It’s the most famous Ancient Roman sculpture of all time.

Okay, I guess that’s subjective. You could make a case that the Augustus of Prima Porta is the most famous. Or the bronze Equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius. Or Trajan’s Column…if you consider a column to be a sculpture.

So you can have a different opinion, but you’d be wrong. Kind of like if you said Paul isn’t the best Beatle, because all everyone knows he is.

But even though this is the most famous Ancient Roman sculpture of all time…for hundreds of years, it was one giant mistake. All thanks to a weird contest, a couple of bullies, and an incredibly annoying Pope.

Hidden Laocoön

So who are these people being choked by snakes? Well, that’s Laocoön. Don’t forget the umlaut. And next to him are his sons. Hence, a sculpture named “Laocoön and his Sons.” Original, right?

It isn’t famous just because of who it depicts, or because it survived…it’s famous because it’s always been famous.

But before I get to that, we need head back to Ancient Greece.

I take it you’ve all heard of the Trojan Horse, famously featured in tales of the war between the Trojans and the Ancient Greeks. As the story goes, the Greeks pretended to give up and go home, leaving a giant horse as a trophy for the Trojans, who brought it inside the city walls.

But the horse holds some hidden cargo: A man named Odysseus (Ulysses in the Roman version), along with his Greek buddies, pop out and start a whole lot of murdering, winning the war.

Now, this is a really old story. There’s even a vase from the Greek island of Mykonos, going back as far as 670 BC, where you can even see the little Greek dudes hiding inside.

But the most well known variant of this myth probably comes from the Ancient Romans, in the form of an epic poem by Virgil called “The Aeneid.”

In this version, a Trojan priest named Laocoön knows what’s up with the horse. He doesn’t believe the Greeks have *really quit, and he’s more than a little suspicious of their “gift.” I’ll quote a bit of the Aeneid here, just because it’s fucking awesome:

“Laocoön, follow’d by a num’rous crowd,
Ran from the fort, and cried, from far, aloud:
‘O wretched countrymen! what fury reigns?
What more than madness has possess’d your brains?
Think you the Grecians from your coasts are gone?
And are Ulysses’ arts no better known?
This hollow fabric either must enclose,
Within its blind recess, our secret foes;
Or ‘tis an engine rais’d above the town,
T’ o’erlook the walls, and then to batter down.
Somewhat is sure design’d, by fraud or force:
Trust not their presents, nor admit the horse.’”

Laocoön flings a spear at the Trojan Horse, but soon meets his fate. The goddess Minerva (that’s Athena to the Greeks) punishes Laocoön for trying to expose the deception. She sends snakes to kill Laocoön and his sons!

Although Laocoön is a bit of tragic figure in this story, remembered for his attempt to save his people, he’s also a cautionary character; a living illustration of what happens when you cross a god.

Ancient Ads

So like I said, this is the most famous Ancient Roman sculpture of all time.

It was famous even in the *time of Ancient Rome, and its glory and notoriety was remembered over 1400 years later.

You see, it was written about by Pliny the Elder, one of Ancient Rome’s most famous writers — a man who died trying to rescue victims of Pompeii. Pliny made note of this statue; he saw it with his own eyes.

In his book/encyclopedia known as “Natural Histories,” he writes about how some statues can’t be attributed to one single artist:

“Such is the case with the Laocoön, for example, in the palace of the Emperor Titus, a work that may be looked upon as preferable to any other production of the art of painting or of statuary. It is sculptured from a single block, both the main figure as well as the children, and the serpents with their marvellous folds. This group was made in concert by three most eminent artists…”

Now, Titus is probably best known for sacking Jerusalem, but it seems he also owned a statue greatly admired by the Ancient Romans…which was lost to history. Make no mistake, people knew about it…but no one had actually seen it. That is, until one man made an unprecedented discovery.

Pesky Pontiff

Let’s jump ahead from Ancient Rome to…less ancient Rome.

Rome, in the year 1506. Rome, whose most famous resident was probably a guy known as Pope Julius II.

Now, if you haven’t heard of Pope Julius II, you actually have. He’s the guy who had a rather…contentious relationship with an artist by the name of Michelangelo Buonarroti, and pretty much forced him to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

This battle between the two at least partially had its roots in a massive tomb the Pope hired Michelangelo to sculpt for him. The Pope basically ghosted him after Michelangelo bought the marble and came looking to get reimbursed.

And the Pope’s chief architect, a guy named Bramante, was running interference and blocking Michelangelo from speaking with the Pope at all.

So, Michelangelo gets super pissed and takes off. He hops on a horse and leaves the Papal states behind…but the Pope sends some dudes after him.

Now, Michelangelo had a bit of a temper, and was also known for embellishing the truth a bit. But here’s an exact quote from the man himself, when he told the story to his biographer…and I’m including it because it’s probably one of my favorite quotes of all time:

“I told them I’d kill the first one who laid a hand on me. You should have seen them look at each other. They knew I meant it. None of them was prepared to die — they hadn’t counted on a fight with a lion. They’d figured they would find a whining, penitent, artist-coward, begging for mercy. Well, they saw another side of Michelangelo Buonarroti.”

The Artist and the Pope eventually make up…kind of…though they’d repeatedly butt heads. And in the year after this incident, 1506, the Pope gets word of a discovery. A sculpture has been uncovered, and Michelangelo himself is one of the first to lay eyes on it.

Arm Wrestling

This discovery — the discovery — was made by a man named Felice de Fredis.

Felice was in his vineyard in Rome, digging around for bedrock to place the foundation for a new house…when he finds…nothing.

Like…actual nothing. Empty space.

Underground ruins, containing one extremely valuable statue of a man with a bushy beard crying out in horror as he and his sons are crushed by snakes.

Experts are called, including Michelangelo, a famed architect from Florence, and his 11-year-old son, who wrote about that day decades later.

“I climbed down to where the statues were when immediately my father said, ‘That is the Laocoön, which Pliny mentions.’ Then they dug the hole wider so that they could pull the statue out.”

And so, that long-lost masterpiece was found. Now, it wasn’t carved out of one single block like Pliny said, bust most every historian agrees that it was indeed the statue. The Pope immediately bought it and placed it inside a courtyard in the Vatican.

But as is the case with many ancient statues, the Laocoon was broken. Most notably, his right arm was missing.

So, there was a contest, run by Bramante, the Pope’s chief architect…the guy Michelangelo feuded with. The goal? To create a new arm for the sculpture. The judge? Raphael…another guy Michelangelo feuded with.

Now, Michelangelo said the arm should be bent backwards, as Laocoon would’ve been trying to grab at a snake behind his head. And after all, Michelangelo was an expert in human anatomy.

As you might expect, Raphael’s winner wasn’t Michelangelo at all, but a guy named Jacopo Sansovino. And if you haven’t heard of him…well…no one would really expect you to.

Not that he was a loser — I mean, he did win this contest, after all — and he was an accomplished sculptor and architect.

It’s just hard to stand out in the Renaissance, when you’re known for buildings like the one next to the famous ones in Venice.

The Great Stretch of the Laocoon

The story of the Laocoon gets a bit muddled from here, but copies were made showing an outstretched arm, raised up heroically. And eventually, an even straighter arm is attached to the original.

And for centuries, *this is how the statue was known as its copies spread around the world.

But in the early 1900s, an archaeologist by the name of Ludwig Pollak finds some pieces near where the Laocoön was originally discovered.

He thinks he knows where they belong, and he takes them to the Vatican where they’re promptly tossed in a drawer.

But in 1957, someone finally took a closer look, and found that a drill hole in the arm matched up perfectly with one on the statue.

Now, I do have a bit of a confession to make: I’ve Photoshopped all the images of this statue I’ve shown you until now. In the 1980s, the arm was restored to its proper place…posed just as Michelangelo said it would.

And so, around six million people visit the Laocoön every year. Why? Because Pope Julius II’s purchase of this statue is considered to be the very beginning of a place you might’ve heard of — a place called the Vatican Museums.

It sits near that ceiling composed by Michelangelo, down the hall from the rooms painted by Raphael, next to the Basilica partially planned by Bramante.

And regardless of who was right and who was wrong, there’s one thing we can be sure of: though it’s likely a Roman copy of a Greek original, since the Ancient Romans loved nothing more than cosplaying as Greeks…

This statue, with its serpents and its serpentine poses, the very epitome of anguish, had a massive impact on art that followed its discovery. Even Michelangelo himself wasn’t immune to its influences, which can be seen in many of his later sculptures.

But if there’s one lesson to be learned here (aside from the fact that this is certainly the most famous Ancient Roman sculpture of all time) it’s not that you should always listen to Michelangelo, it’s not that you should be careful when it comes to upsetting the plans of the gods…it’s that you should always remember that Paul is the best Beatle.