The Mistaken Critic, or a Discourse on the Word (26-30)

In Heaven’s name, if your tongue should say that, acquiring a voice of its own, and getting your beard to join in the accusation, what response would you make? The reply, manifestly, which you made recently to Glaucus when he rebuked you just after a performance, that by this means you had speedily become famous and known to everyone, and how could you have become so notorious by making speeches? It was highly desirable, you said, to be renowned and celebrated in any way whatsoever. And then you might tell it your many nicknames, acquired in different nations. In that connection I marvel at it that you were distressed when you heard ‘ nefandous ’ but were not angry over those names.

In Syria you were called Rhododaphne; the reason, by Athena, I am ashamed to tell. So as far as lies in me, it will still remain a mystery. In Palestine, you were Thorn-hedge, with reference, no doubt, to the prickling of your stubbly beard; for you still kept it shaved. In Egypt you were called Quinsy, which is clear. In fact, they say you were nearly throttled when you ran afoul of a lusty sailor who closed with you and stopped your mouth. The Athenians, excellent fellows that they are, gave you no enigmatic name but called you Atimarchus, honouring you with the addition of a single letter because you had to have something that went even beyond Timarchus.[*]. And in Italy—my word! you got that epic nickname of

And that he missed; his shaft was turned aside.

Its point drove through beside the jawbone’s root.

Rich as you are in these choice and numerous appellations, are you ashamed of ‘nefandous’? In the name of the gods, tell me how you feel when the rabble call you names derived from Lesbos and Phoenicia?, Are you as unacquainted with these as with ‘nefandous,’ and do you perhaps think they are praising you? Or do you know these through old acquaintance, and is it only ‘ nefandous’ that you scorn as unknown and exclude from your list of names? Consequently, you are paying us a penalty which cannot be considered inadequate; no, your notoriety

Then, being in such case, you bother about words, do you, and laugh, and insult other people? Not without reason, for we could not all use expressions like yours. How ever could we? Who is so greatly daring in language as to ask for a trident instead of a sword to use on three adulterers, as you did?[*] Or to say of Theopompus, in passing judgement on his Tricaranus,[*] that he had razed the outstanding cities single-handed with a three-pronged book? And again, that he had plied a ruinous trident upon Hellas, and that he was a literary Cerberus.[*] Why, the other day you even lighted a lantern and went peering about, for some “brother,” I suppose, that had got astray. And there are other examples beyond counting, which it is not worth while to mention, except for one that was heard and reported. A rich man, I gather, and two poor men were on bad terms. Then, in the middle of the story, speaking of the rich man, you said: “He killed θάτερον (meaning one of the two, instead of saying τὸν ἕτερον); and when those present laughed, as was natural, by way of correcting and undoing your slip you said: “No, not that; he killed ἅτερον Your old-time slips I pass over, your use of the dual in speaking of three months, of ἀνηνεμία (for νηνεμία, windlessness), of πέταμαι (for πέτομαι, I fly), of ἐκχύνειν (for ἐκχεῖν, to pour out), and all the other fine flowers that adorn your compositions.

As to what you do under the impulsion of poverty —by our Lady of Necessity! I cannot censure a single act. It can be overlooked, for example, if a man in the pinch of hunger who has received moneys entrusted to him by a man of his own city subsequently takes a false oath that he received nothing; or if a man shamelessly asks for gifts—begs, in fact— and steals and plies the trade of publican. That is not what I am talking about; for there is nothing invidious in fending off destitution by every means. But it goes beyond what is endurable when you, a poor man, pour the proceeds of your shamelessness into such indulgences only. However, you will permit me to praise one thing, anyhow, that very pretty performance of yours when you yourself—and you know it—composed the “Tisias’ Handbook,” that work of an ill-omened crow, thus robbing that stupid old man of thirty gold pieces; for because of Tisias’ name he paid seven hundred and fifty drachmas for the book, gulled into it by you.[*]