"The fact is, your English language is really quite inane," Chefoire said languidly. "Take awful as an example. A word originally intended to mean 'full of awe' has come to identify an object or situation as a bad one!"
"Ah, but that's not entirely accurate," Holmes responded, his long fingers steepled before his long nose as he sat in his customary chair before the fire of our old apartments on Baker Street. "I'm sure Dr. Watson will recall a brief monograph I have written on the Etymological Irregularities of the Greater English Tongue."
"Quite," I said, considering inwardly that I would have time to do nothing else in the world in order to read all of my dear friend's numerous monographs on every conceivable topic.
"If you were to reference that monograph, my good Chefoire, you might be surprised to learn that the origins of the word you reference are not so clear. You use awe in a biblical sense, to be in awe of a supreme being or creator. You and Dr. Watson might consider it to be synonymous with reverence," Holmes paused, taking his pipe from the side table and stacking it with tobacco.
"Quite," I replied during the pause.
"As your own dictionaries would define it," Chefoire added.
"Ah, but there you have missed something," Holmes replied, taking a long pull on this pipe. "The word awful has always had duplicitous meaning. At its inception in the early twelfth century, in a Middle English form 'agheful', it meant 'worthy of respect OR fear.' This is, of course, perfectly natural considering the definition of the word awe. A word, my dear Chefoire, that you have misrepresented. The word can be traced back through English to Scandinavian tongues, and from there to ancient Proto-Germanic languages in which it found formation as the cognate '-agiz.' Through all of those centuries, and even before that in its Greek roots, the word has always meant 'fear' or 'fright,' perhaps in some cases 'pain' or 'grief.' From there it is simple logic to see that the respect implied by 'awful' is respect gained through fear."
Holmes sat in contemplative silence for a moment before continuing. "Thus we see that, in a sense, to be full of awe toward something or someone is to consider them awful, as our current definition of the word might suggest. Do we reverence something awful? No, we lie in fear or dread of it, with the accompanying respect for the things it is capable of. Tell me, Chefoire, have you been using the word 'awe' correctly all these years?"
Chefoire sat in silence for some moments before responding, "I do believe you have got me there indeed."
"Quite," I interjected.
"After all," Holmes said, turning back to the fire and his pipe, "There's nothing to awe but fear itself."
"Ah, but that's not entirely accurate," Holmes responded, his long fingers steepled before his long nose as he sat in his customary chair before the fire of our old apartments on Baker Street. "I'm sure Dr. Watson will recall a brief monograph I have written on the Etymological Irregularities of the Greater English Tongue."
"Quite," I said, considering inwardly that I would have time to do nothing else in the world in order to read all of my dear friend's numerous monographs on every conceivable topic.
"If you were to reference that monograph, my good Chefoire, you might be surprised to learn that the origins of the word you reference are not so clear. You use awe in a biblical sense, to be in awe of a supreme being or creator. You and Dr. Watson might consider it to be synonymous with reverence," Holmes paused, taking his pipe from the side table and stacking it with tobacco.
"Quite," I replied during the pause.
"As your own dictionaries would define it," Chefoire added.
"Ah, but there you have missed something," Holmes replied, taking a long pull on this pipe. "The word awful has always had duplicitous meaning. At its inception in the early twelfth century, in a Middle English form 'agheful', it meant 'worthy of respect OR fear.' This is, of course, perfectly natural considering the definition of the word awe. A word, my dear Chefoire, that you have misrepresented. The word can be traced back through English to Scandinavian tongues, and from there to ancient Proto-Germanic languages in which it found formation as the cognate '-agiz.' Through all of those centuries, and even before that in its Greek roots, the word has always meant 'fear' or 'fright,' perhaps in some cases 'pain' or 'grief.' From there it is simple logic to see that the respect implied by 'awful' is respect gained through fear."
Holmes sat in contemplative silence for a moment before continuing. "Thus we see that, in a sense, to be full of awe toward something or someone is to consider them awful, as our current definition of the word might suggest. Do we reverence something awful? No, we lie in fear or dread of it, with the accompanying respect for the things it is capable of. Tell me, Chefoire, have you been using the word 'awe' correctly all these years?"
Chefoire sat in silence for some moments before responding, "I do believe you have got me there indeed."
"Quite," I interjected.
"After all," Holmes said, turning back to the fire and his pipe, "There's nothing to awe but fear itself."
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