A better rhetorical question to introduce my introduction might be: How would you translate "language gnomes"? Interpreters ruling maxims aphorized in aorist, fearlessly we enter the thresholds of philosophy, art, and poetry, the genesis of all gnomic things. Square brackets indicate the meaning of a thing. But beware the lacuna! Do not lose me in translation, dear reader. The words you are now reading are English, from the Angles, the fish'n'ship-loving angels of Anglia. I have essayed a number puns and dug out some rabbit holes with many references without footnotes in order to please the experienced reader, to stand out and excel over the style of AI generated content of my competitors, and to motivate the mystified with hints of clarity. 

A person could waste a lot of time delineating the characteristics of a gnome. The effort in gnomish language is admirable and repulsive, how a fantasy can carry someone so far away. The lure of rustic pastoral is hard to resist, but in the sublime forests of mist, a danger lurks. A common language was coined and counterfeited; suasive snakes wind about the branches of knowledge and only a philosopher's whetstone can prove the truth of things.

These days there are two main types of gnomes familiar to most people. One has a conical hat that is stiff, straight and pointy, and the other has one that is soft and folds into itself, not unlike a Phrygian cap. Between these, a mixed type is often observed with hats both somewhat wavy and rigid in appearance, but all are the offspring of the grand-daddy garden-gnome. The garden-gnome has its birth among the chemist ceramic makers of Germany in the 19th century, and to trace the noble gnome's lineage further back will take us straight through alchemy, for it was Paracelsus who is known to have invented the word posthumously in the 16th Century.

To put things into context, in the century just previous to that, Constantinople was sacked for good; then the Popes were enjoying the fruits of the New World while a revolution was taking place in the field of astronomy. Then, Luther. Such was the time when Paracelsus, another German, flourished in the field of medicine, when bloodletting was still all the rage, even since the time of Galen. Paracelsus left writings in allegorical terms of a people he called "gnomi" and equated them with pygmies, as one of four elemental beings resembling mankind in likeness but lacking soul because they were not of the flesh of Adam. Furthermore, according to the word of Paracelsus, gnomes fashion metals inside the earth from salamandric fire, even coin their own currency and bequeath money and treasure to the select humans they adore. They also warn and guide them with the knowledge of the past, present, and future. From among these and similar traits, it comes as no surprise that there is confusion as to whether "gnome" comes from Greek γνώμων or from γη-νομος.

Do we care which is right? It may as well come from a nominative participle of "γηγνομεω", and this is the critical point that distinguishes the gnome from the Language Gnome, to deign a saying. Put another way, it is by studying the origin of a word and the development of its sense that we are interested in the history of culture and civilization, as per Klein.

In order to illustrate the difficulties inherited in this enterprise, look up the etymology of the word "gneiss". If only some gnome could tell the truth about it! The reader is led to believe that "gneiss" comes from older German "gneisto" from Old English "gnast", meaning spark, but common experience informs us that many rocks sparkle. A distinguishing feature of gneiss however is its banded wave and it is upon this undulation that I float the following idea: Consider that "Neisse" is the German name of a river not far from the mining areas of Friberg where the word "kneiss" seems to originate, near Nossen, where the olde castle is said to have been first owned by knights of Nuzzin (compare νέω, νῆξις, νίζω). The words "nixie" and "knucker" also suggest a connection. I will go so far as to add that, according to www.mygermancity.com, the Nossen Church had for centuries a relic on display in their monastery of a "Sea Monster" rib bone. Indeed, there is also a legend about the name of the Scottish river "Ness" which connects it to words for water. Ergo, gneiss is better understood as named after it's wavy streams, not the sparkle, which is common to all silicate rocks. 

[to be continued]