To write about philology and philologists in English is never easy because, as argued in the Introduction, the meaning of these words is still ambiguous. In some traditions, those who study texts for literary or cultural purposes are called philologists (here I shall refer to them as literary philologists), but those who work on the history of language may also be called philologists (I shall refer to them as linguistic philologists). The link is provided by the study of texts, but not all historical linguists work on texts. They may concentrate on fieldwork and change in progress, or on comparative reconstruction based on oral sources, or on the theory of change, and, if so, they probably prefer to be called linguists. However, in a number of instances, perhaps the majority, a detailed analysis of long-term change inevitably depends on written material of different dates. The result is that the literary philologists and the linguistic philologists may find themselves working on the same data, but with different aims: for the linguistic philologists the language rather than the content of the text is the main point of interest. In fact we are dealing with three categories: literary philologists, linguistic philologists and linguists. They are all linked, but the link is not always straightforward; the linguistic philologists are also linguists (vice versa is not true), but the literary philologists are not. In practice the two types of philologist approach their subject differently. The linguistic philologists concentrate on the history of the language, need chronologically arranged data, and may find what they need in compilations (grammars, lexica, etc.), which in their turn are based on texts. Often enough, however, they are obliged to turn to the primary sources, i.e. to texts, and to apply philological techniques (textual criticism, palaeography, epigraphy, analysis of sources, etc.) to those texts. On the other hand, the literary philologists are trained in the study of texts, concentrate on their interpretation, and do not think of themselves as linguists, though they agree that a thorough knowledge of the language in which the texts are composed is essential. Obviously they use grammars and lexica, but they are put off by what they see as the theoretical mumbo-jumbo of linguists and by a technical terminology which they find impenetrable. Consequently they reject the notion that they have much if anything to learn from the linguists (or linguistic philologists) and may think that the only real philology is the one they practise. In the context of a collection of papers by young researchers who were invited to think about the interface between linguistics and philology, it may be useful to address this second type of philological reaction, all the more so because the number of people who were trained as literary philologists (as I was), but feel close to linguistics, is declining. I extract from my earlier work two concrete examples of textual interpretation which depend on more general linguistic considerations, while at the same time providing data that may have more general implications for linguistics. Transactions of the Philological Society Volume 109:3 (2011) 207–219
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