the shifting fortunes of ephesus: its rise and fall (and rise)

The shifting fortunes of Ephesus, one of the great ancient cities of Turkey.

traces of vanished splendour

Visitors touring Ephesus might end their visit at the Terraced Houses, with their beautiful frescoes and opulent marble floors. The degree of preservation is stunning. Left to the elements, frescoes do not survive undamaged to such a height. But here, as there is no trace of immediate reconstruction, one is left to wonder how and why they were protected. Taphonomy (the way artefacts are accrued to the archaeological record) can shed light on the process. So what have the shifting fortunes of Ephesus been?

the first period of decline

The destructive event is dated to around AD 620. It was an act either of human aggression (the Sassanids) or a natural disaster (earthquake)—or perhaps both. The damage was terminal: the houses were not repaired. However, the site was not abandoned. A quick backfill followed and the location was terraced again, at an unspecified time. As a result, it was occupied by a long narrow building, apparently used for storage. By now we are in the era of Late Antiquity, a time when archaeological evidence becomes quite scarce. Buildings were generally flimsier constructions. Early excavators looking for Greek and Roman stonework tended to clear the surface of later structures. They also skimped on recording and sometimes published nothing.

events of the following millennium

From this period on, archaeology is greatly assisted by historians. Eminent among them is Clive Foss. They have pored over any available documentation, from archives to travellers’ accounts, to graffiti, to piece together the shifting fortunes of Ephesus from the fateful event in the early 7^th century to about 1,000 years later, when the great metropolis truly died. The next two centuries are in many respects a black hole. However, one thing is clear: Ephesus regrouped and took a fateful decision.

a new beginning

What now came to the fore was defence: Ephesus constructed a new set of walls. The result was to halve the size of the city and leave out the whole of the street known as the Embolos. Also left out were both agoras, or market places. Instead, the town concentrated its efforts on the Harbour. This wall, 4m thick (made of square stones filled with rubble), ran from the Harbour to the Theatre. From there it went along the Arcadian Way and up to the Stadium. From the Stadium it then circled back to the Harbour.

the area to the east

However, about a mile to the northeast, lay the barren hill known to the Byzantines as Helibaton (‘The Steep One’). It was here that Justinian had built the grand basilica dedicated to St John the Apostle in about the mid-6^th century. And here, another Ephesus developed. The shifting fortunes of Ephesus altered once again to cash in on the pilgrimage trade. St John is said to have died in Ephesus, and his grave lay beneath the basilica’s altar. In addition, there was the Cave of the Seven Sleepers, a holy site for pagans, Christians and Muslims alike. And there was always the passing trade of pilgrims on their way to the Holy Land.

the settling of helibaton

Helibaton, according to the archaeological evidence, was not settled immediately. Instead, the citizens used it as a necropolis. The oldest grave is Mycenaean. So how come its fortunes shifted? The historian Procopius states very clearly that Ephesus had no water. This leads us to conclude that the aqueduct that ultimately made settlement possible dates roughly to the time of the grandiose church, another mark of imperial favour. A wall was built to defend the settlement, using spolia from earlier structures both nearby (the Temple of Artemis) and far away (the Stadium).

diminished but still functioning

The shifting fortunes of Ephesus mirrored events elsewhere, but Ephesus fared better than Sardis (a fortress and some villages) and Pergamon (a small fort). At least, that was the impression of Bishop Willibald, who visited on his way to the Holy Land in 721. After the havoc of the Arab incursions, as well as the ravages of plague and civic unrest, Bishop Willibald found Ephesus the capital of a thema (a Byzantine military and administrative district). Though diminished, it was still functioning. In addition to trade, Ephesus had always had a rich and productive hinterland, and in its Greek past it had not dissipated its energies in setting up colonies, as Miletus had done.

seeds of a new decline

The next 350 years of Byzantine presence mark another turning point in the shifting fortunes of Ephesus, leading to a steady decline. By about the 10^th century, the harbour had silted up. This made it no longer suitable for the Byzantine fleet. Thus the fleet moved about ten miles south, to Phygela, an unexcavated Genoese colony also known as Scalanova, but now covered over by the modern settlement of Kuşadası. Trade suffered. Tellingly, it is about now that the whole of Ephesus began to be known as Hagios Theologos (from which it later became Ayasoluk for the Muslims and Altoluogo for the Latins).

seeds of a new prosperity

The time of Lascarid rule was auspicious for Ephesus. This was the first half of the 13th century. The akrites, a sort of elite caste of freelance fighters, defended the borders and kept the marauding Turks in check. The walls of Ayasoluk were remodelled and a separate fortress with pentagonal and rectangular towers was built. It is the ancestor of the tower we can admire today. The great basilica seems to have fared less well. According to Bishop John Tornikes, it was full of hedgehogs, bird droppings and fallen mosaics. The atrium was filled with buildings. Indeed, while Ephesus emptied, Ayasoluk was bursting at the seams and expanding beyond the walls. And after the fateful battle of Manzikert in 1071, what had been a trickle of nomads now turned into a flood. In addition, political developments such as the setting up of the Sultanate of Konya upset the pattern of trade. Communication with the east was severed.

stability and trade

The incorporation into the Emirate of Aydın (which moved its capital to Ayasoluk) brought some sort of stability to Ephesus. Trade resumed, with Venetian and Genoese merchants looking for raw materials (alum, grain, rice, wax and hemp) in exchange for manufactured products such as the ever-popular brightly coloured cloth. The original harbour, now unusable, was abandoned. The new harbour (Panormus) was four miles due west of Ayasoluk. A map drawn by Choiseul-Gouffier, French ambassador to the Porte from 1784–91, shows the spot just north of the mouth of the Cayster. It is labelled ‘reed-filled lake’ and was at that time by the sea, whereas (shifting fortunes again, as well as shifting sands) the present coastline is two miles further west. Older accounts mention merchants’ houses, docks, churches, a lighthouse and a ‘deep’ harbour around the eastern end of the inlet. However, investigations have been sporadic.

ephesus under the aydin emirs

This was a prosperous time for Ephesus. Merchandise could move by road and also down the river. The local emir pocketed the dues and indulged in some piracy to supply the slave market. The Isa Bey mosque went up, the first monumental building in the area since the time of Justinian. The court of the emir patronised the arts and sciences. St John’s basilica was turned in part into a mosque (the frescoes were hidden under coloured marble slabs) and the rest of the building was used as a market for the produce of the fertile hinterland. Locally minted gold coinage imitated that of Florence.

the enduring cult ot st john

By now, the fame of St John had acquired an extra twist. Not only did the sacred tomb exude a miraculous manna on certain dates, but the saint, it turned out, was not really dead. He was merely asleep, and his snoring could even be heard. Pilgrims continued to flock to the sacred site and paid the entrance fee charged by the business-minded Turks. This sort of mutually beneficial cohabitation required a lot of delicate footwork, not least because the emir’s authority was never beyond challenge by other members of his family. The intervention of the Ottoman Sultan Bayezıt I (known as Yıldırım, the ‘Thunderbolt’) was as unwelcome as it was inopportune. He plunged the emirate into chaos in 1390.

the arrival of new conquerors

When Tamerlane captured Bayezıt at the battle of Ankara in 1402, the Anatolian emirs breathed a collective sigh of relief. But the respite was short-lived. The Ottomans returned in 1425, and this time they stayed. Serious decline set in and trade gradually moved to Scalanova and Izmir. Istanbul was distant and indifferent. Nomadism took root in the hinterland, with serious ecological consequences: deforestation, the neglect of drainage ditches and therefore increased silting. 

ephesus under the ottomans

Under the conservative Ottoman rule, Ephesus maintained its administrative role as the head of a kaza, an administrative division under a kadı (a judge). The mint still operated but Western travellers attracted by the Classical ruins had to go to Ayasoluk to find lodgings, was well as to pay their respects to the kadı. This was a process that involved bringing a suitable gift (coffee and sugar were welcomed). Travellers’ accounts paint a dismal picture: houses with mud roofs, lodgings full of fleas, howling jackals. The place was riddled with malaria. But the Isa Bey mosque was in good repair and was at times mistaken for St John’s basilica. It did not fool Evliya Çelebi, who visited in the mid-17^th century. Finding little reason to rejoice in the present state of Ayasoluk, he blamed local laziness for the sad state of affairs while at the same time conjuring up a mythical, glorious Islamic past when Ayasoluk had had 300 baths, 20,000 shops, and 3,800 mosques.

later fortunes

By the 18^th century, the Turkish population had moved into the castle while the Greeks had decamped to the surrounding hills. By the 19^th century, the castle was in ruins but there was still a kadı; he lived in the village.

The planned railway put Ephesus back on the map as a communication hub, which had been its calling since antiquity. Its construction brought with it a young engineer, John Turtle Wood, who pinpointed the correct location of the Artemision and thereby started the rebirth of Ephesus.

By Paola Pugsley, author of Blue Guide Aegean Turkey: From Troy to Bodrum

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