decide which of our emotions have
priority, or - and this amounts to the same thing - which poles of which
antitheses within the group are more important than their opposites. This
task is made no easier by the fact that the group has undergone numerous
alterations and restorations since it was discovered, and that we do not even
know for what purpose it was originally created. In short, we have to inter-
pret the work's significance, and since the event it depicts is intelligible only
in terms of the myth it is based on, w.e have to decide which version of the
myth to follow. And it is here that our troubles really begin, because the dif-
ferent versions are diametrically opposed or internally contradictory. In some,
Laocoon is an innocent hero, punished only for defending his fatherland; in
others, he is first and foremost a reprobate who desecrated the temple of the
god he served; and in others again, he is both a patriot and a criminal. Anselm
Feuerbach vainly tried to overcome this dilemma by combining both alterna-
tives, and speaks of Laocoon's 'der Schuld und Unschuld sich gleich lebhaft
bewussten Herzens' (Feuerbach, p. 391). We turn once more to the group to
measure the conflicting versions against it, and we are confronted with the
same ambiguities as before. Is Laocoon a rebel or a martyr, a hero or a crimi-
nal? is his punishment just or unjust? does he bear it with fortitude or
despair, with indignation or remorse? does he indeed display any conscious
emotion at all, or is he even in a position to do so? Some have contended that
he is not, and yet others have read almost every kind of expression, short of
hilarity, into his face.
In the last resort, our interpretation will be guided by yet another set of
variables, those of our own predispositions and background. Indeed, when we
evaluate the interpretations of past critics, it is usually possible to relate them
to the background and outlook of the writers concerned. But we must be
wary of reducing what they say, however fashionable this approach may be,
to straightforward social determinants - for example, Winckelmann's inter-
pretation to his discontent with Germany, his penurious circumstances, and
his need for a heroic ideal; Lessing's to his revolt against the French influence,
typified by frigid Cornelian 'heroism; and so on. For although these were no
doubt contributory factors, the case of Heinse provides a salutary warning
against such simplifications: as we have seen, Heinse came up with several
variant interpretations of the group within a short space of time, some of
which later reappeared in the works of others of completely different back-
grounds and attitudes. The reception of the Laocoon group in Germany has
been a complex process, in which the ambiguous evidence of the group itself,
the various versions of the myth, and the personalities of the critics, along
with their individual circumstances, the ideological influences to which they
were subject, and the general state of learning at the time at which they
wrote, have interacted with one another - and with a further factor of even
greater significance than the rest: the reception of the group by their
predecessors. In almost every case, the critics were replying to earlier critics,
and the most important factor within the debate has been the debate itself.1
Given the nature of the group, it is not surprising that the debate. con-
. sisted of a movement between extremes, the chief of which were the idealis-
tic and the naturalistic modes of interpretation. Both could point to evidence
in support of their case, but it was the failure of the former to give a morally
lCompare Karl Robert Mandelkow, 'Pr~bleme der Wirkungsgeschichte', in Mandel-
kow, Orpheus und Maschine: Acht literaturgeschichtliche Arbeiten, Heidelberg 1976, pp.
103-17 (p. 113): 'Wirkungsgeschichte eines Werkes oder eines Autors ist von Anfang an
auch immer Wirkungsgeschichte der Wirkungsgeschichte ... Der eigene Erwartungshori-
zont wird modifiziert durch die Reaktion auf andere Erwartungshorizonte.'
convincing account of the work which helped to tip the balance in favour of
the latter. Many writers from the nineteenth century onwards have felt that
the myth, as here depicted, is ethically incommensurable, and that technical
virtuosity was therefore the artists' principal consideration. But the conclu-
sion does not necessarily follow from the premise: perhaps it was the power,
rather than the justice, of the gods which the sculptors wished to commemor-
ate. Be that as it may, critics of the group are still wary of interpreting its
content, and they usually have more to say on its style and its place in the
history of art. This is certainly not because the earlier enigmas have been
disposed of. It is because writers are more conscious than before of the com-
plexity of the issues, the number of variables involved, and the failure of their
predecessors to produce an interpretation which might comprehend them all
without leaving an intractable residue. One recent writer refuses to reopen the
questions of which moment is depicted, what feelings are expressed, and
which version of the legend is followed, and decides instead that all past
interpretations are justified (Sichtermann, p. 23). For those who constructed
them, they of course were. But in that case, any other interpretation,
however arbitrary, must be equally justified, and we are left with a complete
relativism which must inhibit all further initiatives. In short, critics now hesi-
tate to interpret the group not because the problems have been solved, but
because they have despaired of solving them.
The Laocoon is in this respect still a paradigmatic case - not of the limits
of poetry and visual art, but of the limits of interpretation. For if no compre-
hensive interpretation can be found, there are two equally good, but incom-
patible reasons why this should be so: either the work itself may have no
coherent conception which can be reduced to a unitary explanation; or we,
through lack of evidence or perspicacity, have failed to discover one. And
even if we do succeed to our own satisfaction, the former possibility can
never be completely eliminated.
When all is said and done, we may well ask why so much intellectual effort
has been expended on what now seems to many so undeserving an object.
The villain of the piece, if there is a villain, is surely Pliny, who convinced at
least three centuries that this was the greatest sculpture of all time. And the
hero, if there is a hero, is perhaps the sceptical archaeologist Heyne, whose
words of warning, like those of the Trojan priest Laocoon, went unheeded by
his countrymen:
..
Es Hisst sich sehr zweifeln, dass die griechis~hen Ktinstler den tausendsten
Theil von allen den schonen asthetischen Raisonnements tiber stille Grosse,
die man ihnen unterliegt, im Sinn gehabt haben sollten (Heyne, II, 22
(1779))

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Oxford German Studies

ISSN: 0078-7191 (Print) 1745-9214 (Online) Journal homepage: http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/yogs20

Laocoon in Germany: The Reception of the Group

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sculptures to have come down to us from antiquity. It depicts the Trojan

Its aim is rather, by examining salient points in the reception of a particular

as satisfactory, and it may be that, if we can discover why so many leading

The Laocoon debate in Germany begins with Winckelmann's Gedanken aber

Das allgemeine vorziigliche Kennzeichen der griechischen Meisterstiike

author's G6tterstiile und G6ttertrauer: Aufsiitze zur deutsch-antiken Bewegung, Salz-

1 'Kenntlicher und bezeichnender wird die Seele in heftigen Leidenschaften; gross

grosser Weisheit gebildet ... [etc.] (VI, 22)

He does proceed to emphasize the statue's 'sch6nheit' soon afterwards (VI,

To Winckelmann's immediate successor in the Laocoon debate, however,

Der Meister arbeitete aufdie hochste Schonheit, unter den angenommenen

It could well be argued, however, that Lessing's disagreement with Winckel-

Winckelmann's other examples- representations of Niobe, Philoctetes, Ajax, Clytem-

Folgende am begreiflichsten wird' (p. 251). And since it is to be given an

theory of tragedy, Winckelmann's picture of Laocoon as a stoic hero and

der Deinen Seel' auf diesem Seufzer

umarmeten! Der Drachenknote

A device sometimes employed by those who have offered new interpretations

From this beginning, Heinse constructs a picture of Laocoon as an audacious

It is hard to avoid the impression, however, that Heinse's Laocoon is rebel-

reversal of Winckelmann's metaphor of the sea, and its mischievous sugges-

1 R. Foerster, 'Laokoon', lahrbuch des Kaiserlichen Deutschen Archiiologischen Insti-

Jacobi, and others in Baeumer's edition, pp. 563-5,573, etc.

The Laocoon of Friedrich Schiller, however, is of a different stamp from

Schiller's Laocoon is altogether a more exalted character than his predeces-

The best known contribution to the Laocoon debate in eighteenth-century

Also wo es vornehmlich darauf ankam, gewisse Personen und Wesen kennt-

death are enumerated:

1 Although I have no positive evidence, I strongly suspect that Hirt's account is

Spannung, wutende Zuckung, die Wirkung eines atzenden Gifts, heftige

Winckelmann's and Lessing's arguments that Laocoon's condition is tempered

1 A theniium , edited by A. W. and F. Schlegel, 1798-1800 (reprinted Stut~~art 1960),

die man vorgestellt haben wollte?

von seiner Priesterschaft, von seinem trojanisch-nationellen, von allem

have to decide which version of it to follow. 3

forerunner of Romanticism (see Denk, Das Kunstschone ... , p. 108); the

In the nineteenth century, more interpretations of the group than ever

separately, in chronological sequence, it will therefore be more convenient to

Liesse sich nicht ein umfassenderer, kurz hohergradiger Moment im Lao-

Rausch - der Widerstand in Ergebung - das hochste Leben in Stein iiber-

Der den Raphael trug und ihn verneinte, ihm dientest;

only from engravings. Hegel ridicules the armchair scholars ('Stubengelehrte')

Spiritually empty, of doubtful morality, anatomically inaccurate, con-

is not fully intelligible as a work of art in its own right.

Such dignity as the group still possessed in Germany it owed to Lessing's

1 Heinrich Heine, Historisch-kritische Gesamtausgabe der Werke, edited by Manfred

In diesem Bildwerk ist der Zwiespalt ausgedrtickt zwischen dem Ver-

restraints of moral convention.' In death as in life, he had a Promethean

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