Not well is this wrath, foolish man, that thus thou hast stored in thy bosom,
|F| as if his retirement from the battle, instead of being a dastardly running away, was an exhibition of temper. So Nestor to Agamemnon:
Thou didst yield to the pride of thy spirit.
It is manifestly more courteous to say, ‘You did not stop to think,’ or, ‘You failed to perceive,’ than ‘You behaved badly’, or ‘You behaved unfairly’; to say, ‘Do not be hard upon |74| your brother,’ than ‘Do not be jealous of your brother’; to say, ‘Flee from the woman’s seductions,’ than ‘Stop trying to seduce the woman’. This is the manner cultivated by curative |*| candour; the other belongs to vexatious candour.
Suppose a person is about to do wrong and that we are called upon to check him—to stem the current of some vehement impulse. Or suppose that he is inclined to be unready in the performance of duty, and we wish to brace him up and stimulate him. We should do so by making charges which put the matter in an outrageously unbecoming light. For instance, in Sophocles, when Odysseus is working upon Achilles, he makes out, not that Achilles is angry at the affair of the banquet, but |B|
Now that thou hast the Trojan burghs in sight,
Thou art afraid.
And when, in answer to this, Achilles is so enraged that he declares he is off home:
I know what ’tis thou flyest—not reproach:
Hector is nigh, and ’tis not well to stay.