broad shoulders of Menelaus rose above the
other; but, both sitting, Ulysses was more majestic. When they
conversed, and interweaved stories and opinions with all; Menelaus
spoke succinctly, few but very sweet words, since he was not
talkative, nor superfluous in speech, and was the younger. But when
the wise Ulysses arose, and stood, and looked down, fixing his eyes on
the ground, and neither moved his sceptre backward nor forward, but
held it still, like an awkward person, you would say it was some angry
or foolish man; but when he sent his great voice forth out of his
breast, and his words fell like the winter snows, not then would any
mortal contend with Ulysses; and we, beholding, wondered not
afterwards so much at his aspect." [_Iliad_, III. 192.]

Thus he does not fail to arm Ulysses at first with this power of
overcoming all opposition by the blandishments of speech. Plutarch
tells us that Thucydides, when Archidamus, king of Sparta, asked him,
Which was the best wrestler, Pericles or he? replied, "When I throw
him, he says he was never down, and he persuades the very spectators
to believe him." Philip of Macedon said of Demosthenes, on hearing the
report of one of his orations, "Had I been there, he would have
persuaded me to take up arms against myself"; and Warren Hastings said
of Burke's speech on his impeachment, "As I listened to the orator, I
felt for more than half an hour as if I were the most culpable being
on earth."

In these examples, higher qualities have already entered; but the
power of detaining the ear by pleasing speech, and addressing the
fancy and imagination, often exists without higher merits. Thus
separated, as this fascination of discourse aims only at amusement,
though it be decisive in its momentary effect, it is yet a juggle, and
of no lasting power. It is heard like a band of music passing through
the streets, which converts all the passengers into poets, but is
forgotten as soon as it has turned the next corner; and unless this
oiled tongue could, in Oriental phrase, lick the sun and moon away, it
must take its place with opium and brandy. I know no remedy against it
but cotton-wool, or the wax which Ulysses stuffed into the ears of his
sailors to pass the Sirens safely.

There are all degrees of power, and the least are interesting, but
they must not be confounded. There is the glib tongue and cool
self-possession of the salesman in a large shop, which, as is well
known, overpo