Throughout the second and third centuries before Christ, Rhodes was the meeting-place of commerce passing between Asia and Europe. The Rhodians were the finest seamen in the world at the time and to them fell the task of clearing the seas of pirates which had given Athens so strong a position a century or two earlier. Indeed, the commercial mantle of Athens had fallen upon Rhodes. Unlike the kingdoms of Pergamus and of the Seleucidæ, the middle-class was paramount here. Rhodes, like Venice in later years, was practically ruled by an aristocracy of merchants. The vigorous schools of art and rhetoric depended in no small measure upon this. Such a social system provides that prime essential of vital literature and art—large numbers of citizens with the experience that comes from rubbing wit against wit and passion against passion in the market square and the forum.
Rhodes was eminently the centre in Hellenistic times which most closely approached the standard set in the days of the Greek city-states. This fact, together with the traditions of Hellenic sculptors which Rhodes had received, made “[The Laocoon Group]” possible.
The statue was the work of three Rhodian artists, Agesander, Polydorus, and Athenodorus, who lived about 125 b.c. The group was found in the Baths of Titus in 1506. A recent discovery suggests that the present restoration of the right arm of Laocoon is incorrect. The serpent’s coil should come up to the neck of Laocoon, and his right hand should clasp a coil close to his head.
Ancient tradition held that the statue had been hewn from a single block of stone. In reality, it is constructed from six pieces, though the joints are so cunningly concealed that even Michael Angelo could only detect three. The sculptors display an extraordinary mastery over the problems of human anatomy which they have set themselves to solve, while their treatment of the combination of physical tension and emotional stress is unsurpassed. Indeed the technical beauty of “[The Laocoon]” has never been questioned.
But “[The Laocoon Group]” may be regarded from another point of view, displaying yet a new facet of the genius of its authors. Consider the immense difficulty of visualizing such a scene so that the various parts form a complete design capable of translation into marble. The version of the story in the Æneid is known to all.
The priest Laocoon has violated the shrine of Tritonia and unheedful of his doom is sacrificing a bullock at the altar of Neptune. Suddenly, as Virgil pictures the scene, the two great serpents rise from the sea. Their glaring eyes shot with blood and their jaws darting fire, they make for the shore and move steadily upon Laocoon. His two small boys are taken first. Then the serpents gather the father himself in their mighty folds. One coil grasps Laocoon’s body. Another part of the scaly chain winds twice round his neck. In vain the priest tries to tear asunder the dreadful coil, crying to Heaven, to use the Virgilian simile, like a bull who, having escaped the sacrificial axe, flies wounded from the altar.
THE LAOCOON GROUP
Vatican, Rome
The designers of the group have clearly followed an earlier version of the legend in which the younger son escapes. But the difficulty of visualization and expression is the same. It is comparatively easy to find words to convey the general impression. But the three sculptors had to find the momentary action which would suggest the whole story. Yet the design of “[The Laocoon Group]” tells everything. We see