Poetry · Chapter
To My Liars explained
The narrator addresses his enemies, particularly journalists and slanderers, defending his own integrity and arguing that lies are vulgar and unartistic.
What happens
The narrator addresses his enemies, particularly journalists and slanderers, defending his own integrity and arguing that lies are vulgar and unartistic. He asserts that his adversaries' falsehoods only reveal their own moral failings and that he will not stoop to their level, finding victory in their respect.
Themes in this chapter
Deception and Self-Deception
The poem explores the nature of lies, slander, and the self-deception of those who spread falsehoods.
Art and Criticism
The narrator distinguishes between artistic truth and vulgar lying, critiquing the lack of artistry in his adversaries' slander.
Hypocrisy and Corruption
The narrator accuses his enemies of moral corruption and hypocrisy, as they lie while pretending to be virtuous.
Characters to notice
- Unknown
The speaker who addresses his liars and enemies, defending his honor.
- Charles Shortridge
Mentioned as an easy second in the art of lying.
- Mike de Young
Mentioned as a rival in lying, alongside Charley Shortridge.
Key passages
“A lie is wicked, so the priests declare; But that to us is neither here nor there. ’Tis worse than wicked, it is vulgar too; N’importe —with that we’ve nothing here to do.”
Though priests say lying is sinful, that moral judgment is irrelevant; what matters is that lying is crude and tasteless.
The narrator dismisses religious condemnation of lies, focusing instead on their lack of refinement.
“If ’twere artistic I would lie till death, And shape a falsehood with my latest breath, Parrhasius never more did pity lack, The while his model writhed upon the rack, Than I should for my adversary’s pain, (Who, stabbed with fibs again and yet again, Would vainly seek to move my stubborn heart) If slander were, and wit were not, an art.”
If lying were an art form, I would lie endlessly without remorse, just as the painter Parrhasius felt no pity for his suffering model; but slander lacks the artistry of wit.
The narrator contrasts artistic cruelty with the vulgarity of slander, emphasizing that true wit is an art.
“No falsehood you can tell, no evil do, Shall turn me from the truth to injure you. So all your war is barren of effect; I find my victory in your respect.”
No lie or harm you do will make me stoop to your level; your attacks are futile, and my triumph lies in earning your respect.
The narrator asserts his moral superiority and claims that his enemies' lies only highlight their own dishonor.