CHAPTER VII.
THE IMAGE OF ÆSCULAPIUS.
A simple image of a god may be regarded as a symbol. When the image has connected with it one or more figures to indicate the qualities or functions of the divinity, we have then, strictly speaking, an allegorical representation. Æsculapius was sometimes shown in the one way and sometimes in the other. Thus, he was occasionally to be seen at Rome, and elsewhere, in the form of a serpent; and, at the Epidaurian Grove, for example, as a man having in connection with him a serpent, a dog, and other things.
As is implied in what I have just said, there was no set, invariable mode of portrayal of Æsculapius. This fact should be clearly understood. But let it not be supposed that it is by any means singular. It will occur to the well-informed reader that the same holds true in regard to Zeus, Apollo, Venus, and, indeed, all other divinities. Says Müller: “The so-called ideals of the Grecian gods are not types; they do not preclude the freedom of the artist; they rather contain the strongest impulse to new, genial creations.”[151] It is, perhaps, self-evident that a statue of a god must necessarily be quite ideal; and, of course, an ideal is without absolute permanency. Still, it remains true that in the case of Æsculapius, as well as that of every other deity, there was a more or less definite conventional way of representing him. This, however, was largely dependent on the presence of attributes. Thus, it would be not only inconsistent with custom, but almost futile, to attempt to delineate him without the presence of a serpent.
The most magnificent representation of Æsculapius was the one at Epidaurus. A description of it has already been given. This fine work of art disappeared at an early day. The vandals could not be expected to spare it; the gold in its composition was fatal to its permanency. It was borne on coins of Epidaurus. According to Strabo,[152] a copy of it was taken to the Galatian town, Pessinus, not Rome, as is often said. Several other places were similarly favored.
There was a very celebrated statue of Æsculapius at the renowned Asclepion of Pergamus, the production of the artist Pyromachus, as well as one similar to that of Epidaurus. It became the prevailing type in art. In it the god was represented as a mature man of benevolent expression, with his rather long hair bound with a fillet, and in his right hand he held a staff enwreathed with a serpent. He wore a himation[153] drawn tight over the left arm and breast. The whole right side from the waist up was uncovered. His attitude was that of a person ready to render assistance. “We can recognize,” says Müller, “the figure with tolerable certainty as the most usual representation of the god on numerous coins of Pergamus.”[154]
The well-known statue of Æsculapius at Berlin resembles that at Pergamus; and the same is true of one at Florence, and others. That of Berlin has the serpent-wreathed staff, or support, placed on the left side. This appears to have been frequently done. An instance of it I have observed in a gem bearing Æsculapius and Hygeia, taken from a tomb at Thron,—a piece of work of the Roman period. It is shown in General Di Cesnola’s interesting work.[155]
While Æsculapius was made to appear aged in some instances, as in the Epidaurian representation, he was sometimes presented in youthful form, and beardless, like his father, Apollo. And this reminds me of the story told of Dyonysius, King of Sicily, that, on conquering the Morea, he ordered the beard to be taken off the Epidaurian statue of the god, for the reason that it was unbecoming and unjust for the son to have a beard when the father had none. Possibly if it had not been a golden one it would not have been molested.
I may venture to say that both aged and youthful representations of Æsculapius are open to criticism. An ideal physician should be, as in the statue at Pergamus, a man in his prime, or, in other words, mature, but neither young nor old. The immature man is apt to be defective in judgment, and the superannuated one is nearly always of excessively routine practice and ignorant of recent advances in his profession.
By way of conclusion, I will say a few words about the famous colossal head of Æsculapius, originally colored and decorated with a bronze wreath, now in the British Museum, where it has been since 1866. It represents, with marked freedom and breadth of execution, a finely-developed man of middle age, with a cast of countenance similar to that of the Phidian Zeus. The beard is of moderate length and is waved like the somewhat long hair. This is really one of the noblest remnants of Grecian art. Nichols, in whose work[156] an engraving of it is given as a frontispiece, just as it is in this one, regards it “as scarcely less remarkable” than the celebrated “Venus of Milo” in the Louvre, both of which were found, the former in 1828, on the island of Melos. It is considered to be the work of an artist of the Macedonian period, about B.C. 300,—a time when the Greek sculptor had attained perfect mastery of his art.