DOI Page / Citation link:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.5253#0605
THE DYING GALATIAN OF THE CAPITOL. 569
of the skin, with its leathery folds, especially at the waist and navel, appears
in strong contrast to the Hermes of Praxiteles, with its soft-flowing skin of
the more ideal Hellenic race and time. A difference is expressed even be-
tween the texture of skin on the bottom of the foot, hardened by contact with
the earth, and that on the rest of the body (Fig. 233). The realism in these
works is illustrated by the hair under the right arm of the Ludovisi warrior,
and a wart-like protuberance on his cheek. But how powerfully is the inner-
most being of the barbarian also portrayed in these statues! The fury of
wild beasts, we are told, seemed to seize them, as they rushed naked into
battle. If they lost the day, they gave way to a frenzy of despair, taking
their own lives, as well as those of the wounded and feeble among them.
On a relief in Rome, we see a barbarian plunging a dagger into his own breast,
under the very hoofs of his victor's horse (Fig. 2S9). Brennus, the Galatian
chieftain, who had dared to storm Apollo's shrine, we are told, took his life
when vanquished. So also the Ludovisi Galatian, having slain his wife, now
destroys himself. The dying warrior of the Capitol no longer shows defiance.
Death has stricken him, doubtless in consequence of a fatal stab received at
the enemy's hand. It has often been supposed, that, like the Ludovisi Gala-
tian, he had taken his own life ; but his manner of falling, the wound on
the side away from the heart, and the fact that some one has withdrawn the
weapon from the gash, seem to prove that the fatal deed is the work of a vic-
torious enemy."'35 The sword in this statue is a later addition.
There is something beautiful and truly feminine in the death of the strong
Galatian woman, set off in great contrast to the masculine frenzy in the faces
and forms of the men. The death-struggle with her is moderated, showing
itself in the set eyes, the opened lips, the relaxed arms, and wonderfully expres-
sive pose of the bare feet, from which all life seems gone, but which in their
callousness still tell the story of the long and faithful marches, by her husband's
side, to the lands of the South.
How different those intensely tragic but realistic monuments from the
Greek sculptures preserved to us from earlier days! The Pcrgamon artist
could not, we must believe, have represented otherwise the barbarian who had
just overrun his land, and caused him so much distress, and still keep true to
his age. Prince and people had seen and fought the dreaded enemy too re-
cently, knew his uncouth face and powerful form too well, and had suffered too
much at his hand, to be satisfied with only ideal or symbolical representations
of him. The sculptor did not, then, hold on to the older, colorless type of the
barbarian, characterizing him by mere conventional accessories of costume or
armor while giving him ideal beauty of form and soul, but represented him just
as he saw him in nature. The square and rugged forms do not, therefore, im-
press by symmetry and exquisite grace of proportion, but by fulness and over-
flow of power; their very divergence from the Greek type bringing out more
of the skin, with its leathery folds, especially at the waist and navel, appears
in strong contrast to the Hermes of Praxiteles, with its soft-flowing skin of
the more ideal Hellenic race and time. A difference is expressed even be-
tween the texture of skin on the bottom of the foot, hardened by contact with
the earth, and that on the rest of the body (Fig. 233). The realism in these
works is illustrated by the hair under the right arm of the Ludovisi warrior,
and a wart-like protuberance on his cheek. But how powerfully is the inner-
most being of the barbarian also portrayed in these statues! The fury of
wild beasts, we are told, seemed to seize them, as they rushed naked into
battle. If they lost the day, they gave way to a frenzy of despair, taking
their own lives, as well as those of the wounded and feeble among them.
On a relief in Rome, we see a barbarian plunging a dagger into his own breast,
under the very hoofs of his victor's horse (Fig. 2S9). Brennus, the Galatian
chieftain, who had dared to storm Apollo's shrine, we are told, took his life
when vanquished. So also the Ludovisi Galatian, having slain his wife, now
destroys himself. The dying warrior of the Capitol no longer shows defiance.
Death has stricken him, doubtless in consequence of a fatal stab received at
the enemy's hand. It has often been supposed, that, like the Ludovisi Gala-
tian, he had taken his own life ; but his manner of falling, the wound on
the side away from the heart, and the fact that some one has withdrawn the
weapon from the gash, seem to prove that the fatal deed is the work of a vic-
torious enemy."'35 The sword in this statue is a later addition.
There is something beautiful and truly feminine in the death of the strong
Galatian woman, set off in great contrast to the masculine frenzy in the faces
and forms of the men. The death-struggle with her is moderated, showing
itself in the set eyes, the opened lips, the relaxed arms, and wonderfully expres-
sive pose of the bare feet, from which all life seems gone, but which in their
callousness still tell the story of the long and faithful marches, by her husband's
side, to the lands of the South.
How different those intensely tragic but realistic monuments from the
Greek sculptures preserved to us from earlier days! The Pcrgamon artist
could not, we must believe, have represented otherwise the barbarian who had
just overrun his land, and caused him so much distress, and still keep true to
his age. Prince and people had seen and fought the dreaded enemy too re-
cently, knew his uncouth face and powerful form too well, and had suffered too
much at his hand, to be satisfied with only ideal or symbolical representations
of him. The sculptor did not, then, hold on to the older, colorless type of the
barbarian, characterizing him by mere conventional accessories of costume or
armor while giving him ideal beauty of form and soul, but represented him just
as he saw him in nature. The square and rugged forms do not, therefore, im-
press by symmetry and exquisite grace of proportion, but by fulness and over-
flow of power; their very divergence from the Greek type bringing out more