John R. Hale

In one of Aesop’s fables, passengers from a sinking ship suddenly found themselves in the sea. An Athenian among the survivors calls on the gods for help. A man swimming for shore hears the prayer. He turns to the Athenians and says, ‘Pray by all means! But also move your arms!’ Demosthenes intended to be just such wise counselor to Athenians who seemed to have forgotten that the gods help those who help themselves.

Also in the Agora a new colonnaded portico or stoa was built to house paintings of historic Athenian battles: the world’s first public art museum. The painted stoa became a popular gathering place and ultimately gave rise to the term ‘Stoics’ for a school of philosophers who met under its colonnade.

The experiment of democracy ensured that the fruits of naval victories were shared by all Athenians, transforming the life of even the poorest citizen. The age of the common man had dawned. For the first time anywhere on earth, a mass of ordinary citizens, independent of monarchs or aristocrats or religious leaders, was guiding the destiny of a great state.

All those gifts of mind and spirit that set Athenians apart shone at their brightest in Phormio: optimism, energy, inventiveness, and daring; a determination to seize every chance and defy all odds; and the iron will to continue the fight even when all seemed lost—even when the enemy had already begun to celebrate their victory. For Phormio, it was never too late to win.”

As youths many had taken the traditional oath: ‘I shall hand on my fatherland not less, but greater.’ More than any other generation, these men had fulfilled that promise.

As patron deity of arts and crafts, a goddess of wisdom and also of war, Athena had been presiding over the entire project from beginning to end.

The navy’s experienced steersman could have warned him: smooth and smiling seas sometimes conceal the deadliest reefs.

Democracy unchecked by reason proved as violent and unjust as any tyranny.

The Spartan admiral called a council, and Themistocles impetuously began to argue against a withdrawal. The Corinthian leader angrily reminded him that at the games, runners who started too soon were beaten with rods. ‘Yes,’ retorted Themistocles, ‘but those who start late do not win.’

One man’s vision had at last become the mission of an entire city.

Thanks to Athens’ seaborne grain trade, the wheat in Socrates’ daily bread was more likely to have grown in Russia, Sicily, or Egypt than in the fields of Attica, just outside the city walls. The far horizons opened up by the navy allowed Socrates himself to say, ‘Do not call me an Athenian. I am a citizen of the world.’