141.  Philosophers and Cultivated Men at the Gymnasia.—­All these things are true, and Athens makes full display here of the usual crop of knaves or fools.  Nevertheless this element is in the minority.  Here a little earlier or a little later than our visit (for just now he is in Sicily) one could see Plato himself—­walking under the shade trees and expounding to a little trailing host of eager-eyed disciples the fundamental theories of his ideal Commonwealth.  Here are scores of serious bearded faces, and heads sprinkled with gray, moving to and fro in small groups, discussing in melodious Attic the philosophy, the poetry, the oration, which has been partly considered in the Agora this morning, and which will be further discussed at the symposium to-night.  Everything is entirely informal.  Even white-haired gentlemen do not hesitate to cast off chiton and himation and spring around nimbly upon the sands, to “try their distance” with the quoits, or show the young men that they have not forgotten accuracy with the javelin, or even, against men of their own age, to test their sinews in a mild wrestling bout.  It is undignified for an old man to attempt feats beyond his advanced years.  No one expects any great proficiency from most of those present.  It is enough to attempt gracefully, and to laugh merrily if you do not succeed.  Everywhere there is the greatest good nature, and even frolicking, but very little of the really boisterous.

142.  The Beautiful Youths at the Academy.—­Yet the majority of the visitors to the Academy have an interest that is not entirely summed up in proper athletics, or in the baser sports, or in philosophy.  Every now and then a little whisper runs among the groups of strollers or athlete “There he goes!—­a new one!  How beautiful!”—­and there is a general turning of heads.

A youth goes by, his body quite stripped, and delicately bronzed by constant exposure to the sun.  His limbs are graceful, but vigorous and straight, his chest is magnificently curved.  He lifts his head modestly, yet with a proud and easy carriage.  His hair is dark blonde; his profile very “Greek”—­nose and forehead joining in unbroken straight line.  A little crowd is following him; a more favored comrade, a stalwart, bearded man, walks at his side.  No need of questioning now whence the sculptors of Athens get their inspiration.  This happy youth, just out of the schoolroom, and now to be enrolled as an armed ephebus, will be the model soon for some immortal bronze or marble.  Fortunate is he, if his humility is not ruined by all the admiration and flattery; if he can remember the injunctions touching “modesty,” which master and father have repeated so long; if he can remember the precept that true beauty of body can go only with true beauty of soul.  Now at least is his day of hidden or conscious pride.  All Athens is commending him.  He is the reigning toast, like the “belle” of a later age.  Not the groundlings only, but the poets, rhetoricians, philosophers, will gaze after him, seek an introduction, compliment him delicately, give themselves the pleasure of making him blush deliciously, and go back to their august problems unconsciously stimulated and refreshed by this vision of “the godlike."[*]