I discovered this recently when visiting the site with a group of 18 people, drawn together by a shared passion for the ancient world. Gazing down from the summit of the acropolis (fortified hilltop) at the tiers of carved stone seats plunging down the steep slope below us, our leader Denise smiled encouragingly and said, “Shall we make our way down to the theater now?” Seeing one or two doubtful looking faces, she continued, “Of course, anyone who prefers can make their way around to the Altar of Zeus with Seyhun [our Turkish guide] and we’ll meet up there.”
Seyhun had five takers; the rest of us set off with Denise. Picking our way across a rough path, we reached a flight of stone steps marking one of the entrances to the theater’s upper level. Marching single file down the steps, we twisted right into a dark, narrow, but mercifully short passageway. One of our group, Janet, emerging from the gloomy entranceway, stopped short when she saw what lay below her and exclaimed, “Oh, my god!” Geoff, the tall and burly former rugby player following her, took one look down the eighty rows of seats dropping precipitously away below his feet. He appeared quite calm but murmured “Hmmm. I suffer from vertigo. I think I’ll give it a miss.” With that, he ducked back into the passageway and exited the auditorium.
Presumably the inhabitants of the Attalid Kingdom of Pergamum, established by Lysimachus (a general of Alexander the Great) at the very end of the fourth century B.C., did not suffer from vertigo -- as in its heyday this theater regularly seated up to 10,000 citizens. Our rather reduced group sat on the finely carved andesite blocks just above the upper diazoma (a horizontal walkway facilitating entry to the seats) and listened while Denise explained the finer points of one of the most vertiginous theaters in the ancient world: “The auditorium of an ancient theater is usually a little over a semi-circle, with a single diazoma. But owing to the configuration of this hillside Pergamum’s is much narrower, deeper and steeper -- and needs two diazoma -- look.” Dutifully we peered down to the second landing some 35 seat rows below. Then Denise scampered down steps that split the theater vertically, past the second diazoma and right down to the stage area. Way below us, she looked tiny, and I felt sorry for those ancient spectators with failing eyesight in the days before glasses and contact lenses. She cupped her hands and called out cheerfully, “Can you hear me?” We gave her the thumbs up. Greek and Roman theaters are well known for their excellent acoustics. Pergamum’s is no exception.
Pergamum first became important in the late fourth century B.C. when Lysimachus appointed a half-Macedonian eunuch Philetairos as governor. In 281 B.C. he became ruler of Pergamum and made the most of his good fortune and began to endow his city with numerous public buildings. His adopted son and successor, Eumenes I, continued in the same vein. Eumenes was succeeded by Attalos I in 241 B.C. He proved even more successful than his predecessors, especially in military matters, defeating the formidable Gauls in battle. Under Attalos’ son, Eumenes II, Pergamum reached its apogee. This far-sighted ruler allied himself with the up and coming power in the region, the Romans, and with their help defeated a rival Hellenistic ruler, the Seleucid Antiochus III. Pergamum now controlled most of the Seleucid’s former possessions and raked in vast amounts of tribute. Richer and more powerful than ever, and with the friendship of the emerging superpower that was Rome behind him, Eumenes II (197-159 B.C.) deliberately set out to transform his capital to a great cultural center -- and he succeeded.
Roman remains
Many of the ancient cities around the Aegean and Mediterranean coasts may have started off as Greek settlements, but today’s visible remains date largely from the later Roman period -- Ephesus for example. What is remarkable about Pergamum is that most of what you see today is pre-Roman, Hellenistic Greek. Our group reassembled at the famous Altar of Zeus, built under Eumenes II to celebrate his father’s victory over the barbarian Gauls. Little has survived bar the altar’s stepped platform. The magnificent relief carvings that once adorned it are now in the Pergamum Museum in Berlin. Just above us were the remnants of another of Pergamum’s famous buildings, the Library. “What were those holes in the wall for?” asked one of our party, staring intently at the structure’s inner walls. “Well,” postulated Denise, “It’s possible they were support holes for the shelving system -- but no one is really sure.” In Attalos II’s day the library held 200,000 books -- one of the greatest collections in the ancient world. The kings of Egypt, worried that Pergamum’s library would soon overshadow that at Alexandria, banned the export of papyrus. The wily Pergamenes soon came up with a replacement -- specially prepared animal skins, or parchment. Indeed, the word “parchment” is derived from “Pergamum.” In the first century B.C., after Pergamum had passed into Roman hands, Marc Anthony decided to forgo the usual flowers or chocolates and gave most of the books held in the library to his covetous Egyptian lover, Cleopatra.
Back to our full complement, we followed Denise and Seyhun downhill to the gymnasium. Some rooms off the colonnaded exercise area still boast marble washbasins. Denise pointed out that the pockmarks in the stonewalls of the bathhouse complex were the fixing points for the marble-cladding which once embellished the interior of this cavernous temple to hygiene. Alison, a conservation officer by profession, was distracted by the noisy chatter of a pair of rock nuthatches beetling up and down the bathhouse walls. All of us were in awe of the mighty swathes of multi-hued spring flowers carpeting the flanks of the acropolis and peeping from every soil filled crevice in its ancient masonry, giving the already impressive site a gorgeous decorative coat.
“Look, isn’t that the symbol of the [British Medical Association] BMA?” asked Susan as we entered the gateway of our next site, the famous Asklepieion, a couple of kilometers away from the acropolis. We looked at the polished marble plinth she was pointing at. She was right. The snakes coiled around a stick do indeed form the logo used by the BMA. But originally it was the sign of the Greek god of healing, Asclepius, son of Apollo (incidentally, two words we still use today derive from the names of Ascepius’ daughters -- Hygeia [hygiene] and Panacea.) In Greek mythology, Asclepius’ birthplace was Epidaurus in southern Greece, which became the major center of healing in the classical world. The Asklepieion at Pergamon ran it a close second though, and the remains of the complex are impressive -- a long colonnaded street, monumental gateway, theater, arcades ringing a large courtyard and latrines with intact marble seating. Most unusual architecturally, though, are the adjacent temple and treatment rooms. Circular in shape, they had shallow domed roofs.
Having studiously avoided group travel most of my life, I was surprised by just how much I enjoyed being shown around a site with a group of like-minded people. All had some specialist bit of knowledge to share with everyone else, whether it be to translate a Greek inscription or point out the difference between an Ionic and a Dorian column (the former has pointed flutes, the latter’s are blunt, if you want to know!). Nearby Ephesus may be the second most visited site in Turkey and Troy, not far to the north, more famous. But for a real insight into the ancient world, it’s hard to beat Pergamum.
Site times and admission fees
Acropolis: Daily 8:30 a.m. - 5:30 p.m. (7 p.m. May-Sep). YTL 10
Asklepieion: as above.
Guides
Blue Guide to Turkey; Rough Guide to Turkey; Pergamon by Mert Publishing available on-site.
Benzer Haberler 
