The Temple Fire

On my last visit to Selçuk, I also stopped by the place where the Temple of Artemis once stood. Looking down on the old temple site from above, I was almost moved to tears. Of the Sanctuary of Artemis, once one of the Seven Wonders of the World, only a single column was left. And even that was not a real column: they had stacked up some of the stones left from the Temple of Artemis to give them the shape of a column. Apart from that, rows of stones lay scattered here and there across the site. As I gazed at it all with sorrowful eyes, I heard a voice behind me.

“I have things that might interest you. Would you like to take a look?”

Only then did I notice a tall, bearded man a little way off, selling statues of Artemis of various sizes. His stall looked richly stocked. Although I had no intention of buying a statue, I found myself drawn to his stall. Replicas of ancient Ephesian coins decorated with the bee, the symbol of the goddess, had caught my eye. The man was talkative, chattering constantly, and said he had been selling sacred objects in front of the Temple of Artemis for a very long time. It struck me as odd that he used the word ‘sacred’ for copies of old statues of the goddess. After all, the age of those who revered Artemis as the protective power of nature, even as nature itself, was long gone. But I said nothing to him about it. I thought ‘sacred’ was simply a word he had learned by rote. The vendor knew a great deal about the history of the temple. According to him, one night in 356 BC, the Temple of Artemis had been set on fire. That magnificent building had been engulfed in flames, and by the time the fire was put out, little of it remained. According to the vendor, it was not true that the temple had been burned down by a madman named Herostratos.

“For thousands of years they’ve been saying Herostratos burned it. That’s how it went down in history, but it isn’t true. The temple was actually burned by the priests who had plundered its treasures. And they pinned the blame on Herostratos. People still believe it today, and that’s what the books say, but I know what really happened.”

I was astonished by what the man told me. Thinking he must be a madman himself, just like that Herostratos, I instinctively backed away from the stall. When he gave me a look as if to ask where I was going, I told him I was going down to the area where the Temple of Artemis once stood, as I wanted to see the stones up close. I had just said, “Good luck with your business,” and started to walk away when he called after me and said, word for word:

“I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Herostratos.”

Within a few seconds, disbelief gave way to fear, and I hurried down to the temple site. Reassured by the presence of other people around, I walked through the Sanctuary of Artemis for a long time. Looking at the stones around me, I dreamed of times long past. After pacing every corner of the site, I went back the way I had come and saw that someone else was standing where the man who had introduced himself as Herostratos had been. The stall and everything on it were different, too. Hesitantly, I went up to the short, dark-complexioned man and asked, “Excuse me, there was another vendor here a little while ago. He was tall, with a beard. He was behind the stall just like you, selling statues of Artemis. Where is he?”

The man looked at me in surprise and said, “There’s no other vendor here but me, ma’am. I’m the only one who has been selling Artemis statues here for years.”

Written for the Ephesus Foundation by author and archaeologist Özlem Ertan.