The Aesclepion: The Healing House of Socrates' Doctor

Before his self-inflicted death, carried out by government decree, Socrates’ last words to his followers were that he ‘owed a rooster to Aesclepius’. While rather cryptic to the contemporary mind, or seeming merely like the recognition of an old debt, it is, instead, an intriguing key towards understanding the Greek dislike for any artificially or deliberately induced imbalance between man and natural forces. Because of outside intervention in the normal course of his life, Socrates felt the need of a sacrifice to placate Aesclepius, who was considered to be the ultimate champion of the well-being of the totality of the human body, mind and spirit.

The cult of Aesclepius, who is first mentioned in Homer’s Iliad as doctor serving the Trojan side, and legendary medical skill later elevated him to the rank of a deity among the Greeks and Romans, was introduced into Asia Minor from Epidaurus in the Peloponnese by a grateful patient here. This man, named Archais, was a native of Pergamon and brought several Aesclepiads, as the practitioners of the more than 200 of these centres that then existed were called, back with him to his own city so that the people there could benefit from their treatment. In a relatively short time the Aesclepion of Pergamon became highly renowned for its healing powers, and its fame superceded that of all the others. It is located about a kilometer southwest of the royal city and was reached in ancient times by the Via Tecta, which had a colonnaded central spine for pedestrians flanked on either side by narrower strips that could be occupied by shops. This street form was also common in other parts of the Roman province of Asia, as can be seen in the well preserved example of Jerash, Jordan, and developed as the commercial area of the Greek agora slowly began to migrate to the borders of the Roman Cardo Maximus and Decumani. The Via Tecta, besides acting as an impressively noble approach to the Aesclepion, also served as an effective extension of it, providing social physiotherapy for patients who would join groups strolling along the street to talk, or to listen to the thoughts of a distinguished visitor. It also gave them the ideal place to buy all the necessities required for a prolonged stay at the centre.

All three lanes of the street eventually led to the entry propylon, called the ‘Gate of Charax’ after the Pergamene philosopher who donated it in AD 142. The central or main gate, which has long since vanished, supposedly bore the dire inscription ‘By order of the God here Death does not roam’. The square colonnaded court inside the Charax Gate served as a ceremonial area when such formalities were called for and had a large circular column in its centre that was decorated along its entire length with carvings of intertwined snakes, the symbol of Aesclepius, because of the snake’s ability to shed its skin and begin life anew, a symbol which is recalled in the Caduceus of two snakes intertwined around a staff which is still the symbol of physicians today. Stairs on the side of this square court finally led down into the sacred precinct itself, which was surrounded on its remaining three sides by arcades and covered stoae. The relatively low porticoes must have created an overwhelming sense of protection and enclosure once a visitor was inside the main central court, as the entire complex is located in a slight deression and is embraced on the northern and western sides by low hills which would have just been visible over the red tile roofs of the stoa. Only a portion of the north colonnade and the line of stairs leading up to it still exist today. The peaceful, special ‘Genius Loci’ of the site make it easy to understand why the ancients believed its choice was divinely inspired. Turning and looking back to the main entrance, the building flanking the propylon, which were partially hidden from view from the Via Tecta, must have been equally impressive in another sense, presenting as they do an imposing architectural phalanx of forms on the eastern side of the court.

The round temple of Zeus-Aesclepius on one side of the Charax Gate was built in AD 150, and took its form from the Pantheon in Rome, which was erected by the Emperor Hadrian twenty years earlier. At 24 metres in diameter, its domed roof was only about half of the size of that of its ancestor in Rome, which is 44 metres wide, and there are no records to prove that its dome was gilded as the Pantheon’s was, but the scale of the building was entirely appropriate for the enclosure it faced. While there is no record of specifically how the apsidal building beside it, popularity known as the Temple of Telesphorus, was used, it is more likely that its six alcoves were treatment areas, and since techniques such as meditation, auto-suggestion, the interpretation of drug-induced dreams and musical therapy were all known to have been used at the Aesclepion, it is tempting to imagine each of these apses as a dream chambers where patients might be lulled to sleep by soothing music. The excellent state of preservation of the brick piers and arches of the interior make this visualization very easy to accept. A long subterranean tunnel connects this building with a spring in the centre of the complex, which was also obviously a very important part of the treatment that was used, giving the centre the atmosphere of the European spas of the nineteenth century, where it was fashionable to be seen ‘taking the waters’ for health reasons.

The architectural mix of the Aesclepion, then, rather than just being thoughtlessly eclectic, as it may seem at first glance, is deeply expressive of the philosophy about health at the time, and serves as a lesson for us today. The sick were not just isolated here, nor demeaned by drab surroundings, but were encouraged to put on fresh clean clothes, to forget their illnesses, and to continue to join the rich variety of daily life which was still provided inside the sacred precinct in places like the theatre, which was open to patients and the public alike. The natural context of the site was understood to be just as important a curative as medical techniques could be, and architecture was used to promote the positive aspects of its surroundings, not to block or negate them. The buildings were not seen as simply functional in purpose but were spiritually uplifting in their nobility and beauty, as fine as any in the royal city nearby. Library, ceremonial propylon, temple and treatment rooms rub shoulders here with no thought to inappropriateness because the function of each was seen as inextricably related to the other, without the imposition of artificial or negative categories and barriers.