Aegean Tale: The Naming of Smyrna
"Old Smyrna" is an archaeological park in the suburb of Bayrakli, a place I have visited three times. This is the tale of the rise of the city from a cape at the far-eastern tip of the Gulf of Izmir.
The Aegean is one of the most remarkable bodies of water in the world. Its “open seas” are marked with around 5,000 islands. Its coastlines are gouged with harbors and gulfs, the greatest of which is the 960 km² Gulf of Smyrna1.
Standing between the western end of the bay and the Aegean is Mount Mimas. At the opposite, eastern end of the gulf, 65 km away, lies the site of Smyrna2, where the salty waters of the gulf once tangled with the outflow of the River Meles, whose waters stream down from the hillsides that form a basin at the eastern end.
In ancient times, the waters of the river and the waters of the gulf were in constant conflict. Twice a day, the gulf harnessed the power of the tides and pushed inland along the reedy river estuary. Meles’ waters pressed back with a relentless surge. In spring time clouds of silt washed down from the hillsides and pushed out into the bay.
A delta formed, and a cape grew out from the shore at the end of the bay, separating the last, slow curve of the river from the pounding waves of the gulf. The cape rose from the riverbank and formed a low bluff which looked out over the wide waters.
The first humans to visit the cape arrived 5,000 years ago. They thrived in this place where the fresh waters of the river and the bounty of the sea provided all that they needed. A village grew.
Both land and sea teemed with danger. Occasionally ships would appear offshore — pirates who plundered the settlement on the cape. At other times, raiders came out of the hills to steal and kidnap. The most famous of these raiding tribes were the Amazons. The permanent residents of the cape were called Lelegs.
The Naming of the City
The village on the cape between the river and the bay3 grew prosperous. It became a town with houses and public buildings. Pathways became streets. A market appeared near the harbor. Its buildings grew in size and beauty, but a city needed an immortal protector, and a protector needed a temple. The obvious choices for the divine patron were the god of the sea, Poseidon, and the god of the river, whose name was also Meles. The village chieftain was reluctant to choose one god instead of the other. He asked each of them to bring a gift, and he selected a day of patronage for the new city.
On the day of the ceremony, Meles arrived first, striding up from the river towards the village. In the middle of the gentle slope that rose from the river to the bluff, he struck the ground with the long river reed he used as a staff when he walked on land.
Water bubbled up from the sandy soil – gurgling fresh water. The villagers cheered. They filled water buckets that they had previously used to draw muddy river water or fresh water from the spring of the Mother Goddess, a lagoon that lay an hour’s walk away4.
Poseidon arrived late. He had had trouble finding the entrance to the gulf, which is entered from the north, south of the isle of Lesbos, rather than from the Aegean to the west. He emerged from the bay and in three, powerful steps he had crossed the beach and climbed to the top of the bluff.
He looked down the slope to where the townspeople drew water from Meles’ spring, and remembered the challenge. He raised his trident above his head, and the earth shook. Everyone looked up at him.
The god of the sea reached into his turquoise robe and pulled out a seashell. He held it to his lips and blew. No sound emerged. He tapped the shell on an open palm. Some sand spilled out. He raised it to his lips, and it emitted an awkward “SQUAWK.”
Nothing appeared. Poseidon looked back towards the gulf and shuffled from foot to foot. The people of the town climbed to the top of the bluff, leaving the gurgling spring behind them.
In the distance a “squawk” answered the seashell’s cry. In the western sky, a line of black dots appeared, flying in a row along the northern coast of the gulf. They flew closer. White bodies and pink wings. They landed in the shallow coastal waters of the bay and began squawking with the same sound that Poseidon had made with his seashell. Poseidon had given the city a flock of flamingos.
The people watched the birds land at the edge of the bay and balance effortlessly on long, thin legs.
The chief of the village approached the gods. “These are wonderful gifts,” he said. “We will erect a shrine to Poseidon on the sea side, and to Meles on the riverside, next to his spring.”
“A shrine?” The sea god frowned. “A patron needs a temple, and a city of this size can support just one.” He scratched his chin and let his fingers fall down the long ringlets of his black beard. “Well, I guess I can live without a temple, but what will you name the city?”
The river god crowded in, “Yes. What will you name it? – You liked the spring best of all, didn’t you? Fresh water for all people.”
“Flamingo meat is delicious,” the sea god added. “I gave you a huge flock.”
The chief looked past the gods to a ridge that stretched westward from the base of the cape and rose toward the peak of Mount Yamanlar. “I will name the city, ‘Smyrna.’”
“Smeer-na?” Meles sounded out the name, rolling the ‘r.’ “After whom? ‘Melesia’ is such a good name, after all.”
“Hardly as strong a name as Poseidopolis,” the sea god retorted.
The chieftain smiled wistfully. Hunting in the hills weeks earlier, he had met the princess of the Amazons. She was beautiful – a strong hunter, better with the bow than the chieftainhad been. He had begged her to come to the cape and become his queen.
The Amazon princess had refused him. “Why would I leave the freedom of the hills and the thrill of the hunt to settle on some crowded cape?”
“I will build you a grand home with two storeys,” the chief promised.
“I have homes throughout the hills,” she answered.
“I will name a street for you,” he added.
“All the pathways of the sea coast are mine to wander.”
The chieftain reached for her hand and took it. What could he give an Amazon – one who had everything, as well as the power to take whatever else she wanted?
“I will give the city your name,” he blurted.
The princess looked around at the others in her hunting party. “Do you hear that, girls? A city with my name.” She smiled back at the chieftain. “You would name your city, Smyrna?” she asked.
“Nothing would prevent me,” he stammered. “I swear. Not even a god.”
She withdrew her hand from his. “I shall see you at the naming of the city,” Smyrna had said.
“Our wedding day,” the chieftain had added.
And on the patronage day, as the gods, Meles and Poseidon, shared their gifts and vied to become the city’s namesake, a group of warriors rode down from the hills onto the cape. In the lead rode a princess dressed in white. She rode into the square at the top of the bluff.
The chieftain rushed to help her dismount. He held her hand and raised it high. With his free hand he gestured to the gods, then to buildings and to the whole cape. “This is Smyrna!” he announced to gods, villagers, and invited guests. “My queen. The city. All of it!”
A volley of Amazon arrows arced across the sky toward the river, trailing colored ribbons. The Smyrneans cheered. Wine skins were opened, meat began to grill, and everyone celebrated the patronage and the naming of the new city, as well as the wedding of its chief citizen.
At dusk, Meles and Poseidon walked away from the wedding celebration toward the tip of the cape, where land, river and bay converged. The sun was setting. Behind the gods, the new city, its chieftain and Smyrna, its new queen, stood atop the bluff, watching the sky glow a bright orange as the sun fell behind Mount Mimas at the western end of the bay.
“These humans,” Meles grumbled, “they care only for love. Never a hint of gratitude. I gave them that spring!”
“Smeer-na,” added the sea god, drawing out the middle vowel. “The name strikes me like an insult.” He looked back at the bride, her white dress dyed gold by setting sunshine, her arm tucked into the elbow of the chieftain.
A ripple stretched from one end of the point to the other side of the river where the river water collided with the salt waters of the bay.
“Remember these words, Meles. I will destroy this city.”
“I don’t think you can,” replied the river god. “I know these mortals. They are resilient, and in their resilience lies a spectacular strength.”
The sea god took a step towards the shore. “I have my ways,” he muttered, “and I will use them.”
“I have my ways as well,” the river god returned. “And I know what will destroy this city.”
Poseidon smiled, turned, leaped, and dove into the surf — his back glistening like a dolphin — just as the last rays of Smyrna’s patronage day slipped over the mountain.
Thus began a new era conflict in the gulf of Smyrna — where river and sea, Meles and Poseidon, and many larger kingdoms would tangle.
Now that Smyrna had its name, it would secure its status as a real city. It would build a wall.
… To be continued …
I emphasize that this is a tale based on three visits to the site of Old Smyrna/ Bayrakli Mound and hours of reading scholarly articles about the place. There are many explanations for the name, “Smyrna,” but I liked the Amazon origin best of all — and it’s the one I have heard most often here. Just a few hundred meters from the site, there is a group of statues of Amazon hunters, meant to emphasize the importance of this origin story.
The contest between Meles and Poseidon is my invention, inspired by the famous tale of the naming of Athens, where Poseidon faced off against Athena, and where gifts played a significant role.
This is the first of a series of three tales about Old Smyrna. If you liked it, share it. If you’re not a subscriber yet, please consider a free or paid subscription.
Tale 2: The Walls of Smyrna
Travelogue: Old Smyrna, City of Aegean Superlatives
This body of water is today known as the Gulf of Izmir, the name to which the 7,000-year-old city of Smyrna was named after the Greco-Turkish War (1919-1922). Since this newsletter is about the ancient city of Smyrna, I will also use the former name of the gulf.
Today this site is known as “Old Smyrna” for reasons I will relate in an upcoming section of this story.
I usually use the term “bay” when I talk about the Gulf of Izmir because it is roughly the same size of San Francisco Bay in my home country. Of course, when I think of a “gulf,” I think of an immense body of water like the Gulf of Mexico, from which one cannot see the other side as in Izmir or Oakland. My apologies if this makes this text confusing.
The Turkish name of this spring is Halkapinar. The spring fed a large lagoon, later known as the Diana Baths. Today, this lagoon lies buried under suburban development just south of Izmir Atatürk Stadium.