Giambologna’s terracotta model for The Abduction of a Sabine Woman prompts a story about art, a story about ancient Rome, and a curious biblical parallel.
A Story about Art
In Part 1 of this piece (here’s a link to follow), we described the three figures of The Abduction of a Sabine Woman. If you haven’t read it already, it would be best to back up and digest that before going any further.
In the Galleria dell’Accademia di Firenze (Accademia Gallery of Florence), visitors can find the original terracotta model used by Giambologna to test his complex design. You can see the model we described below on the left. It is Mannerism in style,* composed around 1579–1580. Giambologna then transferred the precise measurements from this model to a massive marble block (at the time, it was the largest block of white marble ever transported to Florence).
The completed masterpiece is pictured below on the right. Three entwined figures (figura serpentinata), larger than life, carved from a single stone established Giambologna’s reputation. Completed when he was in his 50s, it represents the pinnacle of his career.
The finished sculpture has been on public display in the Loggia dei Lanzi in Florence since January of 1583.
Giambologna’s original terracotta model.
Giambologna’s finished masterpiece in marble.
A Story about Ancient Rome
As a matter of habit, Giambologna rarely titled his art until after it was completed. This leaves us to wonder what specific narrative he had in mind during his years of labor on the idea. It was actually a contemporary who suggested the title Il Rapimento delle Sabine, or “The Abduction/Rape of the Sabine Women,” drawn from an ancient Roman myth recounted by Livy (The History of Rome 1.9, you can find the text here).
The short version of the tale goes like this: Rome started out in the 8th century BC as a rugged refuge for men. Because of this imbalance, eligible wives were exceedingly rare. Making the problem more acute, Rome’s neighbors were reluctant to marry off their daughters to the city's rough-necked population.
To solve the crisis, Romulus, the founder of Rome, devised a clever trick. He established a major festival complete with athletic games and invited the surrounding communities to attend. Crowds gathered—including the Sabines—a mountain people who came with their wives and children.
The Abduction of the Sabine Women is a story that has attracted more than one artist. This mid-17th c work was done by Nicolas Poussin. Poussin multiplies the mayhem envisioned by Giambologna. I assume that is Romulus in red on the right giving the secret signal. Notice all the maidens with left arms in the air. Source: here (accessed 6/16/2026).
At a predetermined moment, Romulus gave a secret signal to his men. The Romans dashed “this way and that,” grabbed the maidens and carried them off while terrified parents fled in tears. By means of this mass abduction, Rome secured its future. Naturally, the Sabines readied for war over Romulus’s treacherous act. However, (ironically!) the captured women quickly grew to love their new husbands, intervened, and eventually forged a powerful, lasting alliance between the two cultures.
Jacques-Louis David’s, The Intervention of the Sabine Women, freezes the moment when war almost broke out between the Romans and the Sabines. The conflict was averted when the kidnapped daughters positioned themselves (and their children) between hostile forces. In this piece of art David places Hersilia between her husband, the leader of the Romans, and her father, the leader of the Sabines. Wait! Is that the Bastille in the background? Source: here (accessed 6/16/2026).
Livy’s tale is a curious one. If it was indeed in the back of Giambologna’s mind as he chiseled his marble, we can readily identify the figures: the lovely maiden is the Sabine daughter, the youth is partnerless Roman, and the defeated man on the ground is the maiden’s sorrowful father. It is the raw material of origin stories, in this case, an Italian pasta made with lots of glorious cheese and sprinkled with the bitter herbs of tragedy (Alas. I grow hungry again.).
Stay tuned for a biblical story worthy of comparison. Part 3 of this post is coming soon.
*Mannerism is the term used to describe an art style that rejected the High Renaissance. Instead of focusing on naturalism and balance, it twisted and elongated the human form, used a highly saturated color palette, and flattened or crowded space. Mannerism is seen as the bridge between High Renaissance and Baroque art.
We plan to be back in Florence next year as part of our “Taste of Italy” tour scheduled for May 13-22, 2027. To learn more about this and other travel opportunities in the lands of the Bible, follow the link here.
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