The “palestra” exercises, taught first at the boys’ training establishments and later continued at the great gymnasia, are nearly all of the nature of latter-day “field sports.”  They do not depend on the costly apparatus of the twentieth century athletic halls; and they accomplish their ends with extremely simple means.  The aim of the instructor is really twofold—­to give his pupils a body fit and apt for war (and we have seen that to be a citizen usually implies being a hoplite), and to develop a body beautiful to the eye and efficient for civil life.  The naturally beautiful youth can be made more beautiful; the naturally homely youth can be made at least passable under the care of a skilful gymnastic teacher.

147.  Professional Athletes:  the Pancration.—­Athletics, then, are a means to an end and should not be tainted with professionalism.  True, as we wander about the Academy we see heavy and over brawny individuals whose “beauty” consists in flattened noses, mutilated ears, and mouths lacking many teeth, and who are taking their way to the remote quarter where boxing is permitted.  Here they will wind hard bull’s hide thongs around their hands and wrists, and pummel one another brutally, often indeed (if in a set contest) to the very risk of life.  These men are obviously professional athletes who, after appearing with some success at the “Nemea,” are in training for the impending “Pythia” at Delphi.  A large crowd of youths of the less select kind follows and cheers them; but the better public opinion frowns on them.  They are denounced by the philosophers.  Their lives no less than their bodies “are not beautiful”—­i.e. they offend against the spirit of harmony inherent in every Greek.  Still less are they in genteel favor when, the preliminary boxing round being finished, they put off their boxing thongs and join in the fierce “Pancration,” a not unskillful combination of boxing with wrestling, in which it is not suffered to strike with the knotted fist, but in which, nevertheless, a terrible blow can be given with the bent fingers.  Kicking, hitting, catching, tripping, they strive together mid the “Euge!  Euge!—­Bravo!  Bravo!” of their admirers until one is beaten down hopelessly upon the sand, and the contest ends without harm.  Had it been a real Pancration, however, it would have been desperate business, for it is quite permissible to twist an opponent’s wrist, and even to break his fingers, to make him give up the contest.  Therefore it is not surprising that the Pancration, even more than boxing, is usually reserved for professional athletes.

148.  Leaping Contests.—­But near at hand is a more pleasing contest.  Youths of the ephebus age are practicing leaping.  They have no springboard, no leaping pole, but only a pair of curved metal dumb-bells to aid them.  One after another their lithe brown bodies, shining with the fresh olive oil, come forward on a lightning run up the little mound of earth, then fly gracefully out