I am designedly using the term 'genetic' rather than 'historical' in this context because, after having been for thirty years a devotee of the discipline conventionally labeled 'historical linguistics', I have at present grave misgivings about the unqualified suitability of the label and, far more important, I have become alert to the implications of its possible inappropriateness. To begin with, the label 'history', like many terms of ancient scholarship, is fraught with imprecision. It refers to an analytical discipline concerned with the study of the past, but also with a segment of that past regardless of any analysis, as long as there exist any written records. Only thus can we explain the fact that prehistory designates, at least in normal usage, another, earlier segment along the time axis, whereas such terms as prelinguistics (which may or may not have been coined) and prephilology (which has actually been toyed with on one occasion) could meaningfully refer only to a prescientific stage of a discipline; that is to say, to cognition itself, not to an object of cognition. My second source of doubt is the awareness that any serious work of history involves a number of commitments on the part of the practitioner not only as to the purpose, scope, and techniques of his research, but also as to the forces credited with causing change. This hard core of curiosity about causation in general, with special reference to evolution, must, of course, be shared not only by straight historians, i.e. students of broadly significant events in the succession of human societies, but also by scholars combining a special topical expertise with a flair for sequential reconstruction-say, art historians or historically oriented analysts of jurisprudence. To my surprise, I discovered before long that, despite the familiarity of many old-style linguists with an astonishing profusion of historical details, very few among them operated explicitly with any clearly delineated philosophy of history. True, Emile Littr6, the late-19th-century author of a massive dictionary of Modern French, had, at the outset, a generous share of close contacts with Auguste Comte's positivism; also, Otto Jespersen's disputed optimistic belief in the steady improvement of language as a toolwitness his book Efficiency in linguistic change-implied a sharply silhouetted world view, as one would expect of the rationalistic author of a publication entitled The philosophy of grammar. But, generally speaking, among the older linguists addicted to the historical approach, particularly those immersed in etymology, it is easier to find individuals with a strong side-interest in various facets of material civilization, in navigation and caravan routes, and even in botany (cf. Vittorio Bertoldi), ichthyology (witness Paul Barbier), and ornithology (I refer you to Richard Riegler) than persons with any pronounced