habit of obeying his orders, were doubtless essential conditions of success. But none of his colleagues in command would have been able to accomplish the like memorable change on the minds of the soldiers, or to procure obedience for any simple authoritative restraint; nay, it is probable, that if Xenophon had not been at hand, the other generals would have followed the passionate movement, even though they had been reluctant,—from simple inability to repress it.[263] Again,—whatever might have been the accomplishments of Xenophon, it is certain that even _he_ would not have been able to work upon the minds of these excited soldiers, had they not been Greeks and citizens as well as soldiers,—bred in Hellenic sympathies and accustomed to Hellenic order, with authority operating in part through voice and persuasion, and not through the Persian whip and instruments of torture. The memorable discourse on the Thrakion at Byzantium illustrates the working of that persuasive agency which formed one of the permanent forces and conspicuous charms of Hellenism. It teaches us that if the orator could sometimes accuse innocent defendants and pervert well-disposed assemblies,—a part of the case which historians of Greece often present as if it were the whole,—he could also, and that in the most trying emergencies, combat the strongest force of present passion, and bring into vivid presence the half-obscured lineaments of long-sighted reason and duty. [263] So Tacitus says about the Roman general Spurinna (governor of Placentia for Otho against Vitellius), and his mutinous army who marched out to fight the Vitellian generals against his strenuous remonstrance—“Fit _temeritatis alienæ comes_ Spurinna, primo coactus, mox _velle simulans_, quo plus auctoritatis inesset consiliis, si seditio mitesceret” (Tacitus, Hist. ii, 18).