Discussion Forum—A Way with Words, a fun radio show and podcast about language

I would guess not just overlap, but … what's the word? I would take eggcorns to be a subset of malaprops.

[Edited seconds later:] Oh, on second thought I guess not. Many malaprops use words that mean something like the right phrase, rather than sounding like it.

One of my favorite authors wrote a series with a character who was always doing things like that. He was a veritable sphinx in naval tactics, but pretty bad with proverbs and idioms. Fans of the series call these "Aubreyisms", although Jack Aubrey was not the only character in the novels capable of them.

‘What an unfailing source of cheer and encouragement you are, upon my word, Stephen. A true Job's muffler if ever there was one.'

‘It was a pity about the pudding', said Jack, when they were back in the cabin of the Surprise, ‘but upon the whole, I have rarely enjoyed a supper more. And although Fanny Harte may be neither Scylla nor Charybdis, they are very, very fond of one another, and when all is said and done, that is what really signifies.'

Killick was in many ways a wretched servant, fractious, mean, overbearing to guests of inferior rank, hopelessly coarse; but in others he was a pearl without a thorn. For a moment Jack passed some other expressions in review, and having reached bricks without price he went to sleep.

‘....they hate the very name of Leopard, naturally enough. I am connected with her; and any stick will do to hang a wicked dog.'

[Jack:] ‘Another language, sir? But I dare say it is much the same thing — a putain, as they say in France?'

[Stephen:] ‘Oh, no, nothing of the kind — not like at all. A far finer language. More learned, more literary. Much nearer the Latin. And by the by, I believe the word is patois, sir, if you will allow me.'

‘Patois — just so. Yet I swear the other is a word: I learnt it somewhere,' said Jack.

Jack: ‘Only this morning I was thinking how right they were to say it was better to be a dead horse than a live lion.' He gazed out of the scuttle, obviously going over the words in his mind. ‘No. I mean better to flog a dead horse than a live lion.'

Stephen: ‘I quite agree.'

‘Yet even that's not quite right, neither. I know there is a dead horse in it somewhere; but I'm afraid I'm brought by the lee this time, though I rather pride myself on proverbs...'

‘But even so, let us hope that the first plan of running in and boarding her straight away comes to root. That is to say...' He paused, frowning.

‘Rules the roost?'

‘No...no.'

‘Takes fruit?'

‘Oh be damned to it. The trouble with you, Stephen, if you do not mind my saying so, is that although you are the best linguist I was ever shipmates with, like the Pope of Rome that spoke a hundred languages—Pentecost come again...'

‘Would it be Magliabechi you have in mind?'

‘I dare say; a foreigner, in any case. And I am sure you speak quite as many, and like a native, or better; but English is not one of them. You do not get figures quite right, and now you have put the word clean out of my head.

I always thought   malapropism was  compound of   mal (wrong, contrary)  and  appropriate.

Now there are thoughts that  Mrs. Malaprop  was a play off from   mal à propos.   If that's true, my uneducated assumption had unexpected support after all.

But this assumption of mine is probably wrong: that  nip in the butt   is a mild punishment administered to the dernière of an immature culprit or a budding criminal.

Distinction between malaprop and eggcorn? The former yields a wrong and unfortunate meaning; the latter is merely amusing, if not actually suggesting the correct meaning.