Pergamon’s acropolis was once celebrated as a seat of Hellenistic learning and culture, but by the 2nd century CE its identity had shifted to something more spiritual. UNESCO notes that the city later “became known for its Asclepieion healing centre”. Indeed, scholars record that in this era “Pergamon’s fame as a center of healing and medical science eclipsed its reputation for anything else”. The Asklepieion of Pergamon stood among the Greek world’s great healing temples – a medical spa of its time – as travelers from Egypt to Rome came to its springs and shrines. One modern guide even places it “on a par with the Asclepieion in Epidaurus and the one on the island of Kos”, the other two most famous Asclepieia.
In antiquity, patients never thought of this place as a mere clinic. It was as much a temple as a hospital, offering faith to match its medicine. Devotees bathed in sacred waters, cast votive tokens of gratitude, and then slept in the dim “abaton” hoping Asclepius, god of medicine, would visit their dreams and point the way to a cure. According to the record, Asclepius might appear directly in the sleep vision, healing the patient outright, or send cryptic symbols for the priest-doctors to decode. Sculptures of serpents and owls, altars to Hygieia (health), and hymn-songs all created an atmosphere of healing belief. Thus Pergamon’s Asklepieion functioned like an ancient health spa or retreat: it treated body and soul together. Its therapies combined baths, herbs and exercise with prayers, music and the placebo-like power of expectation. We might call it the first holistic clinic, where anatomy and aura were equally understood.
In Greek mythology, Asclepius was the son of Apollo (god of healing and prophecy) and a mortal woman. Raised by the centaur Chiron, he mastered the secrets of medicine and became a healer so skilled that he could raise the dead. Zeus struck him down for this hubris, but he was later honored as a god of healing. In art, Asclepius is usually depicted leaning on a staff with a single serpent entwined around it – the Rod of Asclepius. (This staff, as one source explains, “was soon associated with healing, becoming an established emblem of medicine”.) Asclepius’s snake symbol persists today as the universal sign of medical care. Unlike the two-snaked caduceus of Hermes, the single-serpent rod reflected the sacred serpent’s shedding of skin – a metaphor for rebirth and health.
Asclepius’s cult emphasized cleanliness and wholeness. His daughters included Hygieia, goddess of health and sanitation (from whom we get the word “hygiene”), and Panacea, goddess of cures. Temples of Asclepius (Asclepieia) were considered sanctuaries where illness could be stilled. At these sites, priests-as-physicians guided patients through purification rituals and healing rituals. Before administering any cure, supplicants underwent katharsis: baths, purgations and a simple diet for days. They then offered thanks or payment to the god – often in the form of coins, livestock, or miniature votive sculptures of the afflicted body part. In some sanctuaries, an actual non-venomous snake was kept as a living symbol of Asclepius (the name Asklepios derives from a word for snake).
The most famous Asklepieion was at Epidaurus in the Peloponnese, dating from classical times. Another major shrine stood on the island of Kos (where Hippocrates’ father was a physician-priest). Other notable Asclepieia lay in Trikka (in Thessaly), Gortys (Arcadia), Pergamon and elsewhere. Even Hippocrates’ own oath invokes the healing gods: it begins by swearing “by Apollo the physician and Asclepius and Hygieia and Panacea and all the gods”. In practice, the line between temple-medicine and Hippocratic medicine was often thin. A modern study notes that in Ancient Greece “the priestly–religious” tradition of Asclepius coexisted with the rational Hippocratic school. Patients simply tried temple cures if normal treatments failed. In any case, Asclepius remained deeply respected; people continued to sacrifice at his temples even as new ideas arose. Thus, when Pergamon’s sanctuary was founded, it built on a pan-Hellenic tradition steeped in myth and reverence for healing deities.
As noted above, the emblem of Asclepius and his healing cult is the Rod of Asclepius: a staff with a single serpent wrapped around it. This single-snake staff is found in countless reliefs and coins from Pergamon onward. (It is different from the double-serpent caduceus of Hermes, though the two have often been confused in modern times.) In sculpted scenes from sanctuary locales, one frequently sees staff-bearing Asclepius attended by a seated Hygieia. The snake and staff image became the enduring sign for physicians’ guilds and hospitals. No known artifact explicitly identifies “this temple’s symbol,” but ancient pilgrims and doctors everywhere revered that serpent-staff as an icon of health.
Legend and archaeology converge on a 4th-century BCE origin for the Pergamon sanctuary. According to Pausanias (2.26.8–9) and local lore, a Pergamene magistrate named Archias was wounded while hunting on a mountain and sent to Epidaurus for treatment. Asclepius miraculously healed him there, so Archias vowed to honor the god at home. He is said to have built the first Asklepieion in a valley just south of the future city, where a natural spring arose. The spot – a rock cleft called the Felsbarre – already had local associations with healing, perhaps linked to water cults. An inscription (dated to the 3rd century BCE) even names a later Archias as a priest of Asclepius in Pergamon, suggesting a family cult.
Excavations have confirmed this Hellenistic beginning. The earliest Asclepieion temple foundations date to the 4th century BCE. During the mid-3rd century BCE, under the Attalid kings (Eumenes I, Attalus I, etc.), the sanctuary was expanded. Archaeologists describe a Phase-2 enlargement (circa 275–240 BCE) centered on an incubation hall – a long, covered dormitory where the sick would sleep. By the time of Bauphase 3 (early 2nd century BCE), the sanctuary was enclosed by walls, with a large rectangular temenos (sacred precinct) about 75 by 55 meters. Porticoes (stoas) ran along the east, south and west sides. Two small temples had appeared: one housed an Asclepius cult statue (apparently sculpted by the noted artist Phyromachus of Athens). A colonnaded Via Tecta (covered road) was also constructed, linking the sanctuary down to the city proper. This was no backwater; the Attalid kings saw prestige in patronizing Asclepius, and the Asklepieion became an important royal cult site. Inscriptions from Attalid Pergamon mention offerings and personnel associated with the temple, indicating its steady official support.
By the 3rd–2nd centuries BCE Pergamon had transformed from a hilltop fort to a grand Hellenistic capital. After Alexander’s empire split, Lysimachus gifted Pergamon to Philetairos, the usurping general who founded the Attalid dynasty. His successors – Eumenes and Attalus – turned the city into a rival of Athens: they constructed theaters, temples, altars (including the famed Pergamon Altar, now in Berlin), and in particular an enormous library (second only to Alexandria). Their acropolis on a steep rock was studded with monuments: a high altar to Zeus, a sanctuary of Athena, and other Greek temples reflecting the kings’ power.
This was a city of learning and religion. Its schools attracted philosophers and physicians; it became, in UNESCO’s words, “a major centre of learning in the ancient world”. In such an environment, a healing temple fit the civic agenda. Wealthy citizens and foreign visitors alike could demonstrate their piety by endowing cults. The Attalids themselves often took part: coins of Attalus III depict Asclepius, and inscriptions suggest kings held feasts on the god’s birthdays. Moreover, the vast trade wealth of the region (amber, gold from Thrace) meant funds for ambitious projects. One modern writer notes that “pilgrims from all over the Mediterranean region would flock to the city to visit the famous Asclepion, a center of medical treatments”. Pergamon’s prestige thus fed the Asklepieion’s prominence: it was not merely local but Pan-Hellenic in scope.
The Asklepieion of Pergamon developed in layers, each architectural phase adding to its splendor. Below we tour the major features, from the entrance down to the various sanctuaries and treatment halls. We will see how Greek foundations were remodeled by Roman emperors, culminating in the Hadrianic renovation that gives the site much of its remaining plan.
To reach the sacred precinct, pilgrims first climbed the Via Tecta (Covered Way). This paved approach road stretches about 820 meters from the lower town level up toward the Asklepieion. Its last 140 meters were deliberately flanked by continuous colonnades about 18 meters wide. Imagine walking under a marble portico on each side, the autumn sun filtering through the columns. According to excavators, this colonnaded promenade led directly to a monumental gateway. Indeed, at the entrance to the sanctuary stood a stone propylon (entrance pavilion) inscribed with admonitions: tradition holds that one such inscription forbade the dead from entering (“Death is not permitted” might have been its meaning). Here temple physicians on duty inspected arriving supplicants: they would turn away the hopelessly ill or women in late pregnancy, deeming the journey too perilous for them (a rule known from other Asclepieia as well).
Under Emperor Hadrian (2nd century CE) the Via Tecta became even more imposing. The Emperor’s architects rebuilt it as a grand colonnaded avenue, culminating in a broad propylaion at the sacred precinct. Archaeological phases indicate that the old path was widened and new arcades were added down to the entrance court. In effect, the sacred way was transformed into a ceremonial plaza: one enters through tall Corinthian columns into a pillared forecourt that opens onto the rest of the sanctuary. This monumental entrance underlines the ritual journey: every pilgrim advanced under Roman marble arcs as if entering a divine palace. Today the stone steps leading into the courtyard give a sense of that processional ascent.
Beyond the entrance lies the heart of the sanctuary as built in the Hellenistic era. Originally this was a rectangular precinct roughly 75×55 meters (today’s ruins are larger after later expansion). The central feature was the natural spring out of the Felsbarre grotto, marked by a pool and altar. Standing here one would have been in the main cloistered courtyard, surrounded on three sides (east, south, west) by covered porticoes. The north side was open to the slope, leading down towards the city. In its early layout (Phase 2, ca. 3rd century BCE), an incubation hall occupied the northwest part of the courtyard. This rectangular building had benches and sleeping niches for patients. On the east and south sides archaeologists found evidence of at least two small Hellenistic temples. One housed the cult image of Asclepius (a famed 3rd-century BCE statue by the sculptor Phyromachus of Athens) and possibly that of Hygieia. Offerings and terracotta reliefs found there indicate continuous worship.
By the early 2nd century BCE (Phase 3), the sanctuary was fully enclosed by a wall. Galleries flanked the temple court on the east, south and west. Excavations revealed long Ionic stoas along those sides. The colonnades provided sheltered paths where the sick could walk and wait. To the northeast a separate building (part of the Incubation Hall) was added or extended in successive rebuilds. The entire precinct was connected to the main city via the original Via Tecta, whose terminus was at the northeast corner of the temple-area. In short, by the Attalid period the Asclepieion had become a fully formed, orderly sanctuary: a sacred grove of columns and shrines, carefully aligned and maintained under royal patronage. Many of the courtyard’s marble blocks and column drums have been reused in later walls, but their bases show how firmly the Greek builders had constructed the foundation.
In the 2nd century AD, Emperor Hadrian and subsequent Roman patrons endowed the Asclepieion with its most dramatic makeover. Architectural phases from this high imperial period reveal a “drastic transformation” of the site. In Hadrian’s own reign (117–138 AD) the sanctuary’s area was roughly quadrupled. To achieve this, the hill slope on the east was cut back and new terraces were created. A massive eastern propylon (gateway) and peristyle court were built at the foot of this raised terrace. From that forecourt, a broad paved plaza extended westward. Along its sides Roman engineers erected new colonnades and halls: for instance, on the north they built a large stoa with its own rear buildings and, beyond it, a large semicircular theater. On the south an open-air pool and podium were added, and on the east-south corner a thick-walled cryptoporticus was dug. In front of the entrance they set up perhaps the most luxurious monument of all: a cylindrical Temple of Asclepius. This domed temple (completed about 150 AD by the banker L. Cuspius Pactumeius Rufinus) was designed as an imitation of the Pantheon in Rome, 24 meters wide with its inner walls clad in marble mosaic. The high barrel vault may have been topped with a bronze statue. Though nothing substantial remains of its walls today, its stylobate is visible in the center of the south colonnade.
All these new buildings gave the Pergamon sanctuary the air of a miniature city. A library (a two-room hall for scrolls) was erected on the right side of the entrance, complete with an upper gallery and niches for scripts on the walls. An impressive Doric-propaneum (monumental courtyard) framed this library on two sides. Meanwhile, farthest from the entrance, a circular Rotunda building was constructed in the southeast corner, connected by a 70-meter covered passage to the main terrace. This “healing center” (often called the Temple of Telesphorus) was a two-story round hall with six radiating apses at the base. It probably served as a set of paired therapy chambers or a dormitory with curved recesses for beds. The masons even fitted a wooden roof over it instead of a stone dome – making it unique among surviving Greek structures. (Today we see only its thick ground-floor walls; the upper floor has collapsed.)
Altogether, the Roman phase turned Pergamon’s Asclepieion into a vast sanctuary city. Its Sacred Way now ended in a grand colonnaded plaza, from which one could enter libraries, theaters, temples and treatment halls. Marble floors, statues of emperors (Hadrian’s own statue stood in the library building) and rich architectural decor would have impressed every pilgrim. But even with these lavish new structures, the sanctuary’s mission remained the same: to heal the many who came. Hadrian’s engineering only made it more splendid and more imposing, a 2nd-century “campus” dedicated entirely to curative rituals.
Built into the northwest corner of the complex is a Roman theater seating some 3,500 spectators. Its steep marble steps and stone stage facade form one of the sanctuary’s most intact monuments. The theater was oriented so that actors faced into the sanctuary’s open area; the cavea (seating tiers) descended toward the city and the sea beyond. A richly decorated scaenae frons (stage backdrop) would have framed performances of classical dramas, sacred hymns or healing festivals. Today, one can climb the restored steps and look down on the entire sanctuary. In antiquity this theater likely served therapeutic purposes as well as entertainment – the Greeks often believed in the healing power of music and drama. To a worshipper, participating in a troupe’s act of tribute to Asclepius may have itself felt like a communal cure.
Bordering the central plaza on three sides are long stoas (colonnaded porticos) dating to various periods. The northern stoa is the best preserved. Originally Ionic in order, its columns were recut with Corinthian capitals after a major earthquake in 175 CE. The floor here remained packed earth for most of history, so that visitors could walk barefoot on the cool ground as part of their regime. The northern stoa terminates at the far end in a vaulted chamber and leads outside to the theater. Along the western side runs another stoa, where fragments of interiors suggest it housed administrative rooms. Archaeologists have identified a bouleuterion (council hall) and smaller offices built under its roof. In between the north and west wings lie one of the sanctuary’s surprises: a cluster of vaulted latrines. The men’s latrine has four standing Corinthian columns supporting its roof and marble bench-seats on the walls. (The women’s side, half-buried, has simpler brick seating.) These public conveniences hint that the Asklepieion was as much a social complex as a religious one. Along the southern edge was a final, raised stoa which now survives only as foundations. Its base was set on a high terrace, probably to carry another open hall or a wall garden. Although largely ruined, these porticos together framed the main court and offered shade and walking space for dozens of healing rituals.
To the right of the entrance propylon stood a distinctive building: the Asklepieion’s library. This structure had two parts: an inner hall (perhaps for public audiences or an imperial throne) and a back room lined with shelves for scrolls. A staircase in the corner (still visible) led to an upper gallery. In antiquity the library’s outer wall displayed a gilt statue of Emperor Hadrian, honoring the Roman patron. Marble slabs on the floor and fragments of plaster with incised oak-leaf motifs hint at its former decoration. The scroll chambers were fitted with wooden cupboards or wall niches (evidence of holes in the floor), and small windows high on the walls illuminated them. Visitors entering the sanctuary from the east would have seen this library of healing knowledge as soon as they passed through the gate. Behind it was the tomb of a late-Imperial governor (the heroön of Claudius Charax), but all that remains of those rooms now is a sunken pit. Still, the presence of a library here underscores that Pergamon combined empirical learning with its cult of Asclepius.
Figure: The Rotunda (Temple of Telesphorus) at Pergamon’s Asklepieion. This two-story circular hall (ground diameter ~70 m) contains six recessed chambers (apses) in its lower level. Pilgrims would descend through the dark corridor at left to reach the sanctuary’s heart. The building housed therapeutic rooms or incubation cells, as evidenced by bed niches in the chambers.
At the southeast corner stands the Asklepieion’s most unusual monument: the Rotunda (sometimes called the Temple of Telesphorus). This was a two-level, cylindrical treatment hall, added in Roman times and reachable through a long underground corridor. The ground floor is massive – about 70 meters across – and is ringed by six deep apse-chambers. (One sees now only their curved walls; no upper story remains.) According to archaeological reports, the Rotunda’s plan resembles that of later Byzantine martyria. It may have functioned as six interconnected bedrooms or surgery rooms. In Christian era usage, such halls could become chapels. But here in antiquity, sleep likely meant dreams of Asclepius or ceremonial healing acts performed by priests in these intimate niches. For example, patients might descend the corridor and enter one of these vaulted niches to sleep, waking to a god-sent cure. The structure’s great thickness and masonry (built of limestone blocks) indicate it was built to last; it survives better than most other walls on site. Excavations found fragments of ceramic oil lamps and beds, supporting the idea of overnight incubation here. While the roof today is open to sky, originally it had a wooden ceiling (no stone dome). From some angles the Rotunda looks like the ruins of a giant Roman bath; in fact it may have shared functional similarities to bathing spaces. In any case, its scale and design testify that by Hadrian’s time the Pergamon Asclepieion included highly specialized healing rooms beyond any earlier Greek model.
Water was everywhere in Pergamon’s healing rituals. The Asklepieion’s main spring emerges on the hill above and is channeled through the sanctuary’s precinct. Excavators have mapped three principal water features. A large bathing pool lies just inside the sanctuary, to the north near the theater. Stone steps lead down into it, and ancient sources say this basin drew directly from the “sacred spring”. (In fact, modern chemical tests show the water is slightly radioactive due to radium salts – a quirk that may have given it an added aura of healing.) A smaller drinking pool sits along the long corridor to the Rotunda. Carved lion-head spouts once led fresh spring water into it; victims may have drunk from these fountains under holy sanction. Finally, a covered mud-bath or sweating pool stands between the west and south stoas. Its rock-cut basin is now shallow and open to air, but originally it was roofed. The text suggests patients soaked here in curative mud under priestly direction. In short, ancient Pergamon provided hydrotherapy at every turn: first a cleansing plunge, then bottled holy water, then a therapeutic wet pack. These facilities foreshadow later Roman balneae, but here they were integrated with divination. In the earliest accounts, one finds phrases like “he bathed in the water of the sacred spring” as an act of ritual cleansing. The spring continued to flow beneath the sanctuary for centuries – today its stream sinks into subterranean channels and occasionally emerges near the hill below. Modern visitors will see only the empty carved tubs and the dry outlets of fountains, but in antiquity each was a vital part of the curative theatre.
Figure: The ruins of the Pergamon Asklepieion’s central sanctuary, viewed from the Roman theater. The long colonnaded approach (Via Tecta) runs up the valley to the top of the steps (bottom right). In the foreground is the square clinic courtyard, bounded on three sides by Corinthian stoas. Archaeologists have identified the bases of the Temple of Asclepius (center) and the apses of the Rotunda (foreground left).
Today the Pergamon Asklepieion is an open field of marble ruins, but its original layout can still be traced. The main precinct is roughly rectangular (about 110×130 meters) and is surrounded on three sides by rows of fallen Corinthian columns. Many column drums lie scattered, but their bases outline the broad stoas that once sheltered patients. In the northwest corner stands the semicircular theater (restored for tourists) seating about 3,500. Facing the theater is the northern stoa (partly reconstructed) which still shows its Ionic columns and arcade. The south and west stoas survive only as low foundations in places.
At center of the court was the great open area for rituals. Today this appears as a sunken grass lawn; in antiquity it contained altars and pools. In the very middle archaeologists have found the circular podium of the Temple of Asclepius (150 AD) – today it is a ring of stone about 24 meters wide. Only the low curbstone remains; the spectacular dome above it is gone. Between these ruined bases one can make out three shallow pool basins: the central bath (north side), the drinking fountain (west center), and the mud bath (southwest corner).
The eastern entrance area (past the propylon) is easier to envision. Two long sections of colonnade remain standing at right angles – these outline the square forecourt into which one emerged. Within that forecourt lay Hadrian’s library and audience hall (only their footprint remains), and beyond it a corridor leading southeast to the Rotunda. One can climb the corridor today and step into the Rotunda itself: the six apses of its ground floor are clearly visible in the stone walls. The Rotunda is perhaps the most intact enclosed space: its curved arches and vaults (left from embedded piers) still stand 3–4 meters high. In contrast, the enormous cylindrical Temple of Asclepius that once faced the court has vanished entirely above ground – only a circular ring of foundation survives.
In sum, visitors with imagination can overlay the old plan on the ruins. Starting at the theater (NW), one would enter the asymmetrical courtyard flanked by stoas. At its far side are the spring pools and temple podiums. To the east the propylon gave onto a second courtyard with Hadrianic halls. The Rotunda looms at the southeast corner, its apsidal halls now under open sky. Ruined column piles and marble blocks are everywhere a reminder of what was once an ornate sanctuary. Interpretive signs and the site plan on the museum wall help orient the modern visitor, but often it is enough to look where the scholars looked: a ground plan is faintly etched into the earth. In this way, the Asclepieion speaks to today from its stone and grass – a layout that guided the steps of generations of hopeful pilgrims.
To understand the Asclepion of Pergamon, one must see it through the eyes of those it served. Imagine arriving at Pergamon with a ailment – perhaps a chronic illness or an injury that failed all other remedies. What would you do on your first day in the Asklepieion?
On approach via the Via Tecta, you would first pass under the scrutiny of the temple gate doctors. If admitted, you would proceed to a side compound for purification. According to the Greek medical tradition, entrants to Asklepieia underwent katharsis: a ritual cleansing of body and soul. For several days before the main ritual you would eat only simple, bland foods (a cleansing diet) and bathe repeatedly. Laxatives or emetics might be given to purge impurities. The idea was to empty and tranquilize the body in preparation for divine healing.
During this liminal phase you would also prepare a gift to the god. Offerings were an essential part of the encounter. As one account explains, supplicants dedicated objects “in the form of gold, silver, or marble sculptures of the body part to be healed”. For example, someone with a leg injury might leave a clay model of a foot at the altar, hoping Asclepius would restore the real limb. You yourself would probably toss a few coins into the springwater pool as a votive. The priest in charge would perform a short ceremony, likely praying to Asclepius and invoking his presence. The priests often related past cure-stories to you as you waited, “putting you into a positive and receptive frame of mind”. In this way they helped strengthen your belief that healing was possible – an important psychological step. Only once these preliminary rites were complete would you be allowed to sleep in the sanctuary’s abaton.
The centerpiece of the Asklepieion’s method was incubation (ἐγκοίμησις). This word literally means “sleeping in” and refers to the overnight vigil in the holy chamber. On the appointed evening you would lie down on a couch in the abaton (a cool, dark hall on the north side of the sanctuary). The room was quiet and candle-lit; non-venomous snakes (sacred to Asclepius) may have slithered nearby. Here you would spend the night hoping for divine intervention.
According to ancient sources, some worshipers experienced vivid dreams or visions. The god Asclepius might appear as a man, perhaps tending to your wound, or as a symbolic animal. If lucky, the deity would speak in the dream, telling you what remedy to use (for instance, “bathe daily in milk-warmed spring water” or “pluck up and boil the plant X”). In the legend of Aratus at Epidaurus, for example, snakes were said to lick a patient’s wounds as the god instructed. When the sleeper awoke, the temple priests would question you about the dream. Professional priests were also skilled “dream-interpreters”: they knew traditional meanings for common images (snake=purification, dog=loyalty and breath, etc.). Even if Asclepius did not speak clearly, the priests could weave a diagnosis from the symbols.
This dream diagnosis was seen as the diagnostic act. You would tell the priest everything you dreamed or felt. He would then prescribe a “treatment to be followed” based on this narrative. In effect, the temple shifted ultimate authority to the divine. However, to us it looks like an ingenious way of customizing therapy: the gods and doctors working in tandem, your own subconscious supplying clues. The GreekMedicine.net site emphasizes how this process worked: “if the patient-pilgrim was lucky, he would receive a personal visitation from the Divine Physician [Asclepius], who would either heal the supplicant directly in the dream state or tell him what to do to cure his illness or affliction”. Even if you didn’t see a god, your state of mind might have been guided – perhaps you awoke with a strong feeling of what to try. In any case, after the incubation your treatment plan would be set.
How did dream therapy work in ancient Greece? In short: a patient was led through prayer and storytelling into the sacred sleep, then any dream content was analyzed by priests to choose remedies. Modern psychologists note that rituals and expectation (a kind of placebo effect) likely amplified physical healing. Sleeping on a stone bed in a temple created a suggestive environment. It is striking that the Asklepian priests consciously used “autosuggestion” – for example, recounting heroic cures to boost confidence. We can say that the healing cult of Asklepius taught ancient people that belief and imagination were part of medicine, an insight still relevant in today’s mind-body therapies.
Once the divine oracle had spoken, the patients at Pergamon received a regimen of recommended treatments. The Asklepieion’s methods were remarkably varied – hence we can speak of its holistic approach in modern terms.
Hydrotherapy: The Power of the Sacred Spring. Water was the first medicine. As noted above, you may have already bathed in the sacred spring before sleeping. Now, after incubation, you were often prescribed a specific water cure. The sanctuary’s pools could support many routines. For instance, a physician might order a cold plunge first thing in the morning to invigorate the body, followed by hot baths with aromatic herbs. The spring’s slightly radioactive water was believed to strengthen life forces. Archaeologists found that one pool near the theater had steps for easy immersion – this was essentially an Asclepian spa tub. Elsewhere, sculpted lion-head spouts delivered fresh spring water to a drinking basin, so patients could sip it throughout the day. Some temple annals (preserved indirectly) even describe “water cures” involving swims or long outdoor baths. In sum, hydrotherapy at Pergamon could include cleansing baths, mineral soaks, or even steam treatments in the covered mud pool.
Diet, Exercise, and the Gymnasium. The priests recognized that nutrition and fitness were crucial. In many cases a “cleansing diet” of easily digested foods was written into the prescription. After fasting, patients gradually resumed a moderate, healthy diet – often rich in cereals, vegetables, and broths. The Asklepieion complex included a gymnasium where guests could work off energy. Inscriptions and texts from this period advise simple exercises. One remarkable instruction preserved in a guidebook is to “run barefoot in the cold” – a hardcore therapy likely meant to shock weak patients into better circulation. Doctors also recommended massages and friction with oils to relieve pain. Overall, they followed the classical Greek model: treating the body with dietetics and kinesiology so as to restore harmony of the humors.
Theatrical Performances and Music Therapy. It sounds exotic today, but in ancient Greece art was medicine for the psyche. At Pergamon, the healing program included participation in cultural events. As one source notes, “plays were performed in the theatre, and music… served as therapy” for patients. The ritual festivals held at the Asklepieion featured hymns, choruses and sometimes comedies or tragedies that expressed hope and communal renewal. Listening to flute and lyre, or watching a healing play, was thought to relieve stress and pain. In the refurbished theater, audiences likely saw dramas and pantomimes that glorified Asclepius or exemplified moral lessons. In modern terms, this would be a form of art therapy: using story and melody to comfort the afflicted. To the ancient Greeks it made sense that the medicine of laughter and music could complement herbs and surgery.
Herbal Remedies and Pharmacology. Even as divine dreams guided the treatment, the Asklepieion was staffed by skilled physician-priests who practiced herbal medicine. The sanctuary’s physician might grow medicinal plants in the temple gardens or prepare them in the on-site apothecarium. Archaeological digs have recovered ceramic jars and pestles, hinting at a pharmacological workshop. Contemporary descriptions of Asclepian care mention “various ointments” and herbal concoctions for specific maladies. An injured patient might have poultices of opiates (like poppy) for pain, or mixtures of willow (aspirin’s precursor) for fever. Inscriptions from Pergamon mention a pharmacologist named Areius, suggesting an academic tradition of preparing simples. Notably, Galen himself later wrote two massive treatises (the Pharmacorum Res and Antidotarium) while in Pergamon, describing hundreds of plant and mineral drugs. It is plausible he began collecting those remedies at the Asclepieion’s herbarium.
Beyond all these prescriptions lay a subtler force: the power of belief. The priests of Pergamon consciously fostered hope in their patients. We mentioned that even before sleep they used stories of cures and reassuring prayers. This psychological priming was no accident. By the time a patient emerged from the abaton, his mind was open to positive suggestions. Contemporary writers have likened this to placebo – the belief in the treatment’s efficacy helping the body to respond. One thing is clear: the Asklepieion’s regimen tended to eliminate anxiety (baths and shelter do calm nerves), isolate the patient from stress (being cared for by a community of priests), and inspire confidence (prayers and dreams). Even modern medicine recognizes that such factors can influence recovery. Thus we should see the sanctuary not only as a medical clinic but as a temple of faith in wellness. In the words of an ancient source, by the end of the experience you were “in a positive and receptive frame of mind” for healing. In practice, many patients likely improved on account of rest, attention, and optimism as much as by any physical cure.
Pergamon’s most famous doctor grew up in this very city. Aelius Galenus was born there in 129 CE to a prosperous family of builders and architects. His father had a dream in which the god Asclepius (Apollo’s healing aspect) appeared and told him to let young Galen study medicine. Faithful to that divine vision, Galen was sent at age 16 to apprentice with the temple physicians at the Pergamon Asklepieion. For four years he learned healing in the very halls of the Asclepieion. According to Galen’s own writings, he received tutoring from the most distinguished doctors there. Thus he was initiated into both the surgical practices of Pergamon and the Asclepian tradition of dreams.
Galen’s youth in Pergamon included turning experiments into lessons. He dissected monkeys to study anatomy (Taboos later prevented similar work on humans). He also observed the gladiators at the city’s amphitheater. When he was about 28 (157 CE), Galen obtained the post of doctor to Pergamon’s gladiators. This had him treating sport and war injuries daily: cuts, fractures, bleeding wounds. This brutal apprenticeship made him fearless at surgery and gave him confidence in anatomy – he later proudly recalled that his experience with muscle and bone injuries was far beyond that of ordinary physicians.
After several years in Pergamon, Galen left to seek fortune in Rome. There he quickly became known for his skill in both surgery and theory. By 168 CE Galen was appointed personal physician to Emperor Marcus Aurelius. He later treated the emperor’s son Commodus and wrote many dedications addressing the imperial family. Though he traveled and lectured widely in the empire, Galen never forgot Pergamon. The city honored him: an honorary statue was set up on its agora, and coins were minted with his profile. Inscriptions discovered there explicitly call him the “surgeon of Asclepius” or “great physician of Pergamon”. Even in Rome he maintained a link to the Asklepieion: Galen says he returned home periodically to serve as temple doctor and perhaps teach new apprentices.
Galen’s medical writings are monumental. He wrote treatises on virtually every topic: dissecting primates, he described the liver, brain, arteries, veins, nerves – knowledge that advanced classical anatomy. He elucidated the three-part heart, the system of arteries versus veins, and differences between sensory and motor nerves. He became convinced that arteries carry blood (not air) and that the brain, not the heart, governed thought. In physiology, Galen developed a refined humoral theory: he taught that health depends on balancing the four fluids (blood, phlegm, black bile, yellow bile), an idea built on Hippocrates but elaborated by Galen into a coherent system. Importantly, he conducted experiments (such as tying off arteries in animals) to test ideas – raising medieval eyebrows in later centuries at his willingness to experiment.
Equally influential were Galen’s pharmacological writings. He compiled a Materia Medica of drugs: lists of hundreds of herbal and mineral simples, and dozens of compound antidotes. These works standardized many Mediterranean herbal cures. For example, Galen’s name is still attached to ‘Galenic preparations’ – extracts and syrups – used in modern pharmacy. He even wrote on cosmetics and tonics for health. Not all of Galen’s notions were correct (his physiology had errors, as did everyone’s in that era), but his clear, systematic approach became a medical library that would dominate for over a thousand years.
It is no exaggeration to say Galen was the Asklepieion’s most celebrated physician – indeed, one of history’s greatest. His Pergamene training and later genius made him a legend. Latin scholars called him the second Hippocrates. Over the next fifteen centuries, Galen’s works were the backbone of European and Islamic medical teaching. Medical schools (in Istanbul, Baghdad, Renaissance Italy) taught Galen’s anatomy as truth. Terms like vena Galeni (Galen’s vein) and his names for brain regions still appear in anatomy textbooks. Even after early modern anatomists began to correct Galen’s errors (from dissection of human cadavers), his legacy remained profound.
At Pergamon itself, Galen has an almost mythical status. Locals told stories into Byzantine times of Galen’s miracles. His association was so strong that the sanctuary’s ruins are still sometimes called “Galen’s Asklepieion.” As one source notes, “the eminent Roman physician Galen… provided the foundation from which modern Western medicine was to spring”, and he always credited his Pergamene background for that foundation. The Asklepieion as a museum display often highlights Galen with pride. In sum, no other name is more connected with Pergamon’s healing temple than Galen’s – and much of the Asklepieion’s later fame in history comes through him.
Ancient Greek medicine did not have a single unified theory. By the classical era two broad approaches coexisted. One was rational medicine, epitomized by Hippocrates (5th–4th century BCE) and his followers. Hippocratic physicians sought natural explanations for disease (imbalances of humors, environmental causes) and relied on observation, prognosis and regimen. The other approach was the religious tradition of Asclepius. At temple centers like Pergamon, healing was viewed as a gift from the gods. In fact, modern historians emphasize that these were merely “non-antagonistic alternatives”. Poorer villagers might visit a local physician first, then try the Asklepieion when that failed. We have no evidence that Hippocratic doctors sneered at temple treatment; in fact many temple doctors took the Hippocratic Oath.
One fundamental difference lay in procedure. A Hippocratic clinic was usually small – a home, a gymnasium or hospital attached to a city. It would treat patients by observing symptoms, prescribing regimens of diet/exercise and sometimes surgery. The Asklepieion of Pergamon, by contrast, was a public shrine. Its “therapy” began with ritual first and ended with a priest’s interpretation of divine dreams. In practice, they did overlap: both used similar prescriptions of bathing and herbs. Interestingly, even the Hippocratic Oath invokes the healing gods: it begins by swearing “by Apollo the physician and Asclepius and Hygieia and Panacea”. This shows that Hippocrates himself still invoked divine protection. Still, many rationalists preferred to avoid superstition, whereas an Asclepion worshiper embraced it. In short, the Pergamon Asklepieion was the grandest representative of the temple tradition, but it existed alongside Hippocrates’s legacy, each offering hope in its own language.
For the ancient Greek patient, the line between medicine and religion was often blurred. Disease itself could be seen as a punishment from below (as in Sophocles’ plays) or as a bodily disorder. Temples of Asclepius treated both interpretations simultaneously. Even if a Roman physicians wrote a “medical report,” it was then framed by sacrifice to Asclepius and days of prayer. This blending was socially normal: Athenians funding a stoa might still pray to Athena for health of the body, just as to wisdom for the mind. There was no sharp divide as with modern secular medicine. Even in Galen’s time, some patients may have believed that snake-charming or chanting hymns could complement a potion. In ceremonies at Pergamon, priests may have used hypnotic incantations; music and ritual actions would heighten expectancy.
Of course, Christianity later condemned such practices as pagan or demonic. By late antiquity Asklepian practices were seen as superstitious miracles to be rejected. In fact, the Book of Revelation famously calls Pergamon “where Satan’s throne is” – a veiled jab at the city’s pagan temples (including both the imperial cult and Asclepius). By the 4th–5th centuries CE, after Constantine and Theodosius, the Asklepieion was closed as a pagan shrine. Priests might have fled or converted to Christian clergy. The sacred pool likely dried up or was reused. Today we see no standing church on the site, but under the marble lie all those buried rituals of faith and science.
Pergamon’s temple was part of a wider web of Asclepian sanctuaries. As noted, the mother Asclepieion was at Epidaurus in the Peloponnese: famous stories (like that of Aclepiades) come from there. Hippocrates and his lineage were connected to the shrine on Kos. Near Anatolia, one should also note Trikka (central Greece) and Laodicea (in Syria) among others. While each site had its own peculiarities, they shared a common structure: a sacred spring, a temple, theaters, and incubation halls. Indeed, Pergamon’s Asklepieion was sometimes compared to Epidaurus as two peaks of the tradition. Pilgrims often would visit more than one sanctuary; inscriptions from Rome and Spain have been found at all three sites (Epidaurus, Kos, Pergamon), indicating the mobility of ancient patients. The existence of this network also meant that medical knowledge circulated via travelers. Galen himself had studied dream-incubation at Pergamon, but his reports influenced physicians as far away as North Africa. In a sense, these temples were the forerunners of modern medical tourism and referral centers.
As Christianity spread across Anatolia, the Asklepieion’s fortunes waned. By the late 3rd and 4th centuries AD many pagan healing cults were in decline. Christian emperors and bishops denounced Asclepius as a “demon” or “Satan,” calling on pagans to abandon dream-incubation in favor of Christian prayer. Imperial edicts forbade sacrifices to idols after 380 AD. There is evidence that the Asklepieion ceased functioning as a health center by the 4th century; its buildings fell into ruin or were dismantled. Later Byzantines used Pergamon’s stones for new churches elsewhere. A Christian church might have been built in or near the sanctuary, but if so it has not survived. Over the Middle Ages the site was forgotten and buried. It wasn’t until 19th-century excavators that its plan was reconstructed.
Today, no living religious tradition claims the old Asklepieion – it remains a monument. We can only speculate about the last Asclepian rituals, but archaeology shows wear on steps (from foot traffic) and water channels silted over. The asklepian snakes turned to dust, and Asclepius himself was replaced by later gods or saints in popular memory. Yet his temple’s echo remains in phrases like “sanatorium” and in the snake symbol medical students still recognize.
The Asclepieion of Pergamon lies in modern-day Turkey at Bergama (formerly Pergamon), in İzmir Province. From the town center of Bergama it is about 3 kilometers south, up a gentle hill. Visitors typically reach it by taxi or small dolmuş minibus from Bergama’s center. (Walking is possible but strenuous in the summer heat.) The site is open year-round. As of 2023 the entrance fee is roughly 300 Turkish Lira (this often includes a combined ticket with the Acropolis). The usual hours are from about 8:30 AM to 5:30 PM, with shorter winter hours. There are restrooms and a small cafeteria near the parking area. A car park and ticket booth stand at the sanctuary entrance. Signs in multiple languages give basic site rules (e.g. “No climbing on ruins”). A small on-site shop offers books and refreshment. The Bergama Archaeological Museum in town (not far from the center) houses many artifacts from the Asklepieion, including inscriptions and statues – it is worth visiting before or after seeing the site.
Bergama is about 150 km north of İzmir. From İzmir one can take a bus or hire a car to Bergama (journey ~2 hours). Daily buses operate between İzmir’s Otogar (central bus station) and Bergama, including services of private companies. Once in Bergama, the Asklepieion is easily reached by local taxi or dolmuş. The road winds upward to the sanctuary, with clear signs. No direct train line serves Bergama. Travelers often combine a Pergamon visit with a trip to the nearby ruins of Pergamon’s Acropolis and the red Pergamon carpet market in town.
At the Asklepieion site, allocate at least one to two hours to explore. Key sights include:
When visiting the Asklepieion:
The Asklepieion can be visited on the same day as Pergamon’s hilltop Acropolis, which lies a short drive or uphill walk to the north. Many tour itineraries group them together. The acropolis offers a striking 360° view of the valley and contains the Temple of Athena, the Pergamon Altar, and the steep city theater of Pergamon (not to be confused with the Asklepieion’s theater). From the Asklepieion you can see, in the distance, the steps of the Acropolis rising on the red-rock summit. Walking back into Bergama from the Asklepieion, one passes through old streets rich in Ottoman-era buildings – a reminder of how layers of history accumulate on the same site. Both ancient areas now form part of the Pergamon UNESCO World Heritage zone, so a combined ticket or day pass often covers all areas.
More than two millennia later, the Asklepieion of Pergamon still resonates in the world’s approach to healing. Its model of treating body, mind and spirit as a whole is echoed today in “holistic” or integrative medicine. Modern wellness centers and spa resorts explicitly draw on the Asclepian tradition: secluded healing retreats with spas and meditation rooms owe much to the ancient ideal of a temple-sanctuary. The serpent-and-staff logo remains a common emblem of medical organizations worldwide, a direct inheritance from Asclepius’s rod. Even psychology acknowledges the importance of positive expectation and rest in recovery – principles that were built into the Pergamon ritual. Educationally, Galen’s legacy still underpins anatomy courses (the name of Galen appears in the historical annals of medical schools). In Turkish scientific circles, Pergamon is celebrated as a birthplace of Western medicine; some local clinics and infirmaries carry names like “Asklepion Hotel & Spa” in homage. In short, the quest that fueled the ancient sanctuary – the quest to understand and cure the human body – is timeless. The Asclepion set a precedent that healing can transcend simple doctor’s orders, integrating environment, community and hope.
Pergamon’s Asklepieion has found its way into books, films and games. It has been featured in documentaries on ancient medicine (often alongside Epidaurus). In historical novels, it often appears as a setting for turning-point scenes (a hero getting healed, or receiving prophecy in dream). Some fantasy and mystery authors mention “the healing temple of Apollo in ancient Pergamum” to evoke a sense of exotic antiquity. Its inclusion in puzzles and video games (as a location or clue) is rarer but does exist. The Asklepieion occasionally appears in historical encyclopedias aimed at lay readers. The local tourism board of Bergama highlights it as one of Turkey’s five “most important Greco-Roman sites.” While no feature film has been shot there (the ruins are too fragmentary for a visual centerpiece), magazine travel writers have used it as the archetype of an “ancient hospital”.
In popular psychology and “healing arts” literature, Asclepius is sometimes invoked. Authoritative histories often mention Pergamon alongside Epidaurus when discussing ancient medical practices. The Oregon Trail book for kids, “Why Did the Lady Cry?”, even references the symbol of the snake and staff from Asclepius. In short, while the average person may not know Pergamon by name, the Asklepieion’s spirit lives on through the images and ideals it propagated: the confluence of hope, healing and community.
The Asclepieion remains an active focus of archaeology and preservation. Turkish and German archaeologists have conducted systematic excavations, uncovering new inscriptions and stabilizing structures. Conservation efforts now aim to protect the site from weathering. In recent decades, crews have reset fallen columns in the northern stoa and restored parts of the theater. The Turkish government has restricted nearby building to preserve the skyline of Pergamon. There are plans (and ongoing work) to install walkways and interpretive displays that do not damage the ruins.
Academic research continues as well. Inscriptions and votive offerings from the sanctuary are studied for what they reveal about patient demographics (men, women, children of many nationalities visited Pergamon). Analytical chemistry has examined the spring water’s properties in hopes of explaining its traditional acclaim. Forensic examinations have been carried out on bone fragments found there to identify diseases treated. Each year, new publications appear detailing aspects of the therapy regimen, the ritual calendar, or even virtual reconstructions of how the sanctuary looked in antiquity. In this way, the Asklepieion is not just a tourist site but an archaeological laboratory.
Looking ahead, the site’s future depends on balancing tourism with protection. The local community of Bergama has grown up around the legacy of Pergamon’s monuments. UNESCO and Turkish authorities emphasize education: telling pilgrims today about their heritage much as ancient priests once educated theirs. As global interest in integrative health grows, the Asklepieion is likely to inspire more scholarly conferences and perhaps even new healing centers named for Asclepius. Its story – of faith meeting science – continues to be relevant to how we think about healthcare today.
What was the Asclepion of Pergamon used for? It was a healing temple complex dedicated to Asclepius, god of medicine. People came with illnesses or injuries, underwent purification and dream incubation, and received recommended treatments (baths, diets, herbs, etc.). In effect it functioned as a health spa, clinic and religious sanctuary combined. Pilgrims believed the god intervened through dreams, while physicians prescribed cures.
What happened at an Asclepion? Patients would first be examined at the entrance gate. After offering prayers and sacrifices, they slept in the incubation hall. There the god Asclepius might appear in a healing dream. Upon waking, priests would interpret the dream and prescribe therapies. Throughout their stay patients took baths in the sacred spring, received massages, followed special diets, heard music and drama, and took herbal medicines as directed.
Who was the most famous doctor at the Asclepion at Pergamon? By far the most famous was Galen of Pergamon (129–c. 216 CE). Born in the city, Galen studied as a youth at the Asklepieion. He later became surgeon to the gladiators and, eventually, personal physician to Emperor Marcus Aurelius. His writings on anatomy, physiology and drugs shaped Western medicine for centuries. Inscriptions at Pergamon honor Galen as the temple’s distinguished physician.
What is the symbol of the Asclepion? The symbol of Asclepius and his temples was the Rod of Asclepius: a staff with a single serpent entwined around it. This snake-staff is the universal emblem of medicine today. Snakes appear also in temple iconography (non-venomous snakes were kept in the adyta, and images of serpents abound on reliefs).
Is the Asclepion of Pergamon still standing? The sanctuary today is mostly in ruin, but large parts survive in situ. Three sides of the courtyard with their fallen columns can be walked among. The Roman theater is intact enough to be climbed. The Rotunda’s lower level stands with six arches. However, the main domed temple of Asclepius is gone above ground – only its round base remains visible. The Greek incubation hall is a pile of rubble now. In sum, the structure is ruinous but its layout is legible.
What were the treatments at the Asclepion? Treatments combined ritual and practical cures. Ritual elements included sacred baths, prayers, and dream incubation. Practical remedies included hydrotherapy in spring-fed pools, medicinal diets, exercise (even barefoot running), massages, enemas and herbal potions. There were also psychological therapies: music, theatre performances and dream interpretation. The Asklepieion aimed for a total regimen to restore health.
How did dream therapy work in ancient Greece? A patient slept in the temple (the abaton) hoping Asclepius would appear in a dream. If Asclepius appeared directly, he might heal or instruct. More commonly, the gods’ messages were symbolic and required interpretation. Upon waking the patient reported the dream to the priests. The priests, trained in dream divination, would “divine” the treatment: they decided what diet, massage, or medicine the dream implied. This incubation practice was part of many Asclepieia, not just Pergamon’s.
What is the difference between the Acropolis and the Asclepion in Pergamon? They are entirely different sanctuaries. The Acropolis of Pergamon (at the town’s summit) was a civic and religious center containing temples to Zeus, Athena, Trajan and others, plus the famous high-altitude theater and altar. The Asclepion lies about 3 kilometers downriver, in a lower valley. It was dedicated to Asclepius, not to the Olympian gods of the Acropolis. (In fact, pilgrims might visit both: ascending to Zeus’s great altar, then cooling off with healing waters below.)
Can you visit the Asclepion of Pergamon today? Yes. The ruins are open to the public as part of the Pergamon UNESCO site. Admission is currently 300 TL, with a single ticket usually covering both the Asklepieion and the Acropolis. Daily guided tours are available, or one can explore on one’s own. The site is free for Turkish citizens with certain passes, and is popular among both foreign tourists and local history enthusiasts.
What is the significance of the sacred spring at the Asclepion? The spring was the heart of the sanctuary’s healing lore. Ancient writers note that pilgrims would “bathe in the water of the sacred spring” as a purifying step. Indeed, its waters were believed to have curative powers (perhaps because of its radium content). It symbolized life and purification. Ritual use of the spring – whether drinking or bathing – was a key part of the Asklepian therapy (reflecting the widespread association of water with renewal in ancient religion).
The ruins of Pergamon’s Asklepieion today lie silent under the Aegean sun, but their story echoes across millennia. This was a place where sufferers once walked with hope in their hearts, seeking relief not just from physicians but from gods. Within these crumbling walls religion and medicine were woven into one tapestry. Columns that supported healing waters and dormitory niches now stand as stoic witnesses to human yearning for health. The Asclepieion reminds us that in every era people have sought more than surgery alone – they have sought meaning, faith, and community to help bear their pain. Its legacy survives in the symbol of the snake-entwined rod that all doctors recognize, and in the enduring idea that the healing of the body is inseparable from the care of the soul. As we walk among Pergamon’s fallen stones, we can still feel a trace of the ancient pilgrims’ gratitude and belief – a quiet testament to the universal quest to heal and to be healed, body and spirit entwined.