Journal of Semitic Studies, Volume 55, Number 1, Spring 2010

92897_JOSS_2010/1_Cv

08-03-2010

11:22

Pagina 1

EDWARD LIPINSKI

1

ROBERT S. KAWASHIMA

‘“Orphaned” Converted Tense Forms in Classical Biblical Hebrew Prose’

11

BAHAA AMER AL-JUBOURI

‘Nouvelles inscriptions araméennes du temple de Nannay à Hatra’

SPRING 2010

‘Le Gérondif en Phénicien’

ISSN 0022-4480 (PRINT) ISSN 1477-8556 (ONLINE)

37

GERRIT BOS

53

AARON D. RUBIN

‘The Development of the Amharic Definite Article and an Indonesian Parallel’

103

ABDULRAHMAN S. AL SALIMI

‘Identifying the (Iba∂i/Omani) Siyar’

115

‘Rhythm and Beat: Re-evaluating Arabic Prosody in the Light of Mahri Oral Poetry’

163

SADOK MASLIYAH

‘The Folk Songs of Iraqi Children: Part One’

183

JAMES DICKINS

‘Basic Sentence Structure in Sudanese Arabic’ REVIEWS SHORT NOTICES

237 263 311

Semitic Studies

SAM LIEBHABER

JOURNAL OF

‘Medical Terminology in the Hebrew Tradition: Shem Tov Ben Isaac, Sefer ha-Shimmush, Book 30’

JOURNAL OF

Semitic Studies VOLUME LV. NO. 1 SPRING 2010

VOLUME LV. NO. 1

92897_JOSS_2010/1_Cv

08-03-2010

11:22

Pagina 2

SUBSCRIPTIONS A subscription to Journal of Semitic Studies comprises 2 issues. Prices include postage by surface mail, or for subscribers in the USA and Canada by airfreight, or in India, Japan, Australia and New Zealand, by Air Speeded Post. Airmail rates are available on request. Annual Subscription Rate (Volume LIII, 2 issues, 2008) Institutional Print edition and site-wide online access: £166//249/US$315 Print edition only: £152//228/US$289 Site-wide online access only: £138//207/US$262 Personal Print edition and individual online access: £54//81/US$103 Please note: £ Sterling rates apply in UK, / rates apply in Europe, US$ elsewhere There may be other subscription rates available, for a complete listing please visit www.jss.oupjournals.org/ subinfo. Full prepayment, in the correct currency, is required for all orders. Orders are regarded as firm and payments are not refundable. Subscriptions are accepted and entered on a complete volume basis. Claims cannot be considered more than FOUR months after publication or date of order, whichever is later. All subscriptions in Canada are subject to GST. Subscriptions in the EU may be subject to European VAT. If registered, please supply details to avoid unnecessary charges. For subscriptions that include online versions, a proportion of the subscription price may be subject to UK VAT. Personal rate subscriptions are only available if payment is made by personal cheque or credit card and delivery is to a private address. The current year and two previous years’ issues are available from Oxford University Press. Previous volumes can be obtained from the Periodicals Service Company, 11 Main Street, Germantown, NY 12526, USA. Email: [email protected]. Tel: +1 (518) 537 4700. Fax: +1 (518) 537 5899. For further information, please contact: Journals Customer Service Department, Oxford University Press, Great Clarendon Street, Oxford OX2 6DP, UK. Email: [email protected]. Tel (and answerphone outside normal working hours): +44 (0)1865 353907. Fax: + 44 (0)1865 353485. In the US, please contact: Journals Customer Service Department, Oxford University Press, 2001 Evans Road, Cary, NC 27513, USA. Email: [email protected]. Tel (and answerphone outside normal working hours): 800 852 7323 (toll-free in USA/Canada). Fax: 919 677 1714. In Japan, please contact: Journals Customer Services, Oxford University Press, 1-1-17-5F, Mukogaoka, Bunkyo-ku, Tokyo, 113-0023, Japan. Email: [email protected]. Tel: (03) 3813 1461. Fax: (03) 3818 1522. Methods of payment. (i) Cheque (payable to Oxford University Press, to Oxford University Press, Cashiers Office, Great Clarendon Street, Oxford OX2 6DP, UK) in GB£ Sterling (drawn on a UK bank), US$ Dollars (drawn on a US bank), or EU/ Euros. (ii) Bank transfer to Barclays Bank Plc, Oxford Group Office, Oxford (bank sort code 20-65-18) (UK), overseas only Swift code BARC GB 22 (GB£ Sterling to account no. 70299332, IBAN GB89BARC20651870299332; US$ Dollars to account no. 66014600, IBAN GB27BARC 20651866014600; EU/ Euros to account no. 78923655, IBAN GB16BARC20651878923655). (iii) Credit card (Mastercard, Visa, Switch or American Express). Journal of Semitic Studies is published two times a year in April and October by Oxford University Press, Oxford, UK. Annual subscription price is £166//249/US$315. Journal of Semitic Studies is distributed by Mercury International, 365 Blair Road, Avenel, NJ 07001, USA. Periodicals postage paid at Rahway, NJ and at additional entry points. US Postmaster: send address changes to Journal of Semitic Studies (ISSN 0022-4480), c/o Mercury International, 365 Blair Road, Avenel, NJ 07001, USA. PERMISSIONS For information on how to request permissions to reproduce articles/information from this journal, please visit www.oxfordjournals.org/permissions. ADVERTISING Inquiries about advertising should be sent to Helen Pearson, Oxford Journals Advertising, PO Box 347, Abingdon OX14 1GJ, UK. Email: [email protected]. Tel: +44 (0)1235 201904; Fax: +44 (0)8704 296864. DISCLAIMER Statements of fact and opinion in the articles in Journal of Semitic Studies are those of the respective authors and contributors and not of Journal of Semitic Studies or Oxford University Press. Neither Oxford University Press nor Journal of Semitic Studies make any representation, express or implied, in respect of the accuracy of the material in this journal and cannot accept any legal responsibility or liability for any errors or omissions that may be made. The reader should make his/her own evaluation as to the appropriateness or otherwise of any experimental technique described. © The University of Manchester 2008 All rights reserved; no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission of the Publishers, or a licence permitting restricted copying issued in the UK by the Copyright Licensing Agency Ltd, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London W1P 9HE, or in the USA by the Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Danvers, MA 01923. Typeset by Drukkerij Peeters, Herent, Belgium Printed by Bell & Bain Ltd, Glasgow, UK

INFORMATION FOR AUTHORS Contributions, books for review, and other editorial communications should be addressed to: The Editors Journal of Semitic Studies Middle Eastern Studies School of Languages, Linguistics and Cultures University of Manchester Manchester M13 9PL UK Article Length Editorial policy is normally to favour shorter articles, i.e. no longer than 10,000 words. Typescript layout Articles and reviews should be typed on one side of the paper (A4 or 8.5 x 11 inches) with double spacing and generous margins on one side of the paper only. Authors of articles should submit TWO COPIES, and disk, if available. Non-Roman script is to be written as clearly as possible and used as sparingly as possible. Notes should be numbered consecutively, double spaced and placed at the end. The Editors will not accept for publication any typescripts which do not conform to these standards. For detailed instructions please see the style sheet. Abstracts Authors of articles are required to provide an abstract, which should be a single paragraph, not exceeding 150 words. Submission We will also normally require the final revised version to be supplied in hard copy and electronically. Whilst we can accept most wordprocessor formats the preferred option is Word. The files should be submitted in the wordprocessor's native format and as an RTF (Rich Text Format). Illustrations Electronic submission of illustrations. We can accept 3.5-inch floppy disks, CDROMs and email attachments. High-quality print-outs of all figures are still essential, as they will be scanned for reproduction in the event of problems with the electronic files. Figures must be saved as high-resolution TIF files (at least 300 pixels per inch for photographs, and 1200 pixels per inch for black and white line drawings). Offprints and Proofs Authors of articles will receive one copy of the issue containing their article and twenty-five offprints of their article free of charge. Alteration on the proofs, other than the correction of printer's errors, may be disallowed. Copyright and Permissions Manuscripts submitted will be expected to contain original work and should not have been published in abridged or other form elsewhere. It is a condition of publication in the Journal that authors grant an exclusive licence to The University of Manchester. Any requests from third parties to reproduce articles are handled on behalf of the journal by Oxford University Press. This will also allow the article to be as widely disseminated as possible and will protect the rights of the author and OUP. In granting an exclusive licence, authors may use their own material in other publications provided that the journal is acknowledged as the original authority for publication, and Oxford University Press is notified in writing and in advance.

92897_JOSS_2010/1_vw

08-03-2010

11:11

Pagina 1

JOURNAL OF

Semitic Studies V OLUME LV. NO. 1 SPRING 2010

EDITORIAL COMMITTEE P. S. ALEXANDER G. J. BROOKE R. BUCKLEY A. CHRISTMANN J. F. HEALEY P. C. SADGROVE

92897_JOSS_2010/1_vw

08-03-2010

11:11

Pagina 2

JOURNAL OF

Semitic Studies Editorial Committee P.S. Alexander G.J. Brooke R. Buckley A. Christmann J.F. Healey P.C. Sadgrove

Editorial Advisers C.E. Bosworth S.P. Brock K.J. Cathcart R. Gleave M. Kropp Y. Matras A.R. Millard M. Morgenstern M.E.J. Richardson P. Schäfer A. Shivtiel G. Rex Smith Y. Suleiman E. Ullendorff

The Journal of Semitic Studies publishes a book supplement series. For more information see www.jss.oxfordjournals.org. The editors welcome proposals for further titles in the series. For more details please write to the editors, Journal of Semitic Studies, Middle Eastern Studies, School of Languages, Linguistics and Cultures, University of Manchester, Manchester M13 9PL, UK

92897_JOSS_2010/1_vw

08-03-2010

11:11

Pagina 3

JOURNAL OF

Semitic Studies V OLUME LIV. NO. 1 SPRING 2010

Contents articles EDWARD LIPINSKI, ‘Le Gérondif en Phénicien’ ROBERT S. KAWASHIMA, ‘“Orphaned” Converted Tense Forms in Classical Biblical Hebrew Prose’ BAHAA AMER AL-JUBOURI, ‘Nouvelles inscriptions araméennes du temple de Nannay à Hatra’ GERRIT BOS, ‘Medical Terminology in the Hebrew Tradition: Shem Tov Ben Isaac, Sefer ha-Shimmush, Book 30’ AARON D. RUBIN, ‘The Development of the Amharic Definite Article and an Indonesian Parallel’ ABDULRAHMAN S. AL SALIMI, ‘Identifying the (Iba∂i/Omani) Siyar’ SAM LIEBHABER, ‘Rhythm and Beat: Re-evaluating Arabic Prosody in the Light of Mahri Oral Poetry’ SADOK MASLIYAH, ‘The Folk Songs of Iraqi Children: Part One’ JAMES DICKINS, ‘Basic Sentence Structure in Sudanese Arabic’

1 11 37 53 103 115 163 183 237

reviews Rainer VOIGT (ed.), From Beyond the Mediterranean: Akten des 7. Internationalen Semitohamitistenkongresses (VII. ISHaK), Berlin 13, bis 15, September 2004 (Aaron D. RUBIN) Elizabeth FROOD, Biographical Texts from Ramesside Egypt (Karl JANSENWINKELN) William M. SCHNIEDEWIND and Joel H. HUNT, A Primer on Ugaritic: Language, Culture and Literature (Wilfred G.E. WATSON) James W. WATTS, Ritual and Rhetoric in Leviticus: From Sacrifice to Scripture (Walter J. HOUSTON) Christophe NIHAN, From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch (Calum CARMICHAEL)

263 265 266 269 270

92897_JOSS_2010/1_vw

08-03-2010

11:11

Pagina 4

Jill MIDDLEMAS, The Templeless Age: An Introduction to the History, Literature and Theology of the ‘Exile’ (Ralph W. KLEIN) Archie T. WRIGHT, The Origin of Evil Spirits (Philip R. DAVIES) Kay PRAG, Excavations by K. M. Kenyon in Jerusalem 1961–1967: Volume V. Discoveries in Hellenistic to Ottoman Jerusalem (A. Asa EGER) Peter E. PORMANN (ed.), Rufus of Ephesus: On Melancholy (Oliver KAHL) P.S.F. VAN KEULEN and W.Th. VAN PEURSEN (eds), Corpus Linguistics and Textual History: A Computer-Assisted Interdisciplinary Approach to the Peshitta (Jerome A. LUND) Christa MÜLLER-KESSLER, Die Zauberschalentexte in der Hilprecht-Sammlung, Jena und weitere Nippur-Texte anderer Sammlungen (Matthew MORGENSTERN) Avi SAGI, The Open Canon: On the Meaning of Halakhic Discourse (Azzan YADIN) Shmuel SAFRAI lèz, Zeev SAFRAI, Joshua SCHWARTZ, and Peter J. TOMSON (eds), The Literature of the Sages, Second Part: Midrash and Targum, Liturgy, Poetry, Mysticism, Contracts, Inscriptions, Ancient Science and the Languages of Rabbinic Literature (Ephraim NISSAN) Timothy EDWARDS, Exegesis in the Targum of the Psalms: The Old, the New, and the Rewritten (David M. STEC) Mariano GÓMEZ ARANDA, Dos Comentarios de Abraham ibn Ezra al Libro de Ester: Edición crítica, traducción y estudio introductorio (Aaron D. RUBIN) Dvora BREGMAN, The Golden Way: The Hebrew Sonnet during the Renaissance and the Baroque (Arie SCHIPPERS) Leora BATNITZKY, Leo Strauss and Emmanual Levinas: Philosophy and the Politics of Revelation (A.H. LESSER) Khaleel MOHAMMED and Andrew RIPPIN (eds), Coming to terms with the Qur’an. A volume in honor of Professor Issa Boullata (Stefan WILD) John A. MORROW (ed.), Arabic, Islam and the Allah Lexicon: How Language Shapes our Conception of God (Gerhard BOWERING)

271 273 274 278

280 282 291

293 297 298 300 304 306 308

short notes Pekka LINDQVIST, Sin at Sinai: Early Judaism Encounters: Exodus 32 (Mila GINSBURSKAYA) Bernard M. LEVINSON, ‘The Right Chorale’: Studies in Biblical Law and Interpretation (Walter J. HOUSTON) James T. SPARKS, The Chronicler’s Genealogies: Towards an Understanding of 1 Chronicles 1–9 (Brian E. KELLY)

311 312 313

92897_JOSS_2010/1_vw

08-03-2010

11:11

Pagina 5

Fiona C. BLACK, The Recycled Bible: Autobiography, Culture, and the Space Between (Philip R. DAVIES) Andrew D. GROSS, Continuity and Innovation in the Aramaic Legal Tradition (Stephen A. KAUFMAN) Giancarlo TOLONI, La sofferenza del giusto: Giobbe e Tobia a confronto (George J. BROOKE) Mark J. BODA, Daniel K. FALK and Rodney A. WERLINE (eds), Seeking the Favor of God. Volume 1: The Origins of Penitential Prayer in Second Temple Judaism; Volume 3: The Impact of Penitential Prayer beyond Second Temple Judaism (George J. BROOKE) Melvin K.H. PETERS (ed.), XIII Congress of the International Organization for Septuagint and Cognate Studies: Ljubljana, 2007 (George J. BROOKE) Sidnie White CRAWFORD, Rewriting Scripture in Second Temple Times (Ariel FELDMAN) Lorenzo DITOMASSO, The Dead Sea New Jerusalem Text: Contents and Contexts (Charlotte HEMPEL) Antti LAATO and Jacques VAN RUITEN (eds), Rewritten Bible Reconsidered: Proceedings of the Conference in Karkku, Finland, August 24–26 2006 (George J. BROOKE) David T. RUNIA and Gregory E. STERLING (eds), The Studia Philonica Annual: Studies in Hellenistic Judaism Volume XX.2008 (George J. BROOKE) Frances FLANNERY, Colleen SHANTZ and Rodney A. WERLINE (eds), Experientia, Volume 1: Inquiry into Religious Experience in Early Judaism and Early Christianity (George J. BROOKE) Bart D. EHRMAN, Whose Word is It? The Story Behind Who Changed the New Testament and Why (George J. BROOKE) Julius Heinrich PETERMANN, The Great Treasure or Great Book, commonly called “The Book of Adam”, the Mandaeans’ work of Highest Authority (Matthew MORGENSTERN) Benjamin RICHLER, Hebrew Manuscripts in the Vatican Library Catalogue (Renate SMITHUIS) Seth S. SANDERS (ed.), Margins of Writing, Origins of Cultures (Alasdair LIVINGSTONE)

314 315 315

316 317 318 318

319 320

320 321

321 322 323

LE GÉRONDIF EN PHÉNICIEN EDWARD LIPINSKI UNIVERSITY OF LEUVEN

Abstract A single Latin manuscript, Berne codex 123 (folio 7a), preserves a statement by Isidorus Hispalensis who tells of twelve parts of speech in Phoenician, consisting of the usual eight with the addition of the article, the ‘impersonal mode’ (having no set person or number), the infinitive and the ‘gerund’. This paper proposes identifying the gerund with the infinitive followed by a personal pronoun, a construction attested in Phoenician inscriptions from Byblos, Zincirli, Karatepe and Çineköy, and occurring sporadically in Ugaritic, Hebrew and South-Arabian. It is argued that it represents an earlier stage or a variant of the Ethio-Semitic ‘gerund’ denoting an action simultaneous or anterior to the one expressed by another verb in the perfect or the imperfect. Its absence in Aramaic, North-Arabian and Classical Arabic once again shows the weakness of the hypothesis of a ‘Central Semitic’.

Isidore de Séville (c. 560–636), connu en latin sous le nom d’Isidorus Hispalensis, fut évêque de Séville pendant une trentaine d’années (c. 602–36), mais ses charges épiscopales ne l’empêchèrent point de devenir l’un de plus importants chaînons du savoir entre l’Antiquité classique et le Moyen-Âge. Isidore n’a pas l’habitude de mentionner ses sources, mais il est évident qu’il a recueilli ses informations dans nombre d’ouvrages d’auteurs antiques, dont certains sont irrémédiablement perdus. C’est à une telle source qu’il doit aussi sa connaissance des douze catégories grammaticales du phénicien, parmi lesquelles il mentionne l’infinitif suivi du gérondif.1 Isidorus dicit: Phoenices XII partes esse dixerunt, articulum nonam partem putauerunt, qui cum Graecis octaua pars est; inpersonalem 1 Son texte est préservé dans un seul manuscrit, le Codex Bernensis 123, fol. 7a: H. Hagen, ‘Anecdota Helvetica’, dans H. Keil, Grammatici Latini VIII, Leipzig 1870 (réimpr. Hildesheim 1961), CCLV–CCLVI. C’est un extrait, bien sûr, et nous n’avons pas la certitude qu’il reproduit le texte d’Isidore d’une manière exacte et complète.

1

LE GÉRONDIF EN PHÉNICIEN

modum decimam partem putauerunt, quia non habet certam personam et certum numerum, nisi addas pronomen ut ‘legitur a me, a te, a nobis’, et infinitiuum undecimam putauerunt, quia uim nominis habet, idest nominatiui, accusatiui quoque et ablatiui; gerendi modum duodecimam partem putauerunt, quia habent verba gerendi uim et formam nominum, ut ‘amandi, amando, amandum, amatum, amatu’, et ideo Phoenices dixerunt XII. «Isidore dit: Les Phéniciens ont dit qu’il y a douze parties (du discours). Ils considéraient que l’article est la neuvième partie, celle qui chez les Grecs est la huitième partie. Ils considéraient que le mode impersonnel (participe) est la dixième partie, qui n’exprime ni la personne ni le nombre, sauf si l’on ajoute un pronom, par exemple ‘lu par moi, par toi, par nous’. Ils considéraient que l’infinitif est l’onzième (partie), vu qu’il possède des fonctions du nom, à savoir le nominatif (sujet), l’accusatif (objet) et l’ablatif (adverbe). Ils considéraient que le gérondif est la douzième partie, vu que les verbes au gérondif possèdent des fonctions et une désinence à l’instar des noms, comme amandi, amando, amandum, amatum, amatu. C’est pourquoi les Phéniciens ont dit qu’il y avait douze parties (du discours)».

Il y a cinquante ans J.M. Solá-Solé a déjà attiré l’attention sur ce texte important,2 préservé dans un manuscrit de l’Ars de Clément l’Écossais, maître de grammaire à la Cour de Charlemagne. SoláSolé a cependant compris le gérondif des Phéniciens d’une manière très différente de celle qui sera exposée ci-dessous. Il y voyait l’infinitif introduit par une préposition, ce qui ne semble pas pouvoir correspondre à la distinction établie dans la source ultime d’Isidore. L’infinitif construit du phénicien avec préposition équivaut sans doute au gérondif latin, mais il est atemporel et impersonnel, c’està-dire qu’il ne peut guère être considéré comme une catégorie grammaticale distincte de l’infinitif. «Gérondif», c’est par contre le nom attribué par les éthiopisants à l’infinitif suivi du suffixe pronominal indiquant le sujet.3 Cette forme 2 J.M. Solá-Solé, ‘Sur les parties du discours en phénicien’, Bibliotheca Orientalis, 14 (1957), 66–8. 3 Le substantif verbal constituant la base du gérondif a été appelé «infinitif» par F. Praetorius, Grammatik der Tigriñasprache in Abessinien (Halle 1871), 336, et A. Dillmann, Grammatik der äthiopischen Sprache 2 (Leipzig 1899), 235, suivis par la plupart des chercheurs, notamment M. Cohen, Le système verbal sémitique et l’expression du temps (Paris 1924), 50–1, §26. Cf. aussi O. Kapeliuk, ‘Reflections on the Ethio-Semitic Gerund’, Proceedings of the 13th International Conference of Ethiopian Studies (Kyoto 1997), 492–8.

2

LE GÉRONDIF EN PHÉNICIEN

s’emploie en guèze,4 tigrigna,5 amharique,6 argobba7 et dans les dialectes occidentaux du gouragué.8 Elle exprime la circonstance sans détermination de moment et peut se traduire en français, suivant les phrases, soit par un présent, soit par un passé. Elle est utilisée le plus souvent pour signifier l’antériorité de l’action par rapport à l’action indiquée par le verbe principal. Ce nom verbal spécial, auquel on a donné à bon escient le nom de gérondif, est comparable à l’infinitif phénicien suivi du pronom personnel9 et exprimant, lui aussi, une circonstance antérieure à l’action signifiée par le verbe principal. Il y a une dizaine d’années j’ai donc appelé cette construction «gérondif»10 en suivant, je pense, l’exemple d’Isidore de Séville qui devait disposer d’une source latine se référant à la grammaire des textes littéraires puniques, spécialement de nature narrative.11 4 F. Praetorius, Aethiopische Grammatik (Karlsruhe-Leipzig 1886 [reprint, New York 1955]), 62, §77; A. Dillmann, op. cit. (n. 3), 235; M. Chaîne, Grammaire éthiopienne 2 (Beyrouth 1938), 35; Th.O. Lambdin, Introduction to Classical Ethiopic (Ge¨ez) (HSM 24, Ann Arbor 1978), 135–6. 5 R.M. Voigt, Das tigrinische Verbalsystem (Marburger Studien zur Afrika- und Asienkunde A/10, [Berlin 1977]), 140–220. 6 E.G. Titov, Le gérondif dans la langue amharique, dans Afrikanskiy etnografitcheskiy sbornik III (Moskva-Leningrad 1959), 184–204 (en russe); Id., Quelques cas de l’emploi de l’ainsi dénommé gérondif et de la construction avec le gérondif dans la langue amharique, dans Semitskiye yaziki I, (Moskva 1963), 82–9 (en russe); J. Hartmann, Amharische Grammatik (Äthiopistische Forschungen 3, Wiesbaden 1980), 198–201, 369–70, 373; U. Maass, Das Gerundium im Amharischen und im Tigrinya. Eine vergleichende Funktionsanalyse, Dissert. (Univ. Leipzig 1990); W. Leslau, Reference Grammar of Amharic (Wiesbaden 1995), 355–90; U. Maass, ‘On Grammatical Functions of the Gerund in Amharic’, dans P. Zemánek (éd.), Studies in Near Eastern Languages and Literatures. Memorial Volume of Karel Petrácek (Praha 1996), 343–57. 7 W. Leslau, Ethiopic Documents: Argobba. Grammar and Dictionary (Wiesbaden 1997), 52–5. 8 W. Leslau, Gurage Studies: Collected Articles (Wiesbaden 1992), 135–6, 443– 58. 9 J.M. Solá-Solé, L’infinitif sémitique (Paris 1961), 110–18; F. Bron, Recherches sur les inscriptions phéniciennes de Karatepe (Genève 1979), 143–6; J. Friedrich et W. Röllig, Phönizisch-punische Grammatik 3 (Roma 1999), 192–3, §267. 10 E. Lipinski, Semitic Languages: Outline of a Comparative Grammar (OLA 80, Leuven 1997) (2e édition, 2001), §42.12. 11 L’existence de cette littérature est encore attestée au Ve siècle par S. Augustin. Cf. F. Vattioni, ‘Sant’Agostino e la civiltà punica’, Augustinianum 8 (1968), 434– 67. On trouvera une bibliographie plus complète dans E. Lipinski (éd.), Dictionnaire de la civilisation phénicienne et punique (Turnhout 1992), 49b.

3

LE GÉRONDIF EN PHÉNICIEN

L’usage du gérondif a connu un grand développement dans les langues éthio-sémitiques, celles du nord aussi bien que celles du sud, mais il faut se référer surtout à des exemples simples qui offrent les meilleurs parallèles grammaticaux aux phrases concernées des inscriptions de Byblos, de Zincirli, de Karatepe et de Çineköy. Le gérondif est marqué en guèze par une désinence -ä ajoutée à l’infinitif et suivie du pronom suffixe. Celui-ci désigne très souvent le même sujet que celui de la proposition principale, mais peut aussi se rapporter à un sujet différent. C’est le même sujet que l’on rencontre, par exemple, dans la traduction en guèze du passage de l’Évangile de S. Matthieu 2, 3 se référant à l’arrivée des mages de l’Orient. Nous y lisons: wä-sämi¨o Herod¢s dängä∂a, «et (l’)ayant appris, Hérode fut alarmé». Le gérondif sämi¨o est constitué de l’infinitif sämi¨ du verbe «entendre», suivi du -o qui provient du suffixe -ä-hu de la troisième personne. Le gérondif exprime en l’occurrence l’antériorité de l’information à la crainte éprouvée par Hérode. Mais la construction s’emploie aussi pour signifier la simultanéité et le gérondif peut suivre la proposition principale, comme dans le passage suivant de la Chronique du négus Zar¨a Ya¨qob (1434–68):12 konu }äyhudä Ìädigomu krest¢nnahomu, «Ils devinrent Juifs, abandonnant leur christianisme». Le gérondif Ìädigomu est constitué ici de l’infinitif Ìädig, suivi de -ä-homu, devenu -omu, le suffixe de la 3e pers. masc. plur. Le gérondif s’emploie de la même manière en tigrigna qui rattache le suffixe pronominal directement à l’infinitif, sans désinence vocalique, mais n’a pas conservé le h du suffixe de la troisième personne. Ainsi lit-on dans l’Histoire de l’Éthiopie de Yay¢nsät Gäbrä-}Egzi}ab¢Ìer, écrite en tigrigna:13 Mahdaw¢yan }¢ww¢n }¢nkab Sudan tala¨ilom n¢ ˆItyoππya wåräuwa, «Mais les Mahdistes, ayant pénétré du Soudan, ont pillé l’Éthiopie». Le gérondif est constitué ici de l’infinitif tala¨il à préformante ta-, «pénétrer», et du suffixe -om de la 3e pers. masc. plur. Deux gérondifs peuvent se suivre avant la proposition principale, comme dans une autre phrase du même livre:14 nab S¢mä†ru Ra}si }Alula l¢}ikom särawitom }aktitom nab kwinat gäÒom täbäggäsu, «Ayant envoyé Ras Alula à Sematru et ayant rassemblé son armée, il se rendit 12 J. Perruchon, Chronique de Zar}a Yâ¨eqob et de Ba}eda Mâryâm (Bibliothèque de l’École des Hautes Études 93, Paris 1893), 97. 13 Yay¢nsät Gäbrä-}Egzi}ab¢Ìer, Tarik }Ityoππya (Asmara 1962), 109, ligne 9, cité par R.M. Voigt, op. cit. (n. 5), 150. 14 Yay¢nsät Gäbrä-}Egzi}ab¢Ìer, op. cit. (n. 13), 101, ligne 19, cité par R.M. Voigt, op. cit. (n. 5), 150.

4

LE GÉRONDIF EN PHÉNICIEN

au combat». Les deux gérondifs l¢}ikom et }aktitom sont constitués des infinitifs l¢}ik et }aktit suivis du suffixe pronominal -om de la 3e pers. masc. plur., car l’auteur utilise ici le pluriel de majesté pour désigner l’empereur de l’Éthiopie, tout comme il le fait dans la proposition principale dont le verbe täbäggäsu est au pluriel, ainsi que l’indique la finale -u. Le gérondif s’emploie de la même manière en amharique, argobba et gouragué. À la différence des langues éthio-sémitiques, le phénicien n’utilise pas comme sujet le suffixe pronominal, mais le pronom personnel indépendant. La construction et le sens sont, pour le reste, identiques. Comme il s’agit d’une proposition subordonnée, qui n’alterne pas avec des parfaits conjugués, mais en dépend, une traduction plus nuancée des inscriptions phéniciennes s’impose dans chaque cas. Malgré sa lourdeur, c’est souvent le participe qu’on pourra employer ici en français, mais on préférera, dans certains cas, une proposition subordonnée, introduite par «comme», «vu que». À Zincirli, dans l’inscription de Kulamuwa, on traduirait ainsi wskr }nk ¨ly mlk }sr,15 «et comme j’ai pris à solde contre lui le roi d’Assyrie, il donna une jeune fille pour une brebis et un homme pour un vêtement», c’est-à-dire: pour un prix dérisoire. Les inscriptions phéniciennes de Karatepe contiennent toute une série de gérondifs, dont l’usage multiple s’explique tout simplement par le fait que ce sont les seuls textes phéniciens comportant une section narrative de quelque ampleur. Il ne s’agit nullement d’une dialecte différent. Voici une traduction de Phu/A I, 3–1316 qui tient compte de l’emploi du gérondif: Baal a fait de moi un père et une mère pour les Danouniens, vu que j’ai fait vivre (yÌw }nk) les Danouniens, que j’ai élargi (yrÌb }nk) le pays de la plaine d’Adana du soleil levant au couchant. Et il y eut en mes jours toute sorte de bonheur pour les Danouniens, abondance et bienêtre, vu que j’ai rempli (ml} }nk) les greniers de Pahar. Ayant accumulé (p¨l }nk) cheval sur cheval, bouclier sur bouclier et armée sur armée, … j’ai brisé les rebelles, détruisant (trq }nk) tout le mal qui était dans le pays. Ayant établi (y†n} }nk) la maison de mon seigneur dans le bien, fait (p¨l }nk) du bien à la descendance de mon seigneur, l’ayant installée (ysb }nk) sur le trône de son père et fait (st }nk) la paix avec chaque roi, chaque roi m’a vraiment tenu pour un père à cause de ma justice, de ma sagesse et de la bonté de mon cœur. 15

KAI 24, 7–8; TSSI III, 13, 7–8. W. Röllig, ‘The Phoenician Inscriptions’, dans H. Çambel (éd.), Corpus of Hieroglyphic Luwian Inscriptions II. Karatepe-Aslanta≥ (Berlin 1999), 50–81 (voir p. 50); KAI 26, A, I, 3–13; TSSI III, 15, A, I, 3–13. 16

5

LE GÉRONDIF EN PHÉNICIEN

L’inscription de Çineköy comprend deux gérondifs employés avec un sujet différent de celui des propositions principales, comme c’est le cas, par exemple, dans la courte phrase en guèze näÒära qäwima du Synaxaire éthiopien,17 une collection de vies de saints pour chaque jour de l’année liturgique: «il (la) regarda, tandis qu’elle se tenait debout». Le gérondif est constitué ici de l’infinitif qäwim suivi de suffixe pronominal de la 3e pers. fém. sing. -a-ha, devenu -a, alors que le verbe principal est à la 3e pers. masc. sing. Les gérondifs de Çineköy apparaissent dans des passages très semblables à ceux du texte cité de Karatepe:18 Et comme j’ai accumulé (p¨l }nk) cheval sur cheval, armée sur armée, le roi d’Assyrie et toute la maison d’Assyrie devinrent pour moi comme un père et une mère … Et comme j’ai bâti (bn }nk) des forteresses, huit à l’est et sept à l’ouest, elles furent quinze.

Un passage narratif avec quelques gérondifs se retrouve dans l’inscription de Yehawmilk, roi de Byblos. Voici une traduction de ces lignes, tenant compte de tous les gérondifs:19 Comme j’ai invoqué (qr} }nk) ma maîtresse, la Dame de Byblos, elle a écouté ma voix. Comme j’ai fait (p¨l }nk) pour ma maîtresse, la dame de Byblos, cet autel d’airain …, comme je l’ai fait (p¨l }nk) … pour ma maîtresse, la Dame de Byblos, quand j’ai invoqué ma maîtresse, la Dame de Byblos, elle a écouté ma voix et m’a fait du bien.

Il est intéressant de relever ici le parallélisme entre les lignes 2–3, où l’on trouve le gérondif qr} }nk, et les lignes 7–8, où la conjonction de subordination km}s est suivie du parfait: km}s qr}t, «quand j’ai invoqué». L’emploi phénicien du pronom indépendant écarte la possibilité de l’usage d’un double suffixe avec l’infinitif, celui du sujet et celui de l’objet, comme en arabe.20 Seul le suffixe pronominal désignant

17 I. Guidi, Le Synaxaire éthiopien III. Mois de Nahasè et de Pâguemên, dans Patrologia Orientalis IX (Paris 1913), 237–476 (voir p. 379, ligne 3). Traduction du contexte par S. Grébaut: «Lorsque son mari Tsagâ-za-}Ab sortit du temple avec l’encensoir, il la regarda, tandis qu’elle se tenait debout, alors qu’elle était parée». 18 E. Lipinski, Itineraria Phoenicia (Studia Phoenicia XVIII; OLA 127, Leuven 2004), 127–8, lignes 5–12. L’editio princeps exige certaines mises au point: R. Tekoglu et A. Lemaire, ‘La bilingue royale louvito-phénicienne de Çineköy’, CRAI 2000, 961–1007. 19 KAI 10, 2–8; TSSI III, 25, 2–8. 20 W. Fischer, Grammatik des klassischen Arabisch (PLO, n.s. XI, Wiesbaden 1972), 127, 271, Anm. 1.

6

LE GÉRONDIF EN PHÉNICIEN

l’objet peut être attaché au verbe. L’emploi du pronom indépendant signifie aussi que l’on pourrait trouver un substantif à la place du pronom dans la même fonction de sujet de l’infinitif. Cette construction ne peut être identifiée dans les textes phéniciens actuellement connus, mais elle est attestée dans la poésie ugaritique. Ceci permet d’écarter des exemples anachroniques d’un statif utilisé comme parfait. On la rencontre également en hébreu biblique et un emploi comparable de l’infinitif se retrouve en sud-arabique.21 Bien qu’une étude ultérieure soit ici nécessaire, il est utile de présenter quelques exemples de cet usage. Il a certainement une base commune, mais connut un développement différent selon les régions. La parenté du sud-arabique avec l’éthio-sémitique suggère de présenter d’abord des exemples rencontrés en sabéen. L’infinitif absolu y est donc employé de manière analogue, mais il n’est pas accompagné d’un pronom suffixé ou indépendant, du moins dans l’état actuel de notre documentation, le sujet étant chaque fois le même que celui du verbe principal. L’emploi occasionnel de l’infinitif à désinence -n ne permet pas de douter que les formes en question sont bien des infinitifs, tandis que la séquence des verbes utilisés dans certaines phrases indique qu’ils n’expriment pas la suite des actions, mais signifient une circonstance antérieure à l’action exprimée par le verbe principal, tout comme le gérondif éthiopien. Ainsi, la phrase sabéenne b¨dw / whb¨ln / whrg / ws1by / wgnm / wmtlyn22 signifie: «ils emportèrent, ayant saisi, tué, capturé, dévasté, pillé». Il est évident que l’action de saisir, tuer, capturer et piller ne fait pas suite à l’enlèvement du butin, mais le précède. Les infinitifs en question expriment donc des circonstances antérieures à l’action du verbe principal b¨dw. Cependant, la même construction peut marquer la simultanéité: tnÌyt / wtn∂rn,23 «elle confessa faisant pénitence». Les infinitifs des exemples sabéens suivent le verbe au mode personnel, alors que le gérondif éthiopien précède souvent le verbe de la proposition principale.

21 A.F.L. Beeston, Sabaic Grammar (Manchester 1984), 22, §8:2. Cf. aussi M. Höfner, Altsüdarabische Grammatik (PLO 24, Leipzig 1943), 63–5, §54, avec plusieurs exemples, également en qatabanite et minéen. 22 A. Jamme, Sabaean Inscriptions from MaÌram Bilqis (Publications of the American Foundation for the Study of Man 3, Baltimore 1962), no 631, ligne 8, citée par A.F.L. Beeston, loc. cit. 23 CIS IV, 532, 2; K. Conti Rossini, Chrestomathia Arabica Meridionalis Epigraphica (Roma 1931), 54, no 46, ligne 2.

7

LE GÉRONDIF EN PHÉNICIEN

Ceci semble être aussi le cas de certains infinitifs ugaritiques24. Ainsi ngs }ank et ¨dbnn }ank précèdent le statif Ìt}u dans KTU 1.6, II, 21–3: Comme j’ai assailli le Très Puissant Baal, comme j’en ai fait un agneau dans ma bouche, c’est dans l’orifice de ma gueule qu’il est englouti.

Le pronom n’est pas employé si le sujet de l’infinitif absolu est le même que celui du verbe principal, comme dans le cas de qm et de ndd en KTU 1.3, I, 2–11, où il précède des prétérits yíqtul: Pardamenni, valet du Très Puissant Baal, laboureur 25 du Prince, seigneur de la terre, s’étant levé (qm), prépara le dîner 26 et lui servit à manger. Il découpa une poitrine devant lui avec un couteau salé, un morceau de (bête) grasse. S’affairant (ndd )27, il se donna de la peine28 et l’abreuva, il mit une coupe dans sa main, un hanap dans ses deux mains.

L’emploi de l’infinitif absolu en début de phrase ou après des formes verbales personnelles se rencontre aussi en hébreu biblique très tardif.29 On a pu citer un exemple en Dan. 9:5, où quatre parfaits «nous avons péché, nous avons commis l’iniquité, nous avons fait le mal, nous avons trahi», sont suivis de l’infinitif absolu sor. Celui-ci ne constitue pas la suite de l’énumération, mais signale en quoi ces fautes ont consisté: «en nous détournant (sor) de tes commandements et ordonnances».

24

Cf. J. Tropper, Ugaritische Grammatik (AOAT 273, Münster 2000), 492–3, §73.531. 25 Le nom s}id doit se comprendre à la lumière de s3}d en sabéen: «superficie cultivée», «terre labourée», «labour». Cf. A.F.L. Beeston, M.A. Ghul, W.W. Müller et J. Ryckmans, Dictionnaire sabéen (anglais-français-arabe) (Louvain-la-Neuve — Beyrouth 1982), 137. 26 On rapprochera yt¨r de l’hébreu mishnaïque s¨r, «préparer le dîner», et du guèze särä¨a, avec métathèse. 27 Le verbe ndd correspond à l’hébreu et à l’araméen ndd, «être affairé», «s’enfuir». 28 Il convient de rapprocher le verbe y¨sr de l’arabe ¨asura, «être pénible», d’où «se donner de la peine». 29 W. Gesenius et E. Kautzsch, Hebräische Grammatik 28 (Leipzig 1909), 359– 60, §113z. Voir aussi P. Joüon, Grammaire de l’hébreu biblique 3 (Rome 1965), 356–8, §123u–y; P. Joüon et T. Muraoka, A Grammar of Biblical Hebrew II (Roma 1996), 429–32, §123u–y. 8

LE GÉRONDIF EN PHÉNICIEN

Deux autres exemples de cette construction se rencontrent en Qoh. 4, 2 et Esth. 9:1.30 La forme verbale indique qu’il ne peut s’agir du parfait, bien que le contexte montre qu’elle exprime un résultat acquis. La phrase n’est pas subordonnée à une proposition principale et ne peut donc être analysée comme les exemples attestés par les inscriptions phéniciennes des 8e–5e siècles av.n.è. C’est de nouveau l’éthiopien qui fournit la clef de la solution, plus exactement le tigrigna et le dialecte amharique de la province de Godjam,31 où le gérondif peut recevoir pleine indépendance et signifier à lui seul le résultat d’une action. Par exemple, en tigrigna, }eskä gälä do sämi¨ki,32 «Dis, as-tu appris quelque chose (et le sais-tu)?». L’infinitif sämi¨, «entendre», est suivi ici du suffixe pronominal de la 2e pers. fém. sing., suivant les règles du gérondif. Dans Qoh. 4:2, suite à son expérience désabusée, l’Ecclésiaste déclare: w¢-sabbe aÌ } anî …, «Et j’ai estimé (et j’estime) les morts qui sont déjà morts».33 Le cas d’Esth. 9:1 est semblable, sauf que le sujet de l’infinitif est un pronom de la 3e pers. masc. sing., détail important, puisque tous les exemples phéniciens actuellement connus sont attestés avec le pronom de la 1re pers. sing. Esth. 9:1 se réfère à la situation des Juifs persécutés: w¢-nah apok hu} } aser, «et elle s’est retournée de manière que …». La situation s’est renversée et est restée telle quelle, les Juifs ayant écrasé leurs ennemis. Il existe d’autres cas où le sujet de l’infinitif n’est pas pronominal, comme dans Esth. 3:13, où l’infinitif absolu est indépendant. Cet usage de l’infinitif fonctionnant à lui seul marque un développement qui n’est certainement pas influencé par l’emploi du gérondif en tigrigna et dans le dialecte de godjam. Il suppose l’existence antérieure, en hébreu, d’un gérondif limité à une fonction subordonnée. Peut-être le trouve-t-on en Lév. 6:7; Nomb. 15:35 et

30 R. Lehmann, ‘Who needs Phoenician?’, M. Witte – J.F. Diehl (éds), Israeliten und Phönizier (OBO 235, Fribourg-Göttingen 2008), 1–37, en particulier p. 27–31, propose d’ajouter à ces textes Gen. 31:5 et Is. 48:13, en y lisant l’infinitif absolu à la place du participe. La structure syntaxique des phrases en question n’est cependant pas la même. 31 D’après D.L. Appleyard, ‘New Finds in the 20th Century: The South Semitic Languages’, IOS 20 (2002), 401–30, en particulier p. 421–2, le développement du gérondif dans ces deux régions serait indépendant, mais elles ne sont pas très éloignées l’une de l’autre et il faut tenir compte de déplacements possibles de populations. 32 Mark Twäyn, N¢}¢s¢nnät Tom Såwyär (Asmara 1967), 181, ligne 15. 33 A. Schoors, The Preacher Sought to Find Pleasing Words I (OLA 41, Leuven 1991), 91, 170, discerne ici an infinitif absolu utilisé à la place d’une forme conjuguée, sans noter quelque particularité.

9

LE GÉRONDIF EN PHÉNICIEN

Deut. 15:2.34 Une étude systématique des cas semblables aboutira peut-être à des distinctions chronologiques, mais elle exigera une mise au point de nombreuses traductions qui ne tiennent pas compte des différences grammaticales. Ces exemples montrent que le texte narratif des anciennes compositions ouest-sémitiques35 n’était pas composé de phrases simplement juxtaposées. Les éléments du récit étaient combinés entre eux de manière à exprimer une pensée cohérente. Les formes verbales et les conjonctions de subordination servaient à créer une unité claire et distincte, tout comme l’usage occasionnel de l’infinitif absolu. Les langues du groupe cananéen, l’ugaritique, le sud-arabique et l’éthio-sémitique attestent ainsi l’usage d’un gérondif. En revanche, je n’ai pas trouvé les traces d’un emploi comparable de l’infinitif en araméen, en nord-arabique et en arabe classique. Ceci montre une nouvelle fois, soit dit en passant, que la théorie d’un «sémitique central» ne résiste pas face aux faits grammaticaux, aussi bien que phonologiques. Address for correspondence: [email protected] Ave. Adolphe Lacomblé 50/11, 1030-Brussels, Belgium

34 Les cas de l’infinitif absolu avec sujet nominal en Gen. 17:10; Ex. 12:48; Ps. 17:5; Prov. 17:12; Job 40:2, signalés par W. Gesenius et E. Kautzsch, op. cit, (n. 29), 361, §113gg, paraissent moins clairs. 35 L’emploi du terme «gérondif» dans une grammaire de l’akkadien (G. Buccellati, A Structural Grammar of Babylonian [Wiesbaden 1996], 481, §86.3) ne se réfère pas à un phénomène grammatical comparable.

10

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS IN CLASSICAL BIBLICAL HEBREW PROSE ROBERT S. KAWASHIMA UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA

Abstract From Saussure’s distinction between diachronic and synchronic linguistics, it follows that Classical Biblical Hebrew wayyiqtol and weqatal are, grammatically speaking, ‘converted’ tenses. The converted tenses, as such, are not mere verbs, but verb phrases, consisting of a conjunction (conversive waw) and a verb. But verb phrases can be syntactically manipulated: the converted tenses might be realized in alternate forms. In fact, I will analyse numerous anomalous occurrences of both qatal and yiqtol as instances of tense ‘conversion’, in which conversive waw has been replaced by a syntactic equivalent or displaced by a syntactic insertion, and is thus separated from the converted verb — a phenomenon I refer to as ‘orphaned’ converted tense forms. Most notably, I will account for }az yiqtol in this manner. The adverbial }az has replaced waw, so that the converted imperfect appears without the conjunction, but with the same tense value as wayyiqtol.

Introduction A century ago, Ferdinand de Saussure laid the foundation for that movement eventually known as structuralism by setting forth in systematic fashion the concepts, axioms and principles of what he called ‘general linguistics’.1 As Emile Benveniste, a key figure in French structuralism, recognized already in 1954, one of the crucial innovations he bequeathed to linguistics was his distinction between the synchronic and diachronic dimensions of language: ‘The novelty of the Saussurian point of view … was to realize that language in itself 1 Saussure, Course in General Linguistics, trans. Roy Harris (La Salle 1986); hereafter cited as Course. First published posthumously in 1916, Course is based on students’ class notes dating as far back as 1906. For incisive commentary on Saussure’s thought, see Jean-Claude Milner, For the Love of Language, trans. Ann Banfield (New York 1990), 81–97; idem, Le Périple Structural (Paris 2002), 15–43.

11

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

does not admit of any historical dimension, that it consists of synchrony and structure, and that it only functions by virtue of its symbolic nature’.2 Thus, according to Saussure: synchronic linguistics ‘will be concerned with logical and psychological connexions between coexisting items constituting a system, as perceived by the same collective consciousness’; and diachronic linguistics ‘will be concerned with connexions between sequences of items not perceived by the same collective consciousness, which replace one another without themselves constituting a system’ (Course, 98; see the general discussion in 79–98).3 It is in reference to Saussure’s programmatic remarks that one should understand Benveniste’s analysis of the tense system in French: ‘The question is, then, to look in a synchronic view of the verbal system in modern French for the correlations that organize the various tense forms’.4 He specifically analyses an apparent ‘defect’ (redundancy) in the language, namely, the coexistence in French of two preterites, the passé simple (aorist) and passé composé (perfect). ‘According to the traditional interpretation’, he notes, ‘these are two variants of the same form … and their co-existence points to a transitional phase in which the early form (il fit) is retained in the written language, which is more conservative, while the spoken language anticipates the substitution of the competing form (il a fait) which is destined to become the only one’ (205–6). This strictly diachronic explanation, which ‘reduc[es] the phenomenon to the terms of a successive development’ (206), he rejects 2

Benveniste, ‘Recent Trends in General Linguistics’, in Problems in General Linguistics, trans. Mary Elizabeth Meek (Coral Gables 1971), 4. 3 Saussure provides an apt illustration of this principle, viz., the mutual irrelevance of diachronic facts and synchronic facts: ‘The Latin word crispus (‘wavy, curly’) supplied French with a stem crép-, on which are based the verbs crépir (‘to rough-render’) and décrépir (‘to strip the plaster from’). Then French at a certain stage borrowed from Latin the word decrepitus (‘worn by age’). This became in French décrépit, and its etymology was forgotten. Nowadays, it is certain that most speakers connect un mur décrépi (‘a dilapidated wall’) and un homme décrépit (‘a decrepit man’), although historically the two words have nothing to do with each other. People often speak of the façade décrépite [‘decrepit façade’–RSK] of a house. That is a static fact, because it involves a relationship between two terms coexisting in the language. But in order to bring it about, certain evolutionary changes had to coincide. The original crisp- had to come to be pronounced crép-, and at the right moment a new word had to be borrowed from Latin. These diachronic facts, it is clear, have no connexion with the static fact which they brought about. They are of quite a different order’ (Course, 83). 4 Benveniste, ‘The Correlations of Tense in the French Verb’, in Problems in General Linguistics, 205. 12

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

in favour of his now famous synchronic distinction between two linguistic ‘systems’: narration (histoire) and discourse (discours). The passé simple, on the one hand, ‘today reserved to the written language, characterizes the narration of past events…. Events that took place at a certain moment of time are presented without any intervention of the speaker in the narration’ (206). The passé composé, on the other hand, ‘creates a living connection between the past event and the present in which its evocation takes place…. Like the present, the perfect belongs to the linguistic system of discourse, for the temporal location of the perfect is the moment of the discourse while the location of the aorist is the moment of the event’ (210). In other words, there exists in French a synchronic opposition between two modes of tense: discourse, a subjective, deictic system centred on the speaker (‘I’); narration, an objective, non-deictic, ‘unspeakable’ system.5 In fact, as I have argued elsewhere, the same grammatical distinction also exists in Classical Biblical Hebrew (CBH) — which will prove relevant further on.6 To summarize in simplified form: wayyiqtol is a non-deictic preterite, locating events without reference to a speaker, and thus occurs primarily (though not exclusively) in narration (histoire); qatal is a deictic preterite, centred on the linguistically identifiable here and now of the speaker, and thus occurs primarily (though not exclusively) in direct discourse (discours). Saussure, however, had little to say about syntax. For syntax — the concatenation of signs — is a function of parole (language in use), precisely what is excluded from the structural analysis of langue (language as an abstract system of elements).7 This study will therefore proceed within the research program of generative linguistics, which has, as Jean-Claude Milner observes, ‘refuted’ the structuralist ‘empirical doctrine of language’.8 The stated aim of this linguistics, 5 See Ann Banfield, Unspeakable Sentences (Boston 1982), 140–80. In pronouncing the passé simple ‘unspeakable’, Banfield means to indicate that native speakers of French judge it ‘unacceptable’ in the spoken language. 6 See Robert S. Kawashima, Biblical Narrative and the Death of the Rhapsode (Bloomington 2004), 35–76. 7 At most, structuralist linguistics classifies surface structures rather than analysing syntax as such (Banfield, Unspeakable Sentences, 1–21). 8 Milner, Introduction à une science du langage (Paris 1989), 642; see also 36–40, 63–6, 142–4, 639–42. Conversely, text-linguistics has claimed to move beyond Chomsky’s sentence-based paradigm, by analysing larger linguistic structures, i.e., ‘texts’ or ‘discourse’ — an interesting empirical claim which I cannot deal with here. What is clear, however, is that, generally speaking, text-linguistics continues to operate within the limited aims of the structuralist enterprise, viz., the classification of linguistic surface structures.

13

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

inaugurated by Noam Chomsky, is to represent formally what he calls ‘linguistic competence’: the knowledge native speakers possess that enables them to generate grammatical sentences and reject ungrammatical ones.9 This competence consists of two separate components: a dictionary and a grammar. The ‘mental dictionary’, which Joseph Emonds describes as ‘the faculty of human linguistic memory and culture’, contains those brute facts speakers must memorize — most prominently, words.10 The ‘mental grammar’ is the set of internalized rules — syntactical, morphological, phonological — by which the native speaker can, at least in principle, generate all and only the sentences of a language. Thus, every linguistic realization — word, phrase, sentence, etc. — is either contained in the dictionary or generated by the grammar out of elements from the dictionary. Chomskyan, no less than Saussurean, linguistics studies language as a synchronic object. For neither the grammar nor the dictionary makes reference to diachronic derivation, which is to say, a native speaker’s linguistic competence does not entail knowledge of the history of the mother tongue — such knowledge may, but need not be exploited. If it is nonetheless true that everything in a language is the result of linguistic evolution — what else could it be? — the real question is, then, whether a given linguistic element has been incorporated within the synchronic system, or whether it can only be understood in terms of diachronic linguistic evolution. Within the generative model, this question amounts to whether a given linguistic form, construction, etc. pertains to the dictionary or to the output of the grammar. For if the grammar accounts for everything that is synchronically generated by rules, the dictionary, as a list of memorized facts, accounts for that part of language which has simply been 9 See, e.g., Chomsky’s foundational text, Syntactic Structures (The Hague 1957). He gives his most accessible account of generative linguistics in Language and Mind 3 (Cambridge 2006). N.B., I am not concerned here with a particular version of his theory — extended standard, government and binding, minimalist — but with the overarching research program of generative grammar which can be said to join these various theories: see Chomsky, New Horizons in the Study of Language and Mind (Cambridge 2000), 3–18. 10 Emonds, Lexicon and Grammar (Berlin 2000), vii. The distinction between components corresponds to the process of native language acquisition. Grammatical rules are never encountered as such. Rather, native speakers (primarily as children) encounter an extremely poor set of data (actual speech), and from these acquire those highly abstract rules capable of generating the infinite number of possible grammatical strings for a given language. Since the entries in the dictionary — words, e.g. — cannot be so generated — the sign is ‘arbitrary’, as Saussure observed — each must be encountered as such and then memorized.

14

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

transmitted, such as it is, from the past. In order to capture the nongenerative nature of the dictionary, some linguists have adopted the term ‘listeme’ — on analogy with ‘morpheme’, ‘phoneme’, etc. — which Steven Pinker glosses as ‘an element of language [morphemes, word roots, irregular forms, collocations, and idioms] that must be memorized because its sound or meaning does not conform to some general rule’.11 In such cases, as Saussure himself admitted, a linguistic element ‘can be explained only in historical terms, by appeal to relative chronology’ (Course, 96).12 The study of CBH, one foot still planted in nineteenth-century philology (diachronic linguistics), has been slow to take full cognizance of the synchronic nature of language.13 Witness the sense of embarrassment frequently surrounding the very concept of ‘converted’ tenses, whose origin in traditional (pre-modern) grammar makes it seem hopelessly unscientific, especially in light of the discovery that the converted imperfect derives from an archaic preterite.14 Thus, Jacob Weingreen, citing G.R. Driver, proclaims: ‘All attempts to explain this at first strange phenomenon, whereby two tenses apparently exchange functions, on logical grounds, have failed, but the historical development of the Hebrew language readily accounts for it…. [T]here are two different systems, drawn from different sources, merged in the Hebrew scheme of tenses’.15 What concerns me here is not the historical thesis itself, which I have omitted, but 11

Pinker, Words and Rules (New York 1999), 292. The term was coined in Anne Marie Di Sciullo and Edwin Williams, On the Definition of Word (Cambridge 1987). 12 Saussure’s admission in no way violates — or ‘complicates’ or ‘nuances’ — the distinction between the diachronic and synchronic dimensions of language. Rather, listemes should be conceived of as tracing diachronic arcs through time, intersecting the synchronic state (plane) of a language at a geometrical point without synchronic extension. 13 There are exceptions. See Galia Hatav, ‘Anchoring world and time in biblical Hebrew’, Journal of Linguistics 40 (2004), 491–526, esp. 492–4 and references there. That field variously known as ‘text-linguistics’, ‘discourse analysis’, etc. is an indirect heir of Saussurean structuralism and, as such, synchronic: see, e.g., Robert D. Bergen (ed.), Biblical Hebrew and Discourse Linguistics (Dallas 1994); Walter R. Bodine (ed.), Discourse Analysis of Biblical Literature (Atlanta 1995); and David Allan Dawson, Text-Linguistics and Biblical Hebrew (Sheffield 1994). 14 For an historical survey of studies of the CBH verbal system, including premodern views, see Leslie McFall, The Enigma of the Hebrew Verbal System (Sheffield 1982). The now standard designation ‘consecutive tenses’ seems to function as a fig leaf, covering up the shame of the medieval notion of tense ‘conversion.’ 15 Weingreen, A Practical Grammar for Classical Hebrew2 (Oxford 1959), 252– 3; see also 90–1. 15

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

the willingness to freely replace a synchronic explanation ‘on logical grounds’ with a diachronic one based on the ‘historical development’ of CBH. Such Hebraists, in Saussure’s words, have yet ‘to distinguish clearly between states and sequences’ (Course, 98). In fact, while the converted imperfect (wayyiqtol ) descends, as is well known, from the archaic preterite (*wa + yaqtul ), the converted perfect (weqatal ) followed a more complicated path.16 It apparently began as the resultative (*wa + qatala) found in the apodosis of conditional clauses. Only later, on analogy with wayyiqtol, did the converted perfect assume the various tense-aspect values of the imperfect — qatal: wayyiqtol:: yiqtol: weqatal.17 In other words, the converted tenses result from the ‘synchronic reinterpretation’ of previously established linguistic forms.18 As undeniably important as the discoveries of diachronic linguistics have been, they do not change the fact that wayyiqtol and weqatal were, in the eyes of native speakers, converted tenses. Various morphological anomalies — wayyiben, wattasar, instead of *wayyibneh, *wattasîr — would not have presented themselves to native speakers as linguistic problems requiring a diachronic explanation — that they are vestiges of *yaqtul — but would have seemed as harmless as an irregular verb in English — ‘ran’ not ‘runned’. From the synchronic organization of the converted tenses follow several crucial but largely unrecognized linguistic consequences. Inasmuch as grammar conceives of wayyiqtol and weqatal as the converted imperfect and converted perfect, respectively, they are not actual 16

In this discussion, I summarize Ronald S. Hendel, ‘In the Margins of the Hebrew Verbal System: Situation, Tense, Aspect, Mood’, ZAH 9 (1996), 153 n.5. See also G. Bergsträsser, Hebräische Grammatik (2 vols, Hildesheim 1962 [1929]), II, §3 (hereafter Bergsträsser); T.L. Fenton, ‘The Hebrew “Tenses” in the Light of Ugaritic’, in Proceedings of the Fifth World Congress of Jewish Studies (5 vols, Jerusalem 1969), IV, 31–9. On the origins of wayyiqtol, see Mark S. Smith, The Origins and Development of the Waw-Consecutive (Atlanta 1991), 1–15; Anson F. Rainey, ‘The Ancient Hebrew Prefix Conjugation in the Light of Amarnah Canaanite’, HS 27 (1986), 4–19; idem, ‘The Prefix Conjugation Patterns of Early Northwest Semitic’, in Tzvi Abusch, John Huehnergard and Piotr Steinkeller (eds), Lingering over Words: Studies in Ancient Near Eastern Literature in Honor of William L. Moran (Atlanta 1990), 407–20. On the origins of weqatal, see William L. Moran, ‘The Hebrew Language in its Northwest Semitic Background’, in G. Ernest Wright (ed.), The Bible and the Ancient Near East: Essays in Honor of William Foxwell Albright (Garden City 1965 [1961]), 74–5; Bruce K. Waltke and M. O’Connor, An Introduction to Biblical Hebrew Syntax (Winona Lake 1990), §32.1.2. 17 See Saussure’s relevant discussion of linguistic analogy in Course, 160–71. 18 Hendel, ‘Hebrew Verbal System’; see also Angel Sáenz-Badillos, A History of the Hebrew Language, trans. John Elwolde (Cambridge 1993), 69. 16

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

verbs, but verb phrases consisting of a conjunction (the so-called conversive waw) and a verb: wayyiqtol = waw + converted yiqtol; weqatal = waw + converted qatal.19 Which is to say that the grammatical concept of converted tense is independent of, cannot be reduced to, its paradigmatic forms, wayyiqtol and weqatal. On the contrary, since phrases, unlike words, are subject to internal syntactic manipulations, it follows that the converted tenses can, in principle, be realized in alternate forms. In fact, a number of anomalous occurrences of both qatal and yiqtol constitute instances of tense ‘conversion’, in which conversive waw is replaced by a syntactic equivalent or displaced by a syntactic insertion, and is thus separated from the converted verb — a phenomenon I refer to as ‘orphaned’ converted tense forms. Most notably, I will account for }az yiqtol — but not †erem yiqtol — in this manner.20 The adverbial }az has replaced waw, so that the converted imperfect appears without the conjunction, but with the same tense value as wayyiqtol. The conditions of replacement and displacement indicate that I am not merely providing an ad hoc explanation for grammatical difficulties.21 I am not the first to identify orphaned converted tense forms. Beat Zuber, in particular, anticipates this study in important respects. Instead of providing a properly syntactic explanation, however, he theorizes that a certain power (Umkehrfunktion) resides in various particles (Tempusverhalten verschiedener Partikel ).22 Several generations earlier, a few scholars recognized various instances of these converted tenses, as well — though, sadly, their insight seems to have been largely forgotten by subsequent scholarship.23 Their examples, 19

One might object that wayyiqtol and weqatal are written as single words — at least when word breaks are represented. Typographical word divisions, however, do not necessarily coincide with underlying (abstract) linguistic word divisions: see Steven Pinker, Language Instinct (New York 1995), 126–57. 20 While scholars have often treated }az yiqtol and †erem yiqtol as a matched pair, there is no a priori reason for doing so: see Bergsträsser II, §7c,g; Galia Hatav, ‘The Modal Nature of [†erem] in Biblical Hebrew’, HS 47 (2006), 23–47; and Jan Joosten, ‘The Long Form of the Prefix Conjugation Referring to the Past in Biblical Hebrew Prose’, HS 40 (1999), 18–19. 21 I thus reject the negative view which maintains that tense forms in CBH freely change tense value: see Alexander Sperber, Hebrew Grammar: A New Approach (New York 1943), 181–207. His discussion, however, is valuable for identifying a number of interesting, because anomalous, occurrences of various tenses (192–8). See also Ziony Zevit’s analysis of ‘non-past yaqtul’ in ‘Talking Funny in Biblical Henglish and Solving a Problem of the Yaqtul Past Tense’, HS 29 (1988), 25–33. 22 Zuber, Das Tempussystem des biblischen Hebräisch (Berlin 1985), 156–84. 23 See Julius Friedrich Böttcher, Ausführliches Lehrbuch der Hebräischen Sprache, 2 vols (Leipzig 1866–8), 2.205; Heinrich Ewald, Ausführliches Lehrbuch der hebräischen 17

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

however, while interesting, are mostly prosodic, which raises problems beyond the scope of this study.24 Conversely, no less a scholar than S.R. Driver dismissed this theory, insisting that without conversive waw, the appropriate unconverted tense is invariably employed.25 Driver, however, betrays here a lack of linguistic clarity all too common in the field. In effect, he takes linguistic surface structure as the sole fact to be accounted for, a false premise common to traditional grammar as well as structuralist methods. Thus, all occurrences of the surface forms yiqtol and qatal are analysed as the imperfect or perfect, respectively. If a particular instance of yiqtol and qatal defies the standard assignment of tense value — and such anomalies are legion — a suitable semantic nuance is invented in ad hoc fashion in order to rescue the surface form and restore grammatical order.26 Generative linguistics, however, has provided powerful arguments for positing beneath the linguistic surface an abstract grammatical structure — I do not even refer here to ‘deep structure’. An adequate description of a linguistic surface structure must capture these underlying relations. Consider the two uses of the present tense form in ‘It is [now] cloudy’ and ‘Pi is [*now] equivalent to the ratio of a circle’s circumference to its diameter’. The former is the present tense proper (co-temporal with the moment of speech), and so it can co-occur with the deictic Sprache des alten Bundes 8 (Göttingen 1870), §346b; and Ferdinand Hitzig, Der Prophet Jeremia 2, (Leipzig 1866), 334 (Jer 44:22); idem, Das Buch Hiob (Leipzig 1874), 23 (Job 3:25), 39 (Job 5:19–20). I also draw from S.R. Driver’s summary of Hitzig’s relevant comments, apparently scattered in additional sources, in A Treatise on the Use of the Tenses in Hebrew and Some Other Syntactical Questions 3 (Oxford 1892), §§85 Obs, 109 Obs. 24 In general, the evidence for this study comes from the prose portions of Genesis-Kings. 25 Driver, Tenses, §§85 Obs, 109 Obs. 26 The contingence of its encounter with the real of language distinguishes linguistics proper — i.e., modern, scientific — in its various forms, from traditional grammar and certain structuralist methods. Thus, traditional grammar, as Milner observes, ‘constructs an image’ of language (pertaining to Lacan’s order of the ‘imaginary’), one that is ‘total’, since nothing need escape grammatical description (For the Love of Language, 75). And various structuralist methods, as Banfield points out, ‘even when they pretend to be empirical … find their data too easily, the notion of argument being absent’ (‘Preface to Phrases sans parole’, trans. Thelma Sowley, in Robert S. Kawashima, Gilles Philippe and Thelma Sowley (eds), Phantom Sentences: Essays in Linguistics and Literature Presented to Ann Banfield [Bern 2008], 463). In marked contrast, the contingence of the linguistic discovery, as part of ‘the order of science’, requires that linguistic knowledge take the form of ‘fragments’ (Milner, For the Love of Language, 76). 18

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

adverbial ‘now’. The latter is the ‘generic’ present (related to no particular moment), and so it cannot. The hypothetical insertion of ‘now’, a type of syntactic experiment, precludes an explanation of these two sentences based on mere interpretive sleight of hand (semantic nuance). Rather, one must posit beneath a single surface form the abstract but ‘real’ existence of two distinct tenses. Just so, one cannot simply dismiss my theory for positing beneath the surface forms yiqtol and qatal a second pair of tense values. In fact, my theory has considerable explanatory power, accounting for a multitude of grammatical anomalies, while economically replacing a cumbersome set of ad hoc semantic nuances with a single grammatical principle, firmly established on independent grounds, viz., tense conversion. On }az yiqtol as an ‘orphaned’ converted imperfect The most common form of the orphaned converted imperfect is }az yiqtol. In order to account for the surprising fact that the prefix conjugation following }az (‘then’) often refers to past events, many scholars resort to a purely historical explanation: it is a vestigial occurrence of the archaic preterite *yaqtul.27 It must immediately be observed that this diachronic hypothesis is premised on a widespread but largely repressed synchronic perception that, in terms of tense value, }az yiqtol is equivalent to *yaqtul, which in CBH means wayyiqtol.28 As 27 See Bergsträsser II, §7g; Edward L. Greenstein, ‘On the Prefixed Preterite in Biblical Hebrew’, HS 29 (1988), 8; Joosten, ‘Prefix Conjugation’, 22 n.17, 24–5; Alviero Niccacci, Syntax of the Verb in Classical Hebrew Prose (Sheffield 1990), 194. By comparing CBH with Arabic, Waltke and O’Connor effectively offers a diachronic explanation of }az yiqtol (An Introduction, §31.6.3a). Recall that Saussure’s ‘diachronic’ linguistics was originally called ‘comparative’, because whether it compared successive states of a language in order to trace linguistic change, or parallel linguistic facts from different languages in order to posit a common predecessor (such as Indo-European or proto-Semitic), the comparison served the diachronic analysis of language (see Milner, Périple structural, 19–20). 28 For this reason, †erem yiqtol and }az yiqtol require two separate explanations. In the former, yiqtol retains the normal tense value of the (unconverted) imperfect. For as Hendel observes, †erem (‘not yet, before’) ‘requires a relative future verb by its inherent meaning’ (‘Hebrew Verbal System’, 160; he builds on earlier versions of the relative tense theory of CBH; see esp. Bergsträsser II, §§6–7. For an historical survey, see McFall, Enigma, 21–4, 33–4, 41–3, 177–9). It is only because †erem yiqtol is a relative clause, whose translation into English (and other Indo-European languages) typically requires the shifted past, that scholars have often misidentified the Hebrew construction as a form of the past tense. In }az yiqtol, however, the imperfect has been converted into a genuine preterite. What is more, the adverbial

19

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

we will see, the diachronic hypothesis is almost certainly false. But as we have already seen, even if it were true, it would not, in and of itself, preclude the existence of a synchronic pattern or rule. Rather, one must produce arguments for assigning }az yiqtol to the dictionary as a listeme. Two possibilities immediately present themselves.29 One might be tempted to analyse }az yiqtol as fixed ‘idiom chunks’ preserving the archaic preterite *yaqtul.30 Idioms have two defining linguistic features: unpredictable (idiomatic) meaning, and non-productive (fixed) syntactic structure. To be more precise, Andrew Radford defines idioms as expressions ‘which have an idiosyncratic meaning that is not a purely componential function of the meaning of their individual parts’.31 Apropos of their syntax, he continues: ‘There seems to be a constraint that only a string of words which forms a unitary constituent can be an idiom. Thus, while we find idioms … which are of the form verb + complement … we don’t find idioms of the form subject + verb where the verb has a complement which isn’t part of the idiom’.32 Consider expressions such as: ‘kick the bucket’; ‘bite the bullet’; ‘break the ice’. The meaning of these expressions may have made some sense in their original context, but they survive unchanged as odd relics from the past. They must therefore be memorized individually, like words themselves. Note as }az, unlike †erem, locates the event, not in some relative future, but at a definite point in time, viz., ‘then’. Thus, it has been argued that }az marks the insertion of archival material into Kings, and replaces a date in the source text (James A. Montgomery, ‘Archival Data in the Book of Kings’, JBL 53 [1934], 49; Martin Noth, The Deuteronomistic History [Sheffield 1981], 128 n. 45). On the relation between temporal adverbs and verbal tense and aspect, see Hamida Demirdache and Myriam Uribe-Etxebarria, ‘The Syntax of Time Adverbs’, in Jacqueline Guéron and Jacqueline Lecarme (eds), The Syntax of Time (Cambridge 2004), 143–79. For a general overview of }az, see Martin Jan Mulder, ‘Die Partikel [}az] im biblischen Hebräisch’, in K. Jongeling, H.L. Murre-Van den Berg and L. van Rompay (eds), Studies in Hebrew and Aramaic Syntax: Presented to Professor J. Hoftijzer on the Occasion of his Sixty-Fifth Birthday (Leiden 1991), 132–42. 29 The following arguments also apply, mutatis mutandis, to †erem yiqtol, which is to say, †erem yiqtol is not a listeme, but is generated by the grammar. 30 Joosten calls }az yiqtol a ‘fixed phrase’ preserving an ‘older grammatical function’ (‘Prefix Conjugation’, 25), while Niccacci identifies it as a specimen of ‘certain fixed constructions’ preserving the ‘archaic use of YIQTOL’ (Syntax, 194). Neither provides a precise linguistic definition of this ‘fixed’ phrase/construction with which one might have tested their hypothesis. Montgomery similarly proposes that the construction is a ‘stylism’ resulting from the use of archival data — though he does not discuss the problem of tense per se (‘Archival Data’, 49). 31 Radford, Syntactic Theory and the Structure of English (Cambridge 1997), 322. 32 Radford, Syntactic Theory, 322–3, emphasis his. 20

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

well their fixed collocation of a particular verb with a particular complement. As fixed expressions they do not even tolerate the insertion of modifiers, at which point they lose their figurative (idiomatic) meaning. *He kicked the green bucket. *Sooner or later you’ll need to bite the silver bullet. *It’s time we broke the hard ice.

It is immediately clear, however, that }az yiqtol fails both criteria. It has a productive syntax, indiscriminately combining subjects, verbs and complements, and it does not in and of itself have an unpredictable idiomatic meaning.33 Alternatively, one could simply analyse }az yiqtol as a ‘strong’ or irregular verb form, which preserves the remnant of an archaic morphological pattern. As Pinker notes apropos of irregular English verbs — drink-drank, sink-sank, shrink-shrank, etc. — they ‘are mere fossils of [Proto-Indo-European] rules’.34 In other words, while the ‘weak’ forms evolve in conformity with those regular synchronic patterns generated by the grammar, the ‘strong’ forms, immune for whatever reason to certain linguistic changes, are left behind by history in various archaic states, which speakers perceive as grammatical irregularities. In CBH, the short forms of wayyiqtol constitute just such an irregular pattern, and they thus provide important evidence for the historical relation between wayyiqtol and *yaqtul. This hypothesis, however, fails to account for }az yiqtol, which is conspicuously regular in terms of the imperfect tense. As is well known, one predictably encounters the long form of the prefix conjugation in these constructions.35 1 Kgs 11:7: }az yibneh selomoh bamâ likmôs — not yiben, as in wayyiben Then Solomon built a high place for Chemosh.

If one still insisted on tracing yiqtol in such constructions back to *yaqtul, one would then have to admit that it is no longer a mere fossil, but an element that has been reabsorbed by the grammar and 33 Pinker identifies another class of listemes similar to idioms, viz., ‘collocations’: ‘string[s] of words commonly used together: excruciating pain; in the line of fire’ (Words and Rules, 290, emphasis his); see also Geoffrey Nunberg, Ivan Sag, and Thomas Wasow, ‘Idioms’, Language 70 (1994), 491–538. I will not consider this case separately, however, since }az yiqtol is not a collocation for the same reasons that it is not an idiom. 34 Pinker, Language Instinct, 138. 35 See also Exod. 15:1; Num. 21:17; Deut. 4:41; Josh. 8:30; 2 Kgs 12:18.

21

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

resumed evolving as a regular linguistic form — in other words, that }az *yaqtul has been synchronically reinterpreted as }az + imperfect. It may be true, as Edward Greenstein has observed, that ‘in one instance [of }az yiqtol] the Masoretic vocalization reflects the shorter *yaqtul rather than the longer *yaqtulu form’:36 }az yaqhel (‘Then [Solomon] assembled’; 1 Kgs 8:1) — not yaqhîl. But does this justify deriving }az yiqtol from the archaic prefix preterite? One could just as easily point to irregular long forms of wayyiqtol — e.g., wattibkeh (1 Sam. 1:7; 2 Kgs 22:19) and wayyibneh (Josh. 19:50; 1 Kgs 18:32). Following Greenstein’s logic, one should derive wayyiqtol from *yaqtulu.37 As he himself argues, however — correctly this time — the more common short forms (wayyaqom, wayyiben, etc.) argue for its derivation from *yaqtul instead.38 In both cases, then, the exceptional forms merely prove the rule. But they are not without significance. On the one hand, wattibkeh and wayyibneh though quite possibly ungrammatical, indicate the writers’ perception of the ‘conversive’ relationship between wayyiqtol and yiqtol — a type of linguistic Freudian slip.39 In 1 Kgs 8:1, on the other, a biblical writer (or Masorete), aware of how irregular it is for yaqhîl (marked as imperfect) to function as a preterite, ‘corrected’ it by analogy with wayyiqtol. In doing so, this individual betrayed the grammatical equivalence he perceived between }az yiqtol and wayyiqtol. The preponderance of evidence, however, suggests that this example is an instance of hypercorrection. Not only does }az yiqtol not behave like a listeme, we have positive evidence that it has nothing to do with the preterite *yaqtul in the first place. For all the occurrences of }az yiqtol in direct discourse (Benveniste’s discours) refer to events in the future: Gen. 24:41; Exod. 12:44, 48; Lev. 26:34, 41; Deut. 29:19; Josh. 1:8; 20:6; 36

Greenstein, ‘Prefixed Preterite’, 8. Joosten rightly pronounces it a ‘grammatical anomaly’ (‘Prefix Conjugation’, 25 n. 24). 37 That wattibkeh in 1 Sam. 1:7 probably continues an iterative past sequence does not change the fact that it is, morphologically speaking, a (nonstandard) form of wayyiqtol. See the unconvincing analysis of these long forms in Paul Joüon and Takamitsu Muraoka, A Grammar of Biblical Hebrew (2 vols, Rome 1991), II, §79m. 38 Greenstein, ‘Prefixed Preterite’, 8–9. 39 This sort of error — producing a regular form (‘runned’) where an irregular one is called for (‘ran’) — is typical of non-native speakers (and young children). Perhaps, then, these non-standard long forms are due to dialectal variation (including that due to diachronic evolution), as opposed to mere carelessness on the part of a native speaker of ‘normative’ CBH. 22

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

1 Sam. 6:3; 20:12; 2 Sam. 5:24; 2 Kgs 5:3.40 If this construction were a vestige of *yaqtul, it should refer uniformly to the past.41 Instead, we find that this single construction can refer to either the past or the future. This is a grammatical problem that any adequate theory must solve — more on which below. Finally, diachronic evidence within the Bible itself suggests that }az yiqtol (with past tense meaning) did not evolve from }az *yaqtul or even }az *yaqtulu, but from }az qatal. For it is precisely this last construction that we find in archaic poetry.42 Exod. 15:15: }az nibhalû }allûpê }edôm Then were dismayed the chieftains of Edom.

On the basis of this limited but telling evidence, it appears that }az yiqtol, far from being an archaism in BH, first appears in CBH prose, when yiqtol simply replaces qatal.43 To summarize: }az yiqtol is not a listeme (a vestige of *yaqtul ); rather, it is generated by the grammar in the form of the imperfect. And yet, it does not take the tense value of the imperfect (presentfuture), but rather of the preterite. How can this be? Exod. 15:1: }az yasîr moseh ûbenê yisra}el }et hassîrâ hazzo}t layhwh Then Moses sang, and the Israelites, this song to the Lord. Judg. 5:1: wattasar debôrâ ûbaraq ben }abîno¨am bayyôm hahû} And Deborah and Barak son of Abinoam sang on that day …

Consider the nearly identical syntax and context of Exod. 15:1 and Judg. 5:1. Even the temporal adverb, }az, in the former has its equivalent in the latter — bayyôm hahû}. But for the change in subject, these two sentences have virtually the same meaning, including their tense value.44 So much so that I maintain that }az yasîr and 40

In direct discourse, }az qatal is used to refer to the past — more on which below. 41 See McFall, Enigma, 222–3. 42 See also Gen. 49:4; Judg. 5:11, 13, 19, 22. 43 It is true that in Ugaritic }idk (‘then’) can be followed by the prefix conjugation: }idk l ttn pnm ¨m }il, ‘then she verily sets face toward El’ (Daniel Sivan, A Grammar of the Ugaritic Language [Leiden 1997], 181). But the evidence of biblical poetry is more pertinent here. 44 Contra those who give the construction the tense-aspect value of the imperfect: Carl Brockelmann, Hebräische Syntax (Neukirchen 1956), §42a; Driver, Tenses, §§26–7; E. Kautzsch (ed.), Gesenius’ Hebrew Grammar 2, trans. A.E. Cowley (Oxford 1910), §107c (hereafter GKC); Isaac Rabinowitz, ‘}Az Followed by Imperfect Verb-Form in Preterite Contexts: A Redactional Device in Biblical Hebrew’, 23

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

wattasar — i.e., }az yiqtol and wayyiqtol — are syntactically parallel. Apparently, then, }az has replaced the conversive waw as a type of syntactic equivalent,45 while the now orphaned converted imperfect retains its preterite tense value.46 So reasoned the writer or Masorete in 1 Kgs 8:1, who, as noted earlier, apparently corrected — or hypercorrected — the ostensibly irregular long form of the preterite, yaqhîl, replacing it with yaqhel. What is surprising (and neglected in the literature) is that }az yiqtol has past tense meaning only in narration. In direct discourse, it retains the future tense value of the imperfect, so that the alternate construction }az qatal must be used instead to refer to past events: Josh. 22:31; 2 Sam. 5:24; etc.47 Tense conversion elegantly accounts for this striking fact: }az yiqtol is converted in narration, unconverted in discourse. Furthermore, the synchronic distribution of converted VT 34 (1984), 53–62; E.J. Revell, ‘The System of the Verb in Standard Biblical Prose’, HUCA 60 (1989), 11; Christo H.J. van der Merwe, Jackie A. Naudé, and Jan H. Kroeze, A Biblical Hebrew Reference Grammar (Sheffield 2002), §19.3.2. One should probably include in this group Frithiof Rundgren, who proposes the rather baroque notion of an ‘imparfait de rupture’ that ‘neutralizes’ the opposition between the ‘kursive’ (imperfect) and ‘non-kursive’ (perfect) tenses (‘Erneuerung des Verbalaspekts im Semitischen: Funktionell-diachronische Studien zur semitischen Verblehre’, Acta Universitatis Upsalensis; Acta Societatis Linguisticae Upsalensis n.s. 1/3 [1963], 88–9). 45 Their syntactic equivalence is suggested by their complementary distribution: }az (not counting compound forms with min) is attested 118 times in the Masoretic Text (MT); we}az occurs only 4 times. Of the latter, three are found in the apodosis of a conditional statement, which motivates the presence of we; the fourth (Jer 32:2) constitutes the only unmotivated attestation of we}az. The infrequency of we}az is striking, given the frequency of sentence-initial waw in CBH. It means that the presence of }az precludes we (and vice-versa), which suggests that their combination was felt to be redundant. 46 According to Wolfgang Schneider, }az in narrative ‘ersetzt das TempusZeichen “wa”’ (Grammatik des biblischen Hebräisch 8 [München 1993], §48.4.3.4); see again Zuber, Tempussystem, 163–5. Rainey vaguely suggests that ‘the use of the imperfect as a narrative tense [is probably] made possible by the combination with the adverb, [}az]’ (‘Further Remarks on the Hebrew Verbal System’, HS 29 [1988], 35). McFall offers the still weaker hypothesis (incorrectly attributed to †erem as well): ‘The so-called conversive force of [}az] and [†erem] depends on the fact that a corresponding tense (the past) precedes, with which it is co-ordinated’ (Enigma, 223). Joüon and Muraoka correctly observe that yiqtol here has ‘no iterative or durative aspect, and thus [has] the value of qatal, which would be the expected form’ (A Grammar, II, §113h), but fails to offer an adequate explanation. While Ewald’s theory is based on an incorrect diachronic derivation, we + }az → wa (§231a), it correctly relates }az yiqtol to the converted imperfect (§§233b, 346d). 47 While }az qatal also occurs in narration (Exod. 4:26; Josh. 10:33; 22:31; etc.), this does not affect my argument here. 24

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

and unconverted }az yiqtol corroborates, in turn, the distinction I have maintained elsewhere between narration (histoire) and direct discourse (discours) in CBH: like wayyiqtol, converted }az yiqtol is characteristic of narration, not discourse.48 The matching diachronic distributions of }az yiqtol and wayyiqtol further corroborates their grammatical equivalence, albeit indirectly. It has been suggested that }az yiqtol begins dying out in Late Biblical Hebrew (LBH), eventually to be replaced by }az qatal 49 — just as it originally derived, I have argued, from the latter. It should be admitted that already in CBH, }az qatal apparently provided a viable alternative to }az yiqtol in narration: Gen. 4:26; Exod. 4:26; Josh. 10:33; Judg. 8:3; 13:21; 2 Sam. 21:17, 18; 1 Kgs 8:12; 9:24; 22:50; 2 Kgs 14:8.50 Nevertheless, the relative frequency of their appearances in Chronicles demonstrates a decisive shift in LBH: }az qatal occurs seven times (1 Chron. 15:2; 16:7; 20:4; 2 Chron. 6:1; 8:12; 8:17; 24:17); }az yiqtol (with past tense meaning) occurs only twice, and both of these derive from the parallel passage in Kings (2 Chron. 5:2 = 1 Kgs 8:1; 2 Chron. 21:10 = 2 Kgs 8:22).51 This construction is arguably replaced by ba¨et hahî} qatal as well, which apart from a single appearance in Josh. 5:2, is restricted to a cluster of occurrences in Kings: 1 Kgs 14:1; 2 Kgs 16:6, 18:16, 20:12, 24:10. The life span of }az yiqtol thus coincides with that of wayyiqtol, which likewise flourished in CBH.52 And this correlation of their diachronic evolution supports my hypothesis that the two are synchronically related. Finally, as a type of linguistic thought experiment, one might consider various near synonyms for }az. Why does the orphaned converted imperfect co-occur only with }az, and not with these alternatives? CBH possesses two prepositional phrases that constitute near synonyms of }az: bayyôm hahû} (‘in that day’) and ba¨et hahî} (‘at that time’). 48

Kawashima, Biblical Narrative, 35–76. See Brockelmann §42; Waltke and O’Connor, An Introduction, §31.6.3 50 I exclude here occurrences found in direct discourse (discussed earlier), where qatal is the expected preterite: Josh. 22:31; 2 Sam. 2:27 (counterfactual); 5:24; 2 Kgs 13:19 (counterfactual). It is far from clear that }az qatal is ‘ungrammatical’ as Montgomery claims (‘Archival Data’, 49). Neither do I perceive a clear semantic difference between }az yiqtol and }az qatal. I view occurrences of }az qatal in narration as the result of dialectal variation or of genuine uncertainty regarding the use of tense with }az. 51 See Arno Kropat, Die Syntax des Autors der Chronik (Giessen 1909), 17. 52 See esp. Sáenz-Badillos, History of Hebrew, 112–29; Smith, Waw-Consecutive, 27–33. 49

25

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

Gen. 15:18: bayyôm hahû} karat yhwh }et }abram berît In that day, the Lord cut a covenant with Abram.53 Josh. 5:2: ba¨et hahî} }amar yhwh }el yehôsua¨ At that time, the Lord said to Joshua …54

These two prepositional phrases, while similar in meaning and function to }az, have a different syntactical status. They occur only rarely in sentence-initial position — recall, e.g., the sentence-initial position of }az in Exod. 15:1 and the sentence-final position of bayyôm hahû} in Judg. 5:1. And in those few cases when they are in a position to replace conversive waw, they seem disqualified from doing so by virtue of their being a full prepositional phrase, rather than a mere particle. Thus, we never encounter bayyôm hahû} yiqtol or ba¨et hahî} yiqtol, where the imperfect has been converted into the preterite. They are followed by either yiqtol as relative future (Lev. 22:30) or the preterite qatal (see previous paragraph). More frequently, however, they follow the verb and therefore cannot interfere syntactically with wayyiqtol to begin with.55 Other Orphaned Converted Imperfects Aside from these occurrences of }az yiqtol with past tense meaning, there are only a few additional cases of the orphaned converted imperfect, but these nonetheless provide important corroboration of the linguistic analysis just proposed. An exceptional case is found in Judg. 2:1 (}a¨aleh, ‘I brought [you] up’), where conversive waw has simply been dropped for no discernable reason. The subsequent verb sequence, however, leaves no doubt as to its tense value: wa}abî}… wa}omar, ‘And I brought … and I said’. More typically, conversive waw is displaced from its prefixal position. 1 Kgs 20:33: weha}anasîm yenaÌasû waymaharû wayyaÌle†û And the men divined and hurried and took [his meaning].

In effect, the grammatical subject (‘the men’) is inserted between conversive waw and converted imperfect. Again, the subsequent wayyiqtols leave no doubt as to its tense value. 53

See also Josh. 4:14 and 1 Kgs 8:64. See also 1 Kgs 14:1; 2 Kgs 16:6; 18:16; 20:12; 24:10. 55 To take just a few examples, see: Gen. 30:35; 33:16; 48:20 (bayyôm hahû} ); and Josh. 6:26; 11:10, 21; Judg. 3:29 (ba¨et hahî} ). 54

26

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

1 Sam. 1:10: wehî} marat napes wattitpallel ¨al yhwh ûbakoh tibkeh56 And she was bitter of soul, and she prayed to the Lord and wept deeply.

Here, the infinitive absolute (bakoh), functioning as a manner adverbial (‘deeply’), has been embedded within the underlying verb phrase, thus displacing conversive waw from its prefixal position.57 One can restore the underlying syntax by moving the infinitive after wayyiqtol, where it more properly belongs: wattitpallel ¨al yhwh wattebk bakoh (cf Gen. 31:15). True, one expects the syntactic interruption, which precludes clause-initial wayyiqtol, to result in qatal: ûbakoh baketâ. At least certain biblical writers, however, thought it grammatically acceptable to insert the adverbial between the conversive waw and the converted imperfect. And just as the grammar generates the long form tibkeh according to regular rules, so it generates conversive waw not as wa- but as û. The same syntactic phenomenon seems to be in evidence in the following examples as well, but now an entire phrase separates conversive waw from orphaned converted imperfect. Exod. 8:20: wayya¨as yhwh ken wayyabo} ¨arob kabed… ûbekol }ereÒ miÒrayim tissaÌet ha}areÒ mippenê he¨arob And the Lord did so. And a great swarm came… And in all the land of Egypt the land was ruined because of the swarm.

Analogous to the previous example, the adverbial phrase (bekol }ereÒ miÒrayim) inserts itself between the waw and the orphaned converted imperfect (tissaÌet). I interpret the underlying syntactic relations thus: *wattissaÌet ha}areÒ bekol }ereÒ miÒrayim mippenê he¨arob.58 56

We find a striking potential parallel in the Deir Allah inscription: wyqm bl¨m mn mÌr … ubkh ybkh, ‘And Balaam rose the next day … and wept bitterly’ (Combination 1.3–4; see Shmuel Ahituv, Handbook of Ancient Hebrew Inscriptions, [Jerusalem 1992], 266 [Hebrew]). Given the textual gap, it is impossible to analyse the syntax precisely. If wbkh ybkh continues the preterite sequence of wyqm, I would analyse it in the same way as 1 Sam. 1:10. For a radically different construal of the inscription, see Klaas A.D. Smelik, Writings from Ancient Israel (Louisville 1992), 83. 57 Contra Waltke and O’Connor’s semantic explanation (An Introduction, §31.2c). On the infinitive absolute and its interaction with tense, see Kawashima, Biblical Narrative, 52–6. 58 Even Driver describes this imperfect as ‘of an exceptional character’ (Tenses, §27g). Giving the verb an imperfective tense value — e.g., ‘the land was being ruined’ — makes less sense semantically than the simple preterite reading. Note, restoring wattissaÌet results in the repetitive phrase, ha}areÒ bekol }ereÒ miÒrayim. The writer may have fronted the prepositional phrase, making an orphan of the converted imperfect, in order to avoid this inelegant concatenation. 27

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

Num. 35:20: we}im besin}â yehdapennû }ô hislîk ¨alayw biÒdiyyâ wayyamot And if in hatred he pushed him or hurled something at him, lying in wait, and he died…

In Num. 35:20, note how we}im … yehdapennû is syntactically parallel to }ô hislîk (qatal ) and continued by wayyamot (wayyiqtol ).59 Moreover, the other parallel cases considered in this passage are all presented as past events (qatal ): e.g., we}im … hikkahû (Num. 35:16, 17, etc.). Deut. 2:12: ûbese¨îr yasebû haÌorîm lepanîm ûbenê ¨esaw yîrasûm wayyasmîdûm wayyesebû taÌtam And in Seir had dwelt the Horim previously, but the sons of Esau dispossessed them and destroyed them and dwelt there in their place. 2 Kgs 20:14: mâ }amerû ha}anasîm ha}elleh ûme}ayin yabo}û }elêka What did these men say to you, and from where did they come to you?

Now in both of these examples, one must seriously contend with the possibility that the sentence is simply ungrammatical — in spite of the fact that we can no longer consult a native speaker. I for one would replace yîrasûm and yabo}û with their qatal equivalents, yaresû and ba}û (cf. Gen. 42:7) — not as textual emendations, but as grammatical corrections.60 Even so, I interpret the actual data as indirect evidence of the writers’ mental grammar. What function did each writer intend for the unexpected imperfect? In both cases, the converted imperfect.61 Thus, yîrasûm in Deut. 2:12 is continued not by 59 This verse comes from casuistic law and is sometimes interpreted with imperfective/future meaning, but see n. 70 below. 60 Chomsky defines linguistic ‘competence’ in opposition to ‘performance’, which is subject to individual variation and error. Like Saussure’s distinction between langue and parole, this reduction of the linguistic object to an idealized form is the epistemological act whereby linguistics constitutes itself as a science. Inasmuch as one seeks to analyse the linguistic competence of CBH speakers, not all the data contained in MT can simply be accepted as grammatical. For even if it were purified of all textual corruption, MT would still pertain by definition to linguistic performance. Thus, although we can no longer consult native speakers, one must, however cautiously, attempt to separate the grammatical from the ungrammatical. This is no different from the venerable practice of text criticism, which proceeds by sorting through variant readings and even emending the text when necessary. The refusal to admit the existence of ungrammatical constructions (and textual corruptions) in MT is akin to the doctrine of scriptural inerrancy. 61 Greenstein lists Deut. 2:12 and 2 Kgs 20:14 (among less convincing examples) as cases where: ‘Without special pleading, it is simplest to analyze the prefixed

28

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

weqatal, but wayyiqtol; and in 2 Kgs 20:14, Isaiah’s question (yabo}û) is answered in the perfect tense (ba}û), the event being treated as a fait accompli.62 So why does the converted imperfect appear in orphaned form? Again, due to the displacement of conversive waw. I would thus grammatically ‘restore’ these sentences as follows: *Deut. 2:12: ûbese¨îr yasebû haÌorîm lepanîm wayyîresûm benê ¨esaw wayyasmîdûm wayyesebû taÌtam *2 Kgs 20:14: mâ }amerû ha}anasîm ha}elleh wayyabo}û me}ayin }elêka

In the first case, however, we lose the disjunction between the first and second clauses; in the second, the interrogative needs to be in clause-initial position. For these reasons, neither sentence actually occurs in these forms. In terms of tense sequence, however, these hypothetical reconstructions are the best approximation of the grammatically acceptable syntactic form each writer was aiming for. Finally, one finds a cluster of orphaned converted imperfects caused by the insertion of the negative particle. 2 Sam. 2:28: wayyitqa¨ yô}ab bassôpar wayya¨amdû kol ha ¨am welo} yirdepû ¨ôd }aÌarê yisra}el welo} yasepû ¨ôd lehillaÌem And Joab sounded the trumpet and all the troops halted, and they no longer pursued Israel and they no longer continued to fight. 1 Kgs 8:8: wayya}arikû habbaddîm wayyera}û ra}sê habbaddîm min haqqodes ¨al penê haddebîr welo} yera}û haÌûÒâ And the poles extended out, and the ends of the poles were seen from the sanctuary in front of the inner shrine, but they were not seen outside. Jer 44:22: welo} yûkal yhwh ¨ôd lase}t…wattehî }arÒekem And the Lord could no longer bear … and so your land became …

In all three cases, the most natural reading of yiqtol is as the converted imperfect.63 Note in particular the parallel in 2 Sam. 2:28 between welo} yirdepû ¨ôd (yiqtol ) and welo} yasepû ¨ôd (qatal ), both presumably having the same tense value. In fact, welo} qatal is the standard form: Deut. 34:10; Josh. 2:11, 5:1,12; 1 Kgs 10:5; 2 Kgs 2:12. verbs in these pairs as preterites’ (‘Prefixed Preterite’, 11). What he has in mind, however, is a diachronic derivation from *yaqtul. 62 Contra Zuber, Tempussystem, 134–5. This past tense context differentiates 2 Kgs 20:14 from similar examples in present tense contexts: Josh. 9:8; Judg. 17:9; 19:17. On these latter examples, see also McFall, Enigma, 84–5; Waltke and O’Connor, An Introduction, §31.3b. 63 Contra Revell’s analysis of 1 Kgs 8:8 (‘System of the Verb’, 12). 29

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

In order to account for these anomalous occurrences of yiqtol, one must yet again choose between inventing an ad hoc semantic nuance and invoking an established syntactic principle, viz., tense conversion. Orphaned Converted Perfects The converted perfect (weqatal ),64 as a verb phrase, is subject to the same syntactical manipulations as the converted imperfect (wayyiqtol ). That is, conversive waw can either be replaced by a syntactic equivalent, or displaced by an embedded element, leaving behind an orphaned converted perfect. Since these linguistic principles should by now be clear, the remaining discussion will primarily consist of the presentation of evidence, and this often in highly elliptical form. But in the interest of firmly establishing the orphaned converted perfect as a genuine syntactic phenomenon, the number of examples presented will not be any less exhaustive. In one instance, conversive waw is unceremoniously dropped — similar to }a¨aleh in Judg. 2:1 (discussed above).65 Isa. 8:8: weÌalap bîhûdâ sa†ap we¨abar ¨ad Òawwa}r yaggîa¨ And it will sweep into Judah; it will overflow and pass through; up to the neck it will reach.

The sequence of weqatal and yiqtol forms suffices to establish the future tense value of sa†ap. More commonly, we find orphaned converted perfects where conversive waw has been replaced by a syntactic equivalent. Compare the prodoses in the following two examples, two versions of the oath Judah makes to his father. Gen. 43:9: }im lo} habî}otîw }elêka wehiÒÒagtîw lepanêka weÌata}tî leka kol hayyamîm If I do not bring him back to you and set him before you, I shall be guilty before you forever. Gen. 44:32: }im lo} }abî}ennû }elêka weÌata}tî le}abî kol hayyamîm If I do not bring him back to you, I shall be guilty before you forever.

Rather than propose some overly subtle semantic distinction between }im lo} habî}otîw and }im lo} }abî}ennû, one should simply admit 64

For a recent survey of the various uses of the converted perfect, see Robert E. Longacre, ‘Weqatal Forms in Biblical Hebrew Prose’, in Bergen (ed.), Biblical Hebrew and Discourse Linguistics, 50–98. 65 See already Böttcher, 2.205. 30

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

that they have the same tense value, and identify the former as an orphaned converted perfect.66 Interestingly enough, we find a regularly attested construction — analogous to }az yiqtol — in which the conversive waw in weqatal is replaced by a syntactic equivalent: }ô qatal.67 In these examples, we find a set of parallel possibilities: an initial case (weqatal ) followed by one or more alternatives, each introduced by }ô (‘or’). Thus, }ô qatal is syntactically parallel (equivalent) to weqatal. Moreover, }ô qatal typically occurs in a sequence of imperfects and/or converted perfects, further confirmation of its tense value. Num. 11:7–8: wehamman kizra¨ gad hû} we¨ênô ke¨ên habbedolaÌ sa†û ha¨am welaqe†û we†aÌanû bareÌayim }ô dakû bammedokâ ûbisselû Now manna, it was like coriander seed, and its appearance was like the appearance of bdellium. The people would walk around and gather and grind it in a mill or pound it in a mortar, and boil it.

In Num. 11:7–8, sa†û is an habitual past — it should read wesa†û (or perhaps yasu†û).68 The habitual past is continued by a sequence of converted perfects: welaqe†û, we†aÌanû, }ô dakû, ûbisselû. Thus, the manna was processed in one of two possible parallel fashions: the Israelites either ‘would grind’ it (we†aÌanû) ‘or would pound’ it (}ô dakû). Converted }ô qatal appears most frequently in the prodosis of casuistic law.69 Here it becomes part of a parallel structure of two or more legal conditions. Since legal stipulations generally refer to future contingent events, }ô qatal should again be analysed as an orphaned converted perfect, in order to obtain the logically required tense value.70 For this reason it functions, in the following examples, as the 66 Contra Driver, Tenses, §138. C. van Leeuwen assigns future tense meaning to }im qatal in Gen. 43:9, but does not provide a convincing syntactic explanation for it ( ‘Die Partikel [}im]’, OTS 18 [1973], 21 and n.3). 67 See Zuber’s insightful discussion of }ô qatal in Tempussystem, 157–9. 68 Again, I am not proposing a textual emendation, but a grammatical correction. Note, in 1 Sam. 2:13, the habitual past sequence begins with a participial phrase, which I would compare to the two verbless clauses at the beginning of this passage. Cf. Driver’s forced explanation (Tenses, §114a). 69 On }ô in conditional clauses, see Driver, Tenses, §138 Obs; GKC §159cc; Joüon and Muraoka, A Grammar, II, §167 — none of whom comment on the enigmatic yet regular use of qatal here. 70 In a telling contrast, these examples can be distinguished from others where }ô qatal requires a relative past reading. In such cases, it refers to a circumstance markedly antecedent to the legal case under consideration: Exod. 21:36 (an ox previously known to be prone towards aggressive behaviour); Lev. 5:1 (a potential witness who had earlier seen or learned about some disputed matter); Num. 35:18, 20, 21, 22 (the prior killing which resulted in the killer’s fleeing to a city of refuge

31

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

syntactic equivalent of either yiqtol or weqatal. In the list of examples below, I provide only the relevant parallel verbal constructions.71 Exod. 21:37: û†ebaÌô (slaughters) | | }ô mekarô (or sells) Exod. 22:9: ûmet (dies) | | }ô nisbar (or is injured) | | }ô nisbâ (or is carried off) Exod. 22:13: wenisbar (is injured) | | }ô met (or dies) Lev. 4:22–3: we}asem (realizes guilt) | | }ô hôda¨ (or is made known) Lev. 4:27–8: we}asem (realizes guilt) | | }ô hôda¨ (or is made known) Lev. 5:21–2: wekiÌes (deceives) | | }ô ¨asaq (or defrauds) | | }ô maÒa} (or finds) Lev. 25:48–9: tihyeh lô (will have) | | }ô hissîgâ (or prospers) Num. 5:14: we¨abar ¨alayw (comes over him) | | }ô ¨abar ¨alayw (or comes over him) Num. 30:3: yiddor (makes a vow) | | }ô hissaba¨ (or swears an oath) Num. 30:4, 11–12: tiddor (makes a vow) | | we}im … nadarâ (but if … makes a vow) | | }ô }aserâ (or takes a pledge)

In all these cases, }ô replaces conversive waw, leaving behind an orphaned converted perfect. The equivalence of }ô qatal to weqatal is further emphasized by the tense sequence in Lev. 5:21–2 (}ô maÒa} … wekiÌes … wenisba¨ ), Num. 5:14 (}ô ¨abar… weqinne}), and Num. 30:11–12 (we … nadarâ … }ô }aserâ … wesama¨ ): in these examples, }ô qatal is continued by weqatal within the prodosis. In a telling contrast, analogous passages sometimes employ }ô yiqtol, but only when a syntactic element intervenes between the conjunction and the verb. It indicates the equivalence: }ô …yiqtol = }ô qatal. Apparently, the interposed element prevents }ô from replacing the conversive waw of weqatal, resulting in yiqtol instead of converted qatal.72 1 Sam. 26:10: Ìay yhwh kî} im yhwh yiggapennû }ô yômô yabô} wamet }ô bammilÌamâ yered wenispâ As the Lord lives, the Lord will strike him down, or his day will come and he will die, or he will go down to battle and perish.

In casuistic law, we find the parallel structure: kî yiqtol … }ô kî yiqtol.73 or his execution at the hands of the victim’s kin). Note, Num. 35:16–23 comprises several prodoses (vv16, 17, 18, 20, 21, 22f), each having the tense sequence qatal/ wayyiqtol (except for the orphaned converted yehdapennû in v 20); the imperfect/ converted perfect only appear in the corresponding apodoses. 71 In two cases we find }ô qatol (infinitive absolute) — Lev. 25:14 (}ô qanoh) and Deut. 14:21 (}ô makor) — and in both cases I would change (emend, this time) qatol to qatal (orphaned converted perfect). 72 See also Exod. 19:13. 73 See also Lev. 5:3; 13:16; 15:25; Deut. 24:3. 32

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

Exod. 21:33: wekî yiptaÌ }îs bôr }ô kî yikreh }îs bôr welo} yekassennû wenapal sammâ sôr }ô Ìamôr And when a man opens a pit, or when a man digs a pit and does not cover it, and an ox or a donkey falls into it …

The available evidence suggests that, without the syntactic interruption between }ô and yiqtol, we would find }ô qatal instead: }ô ba} yômô … }ô yarad bammilÌamâ; }ô karâ bor. In a related set of cases, conversive waw is not replaced by a syntactic equivalent, but rather displaced, separated from the converted perfect, by an embedded construction — weqatal, like wayyiqtol, again being treated as a verb phrase, not a verb. Gen. 17:16: ûberaktî }otah wegam natattî mimmennâ leka ben ûberaktîha wehayetâ legôyim malkê ¨ammîm mimmennâ yihyû And I will bless her, and indeed I will give you a son from her. And I will bless her, and she will become nations. Kings of peoples will be from her.

As Zuber, apparently alone, has recognized: ‘waw allenfalls auch über eine Partikel hinweg seine Umkehrfunktion ausüben kann’.74 The adverbial gam, like the infinitive absolute in 1 Sam. 1:10 (discussed above), has interposed itself between conversive waw and converted perfect. Remove the adverbial and one uncovers a typical weqatal chain: ûberaktî, wenatattî, ûberaktîha, wehayetâ. Analogous to the long form of the orphaned converted imperfect (see discussion of 1 Sam. 1:10 above), the verb phrase wenatattî (with ultimate stress), once it has been separated into its constituents by the syntactic insertion, loses the final stress characteristic of weqatal: wegam natàttî (with penultimate stress). 1 Sam. 2:16: lô} 75 kî ¨attâ titten we}im lô} laqaÌtî beÌozqâ No, you must give it now! And if not, I will take it by force.

Correct analysis of this conditional phrase must begin with the well established fact that the apodosis should begin with the converted perfect, as in 1 Sam. 6:9: we}im lo} weyada¨nû (‘And if not, then we will know’).76 In other words, laqaÌtî has the same tense value 74 Zuber, Tempussystem, 162. Major grammars — Driver, GKC, Joüon and Muraoka, Waltke and O’Connor — do not comment on this verse. One might also interpret natattî as a performative — ‘I hereby give’ — but the tense sequence argues for an orphaned converted perfect. 75 Reading with qere. 76 Recall that weqatal probably originated in this very syntactic function.

33

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

as weyada¨nû; i.e., it is an orphaned converted perfect.77 Correct analysis of this orphaned converted perfect requires that one restore the full version of the prodosis, which has been partially elided in surface structure: we}im lô} titten (‘And if you do not give’). Apparently, when the verb in the prodosis (titten) underwent deletion, the waw in the prodosis was able to take over the function of tense conversion from the conversive waw originally contained in the apodosis, which would have read welaqaÌtî. The final result: }im lo} separates conversive waw from the orphaned converted perfect. Finally, on several occasions, a particle, especially }im, has the same syntactic effect in the prodosis of casuistic law.78 For this last set of cases, I merely list several pairs of verb phrases. First, I provide several examples of the orphaned converted perfect. Then, in each case, I corroborate its tense value by offering a syntactic equivalent (yiqtol and/or weqatal ), selected from a closely related passage. I leave it to the reader to further confirm my analysis, by verifying in each case that the orphaned converted perfect occurs in a sequence of yiqtol and/or weqatal. we}im ra}â (Lev. 13:56) = we}im yir}eh (Lev. 13:53) — ‘he sees’ we}im †aharâ (Lev. 15:28) = wekî yi†har (Lev. 15:13) — ‘she becomes clean’ we …lo} hebî}ô (Lev. 17:3–4) = lo} yebî}ennû (17:8–9) — ‘he does not bring’ we}im lo} maÒe}â (Lev. 25:28) = ûmaÒa} (Lev. 25:26) — ‘he does (not) find’ we}im mak (Lev. 27:8) = yamûk (Lev. 25:25) — ‘he is poor’ we}im makar (Lev. 27:20) = yimkor (Lev. 25:29) — ‘he sells’ we}im henî} (Num. 30:6) = yanî} (Num. 30:9) — ‘he forbids’

As with analogous examples of the orphaned converted imperfect, it is possible that these are, strictly speaking, ungrammatical in ‘normative’ CBH. Even so, the notion of the orphaned converted perfect, a single linguistic principle, enables us to account for these anomalous occurrences of qatal without positing yet more semantic nuances. Conclusion In this way, seemingly disparate particular phenomena become part of a general grammatical order. What once required ad hoc sub77

Contra Driver, Tenses, §136g. On }im in conditional clauses, see Driver, Tenses, §§136,138; GKC §159 l–v; Joüon and Muraoka A Grammar, II, §167; van Leeuwen, ‘Partikel’, 16–27. On the possible future reference of }im qatal, see n. 66 above. 78

34

‘ORPHANED’ CONVERTED TENSE FORMS

categorizations of qatal and yiqtol are now accounted for by a single grammatical principle — tense conversion. At the same time, the very hypothesis that wayyiqtol and weqatal are, grammatically speaking, converted tenses, receives unexpected confirmation — not a case of circular reasoning, but the corroboration of a theory previously established on independent grounds. True, I cannot explain why a converted tense is retained in orphaned form in some cases and not in others. In many cases, the orphaned converted tense appears to be an acceptable stylistic variant. In others, however, it most likely betrays the influence of non-normative CBH. In either case, the solution offered here, which explains a considerable number of unexpected tense forms, many in constructions that certainly are grammatical (}az yiqtol and }ô qatal ), seems preferable to the ad hoc, impressionistic, and overly subtle semantic explanations frequently offered, in an attempt to reconcile conspicuously odd examples of yiqtol and qatal with their superficially apparent tense values. And even in those cases where an orphaned converted tense form most likely constitutes an actual grammatical error, it betrays the intuition of at least certain biblical writers that wayyiqtol and weqatal are indeed the converted imperfect and converted perfect, respectively. Beyond the particular thesis, one must again insist on the larger theoretical point: the diachronic development of language as such does not enter into grammar. This is not to deny the importance of diachronic linguistics. However, as Saussure, again, predicted: ‘Having paid too much attention to history, linguistics will go back now to the static viewpoint of traditional grammar, but in a new spirit and with different methods’ (Course, 82). What I have suggested, but not been able to pursue here in detail, is that his prediction was fulfilled not by structuralism, but by Chomskyan linguistics. While there has been no need here for analyses based on linguistic ‘trees’, simply to appeal to the biblical writers’ linguistic ‘competence’, to seek to eliminate linguistic ‘performance’, and to employ concepts such as the ‘idiom’ that are defined in terms of generative rules for what is and is not acceptable, is already to enter into another linguistic universe.79 Address for correspondence: [email protected]

79

I am grateful to Ron Hendel and Mark Smith for commenting on an earlier version of this paper. Its basic arguments were first presented in the 2004 Annual Meeting of the Society of Biblical Literature. A substantially revised version was presented at the 2007 Annual Conference of the Association for Jewish Studies. 35

NOUVELLES INSCRIPTIONS ARAMÉENNES DU TEMPLE DE NANNAY À HATRA BAHAA AMER AL-JUBOURI UNIVERSITY OF BAGHDAD

Abstract The inscriptions discussed here were discovered during excavations undertaken by the Iraq Antiquities Service in the summer of 1992 in the remains of a building situated 90 m to the south-west of the enclosure of the Grand Temple at Hatra. The building, constructed above a raised pavement reached by three staircases, is composed of two broad rooms, each with three similar entrances, and in the middle of the west wall of the second room an entry leads to a square stone cellar. The building is similar to the third sanctuary, which is situated in the eastern part of the town, and, according to the author, would be the fourteenth sanctuary in Hatra and was consecrated to the goddess Nannay. Here, we take up the study of these new inscriptions which Dr Jabir Kh. Ibrahim published and translated in the journal Sumer. The numbering of the inscriptions is retained and continues the established numbering of the Hatra inscriptions.

Ces inscriptions étaient découvertes dans les fouilles entreprises par le Service Iraquien des Antiquités et du Patrimoine dans les décombres d’un édifice situé à une distance de 90 mètres du côté sud-ouest de l’enceinte du grand temple de Hatra en été 1992. L’édifice, construit au-dessus du dallage élevé escaladé par trois escaliers, se compose de deux salles larges. Chacune a trois entrées comparables et au milieu du côté ouest de la deuxième salle une entrée se conduit à une chambre carrée et voûtée de pierre. L’édifice est analogue au sanctuaire troisième, situé dans la partie orientale de la ville, et d’après l’auteur il serait le sanctuaire quatorzième de Hatra, consacré à la déesse Nannay. Nous reprenons ici l’étude de ces nouvelles inscriptions que Dr Jabir Kh. Ibrahim a publié et traduit en arabe dans la revue Sumer.1 1 J. Kh. Ibrahim, ‘Unpublished Inscriptions from the Temple of Nannay in Hatra’, Sumer 51 (2001–2), 200–16 (en arabe).

37

NOUVELLES INSCRIPTIONS ARAMÉENNES DU TEMPLE DE NANNAY

La numérotation des inscriptions est celle de Sumer et continue la numérotation de la série d’inscriptions précédente.2 4633 Inscription de deux lignes de caractères enfoncés, gravée sur la face latérale du seuil en marbre de Mossoul et situé à longe du dallage de l’entrée de la chambre sacrée. Longueur 220 cm, largeur 70 cm et hauteur 17 cm. La fin de la première ligne est très abîmée. Longueur du reste de la première ligne 195 cm.

1. bsnt 400+10+2 }qymyt }n} ¨qby kmr} dy nny rb} br syl} mn bny tmny qsys} }? n??? } …?? lnny 2. mrt tg} drgyt} dy ̆r} ¨l Ìyyhy w¨l Ìy} †hmh kwlh kmr} dy nny w¨l slm ̆r} klh 1. En l’an 412 (=100/101 de notre ère) j’ai érigé, moi, ¨qby, le grand prêtre de Nannay, fils de syl}, des Bene tmny, les symposiarques … pour Nannay de l’escalier, 2. la femme de la couronne, de Hatra, pour sa vie et la vie de sa tribu tous, les prêtres de Nannay, et pour la paix de Hatra tous.

L.1: bsnt. Il faut signaler, tout d’abord, l’absence de byrÌ, ‘au mois de’. Cette formule de datation nous est connue autrement seulement dans deux inscriptions, nos 214: 1 et 290: 1. }qymyt. Ibrahim lit }qymt, mais le yod est très net sur le facsimilé. Voir no. 288a: 7. ¨qby. C’est un hypocoristique attesté aussi sous la forme ¨qbw: 411: 8b; 450: 2. nny. Cette divinité féminine est attestée une seule fois à Hatra auparavant: 4: 1. 2 J.Kh. Ibrahim, ‘Unpublished Inscriptions from the Eastern Gate in the (City) Wall of Hatra’, Sumer 50 (1999–2000), 166–84 (en arabe), qui contient les numéros 424–62. Les numéros 417–23 seront publiés prochainement par le même auteur. Pour tous les numéros précédents, voir K. Beyer, Die aramäischen Inschriften aus Assur, Hatra un dem übrigen Ostmesopotamien (Göttingen 1998). 3 Cette inscription a été étudiée pour la première fois par l’auteur dans al-Jubouri, ‘Unpublished Aramaic Inscriptions from Hatra’, Journal of the Academy of Sciences (Syriac Corporation) 17 (1999), 92 (en arabe).

38

NOUVELLES INSCRIPTIONS ARAMÉENNES DU TEMPLE DE NANNAY

kmr} dy nny rb}. C’est la première attestation de l’existence à Hatra d’un grand prêtre de Nannay. D’ailleurs, rb} pour Ibrahim qualifie Nannay, mais Nannay est une déesse. Cette épithète appartient à kmr}, ‘le prêtre’, même s’il vient après le nom de la déesse. qsys}. J’y vois le pluriel qassise, ‘les symposiarques’, appartenant aux Bene tmny. syl}. Nom propre nouveau à Hatra. On le trouve aussi dans les anciennes inscriptions édesséniennes: syl} 4. tmny. Nom de tribu à quel appartienne ¨qby. Il est attesté à Palmyre comme nom propre: tmny}5. Ibrahim lit }zn ¨dn} sans commentaire. Malheureusement la fin de la ligne est défectueuse, ce qui nous empêche d’en proposer une lecture satisfaisante. L.2: mrt. Ce mot est déjà connu à Hatra, cf. no. 404:1. tg}. Ce mot est attesté ici pour la première fois à Hatra. On peut y reconnaître l’équivalent de tg} du palmyrénien6 et du syriaque taga 7 qui a le sens de ‘couronne’. Ce mot se présente en arabe sous la forme taj. D’autre part, mrt tg} semble être l’épithète de Nannay. drgyt}. Dans l’article cité plus haut, nous avions lu ce mot rbyt}, ‘l’intendant’. drgyt}, attesté ici pour la première fois à Hatra, est bien connu épigraphiquement dans le monde ouest-sémitique où drg} désigne ‘escalier’. Voir l’araméen d’Empire et le judéo-araméen8. Au syriaque le même mot traduit l’hébreu ma¨ alo† de 2 Rois 9:139. drgyt} est une forme adjectivale au féminin, ‘de l’escalier’, avec référence à la déesse Nannay. Le même mot se trouve encore une fois dans l’inscription no. 473 ici plus bas. Ìy}. est une forme du status constructus (en absence de la particule de liaison d- ou dy, ‘de’). Cette orthographie est bien attestée à Hatra, cf. nos 4: 5; 28: 4; 34:6, etc.10. 4

A.H. Al-Jadir, A Comparative Study of the Script, Language and Proper Names of the Old Syriac Inscriptions (University of Wales Ph.D. thesis, 1983), 407. 5 J. Stark, Personal Names in Palmyrene Inscriptions (Oxford 1971), 55, 117. 6 J. Hoftijzer et K. Jongeling, Dictionary of the North-West Semitic Inscriptions, vol. 2 (Leiden 1995), 1203. 7 J. Payne Smith, A Compendious Syriac Dictionary, (Oxford 1903), 604. 8 J. Hoftijzer et K. Jongeling, op. cit, vol. 1, 259–60. 9 R. Payne Smith, Thesaurus Syriacus, I (Oxford 1879–1901), cols 944–5. 10 Pour d’autres attestations, voir: R. Degen, ‘Die Genitivverbindung im Aramäischen der Hatra Inschriften’, Orientalia 36 (1967), 76–80. 39

NOUVELLES INSCRIPTIONS ARAMÉENNES DU TEMPLE DE NANNAY

†hmh. Il s’agit d’un nom nouveau attesté pour la première fois dans l’épigraphie nord- et ouest-sémitique. Ce mot est conservé en syriaque comme †uhma 11, en mandéen: †uhma12, et en arabe: †uhm13. slm. Ce mot n’était pas encore attesté à Hatra, mais on le trouve en araméen d’Empire, en nabatéen, en palmyrénien, en judéoaraméen14 et en syriaque. 464 Inscription incrustée de plombe gravée sur la face supérieure du seuil précédent.

bsnt 400+10+2 }qymyt }n} ¨qby kmr} dy nny rb} br syl} br ¨qby br syl} br bswn br tqwn En l’an 412 (=100/101) j’ai érigé, moi, ¨qby, le grand prêtre de Nannay, fils de syl} fils de ¨qby fils de syl} fils de bswn fils de tqwn

bswn: Il s’agit d’un nom propre nouveau à Hatra. Nous ne lui trouvons pas d’étymologie probante. tqwn: Nom propre nouveau à Hatra. Comme parallèles nous pouvons citer le nom propre assyrien Taquni15. 465 Inscription de trois lignes gravée sur le socle d’une statue trouvé dans la deuxième salle. La fin de l’inscription est incomplète. Longueur de ligne 65 cm.

11 12 13 14 15

J. Payne Smith, op. cit., 168. E. Drower et R. Macuch, A Mandaic Dictionary (Oxford 1963), 177. Ibn ManÂur, Lisan al-¨arab, vol. 15 (Cairo 1882–91), 265. J. Hoftijzer et K. Jongeling, op. cit., vol. 2, 1147. K.L. Tallqvist, Assyrian Personal Names (Helsingfors 1914), 230. 40

NOUVELLES INSCRIPTIONS ARAMÉENNES DU TEMPLE DE NANNAY

1. 2. 3. 1. 2. 3.

bsnt 400+20+3 }qymtny nny kmr} bsnt 400+20+10+2 }qjmt }n} brnny br … En l’an 423 (=110/111) Nannay a érigé pour moi, prêtre. En l’an 432 (=120/121) j’ai érigé, moi, brnny fils de…

L.3: brnny. Le nom propre est bien connu à Hatra, cf. nos 1: 1; 2: 2; 106: 2b, etc. 466 Inscription de deux lignes gravée sur le socle d’une statue en marbre de Mossoul, trouvé près de l’angle sud-ouest de la deuxième salle. Longueur 68 cm et hauteur 15 cm. Le début et la fin de l’inscription sont perdus. Longueur de la première ligne 60 cm.

1. 2. 1. 2.

[Òlm} dy….] br brnny d}qym lnpsh ¨l Ìyyhy w¨l Ìy} … [Statue de …] fils de brnny qu’il a érigé pour lui-même pour sa vie et pour la vie de …

L.1: Òlm} dy. Nous proposons de restituer au début de la ligne la formule Òlm} dy, ‘statue de’. L’érection d’une statue pour lui-même est un phénomène connu à Hatra, voir les nos 20:2; 35:5. 467 Inscription de deux lignes gravée sur le socle d’une statue trouvé à gauche de l’entrée à la première salle. Le début de l’inscription est perdu. Longueur de la première ligne 40 cm.

41

NOUVELLES INSCRIPTIONS ARAMÉENNES DU TEMPLE DE NANNAY

1. mqymsms w¨bd¨gylw 2. bnyh 1. mqymsms et ¨bd¨gylw 2. ses fils

L.1: mqymsms. Ibrahim lit mqwmsms. mqymsms serait attesté deux fois aux nos 60 et 61. ¨bd¨gylw. Ce nom propre est très fréquent à Hatra, cf. nos 37: 7; 80: 1, 7, 8; 141: 1, etc. 468 I Inscription de deux lignes gravée sur le socle d’une statue en marbre de Mossoul. Longueur 51cm, largeur 34 cm et hauteur 13 cm. Longueur de l’inscription 48 cm.

1. mqymsms rbyt} 2. br wrwd rbyt} dmrtn 1. mqymsms, l’intendant, 2. fils de wrwd, l’intendant de Martan

L.1: wrwd. Ibrahim lit zr(d)zd(r). wrwd est bien connu à Hatra, cf. nos 60; 61; 102, etc. D’ailleurs mqymsms br wrwd rbyt} semble être le même personnage qui nous est connu par l’inscription no. 60. L.2: rbyt} dmrtn. Cette fonction nous est connue par le no. 364:4. 469 Inscription de quatre lignes gravée sur une frise de banc incomplet situé sur l’autel. La fin de l’inscription est endommagée. Longueur 67 cm et largeur 43 cm. 42

NOUVELLES INSCRIPTIONS ARAMÉENNES DU TEMPLE DE NANNAY

1. ¨bd wqrb gdyhb [br] }by rby[t}] 2. dbrmryn }lh} …… }l[kwd] 3. mlk} ¨l Ìyyh w¨l [Ìy}…] 4. [wmn dy] rÌym lh klh 1. A fait et a offert gdyhb [fils de] }by, l’intendant 2. de Barmaren le dieu …… }l[kwd] 3. le roi, pour sa vie et pour [la vie de …] 4. [et] tous ceux qui l’aiment.

L.1: ¨bd wqrb. L’interprétation d’Ibrahim comme des noms propres n’est pas adéquate dans le contexte précise de notre inscription. Ils s’agirent de deux verbes de troisième personne au passé qui signifient ‘a fait et a offert’. gdyhb. Nom propre attesté plusieurs fois à Hatra, cf. 4: 2–3; 13:2; 23:2, etc. }by. Ibrahim traduit ‘mon père’. gdyhb br }by est connu par le no. 415:3a. rby[t}] dbrmryn. La fonction rbyt} dbrmryn, ‘l’intendant de Barmaren’ est connue par le no. 224:5. L.2: }l[kwd]. On pourrait lire }lkwd, théophore connu à Hatra, cf. 79: 5, 6, 7, 8; 80:2, 9; 113:1, etc. L.3: ¨l [Ìy}.On pourrait restituer Ìy} et lire ¨l Ìy}, formule usuelle si largement attesté dans les dédicaces hatréennes. L.4: [wmn dy]. On pense dans le contexte hatréen de restituer wmn dy, ‘celui qui’, devant rÌym lh klh, formule bien connu à Hatra, nos 20: 4; 35: 8; 52: 5. 470

Inscription de deux lignes, peinte en encre rouge, gravée sur le socle d’une statue de femme en marbre de Mossoul, dont il ne reste que les pieds, trouvée dans la deuxième salle. Longueur 50 cm, largeur 35 cm et épaisseur 16 cm. 43

NOUVELLES INSCRIPTIONS ARAMÉENNES DU TEMPLE DE NANNAY

1. 2. 1. 2.

Òlmt} dy mlk} brt nbwdyn dmytt Statue de mlk} fille de nbwdyn qui est morte

L.1: Òlmt}. Le mot désignant la statue est au féminin pour une effigie de femme, cf. 5: 1; 30: 1; 34: 2, etc. mlk}. Nom propre nouveau à Hatra. Il est attesté à Palmyre comme nom masculin16. L’anthroponyme Malkah est encore en usage chez les populations de la langue arabe. L.2: nbwdyn. Nom propre connu par les inscriptions nos 279: 1; 310; 416: 3; 446: 1. 471 Inscription de trois lignes en caractères grands gravée sur une pièce de bloc de construction ou pièce d’une base de statue en marbre de Mossoul. Longueur 1,10 mètres et largeur 54 cm. Le début et la fin sont perdus. Longueur du reste 53 cm.

1. [Òlm} dy … br b]rsms kmr} 2. [dy …… Ìpy]zy mlk} …?? 3. ………………w? mlh

16

J. Stark, op. cit., 32, 95. 44

NOUVELLES INSCRIPTIONS ARAMÉENNES DU TEMPLE DE NANNAY

1. [Statue de … fils de b]rsms le prêtre 2. [de …… Ìpy]zy le roi …?? 3. ………………???

L.1: [Òlm} dy]. Ici on pourrait restituer tout simplement Òlm} dy, ‘statue de’, suivi d’un nom propre. b]rsms. Ibrahim propose de lire [¨b]d. brsms est attesté aux nos 393: c; 432: 1. L.2: Ìpy]zy. Nous sommes tenté de restituer Ìpy devant zy et lire Ìpyzy (232: 4b). On pourrait aussi proposer Ìp}zw (59; 118; 121; 126) ou rp}zw (332: 2). L’espace vide qui précédait ce nom propre était occupé par le nom du dédicant suivi de br, ‘fils de’. 472 Inscription de deux lignes gravée sur la base d’une statue représentant un personnage pieds-nus en marbre de Mossoul, trouvée dans la deuxième salle. Longueur 60 cm, largeur 30 cm et épaisseur 16 cm. Le début est abîmé. Longueur de la deuxième ligne 34 cm.

1. 2. 1. 2.

[bsnt] 400+20+20+20+10? Ò[lm} dy }qym] [qym]t kmr} dnny [En l’an] 470? (=158/159) [le statue qu’a érigé] qymt, le prêtre de Nannay

L.1: [bsnt]. L’espace libre devant ‘400+20+20+20+10’ nous permet de restituer la formule qui précéde le chiffre des centaines comme bsnt, ‘en l’an’. D’ailleurs, les inscriptions de Hatra datées jusqu’à ici ont atteint 31 textes. Ò[lm} dy }qym]. Nous proposons de restituer Ò[lm} dy }qym], seule possibilité valable dans le contexte hatréen. On doit avoir le verbe }qym, ‘a érigé’, suivi du nom Òlm}, ‘statue’. 45

NOUVELLES INSCRIPTIONS ARAMÉENNES DU TEMPLE DE NANNAY

L.2: [qym]t. Le nom propre doit probablement être complèté [qym]t : comparer no. 474: 1. Il s’agit du même personnage. Ce nom propre se retrouve à Hatra sous la forme qymty : no. 164: 117. 473 Inscription de deux lignes gravée sur la base d’une statue en calcaire, longueur 73 cm, largeur 57 cm et hauteur 15 cm. Les derniers mots de la deuxième ligne sont disparus. Longueur de la deuxième ligne 65 cm.

1. 2. 1. 2.

}qym Ìyws} kmr} dy nny drgyt} dy [̆r} ……] A érigé Ìyws}, le prêtre de Nannay de l’escalier de [Hatra……]

L.1: Ìyws}. Pour ce nom propre à Hatra, cf. nos 180, 407, 412:2a. L.2: [̆r}]. On peut restituer [̆r}] grâce à l’inscription 463: 2. Pour drgyt} voir le no. 463 ci-dessus. 474 Inscription de deux lignes, dont le début est perdu, gravée sur une pièce de linteau en calcaire (longueur 80 cm ≈ largeur 25 cm), située au dessus de colonnes supérieures de façade du temple, trouvée parmi les décombres à la côté est de l’édifice. Longueur de la première ligne 75 cm.

1. ……]b w¨l Ìy} qymt kmr} wbny ddh 2. ……] w}bgd }rdkl} 17 Pour d’autres attestations, voir: S. Abbadi, Die Personennamen der Inschriften aus Hatra (Hildesheim 1983), 159–60.

46

NOUVELLES INSCRIPTIONS ARAMÉENNES DU TEMPLE DE NANNAY

1. ……] et pour la vie de qymt, le prêtre, et ses cousins 2. ……] et }bgd, le maçon

Le début de l’inscription a été effacé, ce qui nous empêche d’en proposer une lecture soutenable. L.1: Ìy} : voir le no. 463. L.2: }bgd. Nom propre attesté sous deux autres formes }bygd (107: 1, 2; 245:1) et }bygyd (301: 1; 363: 1). 475 Inscription d’une ligne, dont la fin est perdue, gravée sur socle d’une statue en marbre de Mossoul, dont il reste que les pieds. Longueur 64 cm, largeur 38 cm et épaisseur 13 cm, trouvée à la côté droite de la deuxième salle. Elle était mise sur une base ou une étagère fixée au mur du temple.

1. nwdn br qymt kmr} dy [nny] 1. nwdn fils de qymt, le prêtre de [Nannay]

nwdn. Ce nom propre nous est connu ici pour la première fois à Hatra. Il nous mettrait en présence d’une forme faw¨al. qymt. Ibrahim lit qwmt. [nny]. Nous proposons de restituer [nny] parce que les textes de ce groupe proviennent du sanctuaire de Nannay. 476 Inscription de trois lignes, d’après Ibrahim, était plus de trois lignes, gravée sur une frise ou base de statue en calcaire trouvée dans la deuxième salle. Longueur de la deuxième ligne 38 cm.

47

NOUVELLES INSCRIPTIONS ARAMÉENNES DU TEMPLE DE NANNAY

1. ……]mt nny 2. …… }p]Ìw }spp†} 3. …… n]sryhb mry} 1. ……]?? Nannay 2. …… }p]Ìw, le préfet 3. …… n]sryhb, le seigneur

L.2: }p]Ìw. Nous serions tenté de restituer }p devant Ìw et lire }pÌw (10: 3c, 3d; 390: 2). }spp†}. Ce nom de fonction militaire, qui n’est attesté qu’une seule fois à Hatra: no. 382, signifie ‘le chef de guerre’18. L.3: n]sryhb. En effet, nsryhb le seigneur (mry}) nous est connu par les nos 274: 3–4; 346: 3; 351: 1–2; 356: 2–3; 361: 2. 477 Inscription gravée sur le support de pierre situé à gauche de l’entrée moyenne de la deuxième salle. Longueur 1,10 mètres. La partie supérieure est érosive, et le reste de ces mots est très abîmé. Longueur de reste de la deuxième ligne 28 cm.

1. 2. 3. 1. 2. 3.

…… kmr} [dy …… ……¨l] Ìyyhy dy …… ……]¨ bnyhy …… le prêtre de…… …… pour la vie de …… …… ? ses fils.

478 Inscription d’une ligne, en long 40 cm, gravée sur la face d’une base de statue en marbre de Mossoul, trouvée dans la deuxième salle. Longueur 46 cm, largeur 40 cm et hauteur 10 cm. 18 Pour d’autres interprétations, voir: B. Aggoula, ‘Remarques sur les inscriptions de Hatra’, Syria 63 (1986), 368–70.

48

NOUVELLES INSCRIPTIONS ARAMÉENNES DU TEMPLE DE NANNAY

1. Òlmt} dy ¨ty 1. Statue de ¨ty

¨ty. Il s’agit d’un hypocoristique nouveau à Hatra, mais bien connu en palmyrénien comme un nom masculin.19 On le voit aussi comme un nom masculin dans le Bible: ¨Attay, I Chron. 2:3520. On peut citer pour ¨ty les noms hypocoristiques assyriens A-te-} et A-ti-21. 479 Inscription gravée au dos d’une statue féminine en marbre de Mossoul sans tête, trouvée à la proximité de l’entrée droite conduisant à la deuxième salle.

19

J. Stark, op. cit, 46, 108. Pour d’autres attestations, voir F. Brown, S.R. Driver and C.A. Briggs, A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (Oxford 1952), 774. 21 K.L. Tallqvist, op. cit, 47. 20

49

NOUVELLES INSCRIPTIONS ARAMÉENNES DU TEMPLE DE NANNAY

1. gnyt} 2. d(?)sms 3. glp} 4. ¨bdgd} 5. br 6. ¨g} dkyr 7. l†b 1. La génie. 2. de sms, 3. le sculpteur. 4. ¨bdgd} 5. fils de 6. ¨g}, qu’il soit commémoré 7. en bien.

L.1: gnyt}. Ce mot était auparavant attesté une seule fois, qualifiant hdyrt (no. 410: 1). L.2: Ibrahim lit d- avant sms, main nous ne pensons pas que çela est certain. En effet, il n’y a rien sur le fac-similé qui permet un dalat qui précède le mot sms. La ligne verticale n’est que bien vaguement dessiné. Comparer avec les autres dalat comme dans ¨bdgd} et dkyr. sms. Il y a tout lieu de penser que sms désigne un nom propre, et qu’il ne faut pas y voir un nom divin, comme Ibrahim. A mon sens, il s’agit peut-être du nom divin employé comme nom propre de personne. D’autres parts, notre traduction de les trois première lignes diffère de celle d’Ibrahim sur quelques points: il a considéré gnyt} la génie du dieu Samas et ce n’est pas raisonnable. De plus le mot glp}, ‘le sculpteur’, appartient à sms, parce que les fonctions ne précèdent jamais les nom propres dans les inscriptions de Hatra. L.4: ¨bdgd}. Nom propre connu à Hatra par no. 27: 7. L.6: ¨g}. Ce nom propre se rencontre plusieurs fois dans les inscriptions de Hatra: nos 5: 1, 2, 4; 13: 3; 48: 2, etc. 480 Inscription incisée sur le dallage de la troisième salle, en long 10 cm.

50

NOUVELLES INSCRIPTIONS ARAMÉENNES DU TEMPLE DE NANNAY

dkyr }sw l†b Que soit commémoré }sw en bien.

ˆsw. Ibrahim lit ˆsw/b, qui est traduit ‘l’exorciste’. La tentative de l’auteur de l’expliquer, ˆsw/b, par l’assyrien asipu, ‘qui fait des incantations’, ne peut pas se justifier facilement. Pour nous }sw est un nom propre nouveau. Il s’agit d’une variante de ˆs} attesté au no. 30: 2. Ce nom propre rappelle le nabatéen ˆsw 22. Address for correspondence: Dept of Syriac Language, Faculty of Languages, University of Baghdad, Iraq

Plate 1

22

S. Abbadi, op. cit, 82–3. 51

NOUVELLES INSCRIPTIONS ARAMÉENNES DU TEMPLE DE NANNAY

Plate 2

Plate 3

52

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION: SHEM TOV BEN ISAAC, SEFER HA-SHIMMUSH, BOOK 30 GERRIT BOS MARTIN-BUBER-INSTITUT FÜR JUDAISTIK, UNIVERSITÄT ZU KÖLN

Abstract The terminology in medieval Hebrew medical literature is virtually lacking in standard Hebrew dictionaries. The only dictionary with a certain number of medical terms is that composed by Ben Yehuda. The secondary literature dealing with medieval Hebrew medical terminology is extremely limited and only covers a few medical terms. However, in recent years research into medieval Hebrew medical terminology has broken new ground. The translation technique of one major translator, namely ZeraÌyah Ben Isaac Ben She}altiel Îen, and his vocabulary, have been studied, and hitherto anonymous translations have been ascribed to him. Another medieval translator whose medical terminology is currently being analysed is Shem Tov Ben Isaac, the translator of al-Zahrawi’s Kitab al-taÒrif. As part of his translation he compiled two independent glossaries of medical synonyms. However, since these glossaries are only partial, and since they do not give these terms in a specific context, further analysis of the novel medical terminology is necessary to properly define his technical vocabulary. Thus, this study is devoted to an analysis of technical terminology in book 30, which deals with surgery. The terms, arranged alphabetically, are compared with those of the Arabic edition and English translation by Spink-Lewis, and with those used by Nathan ha-Me}ati, ZeraÌyah Îen, and Moses Ibn Tibbon.

Introduction The terminology in medieval Hebrew medical literature, both original works and translations, has been sorely neglected by modern research.1 Moreover, it is virtually lacking in the standard dictionaries for the Hebrew language, such as Ha-Millon he-Ìadash composed by 1 The following survey does not take into consideration the field of medieval plant names and remedies.

53

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

Abraham Even-Shoshan.2 The only medieval medical work to which Even-Shoshan refers is the Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s K. alQanun by Nathan ha-Me}ati;3 and even those references are indirect, having been borrowed from the dictionary composed by Ben Yehuda. Ben Yehuda’s dictionary is the only one which does contain a certain number of medical terms.4 However, it needs to be revised since it does not make use of even the limited sources registered in the introduction. The only dictionary exclusively devoted to medical terms, both medieval and modern, is that by Masie, entitled Dictionary of Medicine and Allied Sciences.5 However, like the dictionary by Ben Yehuda, it only makes occasional use of the sources listed in the introduction and all too infrequently differentiates between the various medieval translators. Further, since Masie’s work is alphabetised according to the Latin or English term, it cannot be consulted for checking on a Hebrew one. Beyond these general dictionaries, the secondary literature dealing with the subject of the medieval Hebrew medical terminology is extremely limited and generally only deals with a small number of medical terms.6 An early study is Joseph Hyrtl’s ‘Das Arabische und Hebräische in der Anatomie’ which was published in 1879.7 Although it was a pioneering work, it is of little use for scholars today for the following reasons: (1) It only deals with a small number of terms; (2) Most of these terms derive from one source only, namely a printed edition of the Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb by Nathan ha-Me}ati, which was published in Naples in 1491–2;8 (3) It does not specify particular translators. Thus, Hyrtl states about the almagabani (fauces), i.e. larynx, that it was translated in the Hebrew Avicenna as 2

The edition I consulted is that in five volumes, Jerusalem 2000. Ibid., vol. 1, p. 16. 4 Eliezer Ben Yehuda, Millon ha-Lashon ha-Ivrit. Thesaurus Totius Hebraitatis et Veteris et Recentioris. 17 vols. Berlin-Tel Aviv 1910–59. Repr. Tel Aviv 1948–59. 5 A.M. Masie, Dictionary of Medicine and Allied Sciences. Latin-English-Hebrew. Edited by S. Tchernichowski, Jerusalem 1934. 6 The following survey does not pretend to be complete or exhaustive. 7 Joseph Hyrtl, Das Arabische und Hebräische in der Anatomie (Vienna 1879). 8 For the Hebrew translations of the K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb by Nathan ha-Me}ati, ZeraÌyah Ben Isaac Ben She}altiel Îen, Joshua Lorki and an anonymous translator, and the manuscripts of these translations see Chayyim Rabin, ‘Toledot Targum Sefer ha-Qanun le-Ivrit’, Melilah 3/4(1950), 132–46 (Manchester 1950). B. Richler, ‘Manuscripts of Avicenna’s Kanon in Hebrew translation; a revised and up-to-date list’, Koroth 30, vol. 8 (1982), 145–68; Lola Ferre, ‘Avicena Hebraico: La traducción del Canon de Medicina. The Hebrew translation of Avicenna’s Canon’, BIBLID 52 (2003), 163–82. 3

54

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

‫לוֹע‬ ַ from ‫לוּע‬ ַ (to devour). He fails to specify to which of the different

translations of Avicenna he refers. Shortly after Hyrtl, David Kaufmann’s monograph on the five senses, entitled ‘Die Sinne: Beiträge zur Geschichte der Physiologie und Psychologie im Mittelalter aus hebräischen und arabischen Quellen’ was published in Budapest 1884.9 The work is admittedly very useful even today; however, the medical terminology he discusses is limited to that of the physiology of the five senses. A more general study dealing with medieval medical terminology was undertaken by Hermann Kroner, a Rabbi practicing in Bopfingen, southern Germany, and published in 1921 under the title ‘Zur Terminologie der arabischen Medizin und zu ihrem zeitgenössischen hebräischen Ausdrucke’.10 However, it only discusses a relatively small number of terms since it is based primarily on the Hebrew translations of some of Maimonides’ minor works, and only distinguishes between two translators, ZeraÌyah Ben Isaac Ben She}altiel Îen and Moses Ibn Tibbon. It also suffers from several mistakes, sometimes resulting from the fact that Kroner only had access to corrupt manuscripts. Thus the term ‫ منهرم‬featured on p. 55 and translated as ‘Apathischer (Lässiger)’ should be corrected to ‫ منهزم‬meaning ‘defeated, vanquished’. And ibidem ‫( تسجيع‬Rhythmus (des Herzens) geben) should be read as ‫تشجيع‬ meaning ‘strengthening’ which was translated by Ibn Tibbon as ‫לתת‬ ‫גבורה‬. In 1945 Asher Goldstein published an article entitled Ha-Refu}ah we-ha-Lashon ha-Ivrit (Medicine and the Hebrew Language) in which he discusses different ways in which a novel medieval Hebrew medical terminology was created. However, he only discusses a few terms. Moreover, he seems to have had a certain bias against the Arabic medical terminology since he denies the important role it played in the formation of the medieval medical terminology in general, as he states explicitly: I allow myself to remind [the reader] of my warning published in ‘Ha-Rofe ha-Ivri’, I (1927), p. 18, about the danger of using the Arabic [for the innovation of Hebrew medical terms], for it does not have any scientific value in our days. And also in the Golden Age of Arabic 9

It was published as part of the Jahresbericht der Landes-Rabbinerschule in Budapest für das Schuljahr 1883–84 and reprinted in David Kaufmann, Die Spuren al-Ba†aljûsi’s, (Budapest 1880), and Studien über Salomon Ibn Gabirol (Budapest 1899). With an introduction by Louis Jacobs, Farnborough 1972. 10 H. Kroner, Zur Terminologie der arabischen Medizin und zu ihrem zeitgenössischen hebräischen Ausdrucke. An der Hand dreier medizinischer Abhandlungen des Maimonides (Berlin 1921). 55

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

medical science, in the Middle Ages, when it left its mark on medicine world-wide, [Hebrew] authors, doctors and translators of Arabic medical works were careful not to use Arabic medical terms. Only a few medical terms in Arabic infiltrated the Hebrew language.11

Accordingly when discussing the term ‫( חולי הפיל‬elephantiasis) as it features in the Sefer Åori ha-Guf by Nathan Ben Jo}el Falaquera,12 Goldstein simply states that it is a translation of Latin elephantiasis.13 However, since the work is based on Arabic sources it would have been more appropriate to suggest that it is a loan-translation from the Arabic ‫داء الفيل‬. Again, in an article entitled ‘MunaÌim refu}iyyim be-Ivrit mi-beÌinah historit’ (Medical nomenclature in Hebrew from an historical point of view), which was published in 1967, Goldstein’s discussion of some medical terms, like hernia, duodenum, cirrhosis, and their Hebrew counterparts, is primarily based on the Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb and some of Maimonides’ medical writings, such as the Pirkei Moshe (= Medical Aphorisms).14 However, he does not specify which of the Hebrew translations he used. For instance, when discussing the disease called ‘Hemorrhagia’ (i.e. bleeding) he mentions as Hebrew equivalents from Maimonides’ writings and Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun: ‫ תשפוכת‬,‫שטף דם‬ ‫ רעף דם‬,‫דם‬15 without providing sources. Following Goldstein, research into medieval Hebrew medical terminology was generally limited to a study of the anatomical terms featuring in Vesalius’ Tabulae Anatomicae Sex, which was published in 1538, and his De Humani Corporis Fabrica Libri Septem, commonly known as Fabrica and published in 1543. As Vesalius himself knew no Hebrew, the Hebrew (and Arabic) equivalents and their transliterations for the Tabulae derive from an anonymous friend; for the Fabrica, book one on osteology, he consulted his friend Lazarus de Frigeis of Venice who relied, in turn, on the Naples edition of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb mentioned above. However, the Hebrew 11 Asher Goldstein, ‘Ha-Refu}ah we-ha-Lashon ha-Ivrit’, Harofé haivri. The Hebrew Medical Journal, 2 (1945), 88–96, p. 95 (trans. from the Hebrew by Gerrit Bos). 12 See Gerrit Bos and R. Fontaine, ‘Medico-philosophical controversies in Nathan b. Jo}el Falaquera, Sefer Zori ha-Guf’, Jewish Quarterly Review, 90 (1999), 27–60. 13 Goldstein (ibid., p. 91) actually reads: ‫אלשופנאטטיאזיס‬. 14 Asher Goldstein, ‘MunaÌim refu}iyyim be-Ivrit mi-beÌinah historit’, Koroth, vol. 4, 5–7 (1967), 452–62; vol. 4, 8–10 (1968), 625–36, and vol. 4, 11–12 (1968), 773–86. 15 Ibid., vol. 4, 5–7 (1967), 459.

56

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

terminology in the Fabrica edition of 1543 is very corrupt. De Frigeis’ knowledge of Hebrew and Arabic may have been sketchy; the transcriber and the typesetter, who were evidently unfamiliar with Hebrew, introduced many typographical errors.16 Mordecai Etziony studied the Hebrew material in two articles, published in 1945 and 1946. The first article deals with the Hebrew anatomical terminology featuring in Vesalius’ Tabulae,17 while the second article covers the Hebrew terms featuring in the Fabrica.18 The value of both articles lies primarily in their elucidation of the Hebrew terminology; the author does not analyse the medieval source(s), but only refers to Rabbinic parallels on the basis of Jastrow’s dictionary,19 as in the case of the term ‫( שלבים‬see below). In addition to Etzioni, Charles Singer and C. Rabin studied the Hebrew material in Vesalius’ Tabulae in their monograph entitled: ‘Prelude to Modern Science: Being a Discussion of the History, Sources and Circumstances of the “Tabulae Anatomicae Sex” of Vesalius’ which was published in 1946 as well.20 The authors trace the Semitic terminology in the Tabulae to contemporary oral usage in Arabic, Hebrew and Romance.21 They state explicitly that this work was not influenced by the printed Hebrew Avicenna.22 The study is valuable insofar as the authors extensively discuss these Hebrew terms, compare them with the terminology in the Fabrica and with that of the different medieval 16

See Andreas Vesalius, De humani corporis fabrica, translation and annotation by Daniel Garrison and Malcolm Hast (Vesalius.northwestern.edu), bk. 1, ch. 40, p. 166, esp. n. 5. See as well: Benjamin L. Gordon, ‘Review of Charles Singer and C. Rabin, Prelude to Modern Science: Being a Discussion of the History Sources and Circumstances of the ‘Tabulae Anatomicae Sex’ of Vesalius (Cambridge 1946)’, The Jewish Quarterly Review, New Ser., 38/2 (1947), 201– 3, p. 201. 17 Mordecai Etziony, ‘The Hebrew-Aramaic element in Vesalius’ Tabulae Anatomicae Sex. A Critical Analysis’, Bulletin of the History of Medicine 18 (1945), 413–24. 18 Mordecai Etziony, ‘The Hebrew-Aramaic element in Vesalius. A Critical Analysis’, Bulletin of the History of Medicine 20 (1946), 36–57. 19 Cf. the author’s statement in ‘The Hebrew-Aramaic element in Vesalius’, p. 38: ‘References are given only in the case of some Hebrew terms. The occurrence of those equivalents which are common use in old and modern Hebrew has not been traced to any particular place in literature. Practically all references quoted are those found in Jastrow’. 20 Charles Singer and C. Rabin, Prelude to Modern Science: Being a Discussion of the History Sources and Circumstances of the ‘Tabulae Anatomicae Sex’ of Vesalius (Cambridge 1946), esp. lxxv–lxxxvi. 21 Singer-Rabin, Prelude to Modern Science, lxxvii. 22 Singer-Rabin, ibid. 57

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

Hebrew translations of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb. Take for example, their discussion on p. 24, n. 131, regarding the term ‫זרוע‬: ZEROA¨ is biblical, being mostly applied to the forearm. It is thus employed by Meathi and Lorci. The printed Hebrew edition of the Canon of Avicenna (1491), however, following Graciano (= ZeraÌyah Îen), used it for the upper arm. Doubtless on account of this confusion, Vesalius or Lazarus in the Fabrica give the phrase of the printed Hebrew Avicenna QENEH HA-ZEROA¨ = shaft of the upper arm.

One more study was devoted to the Hebrew elements in Vesalius’ Fabrica by Juan Jose Barcia Goyanes and published under the title ‘Los terminos osteologicos de la Fabrica y la evolucion del lenguaje anatomico Hebreo en la edad media’ in 1982.23 As the title indicates the author, unlike Etzioni, dealt with the origin of medieval Hebrew terminology featuring in the Fabrica, book one. Thus he consulted the Hebrew translations of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb, by Nathan ha-Me}ati, ZeraÌyah Ben Isaac Ben She}altiel Îen, and Joshua Lorki. The following comparative table clearly shows the differences in approach by both scholars: Goyanes Ibid.: Suturae… ‫ שלבים‬scelauim: The proper transliteration is shlabim meaning mortised boards, steps of a ladder, plural of ‫ שלב‬shalv or shalav, of the root ‫שלב‬, joint.24 N (= Nathan): ‫ שלב‬y ‫ שלבים‬salaß, selaßîm. L (= Joshua Lorki): idem, Az.25: idem; Z: ‫ חוליה‬Ìulyâ, member, joint, vertebra. Av (= Avicenna)

Etzioni Fabrica, ed. 1543, p. 166, l. 20: Suturae… ‫ שלבים‬scelauim: The proper transliteration is shlabim meaning mortised boards, steps of a ladder, plural of ‫ שלב‬shalv or shalav, the derivative of the root ‫ שלב‬join, fit in with mortise and tenon. Compare the synonym with ‫ מחוברים‬mechubarim, Tabula VI, 1. For ‫ שלב‬see Jastrow, Taanith Yerushalmi, IV 68. 23

Juan Jose Barcia Goyanes, ‘Los terminos osteologicos de la Fabrica y la evolucion del lenguaje anatomico Hebreo en la edad media’. Sefarad 42 (1982), 299–326. 24 For this term see the extensive discussion in H. Rabin, ‘Toledot Targum Sefer ha-Qanun le-Ivrit’, Melilah 3/4 (1950), 132–46, p. 146. 25 Az. is the abbreviation used by Goyanes to refer to Azriel Ben Joseph of Gunzenhausen, who with his father Joseph Ben Jacob printed the Hebrew edition of the K. al-Qanun, Naples 1491–2. However, this edition is, according to Richler (Manuscripts of Avicenna’s Kanon, p. 148, based on the translation of Nathan for Books II–V, while the edition of Book I is based mainly on Lorki’s translation, which is a revision of that by Nathan. Thus, Az. is nothing else but N. In an earlier comparative study Rabin (Toledot Targum Sefer ha-Qanun le-Ivrit, p. 137) came to the conclusion that this edition is mainly based on Nathan’s translation, but that the editor sometimes prefers the version of Joshua Lorki or ZeraÌyah. 58

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

uses the terms ‫ درز‬and ‫دروز‬, which are transliterated by Alpago26 as adorem and feature in Vesalius as direzan, adorem. AH27 has: seleß, pl. selaßîm, pl. c. silßê. The term darz used by Avicenna is a translation of the Greek Åofß as used by Galen…

In a second article entitled ‘Medieval Hebrew Anatomical Names: A contribution to their history’, published in 1985,28 Goyanes studied nineteen (mainly anatomical) terms in the previously mentioned translations of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb, and in Shem Tov Ben Isaac’s Hebrew translation of al-Razi’s K. al-Mansuri.29 The usefulness of the published studies is unfortunately very limited because they discuss so few terms. Thus, they do not contribute significantly to our knowledge of the medieval medical terminology in general and do not make it easier to read the pertinent texts. Moreover, none of them is devoted to the technical vocabulary or translation technique of one translator in particular. These eclectic studies do not help the reader of medieval Hebrew medical literature solve the most common problem, namely, that many of the extant medical texts do not name their translator. However, in recent years research into medieval Hebrew medical terminology has broken new ground. The translation technique of one major translator, namely ZeraÌyah Ben Isaac Ben She}altiel Îen, and his vocabulary have been studied by Gerrit Bos in his edition of ZeraÌyah’s translation of Aristotle’s De anima.30 ZeraÌyah was active in the city of Rome as a translator of philosophical and medical works from the Arabic into Hebrew in the last quarter of the thirteenth century.31 Amongst the medical works translated by him are Maimo26

I.e. Andrea Alpago (sixteenth century), who revised the Latin translation by Gerard the Cremona. 27 AH, i.e. The Academy of the Hebrew Language. 28 Juan Jose Barcia Goyanes, ‘Medieval Hebrew Anatomical Names: A contribution to their history’, Koroth, vol. 8, no. 11–12 (1985), 192–202. 29 For Shem Tov Ben Isaac see below. For this translation see Moritz Steinschneider, Die hebräischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters (Berlin 1893), 725–6. 30 Aristotle’s De Anima. Translated into Hebrew by ZeraÌyah ben Isaac ben She}altiel Îen. Edited with Introduction and Linguistic Analysis (Leiden 1993), 23–43. 31 On ZeraÌyah see H. Vogelstein and P. Rieger, Geschichte der Juden in Rom, 2 vols. (Berlin 1895–6), vol. 1, 271–5, 409–18; M. Steinschneider, Die hebräischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters und die Juden als Dolmetscher (Berlin 1893, repr. Graz 59

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

nides’ Medical Aphorisms and On Sexual Intercourse, Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb (the first two books only) and Galen’s De causis et symptomatibus and Katagenos. The newly available knowledge about ZeraÌyah’s translation technique and technical vocabulary has led to the ascription of four hitherto anonymous medical treatises to him. Mauro Zonta identified ZeraÌyah as the translator of Hippocrates’ De superfoetatione extant in an unique manuscript in Parma, Biblioteca Palatina,32 I identified ZeraÌyah as the translator of Maimonides’ On Hemorrhoids, extant in MS Parma 2642, De Rossi 354, Richler 1531;33 of On the Regimen of Health, extant in MS Paris BN hébr 1127 (a fragment only); and of On Poisons, extant in MSS Munich 43 and 280 (both fragmentary).34 I was able to identify ZeraÌyah as the author of these translations because of the critical editions I prepared of these works as part of the Maimonides’ project which aims at providing critical editions of his medical works in the original Arabic and medieval translations.35 In particular, the compilation of Arabic-Hebrew glossaries and separate alphabetical indices to the different Hebrew translations of Maimonides’ medical works proved to be very useful for the purpose of identification, as it provided me with the technical terminology typical of the major translators of these works, namely Moses Ibn Tibbon, Nathan ha-Me}ati and ZeraÌyah. Another medieval translator whose medical terminology is currently being analysed is Shem Tov Ben Isaac of Tortosa. While in Marseilles Shem Tov translated the famous medical encyclopaedia entitled Kitab al-taÒrif li-man {ajiza {an al-ta}lif (The Arrangement of Medical Knowledge for One Who is Not Able to Compile a Book for Himself), which was composed in the tenth century by the Andalu1956), 766; A. Ravitzky, Mishnato shel R. ZeraÌyah b. Isaac b. She}altiel Îen, (Doct. diss., Jerusalem 1977), 69–75; Bos, Aristotle’s De Anima, 1–4; M. Zonta, ‘A Hebrew translation of Hippocrates’ De superfoetatione: Historical Introduction and Critical Edition’, Aleph. Historical Studies in Science and Judaism, 3 (2003), 97–143, pp. 104–9. 32 See Zonta, ‘A Hebrew translation’. 33 See B. Richler, Hebrew Manuscripts in the Biblioteca Palatina in Parma. Catalogue. Palaegraphical und codicological descriptions (Jerusalem 2001). 34 Maimonides, On Poisons and the Protection against Lethal Drugs. A New Parallel Arabic-English Translation by Gerrit Bos with Critical Editions of medieval Hebrew translations and Latin translations by Gerrit Bos and Michael McVaugh. (Provo 2009). 35 Forthcoming in the series entitled ‘The Medical Works of Moses Maimonides’ published by Brigham Young University Press. 60

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

sian physician Abu l-Qasim Khalaf ibn ¨Abbas al-Zahrawi, known in the western world as Abulcasis.36 In addition to the Kitab al-taÒrif Shem Tov translated Abu Walid MuÌammad ibn Rushd’s Middle Commentary on Aristotle’s De Anima,37 Abu Bakr MuÌammad ibn Zakariyya al-Razi’s medical encyclopaedia K. al-ManÒuri,38 and Hippocrates’ Aphorisms with Palladius’ commentary.39 Shem Tov started his translation of the Kitab al-taÒrif, which he called Sefer ha-Shimmush, in 1254 and completed it at an unknown date. Instead of translating Zahrawi’s glossary of medical terms in book 29 Shem Tov compiled two independent lists of medical synonyms, the first in Hebrew-Arabic-Romance and the second in Romance-Arabic- and sometimes Hebrew. These lists are being edited, translated and annotated as part of a project initiated by Gerrit Bos and Guido Mensching.40 A striking feature of Shem Tov’s translation technique is that in several cases he created a novel41 Hebrew 36 For Shem Tov’s life and works see Gerrit Bos, ‘The Creation and Innovation of Medieval Hebrew medical terminology: Shem Tov Ben Isaac, Sefer ha-Shimmush’, in Anna Akasoy and Wim Raven (eds), Islamic Thought in the Middle Ages: Studies in text, Transmission and Translation in Honour of Hans Daiber (LeidenBoston 2008), 195–218. 37 Cf. Steinschneider, Die hebräischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters und die Juden als Dolmetscher, p. 148; Averroës. Middle Commentary on Aristotle’s De Anima. A Critical Edition of the Arabic Text with English Translation, Notes, and Introduction by Alfred L. Ivry (Provo, Utah 2002), xxviii–xxix, 150. n. 69. 38 Cf. Steinschneider, Die hebräischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters, 725–6. 39 His commentary is no longer extant in Greek, but it has recently been rediscovered by Hinrich Biesterfeldt and Y. Tzvi Langermann, who hope to publish soon a preliminary study of Palladius’ commentary, to be followed by a full edition and analysis. 40 The project is dedicated to the edition and the analysis of various unedited scientific texts written in Middle Hebrew that belong to the area of medico-botanical literature. Within this project the Cologne group, consisting of Gerrit Bos and Martina Hussein, is responsible for the Hebrew-Arabic linguistic material, while the Berlin group, consisting of Guido Mensching and Frank Savelsberg, is in charge of the LatinRomance material. First results of the research carried out in the context of the project are: Bos-Mensching, ‘Shem Tov Ben Isaac, Glossary of Botanical Terms, nrs 1–18’, Jewish Quarterly Review, 92 (2001), 1–20; Bos-Mensching, ‘Hebrew Medical Synonym Literature: Romance and Latin Terms and their Identification’; Aleph, Historical Studies in Science & Judaism, vol. 5 (2005), 11–53; Bos-Mensching, ‘A 15th Century medico-botanical synonym list (Ibero-Romance-Arabic) in Hebrew characters’, in Panace@), vol. VII, no. 24 (December 2006); see: http://www.medtrad.org/panacea/Indice General/n24_tribunahistorica-bos.mensching.pdf; Bos, The Creation and Innovation of Medieval Hebrew medical terminology. 41 With novel terms I mean one of three things: 1. terms that do not feature in the current dictionaries at all; 2. terms which can be found in current dictionaries but not in the sense they have in our text; 3. terms which can be found in current dictionaries but are not registered as medieval.

61

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

medical terminology which was, in some cases adopted by subsequent authors such as Nathan ha-Me}ati and ZeraÌyah Îen. An example is the entry He 11 in our edition of the first glossary: ‫המעדת המעים ב“ה‬ ‫זלק אלאמעא‬. The Hebrew HM{DT HM{YM, which is not attested in secondary literature, may have been coined by Shem Tov as a Hebrew loan translation of the Arabic zalaq al-am¨a} ‘Dysenteria spuria’. The same Hebrew term features subsequently in Nathan’s and ZeraÌyah’s Hebrew translations of Maimonides’ Medical Aphorisms (XXII, 36; XXIII, 80, 90, 93, 94). However, since these glossaries do not cover all the technical terms featuring in the Sefer ha-Shimmush, and since they do not give these terms in a specific context, further analysis and discussion of the novel medical terminology employed by the author is necessary to facilitate the reading of his translations in general, to ensure recognition of his technical terminology in future dictionaries of the Hebrew language, and to define properly his technical vocabulary. With this end in view the following study is devoted to an analysis of a selection of the technical terminology of book 30, which deals with surgery, and was by far the most popular and most influential part of this vast medical encyclopaedia. Translated into Latin by Gerard de Cremona in Toledo in the second half of the twelfth century and into Occitan in the fourteenth century, it was a major source for the European treatises on surgery composed subsequently, foremost that by Guy de Chauliac (d. 1368) who quotes it no less than 157 times. Thus it played a significant role in the development of the art of surgery in Europe.42 While the original Arabic text of book 30 has been published in a critical edition and English translation by Spink-Lewis43 and the Occitan translation has been edited by Grimaud-Lafont,44 the Hebrew text is still unedited. The analysis of the technical medical terminology of the Hebrew text is based on MS Paris, BN héb. 1163 which is the only manuscript to have preserved book 30 and which was copied in a sephardic script in the fourteenth century.45 The text appears in double columns 42

Cf. Danielle Jacquart and Françoise Micheau, La médicine arabe et l’occident médiéval (Paris 1990), 150–1. 43 M.S. Spink and G. Lewis, Albucasis. On Surgery and Instruments. A definitive edition of the Arabic text with English translation and commentary (Publications of the Wellcome Institute for the History of Medicine. New Series. Volume XII, London 1973). 44 J. Grimaud and R. Lafont, La chirurgie d’Albucasis, texte occitan du XIVe siècle (Montpellier 1988). 45 For the manuscript cf. H. Zotenberg (ed.), Catalogues des Manuscrits Hébreux et Samaritains de la Bibliothèque Nationale (Paris 1866). 62

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

on fols. 201a–239a and has been illustrated with many drawings of the surgical instruments recommended by the author, copied from an Arabic Vorlage. In my study the terms, arranged alphabetically, are compared throughout with those of the Arabic edition and English translation by Spink-Lewis. I will refer to parallel terminology used by other major translators, namely Nathan ha-Me}ati, ZeraÌyah Îen, and Moses Ibn Tibbon. Of these translators both Nathan and ZeraÌyah were active at a later date than Shem Tov Ben Isaac; Nathan worked in Rome between 1279 and 1283 and ZeraÌyah worked in the same city between 1279 and 1291. It is possible that both used part of the novel terminology invented by Shem Tov Ben Isaac. In the case of Moses Ibn Tibbon, however, it is hard to determine who influenced whom, as he was active as a translator between 1240 and 1283 and some of his translations are earlier than those by Shem Tov.46 The sources consulted for these comparisons are the translations of Maimonides’ medical works which are being published as part of the Maimonides’ Medical Works project mentioned above. I also consulted Moses Ibn Tibbon’s Hebrew translation of the medical encyclopaedia Zad al-musafir wa-qut al-Ìadir (Provisions for the Traveller and Nourishment for the Sedentary), composed by Abu Ja¨far AÌmad ibn Ibrahim ibn Abi Khalid ibn al-Jazzar (tenth century), a practising physician from Qayrawan.47 This translation was composed in 1259 and is still unedited; of the many manuscripts testifying to its popularity in Jewish circles I consulted MS Munich 19 which was copied in 1552.48 In addition to these primary sources I refer to secondary ones, primarily Masie, Dictionary of Medicine and Allied Sciences and Ben Yehuda, Millon ha-Lashon ha-Ivrit for Nathan’s Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun prepared in Rome in 1279. The dictionaries consulted for this study are those by Ben Yehuda, Even Shoshan, Masie, and the online Dictionary of the Academy of the Hebrew Language. The Bar-Ilan Responsa CD-Rom is used for attestations from sources which are primarily halakhic. 46 For an extensive discussion of the question of the authors consulted by Shem Tov and the authors influenced by him see Gerrit Bos, The Creation and Innovation of Medieval Hebrew medical terminology: Shem Tov Ben Isaac, Sefer ha-Shimmush (forthcoming). 47 For Ibn al-Jazzar’s bio- and bibliographical data see Bos, Ibn al-Jazzar on Sexual Diseases and their Treatment, pp. 5–7, and the relevant literature mentioned there. See as well Bos, Ibn al-Jazzar on Skin Diseases and Other Afflictions of the Outer Part of the Body. Critical edition of the Arabic text, Hebrew translation by Moses Ibn Tibbon and modern English translation (forthcoming). 48 See M. Steinschneider, Die hebräischen Handschriften der K. Hof- und Staatsbibliothek in München, 2nd rev. enl. ed., (Munich 1895).

63

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

A final introductory note concerns the faithfulness of the translator in adhering to the original text. Hebrew translations of medical texts in general closely follow the original text. Only rarely does one find additions of a personal nature. A remarkable example of such a personal addition and witness to the religious identity of the translator can be found in Book 1, ch. 47 where Shem Tov translates the Arabic ‫( عند نهاية الشعر‬about the hairline) as ‫במקום הנחת תפלין‬ (where one places the Tefillin).49 List of terms ‫ אבר‬:‫ = האבר המושל‬Arab. ‫العضو الرئيس‬: ‘the major organ’; cf. II:40 (SP fol. 215a; SL 321,13): ‫ויהיה הצמח לפעמים קרוב מאבר מושל שהמאחר לדקרו וממתין עד‬ ‫( שיתבשל יזיק לאותו האבר המושל‬Or if the tumour be near a major organ, if you delay the opening of it until it ripens you will damage that major organ)50. In addition to ‫האבר המושל‬, Shem Tov has ‫( האבר הראשי‬II:86; SP fol. 225a; SL 555, 24), and ‫( אחד מן האיברין השרים‬for ‫;عضو رئيس‬ SP fol. 225b; SL 557, l. 52). N translates Arabic ‫ العضو الرئيس‬as ‫האבר‬ ‫ הראשי‬and Z as ‫( האבר השרי‬MA 25:70). M (BIZ 9:8) translates the plural ‫ الأعضاء الرئيسة‬as ‫האברים הראשים‬. ‫ אגודה‬:‫אגודות‬. This term features with the following meanings: 1. Arab. ‫عقد‬: ‘nodules’; cf. II:27 (SP fol. 202b; SL 269, 1): ‫בהוצאת האגודות אשר תקרנה‬ ‫( בשפתים‬on the extraction of nodules occurring on the lip). The same Arabic term is translated as ‫ קשרים‬by M (BIZ 23:1); 2. Arab. ‫تعقّد‬: ‘callus’; cf. III:20 (SP fol. 236b; SL 781,1): ‫ברפואת האגודות המתהוות בעקבות קצת‬ ‫( השברים‬On the treatment of the callus that remains from a fracture); 3. Arab. ‫غدد‬: ‘buboes’; cf. L 2231, s.v. ‫غدّة‬: ‘A ganglion; i.e. any hard lump in the tendinous parts’; cf. II:36 (SP fol. 214a; SL 301, 3): ‫לפעמים‬ ‫( תקרנה בגרון אגודות דומות אל האגודות אשר תקרנה מחוץ‬Sometimes there occur in the throat buboes [called ‘tonsils’], which resemble the buboes occurring externally. The Arabic ‫ غدد‬is translated by N as ‫ גדרים‬or ‫גידים‬ and by Z as ‫ גלנדולי‬or ‫( גרנגולי‬MA 1:8); 4. Arab. ‫سلع‬: ‘cysts’ (= ‫אגודות‬ ‫ ;)הבשר‬cf. II:41 (SP fol. 215a; SL 329, 3): ‫יקרו בעור הראש צמחים קטנים‬ ‫( והם ממיני האגודות יקיפום קרומות הם להם נאדות דומים לזפק התרנגולת‬Small swellings form in the scalp, which are of the various kinds of cyst, contained within membranes which form a capsule to them like the crop of a chicken); see SG Alef 38. -: ‫ = אגודות הבשר‬Arab. ‫سلع‬: ‘cysts’; cf. 2:45 (SP fol. 216a; SL 343, 1): ‫שער‬ ‫( מ“ה בבקיעה על מיני אגודות הבשר‬Chapter forty-five. On incision for various kinds of cyst). Cf. SG Alef 38 and below s.v. ‫תלולית‬. ‫ ִאכּוּל‬:‫ = איכול‬I. Arab. ‫آكلة‬: ‘gangrene’ (cf. D 1:31, s.v. ‫أكلة‬: ‘gangrène, chancre, ulcère’; cf. I:52 (SP fol. 208a; SL 155, 2–3): ‫האיכול אמנם הוא הפסד מתפשט‬ ‫( באבר ויאכלנו כאכילת האש העצים היבשים‬Gangrene is a creeping corruption 49 50

See below s.v. ‫חלל העורף‬. The English translation is that by Spink-Lewis unless indicated otherwise. 64

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

of a limb, consuming it as fire consumes dry wood); II. Arab. ‫‘ أكال‬irritation’; cf. II:96 (SP fol. 231a; SL 657, 20):‫ומהם מי שימצא חכוך בפניו ובמצחו‬ ‫( וחשיכות ואיכול בעיניו‬some have an itching in their face and forehead and a dimness and irritation in their eyes). Hebrew ‫ איכול‬is only attested in Ben Yehuda (BM 205) as occurring in medieval literature in the sense of ‘itching’. It features in N for Arab. ‫( أكلة‬corrosion/ canker/ cankerous sore), whereas Z has ‫ אוכלת‬or ‫( חולי‬MA 3:109; 7:60; 9:105; 12:32; 16:7). See as well MD 188, s.v. ‘corrosion’. ‫ = אליה‬Arab. ‫ألية‬: ‘buttock’; cf. 4:14 (SP fol. 235b; SL 757, 14–16): ‫אך הדוקו‬ ‫ראוי להיותו על זה התאר והוא לכרוך על השבר במצנפת גסה שלש כריכות או ארבע‬ ‫( ולהעדיף ממנה מותר ואחר כך לקפול השוק עד שוב העקב אצל שרש האליה‬As to

the bandaging, you should wrap a firm broad sash two or three times round the fracture [of the femur], leaving some over; then bind the leg up so that the heel is brought to reach the root of the buttock). Hebrew ‫אליה‬, i.e. fat tail (BM 241) in the sense of ‘buttock’ is a non-attested semantic borrowing from the Arab. ‫ ألية‬which has both meanings (cf. L 87). ‫ א ֶֹמץ‬:‫ = אומץ המעים‬Arab. ‫اعتقال الطبع‬: ‘constipation’; cf. II:81 (SP fol. 223b; SL 515, 31–2): ‫( והפלחים יקרו הרבה מצד נגוב הצואה ואומץ המעים‬Fissures often arise from dryness of the faeces and from constipation). Hebrew ‫ אומץ המעים‬is a non-attested term derived from ‫( לאמץ את המעים‬to constipate) which is attested in Maimonides, Hilkhot De¨ot 6:4; cf. BM 287– 8. N and Z translate the Arabic synonym ‫ احتباس البطن‬as ‫עוצר הבטן‬ (MA 9:55). M translates the Arabic synonym ‫ احتباس الطبيعة‬as ‫עוצר הטבע‬ (MZ fol. 91b). ‫ ִא ָסּר‬or ‫ = ֱא ָסר‬Arab. ‫رباط‬: ‘ligament’; cf. II:88 (SP fol. 226b; SL 583, 2–5): ‫כשנתחדש צמח במקצת האיברין הבשריים וארך זמנו עד שקבץ מוגלא ואחר נתבקע‬ ‫או שדקרוהו ויצא כל מה שהיה בו מן המוגלא ונשאר המקום ריקן ככיס והעור אשר‬ ‫עליו כבגד שכבר נתדקדק ולא הגיע אל ההפסד לגמרי לעשות רושם בעצם ולא בעצב‬ ‫( ולא באסר‬When an abscess occurs in any of the fleshy parts and becomes

chronic and eventually collects pus, and then it breaks open or is perforated, and all the contained matter comes out and the site is left hollow, like a vessel, and the overlying skin thinned like a rag, but the suppuration has not gone so far as to involve bone or tendon or ligament). Hebrew or Aramaic ‫ אסר‬is only attested in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘band, chain, vow of abstinence’; cf. JD 57, and DA 32 for the Aramaic term). In addition to ‫ אסר‬Shem Tov uses ‫ קשירה‬for ‫;رباط‬ cf. II:86 (SP fol. 225b; SL 563, 103). N and Z translate Arab. ‫ رباط‬as ‫ קשירה‬,‫ קשורים‬,‫( קשור‬MA 1:8, 9-11; 3:21, 52; 7:33; 15:29, 40, 47, 66, 69, 70; 23:18; 25:36, 51, and M as ‫( קשרים‬BIZ 15:5). ‫ אפר‬:‫ = אפר העינים‬Arab. ‫رمد‬: ‘ophthalmia’; cf. II:95 (SP fol. 228b; SL 629, 34–6): ‫והשני ורידין אשר בשתי הרקות תועלת הקזתם לכאב הצלחתא הישנה‬ ‫והכאב הקשה ואל אפר העינים המתמיד והגרת המותרות הנשפכות החדות אל העינים‬

(The section of the two arteries in the temples gives relief for chronic migraine and severe headache and constant ophthalmia and the flow of acrid superfluities into the eyes). Hebrew ‫אפר העינים‬, a loan translation of the Arab. ‫رمد‬, is not attested in the current dictionaries. Both N and Z 65

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

did not have a Hebrew equivalent for the Arabic term, as N transcribed it as ‫רמד‬, and Z used both ‫ רמד‬and the Romance equivalent ‫ לגניא‬or ‫ַלגְ נְ יַ יא‬ (MA 9:31; 12:22; 19:16; 22:39; 23:70; 24:20). See as well KS 114–15. ‫ אצבע‬:‫ = אצבע קטנה‬Arab. ‫خنصر‬: I. ‘little finger’; cf. IV:12 (SP fol. 235a: SL 747, 13–14):‫( ולהיות האצבע הקטנה למטה מכל האצבעות‬and the little finger downmost); II. ‘little toe’; cf. II:95 (SP fol. 230b; SL 655, 284–5): ‫ואם לא ימצא ולא יראה לחוש כלל ראוי להקיז קצת סעיפיו והם הנראים בגב הרגל בין‬ ‫( אצבע קטנה והשני לו‬and if you do not find it [i.e. the sciatic vein] or it is

in no way palpable, then venesect one of its branches, which will be seen on the surface of the foot between51 the little toe and the fourth toe). Hebrew ‫ אצבע קטנה‬is not attested in the current dictionaries. ‫ = אצילה‬Arab. ‫إبط‬: ‘axilla’; cf. I:25 (SP fol. 205b; SL 77, 1): ‫שער כה‘ בכוית‬ ‫( האצילה‬Chapter twenty-five. On cauterization of the axilla). The Hebrew term features in the Bible in the sense of 1. joint and 2. cubit (cf. KB 81–2). Ben Yehuda also gives several references to its occurrence in medieval literature in the last sense only (BM 368). N translates the Arabic ‫إبطان‬ as ‫ אצילים‬and Z as ‫( שחי‬MA 7:21; 10:15). M (MZ fol. 90a) translates Arabic ‫( إبطان‬BZ 147, l. 678) as ‫השחיים‬. ‫ = אצילי‬Arab. ‫ٕبطي‬ ّ ‫ا‬: ‘axillary’; cf. II:95 (SP fol. 228b; SL 627, 13–14):

‫והבאסליק הוא בזרוע למטה מן הגיד האמצעי לעמת הלב ויקרא גם כן האצילי‬ ‫( ויקראוהו עם הארץ גיד הבטן‬then the basilic vein; this is the one situated

on the inner side and is termed also the axillary vein, but popularly it is called the ‘belly-vein’). Hebrew ‫ אצילי‬is attested in BM 369 as featuring in Nathan’s translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun. ‫ אשך‬:‫ = האשך הבשרי‬Arab. ‫الأدرة اللحم ّية‬: ‘a fleshy hernia’; II:63 (SP fol. 219b; SL 435, 1):‫( שער ס“ג בבקוע על האשך הבשרי ורפואתו‬Chapter sixty-three. On cutting for a fleshy hernia and its treatment). -: ‫ = האשך הזמורי‬Arab. ‫الأدرة التي مع دالية‬: ‘hernia with varix’; II:64 (SP fol. 220a; SL 439,1): ‫( שער ס“ד ברפואת האשך הזמורי ר“ל אשר יהיה עם זמורה‬Chapter sixty-four. On the treatment of hernia with varix). Cf. entry ‫ זמורה‬below. -: ‫ = האשך המימי‬Arab. ‫الأدرة المائية‬: ‘a watery hernia’; cf. II:62 (SP fol. 219a; SL 425, 2). -: ‫ = האשך המעיי‬Arab. ‫الأدرة المعائ ّية‬: “intestinal hernia”; II:65 (SP fol. 220a; SL 441,1). -: ‫ = האשך הרוחיי‬Arab. ‫الأدرة الريح ّية‬: ‘flatulent hernia’; II:66 (SP fol. 220a; SL 447,1). The term ‫ אשך‬only features in the current dictionaries in the sense of ‘testicle’; cf. BM 416. Another term for ‘hernia’ used by Shem Tov is ‫( פיתקא‬see below). Both N and Z have ‫ בקיעה‬for Arabic ‫( أدرة‬MA 9:123). Masie (MD 351) mentions the following synonyms for ‘hernia’: ,‫שבר‬ ‫ בקיע‬,‫ פרץ‬,‫שברון‬. ‫ בדק‬:‫ = בדק עצמו‬Arab. ‫تب ّرز‬: ‘to open one’s bowel’; i.e. to defecate; cf. II:81 (SP fol. 2223a; SL 513, 9–11): ‫ורפואת הטחורים אשר יהיו מבפנים לצוות אל‬ 51 ‘between the little toe and the fourth toe’: ‘towards the fourth toe and the little toe’ SL.

66

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

‫( החולה לבדוק עצמו ולהרגיל העיצום עד שיבלוט פי הטבעת ויראו היבלות‬The treat-

ment of internal piles: bid the patient open his bowel and bear down until the anus opens out and the swellings are disclosed to you). ‫בדק עצמו‬ is a non-attested Hebrew term coined after the Aramaic ‫;בדיק נפשיה‬ cf. SD 187. N translates Arab. ‫ تب ّرز‬as ‫ הוציא בציאה‬and Z as ‫יצא מנקב פי‬ ‫( הטבעת‬MA 9:64). ‫ בית‬:‫ = בית הפרשות‬Arab. ‫فضاء‬: ‘perineum’; cf. II:80 (SP fol. 220a; SL 503, 8–9): ‫ולפעמים יהיה מהם טחורים כשיהיו בבית הפרשות מפולשים אל כיס מקוה‬ ‫( המים ואל מעבר השתן‬Sometimes also there are fistulae occurring in the perineum which penetrate to the urinary bladder and to the urethra). Hebrew ‫ בית הפרשות‬is not mentioned in the current dictionaries. It is attested in BIR in a quotation from Sefer ha-Orah (Part 2, [67], Din Niqqur, beginning with: Heshiv R. (ed. S. Buber, 1905): ‫בית הפרשות שלו‬ ‫( שקוראים קודי‘‘ל‬Its perineum, that is its QWDYL).52 In addition to this term Shem Tov uses ‫ ריקות‬to render Arab. ‫ ;فضاء‬cf. below. ‫ = בליטה‬Arab. ‫نتو‬: ‘protuberance’; cf. II:16 (SP fol. 211b; SL 233, 31–3): ‫אמנם בליטת בשר ראש העין אם תהיה הבליטה מזקת העין נזק מכוער ראוי לתלות‬ ‫הבליטה ההיא בחכה ולחתוך ממנה קצתה מבלי רבוי חתוך פן תתחדש הגרת הדמעות‬

(As for a protuberance of flesh in the angle [of the eye], if it causes great hurt pick it up with a hook and cut part of it away, with not too big an incision lest there be a flux of tears). Hebrew ‫ בליטה‬only features in a medical sense in BM 549 in a quotation from Meir Aldabi, Shevilei Emunah which was completed in 1360. ‫ בעבע‬:‫ = נתבעבע הצמח‬Arab. ‫تق ّرح‬: ‘to break out in open ulceration’; cf. Introduction (SP fol. 201b; SL 5, 32–3): ‫וראיתי רופא אחר דקר צמח סרטני ונתבעבע‬ ‫( הצמח אחר ימים‬And I saw another doctor incise a malignant tumour; after some days the place broke out in open ulceration). The root ‫בעבע‬ only features in the dictionaries in the sense of ‘to bubble’; cf. BM 569. N translates Arabic ‫ تق ّرح‬as ‫ התחבל‬or ‫ השחין‬and Z as ‫ התחבל‬,‫ חבל‬or ‫התנגע‬ (MA 6:72; 23:46); M (BIZ 13:3) translates the Arabic ‫( أقرح‬to ulcerate) as ‫לנגע‬. See also ‫ צמח‬below. ‫ = ֶבּ ֶתק‬Arab. ‫فتق‬: ‘opening; rupture’; cf. II:65 (SP fol. 220a; SL 441, 2–4): ‫ התחדש זה האשך יהיה מבקוע יקרה בקרום הנמתח‬.‫שער ס“ה ברפואת האשך המעיי‬ ‫על הבטן לעמת עיקרי הירכים וישפך המעי מן הבתק ההוא אל אחד מן הבצים‬

(Chapter sixty-five. On the treatment of intestinal hernia. This hernia is due to a split occurring in the membrane stretched from the hypogastrium over the belly in the region of the groin. Through this opening the bowel descends upon one of the testes). Hebrew ‫ ֶבּ ֶתק‬is only attested in Ma}agarim (<30 '‫ סליחה >שו‬,‫ אלה ברכב‬:‫ סליחות‬/‫)שמעון‬. N translates Arab. ‫ فتق‬in the sense of ‘hernia’ as ‫ בקיעה‬and Z as ‫טוּרא‬ ַ ‫בקיעה בלטין ְק ְר ַפ‬ (MA 9:123). M also has ‫( בקיעה‬MZ fol. 86a). ْ ‫ َق‬: ‘incision’; cf. II:95 (SP fol. 228b; SL 627, 29–31): ‫ואחר‬ ‫ = גִ זְ ָרה‬Arab. ‫طع‬ ‫להרים היד בגיד ובעור כלפי מעלה ולגזור הגיד עם העור לשנים ולהיות הגזרה שתי‬ 52 ‘QWDYL’, derived from Latin cauda is old French ‘coueril’: ‘région où commence la queue’ (FEW 2–1:523a).

67

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

‫( אצבעות מצומצמות‬then lifting with your hand both vessel and skin make an incision dividing both skin and vein; the length of the incision should be about two fingers side by side). Hebrew ‫ גזרה‬is not attested in the sense of ‘incision’ in the current dictionaries; cf. BM 744: ‘form, figure; ْ ‫ َق‬as ‫ חתך‬,‫ לחתוך‬,‫ חתיכה‬and Z balcony; derivation’. N translates Arab. ‫طع‬ as ‫ לחתוך‬,‫( חיתוך‬MA 15:10, 13, 14, 19, 25, 36, 40, 48; 24:54; 25:72), and M as ‫( לחתוך‬BIZ 10:2). ‫( גיד‬fol. 203a1; 206b1) = 1. Arab. ‫عرق‬: ‘vessel’ or ‘vein’; cf. I:35 (SP fol. 206b; SL 103, 4): ‫( הגיד אשר יגר ממנו הדם‬the vessel whence the blood comes), and II:95 (SP fol. 228b; SL 625,1): ‫( הקזת הגידים‬venesection). 2. Arab. ‫‘ شريان‬artery’; cf. II:42 (SP fol. 215b; SL333,10). Next to ‫גיד‬ Shem Tov uses ‫ הגיד הנח‬for Arab. ‫وريد‬: ‘vein’ (II:52; SP fol. 217a; SL377,16) and ‫ וריד‬for Arab. ‫‘ شريان‬artery’ (see below). And cf. the introduction (SP fol. 201a; SL 3,14) where Shem Tov uses ‫הגידים הדופקים‬ ‫ והנחים‬for Arab. ‫‘ العروق النوابض والسواكن‬arteries and veins’. The term ‫גיד‬ is subsequently used by Z for Arab. ‫‘ عرق‬vessel, vein, artery’, while N uses ‫( עורק‬MA passim), just like M (26:2). See as well SG Gimmel 28. 3. Arab. ‫‘ قضيب‬penis’; cf. II:70 (SP fol. 220b; SL 454, 5–7): ‫אמנם בנשים‬ ‫הוא מין אחד ויהיו למעלה מן הקיבה על הזקן התחתון כבצי אדם קטנים בולטים לחוץ‬ ‫( האחד מהם כגיד האדם והבצים כבציו‬There is also one kind [i.e. of hermaph-

rodites] among women, in which there is, above the female pudenda, on the pubes, what resembles the male organs. These are small indeed, but protuberant, one being like the penis and the two others like testicles); for its meaning of ‘penis’ in Rabbinic literature; cf. DA 76; JD 234. For a summary account of all its meanings see E. Lieber, Asaf ’s Book of Medicines, 238, n. 42.53 -: ‫ = הגיד המדני‬Arab. ‫العرق المدني‬: ‘the Medina vein’ = dracunculus medinensis; cf. II:91 (SP fol. 227b; SL 601, 1): ‫( בהוצאת הגיד המדני‬On the extraction of the Medina vein).54 MD 233 has: ‫דרקונית מדינהץ‬. -: ‫ = גיד הראש‬Arab. ‫القيفال‬: ‘the cephalic vein’; cf. II:95 (SP fol. 229a; SL 633, 84–5):‫ושני הגידים אשר תחת הלשון תועלת הקזתם אחר הקזת גיד הראש אל החניקה‬ ‫( אשר תהיה בגרון וחלי ערלתו ותחלאי הפה‬The two veins under the tongue: their venesection is, after section of the cephalic, of good effect in the quincy arising in the throat from disease of the uvula, and diseases of the mouth). Hebrew ‫ גיד הראש‬is not attested in the current dictionaries. N transcribes the Arab. ‫ قيفال‬as ‫ קיפל‬or translates it as Latin ‫ספליקא‬, and Z has Latin ‫ ציפליקה‬or ‫( גיד הראש הנקרא ציפאליקה‬MA 12:23, 33, 36; 25:11). ‫ = גלגל‬Arab. ‫لولب‬: ‘speculum’ (see WKAS 1795: ‘a surgical instrument’); cf II:77 (SP 222a; SL 484, 3):‫( זאת צורת גלגל לפתוח בו הרחם‬Speculum for 53

E. Lieber, ‘Asaf ’s Book of Medicines: A Hebrew Encyclopaedia of Greek and Jewish Medicine, Possibly Compiled in Byzantium on an Indian Model’, in: J. Scarborough (ed.), Symposium on Byzantine Medicine (Dumbarton Oaks Papers. Number 38, 1984, Washington 1985), 233–49. 54 For this disease cf. the extensive discussion in Gerrit Bos, Qus†a ibn Luqa’s Medical Regimen for the Pilgrims to Mecca. Edited with Translation and Commentary. (Leiden 1992), ch. 14. 68

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

opening the entrance of the womb). Hebrew ‫ גלגל‬is not attested as a medical instrument in the current dictionaries; cf. BM 763–5. ‫ גלד‬:‫ = הגלד הענבי‬Arab. ‫الطبقة العنبية‬: ‘uveal membrane’; cf 2:21 (SP 212a; SL 249, 2): ‫( כשתקרה בליטה )= בקיעה( בגלד הענבי‬When a rupture befalls the uveal membrane). Hebrew ‫ גלד‬features in the Bible in the sense of ‘skin’ (KB 1:191); in Rabbinic literature as ‘coating, skin; thickness’ (JD 1:245), and in medieval literature as ‘peel’ (for instance of an onion) (BM 770). In the sense of membrane it is not attested in the current dictionaries; however, Kaufmann (KS 86) refers to a passage in Tiqqunei ha-Zohar fol. 15b, where we find the same term as ‫גלידי‬. For an extensive discussion of the different terms used for the membrane(s) of the eye cf. Kaufmann, ibid., 85–7. For Hebrew ‫‘ ענבי‬grapelike’ cf. BM 4575; Kaufmann, ibid., 90–2. N translates Arab. ‫ الطبقة العنبية‬as ‫הכתנת הענבית‬ and Z as ‫ הקרום הענבי‬,‫ הכת>נת< הענבי‬,‫הכת>נת< השכבית‬. ‫ = גלידה‬Arab. ‫‘ التحام‬adhesion’; cf. II:63 (SP fol. 219b–220a; SL 435, 17–19): ‫ואם תהיה הגלידה בין כלום מן הקרומות או במה שיש בין הכיסים ראוי להפריד כל‬ ‫( הגלידה ההיא ולחתכה חתיכות חתיכות עגולות‬But should the adhesion have

formed somewhere inside the membranes or in the space between the vessels, then you must free the adhesion as a whole and cut it away with a circular incision). Hebrew ‫ גלידה‬is not mentioned in this sense in the current dictionaries. In the sense of a bodily defect it is attested in BIR in a quotation from Sefer ha-Ittur (Sha¨ar sheni, hilkhot sheÌitah, daf 30, ¨ammud 2) composed by Isaac b. Abba Mari of Marseilles (1120? –1190?). In the EnÂyklopediah Talmudit (vol. 6, cols. 68–71) we find ‫ גלודה‬defined as a defect (spec., missing skin, whether due to abbrasion, injury or disease) that renders an animal terefah (ritually unclean). In Rabbinic literature we find Aram. ‫ סירכא‬in the sense of ‘adhesion, cohesion’, esp. of the lobes of the lung; cf. JD 1028. ‫נּוּח‬ ַ ִ‫ = גּ‬Arab. ‫‘ ربو‬asthma’ cf. II:96 (SP fol. 231a-; SL 659, 35–6): ‫אמנם‬ ‫נתינת הרבידות על המקום הנקרא אל כאהל והוא אמצע הצואר הוא תמורת הקזת‬ ‫והקזת הבאסליק ולפיכך יועילו מן הגנוח וצרות הנשימה‬...‫הגיד הנקרא אל אכחל‬ ‫( וקריעת כלי הנשימה והשעול והמלוי‬Now as to the application of cupping-

vessels to the interscapular region: it is instead of venesection of the median and basilic veins; so it is effective for asthma and dyspnoea and for rupture of the organ of respiration, and for cough and pletora). Hebrew ‫נּוּח‬ ַ ִ‫גּ‬, derived from ‫‘ גנח‬to groan, esp. 1. to sigh heavily under an attack of angina pectoris; 2. to cough and spit blood’ (JD 259), is not attested in the current dictionaries. N translates Arab. ‫ ربو‬as ‫גניחה‬ and Z as ‫ שעול‬or ‫( הרימפלי הנקרא בערבי רבו ובלעז ַא ְסמוּ‬MA 2:25; 8:19; 22:30; 23:78). ‫ = גרב‬Arab. ‫‘ جرب‬granular conjunctiva; i.e. trachoma’; cf. II:95 (SP fol. 229a; SL 631, 54–5):‫ושני הגידים אשר בראשי העינים תועלת הקזתם לתחלאי העינים מן‬ ‫( הגרב והאדימות והגידים המסתבכים האדומים הנקראים בלשונם סבל‬Venesection of the two lachrymal veins gives relief in diseases of the eyes such as granular conjunctiva and inflammation and pannus). ‫ גרב‬features in BM 830 as 1. scabies, and 2. an affection of the eye in a quotation from 69

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

Nathan ha-Me}ati’s translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun. N and Z also translate or transcribe Arab. ‫ جرب‬as ‫( גרב‬MA 15:24). ‫ גרגור‬:‫ = גרגורים‬Arab. ‫غراغر‬: ‘gargles’; cf. I:6 (SP fol. 204a; SL 31, 5): ‫כשירפא‬ ‫( הרופא זה המין מן הנטייה במיני הג‘ירא פיקרא והעיטושים והגרגורים‬When this kind of deformity [i.e. twisted mouth] has been treated with electuaries, errhines, and gargles) (see as well below s.v. ‫)הטפה‬. BM 831 refers to the term ‫ גרגורים‬as featuring in the Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb, by Nathan ha-Me}ati. In addition to this term, Nathan uses ‫ ערעורים‬while Z has the Romance ‫( גרגריזמו‬MA 3:11, 87); cf. SG Gimmel 14. MD 317 refers to the term ‫ גרגור‬as featuring in Sefer Asaph. ‫ = גרגתני‬Arab. ‫ناصور‬: ‘fistula’; cf. I:17 (SP fol. 205a; SL 56,1): ‫שער י“ז בכוית‬ ‫( הגרגתני אשר יקרה בראש העין‬On cauterization of a fistula in the angle of the eye). Hebrew ‫ גרגתני‬originally means ‘a wicker or network in the wine or oil press’ and has a secondary meaning of ‘the scarry and lifeless surface of a healed up wound, eschar’ (JD 264; cf. Low XLV: ‘keloidosis’). N transcribes Arab. ‫ ناصور‬as ‫ נאצור‬and Z translates it as Romance ‫פישטולא‬ (MA 15:29, 44). Cf. SG Gimmel 19. ‫ = גרד‬Arab. ‫جرد‬: ‘to strip’; cf. I:17 (SP fol. 205a; SL 59,17–18): ‫ואם עברו‬ ‫עליו ארבעים יום ולא נרפא ראוי לתת עליו הסם החד האוכל עד שיתגלה העצם‬ ‫( ולגרדו על מה שיבא זכרו מן המלאכה במקומו‬And should forty days have

passed and it does not heal, apply a sharp corrosive ointment so as to expose the bone, and strip it as will be explained in the appropriate chapter). The Hebrew term normally means to ‘scratch, shave', cf. BM 834. In the sense of ‘to strip, to lay bare’, a semantic borrowing from the Arabic cognate, the Hebrew term is not attested in secondary literature. ‫ = גרה‬Arab. ‫ترقوة‬: ‘collar-bone’; cf. III:5 (SP fol. 235a; SL 721,1): ‫בחבוש הגרה‬ ‫( כשתשתבר‬On the repair of a broken collar-bone). The Hebrew term is the general name of that part of the body which extends from the neck to the chest (JD 266; BM 836) and features in Rabbinic literature; cf. SG Gimmel 27. The Arabic term is transcribed by N as ‫ תרקוה‬and translated by Z as ‫קטיולה‬,‫( קטולה‬MA 6:55, 57; 7:54; 12:27; 15:62). According to Goyanes (Medieval Hebrew anatomical names, pp. 197–8) there was no traditional name for the clavicle in Hebrew and the Academy of the Hebrew Language chose the name ‫‘ בריח‬bolt’, translation of the Greek kleív. He adds that Razi (i.e. Shem Tov Ben Isaac, the translator of the K. al-ManÒuri) has the term ‫‘ עצם הגרה‬neck bone’; see as well SR 20, n. 104, 107. ‫ = גרירה‬Arab. ‫نَشْ ر‬: ‘saw-cut’; cf. II:86 (SP 225b; SL 562, 108–10): ‫וראוי להיות‬ ‫הגרירה במגרה למעלה ממקום ההפסד מעט פן יהיה בתוך העצם הפסד ולא יראה מחוץ‬ ‫( לחוש ויביא הצורך לגררו במגרה פעם שנית‬The saw-cut should be made a

little above the site of the disease in case there should be disease in the cavity of the bone that is not apparent on the surface, which might compel you to carry out the sawing a second time). Hebrew ‫ גרירה‬is only attested in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘1. scraping off; 2. dragging, 70

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

pulling, moving an object without lifting; 3. carrying with, involving’ (JD 269). ‫ = גָּ ָרע‬Arab. ‫فاصد‬: ‘one who carries out venesection’; cf. II:95 (SP 229b; SL 637, 105–6): ‫וצריך הגרע להיותו נזהר בעת הקזתו כי יש תחתיו וריד ואם פשע‬ ‫( ויוסיף בתחיכת המסמר ויחתוך הוריד ההוא תתחדש ממנו רעיפת דם‬When one venesects it [i.e. the basilic vein] one must be careful and wary of it, for beneath the vein is an artery, so that if one is inaccurate and sticks the scalpel in too far one will cut the artery and cause a haemorrhage). Hebrew ‫ גָּ ָרע‬is attested in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘scraper, barber, in gen. low class surgeon, bloodletter’ (JD 271). ‫ גרר‬:‫ = גרר במגרה‬Arab. ‫نشر‬: ‘to saw’; cf. II: 86 (SP fol. 225b; SL 561, 91–2): ‫ואחר כך שבתי וגליתי העצם שנית למעלה מן הגלוי הראשון ומצאתי ההפסד הגיע אל‬ ‫( העצם וגררתי במגרה מה שנראה לו גם כן מן ההפסד ההוא‬Then I again uncov-

ered the bone, above the first opening, and found the corruption coextensive with the bone. So again I sawed away as much of the corruption as I could see). Hebrew ‫ גרר‬is only attested in the sense of ‘to saw’ in Rabbinic literature; cf. JD 272. See as well Ma}agarim, s.v. ‫גרר‬. ‫ = דבשת‬Arab. ‫( حدبة‬SP fol. 202b; SL 129, 1): ‘hunchback’; cf. I:43 (SP fol. 202b; SL129,1): ‫( בכוית התחלת הדבשת‬on cauterization of early hunchback). The Hebrew term is a hapaxlegomenon featuring in Isa. 30:6 meaning ‘hump’ (of a camel); cf. KB 1:213. ‫ = דליות‬Arab. ‫دوالى‬: ‘varices’ (cf. UW 346-347, s.v. kirsóv); cf. II:90 (SP fol. 227a; SL595, 2): ‫הדליות הם גידים נפתלים עבים מלאים מהעדפות‬ ‫( שחוריות מתחדשות ברוב איברי הגוף‬Varices are thick twisted veins filled with melancholic superfluities); the same Hebrew term features in M (BIZ 22:1): ‫( נגעים נקראים דליות‬swellings called ‘varicose veins’). BM 944–5 only refers to this term in the singular form ‫ ַדּליִּ וּת‬as featuring in Nathan ha-Me}ati’s translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun; MD 761 also refers to a singular ‫דלית‬. See as well ‫ זמורה‬below. ‫ = דרדני‬Arab. ‫لثّة‬: ‘gums’; cf. II:95 (SP 229a; SL 633, 77): ‫וגידי השפה והפסד‬ ‫( הדרדני והשחין הרע‬and rotting of the gums). ‫ =( דרדני‬Persian darîdanî meaning ‘fragments’, derived from the Persian verb darîdan? [VL 1:844]), is not attested in the current dictionaries. Cf. SG Dalet 11. N translates Arab. ‫ لثّة‬as ‫ לסתות‬and Z as ‫( חניכים‬MA 9:123). ‫ = הברה‬Arab. ‫قرقرة‬: ‘borborygmi’ (cf. UW 239, s.v. êmpneumátwsiv: ‘Blähung, Aufblähung’); cf. II:90 (SP fol. 220a; SL 441, 12–14): ‫ולפעמים הלך במעי‬ ‫הצואה ותתעכב שמה ויהיה ממנה אבדת החולה שהיא תחדש כאב קשה והברה וכל‬ ‫( שכן בעת הסחיטה עליו‬Sometimes also the excrement comes down with

the bowel and gets held up there, and this involves the patient’s death, for thence arises an intractable pain and borborygmi, specially when pressed down). Hebrew ‫ הברה‬is not attested in a medical context in the current dictionaries. N translates Arab. ‫‘ قرقرة‬splashing sound’ as ‫ קרקור‬or ‫ קרקורים בבטן‬and Z as ‫ קולות‬or ‫( רעם‬MA 6:52; 7:55). ‫ = הגלדה‬I. Arab. ‫اندمال‬: ‘healing’; i.e. of a wound; cf. II:89 (SP fol. 227a; SL 593, 34–5):‫והדבקות אשר יקרה אל האצבעות קצתם בקצתם יתכן היותו מזמן‬ ‫( היצירה או מהגלדת חבורה או משרפת אש וזולתם‬As for webbing of the fingers 71

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

one to another, that occurs very frequently. It may be either congenital or from the healing of a wound or burn or the like); II. Arab. ‫التحم‬ ‘to mend’; cf. III:1 (SP fol. 232a; SL 679, 18–681, 20):‫וידוע שהעצמות‬ ‫הנשברות כשתהיינה באנשים כחושים וזקנים לא יתכן חבורם והגלדתם על טבעם‬ ‫( הראשון לעולם לנגוב עצמותם וקשים‬You should know that fractures occur-

ring in mature [Shem Tov, ‘skinny'] and old people cannot join and mend into the original condition, on account of the dryness and hardness of their bones). Hebrew ‫ הגלדה‬is only mentioned as a modern term in EM 343. N translates Arab. ‫ اندمال‬as ‫ הבראה‬and Z as ‫( חיות‬MA 23:44). Arab. ‫ التحم‬is translated by N as ‫ דבק‬or ‫ התדבק‬and by Z as ‫ התרקם‬or ‫עלה‬ ‫ בשר‬or ‫( התרקם בשר‬MA 15:46, 56, 62; 25:17). ‫ = ִהדּוּק‬Arab. ‫ش ّد‬: ‘ligature’; cf. I:56 (SP fol. 208a–b; SL 165, 18–20):‫והמתעסק‬ ‫בהפסקתו בקשירה או בהדוק בבגדים או בתת הדברים השורפים וכיוצא בהם לשוא‬ ‫( יטרח כי לא יועילנו כלל אלא במקרה‬But those who try to stop bleeding with

ligatures or cloths, or by the application of caustics and the like, never stanch it by these means, or at least very rarely). Hebrew ‫ ִהדּוּק‬features in both Jastrow and Ben Yehudah as a synonym of ‫ ִחדּוק‬in the sense of ‘that which is squeezed in to fill a gap, repair, insertion’ (JD 451). Even-Shoshan mentions it in the sense of ‘a strong binding, connection’ (EM 346) (trans. Bos). ‫ הזלה‬:‫ = הזלות הראש‬Arab. ‫نظلات‬: ‘catarrhs’; cf. II:95 (SP fol. 228b; SL 627, 22–3):‫אמנם שני הגידים אשר אחורי האזנים תועלת הקזתם מהזלות הראש הישנות‬ ‫ומכאב הצילחתא ומן השחין הנקרא בלשונם אל סעפה ומן השחין הרחב הישן אשר‬ ‫( יהיה בראש‬Venesection of the two veins behind the ears. Bleeding

from both of these will give relief in cases of chronic catarrh, migraine, scabs55 of the head and chronic foul pustules). Hebrew ‫ הזלה‬is attested in BM 1065 as featuring in Meir Aldabi, Shevilei Emunah which was completed in 1360; the term features as ‫ הזלת החוטם‬for Arabic ‫زكمة‬ ‘rheum’ in Moses Ibn Tibbon’s Hebrew translation of Maimonides’ Regimen of Health (BMR 4:21). N translates Arab. ‫ نظلة‬as ‫ נזלים‬,‫ נזל‬,‫נזילה‬ and Z as, ‫ נזל קטרא‬,‫( נזילה‬MA 3:66; 6:41; 8:38; 9:7; 13:13; 16:30). ‫ = הזרה‬Arab. ‫ذرور‬: ‘powder’; cf. II:17 (SP fol. 211b; SL 235,11–12): ‫וכשישלם החתוך ויכלה כל הבשר ראוי למלא העין במלח שחוק או להטיף בו מן‬ ‫( ההזרה האדומה‬And when you have finished your incision and removed

all the chemosis, fill the eye with powdered salt or instil the red powder…). The Hebrew term is a non-attested verbal noun from the root ‫זרה‬, to winnow, disperse (BM 1395–6). M translates the Arabic ‫ ذرور‬as ‫( אבק‬BIZ 26:4): ‫( אבק ידביק החתוך מן הסכין והסיף‬A powder which heals a cut of a sword or knife). ‫ הטפה‬:‫ = הטפות‬Arab. ‫تنطيلات‬: ‘embrocations’; cf. II:37 (SP 214b; SL 309, 30–1): ‫ואחר כך לגמע במים קרים ולרפא מחוץ בהטפות ומבית בגרגורים עד שיבריא‬ (Then let him rinse his mouth with cold water and do you treat with external embrocations and gargles within, till he is well). Hebrew ‫הטפה‬ 55 ‘scabs of the head and chronic foul pustules’: cf. SL: ‘chronic foul pustules and scabs of the head’.

72

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

is not attested in this sense in the current dictionaries, cf. BM 1070. N translates Arab. ‫ تنطيل‬as ‫ יציקה‬and Z as ‫( נטילות‬MA 13:38). M (MZ fol. 100b) translates the Arab. ‫( نطولات‬fomentations) (BZ 225, l. 1394) as ‫טבילות‬. ‫ = הטפחה‬Arab. ‫نطول‬: ‘fomentation’; cf. IV:26 (SP fol. 237a; SL 797, 19–797, 21): ‫ואם לא ישוב במה שזכרתי ותהיה לשמיטה מעת שנתחדשה ימים רבים ראוי‬ ‫( להשיב החולה במים חמין במרחץ ולהרגיל ההטפחה המרפה והמרככה‬If it [i.e. the dislocation of the humerus] is not reduced by the means we have stated, being a dislocation of many days’ standing, the patient should take a hot bath and use relaxing and softening fomentations). Hebrew ‫ הטפחה‬is not attested in a medical context in the current dictionaries. Ben Yehuda (BM 1070) adduces the term in the sense of ‘moistening’ in a quotation from Kalonymus b. Kalonymus’ ‫ ;ס‘ הצמחים‬i.e. the Hebrew translation of Nicolaus Damacenus’ De plantis which Kalonymus completed in the year 1314.56 N translates the Arab. ‫ نطولات‬as ‫ יציקות‬and Z as ‫( טיבולים‬MA:2, 42; 21:63), while M (MZ fol. 100b) has ‫טבילות‬. See as well entry ‫הטפיח‬. ‫ = המעדה‬Arab. ‫إزلاق‬: ‘fomentation’; cf. IV:27 (SP fol. 237b; SL 805, 19: ‫( המעדת הפרק‬the lubrication of the joint). Hebrew ‫ המעדה‬is not attested in this sense in the current dictionaries, cf. BM 1117. Cf. the disease called ‫ زلق‬or ‫ ;زلق الأمعاء‬i.e. lientery, which is translated by N as ‫המעדת‬ ‫ המעיים‬or ‫מעידת המעיים‬, and by Z as ‫ המעדת המעיים‬or ‫חלקות המעיים‬ (MA 22:36; 23:80, 90, 93, 94), while M translates the Arabic as ‫הגרת‬ ‫( המעים‬BMR 4:22). Cf. SG He 11. ‫ העדפה‬:‫ = העדפות‬Arab. ‫فضول‬: ‘superfluities’; cf. Introduction (SP fol. 202a; SL13, 41): ‫( ומה שיזדמן בגופו מהתקבץ ההעדפות בו‬and from the formation of a mass of superfluities in the body). The Hebrew term is attested in Ben Yehuda (BM 1143), referring to Nathan ha-Me}ati’s Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun. The same Arabic term is translated by N as ‫מותרות‬/‫ מותרים‬and by Z as ‫( ליחות‬MA passim); M (BIZ 17:4) translates the Arab. term as ‫מותרות‬. ‫ השבה‬:‫ = השבת השברים‬Arab. ‫ج ْبر‬ َ : ‘setting of bones’; cf. Introduction (SP 201a; SL 7, 50). The Hebrew term is not attested in the current dictionaries. In addition to this term Shem Tov uses the term ‫ ;לחבש‬see entry ‫חבש‬. ‫ = התלבדות‬Arab. ‫تل ّبد‬: ‘granulation’; cf. II:86 (SP fol. 225b; SL 555, 39–557, 42): ‫והיא להסתכל ואם יהיה הגרגתני נכר קרוב ובמקום בטוח רחוק מפרק או מעצב‬ ‫או מוריד או מגיד נח או אחד מן המקומות אשר זכרתי ראוי לבקעו על מה שקדם מן‬ ‫ההתלבדות‬57 ‫( המלאכה ולהסיר מה שיש בו מן‬See if the fistula is obvious and

accessible, or in a harmless situation far removed from a joint58 or nerve 56 On this work traditionally ascribed to Aristotle cf. H.J. Drossaart-Lulofs and E.L.J. Poortman, Nicolaus Damascenus. De plantis. Five translations (Amsterdam 1989). 57 ‫ההתלבדות‬: emendation editor ‫ ההתלבדוד‬MS. 58 ‘joint or nerve or vein or artery’: translation Bos. SL translate: ‘joint or vein or artery or tendon’.

73

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

or vein or artery or any of the other places I have mentioned to you. Then lay open the fistula by the method I have described and fetch out of it all the granulations…). Hebrew ‫ התלבדות‬is not attested in the current dictionaries. See ‫ לבד‬below. ‫ = התלהבות‬Arab. ‫التهاب‬: ‘inflammation’; cf. II:74 (SP 221a; SL 465, 8–10): ‫ראוי להתבונן ואם יהיה כאב הצמח בתחלתו חם עם דפיקה והתלהבות וקדחת ויהיה‬ ‫( אדום אין ראוי למהר לדקרו‬You should inspect it, and if the pain of the

tumour is acute from the outset, with pulsation and inflammation and fever, and it is red, then do not be in a hurry to open). As ‘inflammation’, a semantic borrowing from the Arabic ‫التهاب‬, the Hebrew term is not attested in the current dictionaries; cf. MD 1232: ‘enthousiasm’. N translates Arab. ‫ ملتهب‬as ‫ נלהב‬and Z as ‫( מתלהב‬MA 6:47). M translates Arab. ‫ التهاب‬as ‫( התלהבות‬BIZ 12:1). ‫ = התפוצצות‬Arab. ‫تف ُّتت‬: ‘shattering’; cf. IV:15 (SP 235b; SL 2–3): ‫פלך‬ ‫הארכובה לא יקרה בו שבר אלא על המעט אבל יקרה לו הריסוק ואם יקרה לו שבר‬ ‫( אולם יהיה בקוע או התפוצצות‬You should know that the patella is rarely

fractured, but crushing often occurs. If a fracture does happen to it, it will be either a splitting or a shattering). Hebrew ‫ התפוצצות‬is attested as modern in EM 438 in the sense of ‘explosion’. ‫ = וריד‬Arab. ‫شريان‬: ‘artery’; cf. I:4 (SP 204a; SL 11–12): ‫ועתיד אני עוד להביא‬ ‫( זכרון הנהגת הרעיפה אשר תקרה מן הוריד‬We shall later on mention a treatment for accidental haemorrhage of the artery). The term ‫ וריד‬is attested as ‘jugular vein’ in Rabbinic literature and as a synonym of ‫ גיד‬in Nathan ha-Me}ati’s Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun (BM 1272). See ‫ גיד‬above. ‫ = זיכום‬Arab. ‫زكام‬: ‘defluxion’. Cf. II:86 (SP fol. 225a; SL 553, 2–4): ‫ידוע‬ ‫שכל חבורה או מורסא כשתתישן וארך זמנה ושבה שחין ולא הגלידה והיה יוצא ממנה‬ ‫מוגלא תמיד בלי הפסד תקרא על הכלל גרגתני באיזה אבר שתהיה ואני קראתיה זיכום‬

(You should know that any wound or tumour, when it becomes old and chronic, and turns into an ulcer, and does not heal over, but discharges pus chronically and constantly, is generally called a fistula, in whatever part of the body it may be; but we call it a defluxion). Hebrew ‫ זיכום‬is a hebraised form not attested elsewhere. N transcribes the Arab. term as ‫ זכאם‬and Z translates it as Romance ‫ קטרא‬and ‫( ריומא‬MA 19:35); cf. SG Zayin 5. ‫ = זמורה‬Arab. ‫دالية‬: ‘varix’ (see UW 346–7, s.v. kirsóv: ‘Krampfader, Varize’); cf. II:64 (SP fol. 220a; SL 439, 2–3): ‫הזמורה היא צמח נפתל קצת פיתול דומה‬ ‫( לאשכול עם רפיון הבצים ותקשה על החולה התנועה והטיול וההליכה‬A varix is a twisted tumour resembling a cluster of grapes, with relaxation of the testicles, which makes movement and exercise and walking difficult for the patient). Hebrew ‫ זמורה‬is not attested in this sense in the current dictionaries, cf. BM 1349–51. See entry ‫ דליות‬above. ‫ זנב‬:‫ = זנב העין‬Arab. ‫ذنب العين‬: ‘the outer corner of the eye’; cf. I:13 (SP fol. 204b; SL 553,1):‫והרוצה להוסיף יוכל לכוות כויה אחת בכל צד מזנב העין‬ ‫( על קצות גב העין במכוה קטן אשר זאת צורתו‬and, if you are compelled to add more, one cauterization on the side of the outer corner of the eye at the 74

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

end of the eyebrow, with a small cautery). The Hebrew term is not mentioned in the current dictionaries, but features in BIR as ‫זנב עינו‬ in an attestation from Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Bi}at haMikdash, Ch. 8, Halakhah 6 (BIR). In SG Zayin 8 the same Hebrew term features for Arab. ‫ المأق الصغير‬i.e. ‘the outer angle of the eye’. See as well ‫ ראש העין‬below. ‫ זקן‬:‫ = הזקן התחתון‬Arab. ‫العانة‬: ‘pubes’; cf. II:54 (SP fol. 217b; SL 383, 14, 385, 1–2): ‫ואחר כך להסתכל ואם יהיה התילד השקוי מצד המעי ראוי‬ ‫ּלהרחיק הביקוע מן הטיבור שעור שלש אצבעות מלמטה עד למעלה מן הזקן‬ .‫( התחתון‬Then consider; and if the dropsy arises from the region of the

intestines then you should make an incision three fingers’ breath directly below the umbilicus, above the pubes). For the Hebrew term meaning ‘pubic hair’ and attested in Rabbinic literature see BM 1383; N translates the Arab. ‫ عانة‬as ‫ ערוה‬or ‫ גב הערוה‬and Z as ‫ ערוה‬or ‫עצם הערוה‬ (MA 1:67; 3:2, 76; 16:12); see as well SG Zayin 11, and below s.v. ‫ חומש‬and ‫קיבה‬. ‫ = ִחבּוּש‬I. Arab. ‫ج ْبر‬ َ : ‘setting (of a fracture)’; cf. SP fol. 232a; SL 677, 1–2): ‫זה החלק גם כן גדול הצורך והתועלת במלאכה והוא חבוש השבר והשמיטה המתחדשים‬ ‫( בעצמות‬This [third] part of the book, too, is an essential necessity in the

practice of medicine; it concerns the setting of the fracture or dislocation occurring in bones); II. Arab. ‫علاج‬: ‘treatment’; cf. III:2 (SP fol. 233a; SL 701, 22): ‫( וחבוש השבר הוא להסתכל בתחלה אל מקרי החולה‬As to the treatment of the fracture: begin by paying attention to the patient’s symptoms). ‫ ִחבּוּש‬is only attested as modern in EM 495 in the sense of ‘binding, bandaging’. ‫ חבל‬:‫ = חבל הזרוע‬Arab. ‫حبل لذراع‬: ‘cord of the arm’; i.e. the vena cephalica pollicis and the vena cephalica antibrachii (cf. DKT 816) cf. II:95 (SP fol. 230a; SL 651, 244–5): ‫והקזת חבל הזרוע יוקז תמורת גיד האכחל‬ ‫( והבאסליק כשלא ימצאו או כשיהיו נעלמים כי הוא מורכב מהם‬Section of the cord of the arm: this is cut in place of the median and basilic veins when these are not to be found or hidden; for this vein is composed of those two). Hebrew ‫חבל הזרוע‬, a loan-translation of the Arab. ‫حبل لذراع‬, is not attested in the current dictionaries. ‫ חבש‬:‫ = ִח ֵבּש‬Arab. ‫ج ْبر‬ َ : ‘repair’; cf. I:13 (SP fol. 232b; SL 693, 129–30): ‫וזאת‬ ‫( התחבושת אין בה כח לחבש‬Now this plaster has no power of repair), and ibid. (SL 693, 132): ‫( תאר תחבושת מחבשת העצמים הנשברים‬Description of a plaster for the repair of a broken bone). Hebrew ‫ ִח ֵבּש‬is not attested in this sense in the current dictionaries. In the Bible we find the term in the sense of ‘to bind up (wound)’; cf. KB 289; BM 1439. See as well entries ‫ מחבש‬and ‫השבה‬. -: ‫ = התחבש‬Arab. ‫انجبر‬: ‘to mend’; cf. IV:12 (SP fol. 235b; SL 751, 45–6): ‫וידוע ששבר הזרוע יתחבש בשלשים יום או בשנים ושלשים על הרוב ואפשר שיחבש‬ ‫( לפעמים בשמנה ועשרים יום‬You should know that this fracture of the arm

mends in thirty or thirty-two days, and sometimes in twenty-eight). Hebrew ‫ התחבש‬is not attested in this sense in the current dictionaries. -: ‫נחבש‬: see previous entry. 75

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

‫ חוט‬:‫ = החוטים הנתלים‬Arab. ‫معلاق‬: ‘suspensor’ (see DKT 828: ‘suspenseur,

Canal déférent’, however, according to SL 426, n. 1 it is rather the spermatic cord); cf. II:63 (SP fol. 219b; SL 434, 12–16):‫וזה המין לפעמים יתכן‬ ‫לבקע עליו ועל יתר מיני הבשר והוא לבקע עור הבצים ואחר כך למשוך הביצה למעלה‬ ‫ולהוציאה מן הקרום הלבן ולהפריד החוטין הנתלין מן הכיסים ולקשור הכיסים ולחתך‬ ‫( החוטין אחר הפרדם מכל צד מצדי הביצה‬It is sometimes possible to cut down

on this kind and also on the other fleshy tumours thus: make an incision in the skin of the testicles; then draw the testicle upward and out of the tunica albuginea, and free the suspensor from the vessels). See as well II:69 (SP fol. 220b; SL 453, 11): ‫( החוטין הנתלין הבצים מהם‬the spermatic cord). The Hebrew term does not feature in the current dictionaries. ‫ = חומש‬Arab. ‫خاصرة‬: ‘hypochondrium’ (cf. L. 748: ‘flank, i.e. each of the ilea’); cf. I:33 (SP fol. 206a; SL 99, 7–8):‫ואם תראינה הלחויות רבות והחולה‬ ‫( סובל הכויה ראוי לכוותו על הזקן התחתון כויה אחת וכויה אחרת על כל חומש‬And if you see that the humidities are superabundant, and the patient fit to tolerate it, then make one cauterization over the groin and one over the hypochondrium). The Hebrew term ‫ חומש‬features in the Bible (KB 331) in the sense of ‘abdomen, belly’. In medieval medical literature we find the Arabic ‫خاصرتان‬, i.e. ‘both the flanks’, translated as ‫ שני הכסלים‬by N and as ‫ שתי החלצים‬by Z (MA 24:29). The Ma¨aseh Tuviyyah by Tobias Ben Moses Cohn (1652–1729) has ‫ ירכתי הבטן‬for the same bodily part (following MD 370). ‫ = ָחח‬Arab. ‫صنّارة‬: ‘hook’ (see UD 67 s.v. ãgkistron (cf. LS 10: ‘fish-hook; hook of a spindle; surgical instrument’): ‘Angelhaken’; cf. II:6 (SP fol. 209b; SL 193, 11–12): ‫ואם יצא החצץ במלקחים טוב ואם לא צריך להשתדל להוציאו‬ ‫( בחח דק כפוף מעט‬If it [i.e. something that has fallen in the ear] comes out with the tweezers, good. But if not, try to extract it with a fine hook slightly curved). Hebrew ‫ ָחח‬is attested in the Bible as 1. thorn, hook (through nose or cheek of animals or captives to lead them away); 2. fibula. For its occurrence in Rabbinic literature in the same meaning(s) see Ma}agarim. It is not attested in the sense of ‘hook’ as a surgical instrument. ‫ חטה‬:‫ = שני החטים‬Arab. ‫اللوزتان‬: ‘tonsils’; cf. II:43 (SP fol. 215b; SL 337, 6–7):‫אבל אשר יש להם צמח חם בפה או בגרון או בשני החטים כשלא יהיה חולי‬ ‫( בקנה מחייב לבקע השפוי כובע פחד החניקה‬But in those with an abscess in the mouth, throat, or tonsils, and when there is no disease in the windpipe itself, you must employ laryngotomy to avoid the mischief of suffocation).The unattested Hebrew term ‫ חטים‬corresponds to Aramaic ‫חיטי‬, Sing. ‫חיטתא‬, the meaning of which is uncertain, but which is traditionally explained as ‘a cartilage on the trachea’; cf. SDA 453. The regular Hebrew term for ‘tonsils’ is ‫( שקדים‬see II:36; SP fol. 214a; SL 301, 4). ‫ חיק‬:‫ = חיק העין‬Arab. ‫شحمة العين‬: ‘orbit’; cf. II:93 (SP fol. 228a; SL 613, 42–3):‫( והוצאתי חץ אחר ליהורי שכבר נפל לו בחיק עינו תחת העפעף השפל‬Also I extracted from a Jew another arrow that had pierced the orbit beneath the lower eyelid). Hebrew ‫ חיק העין‬is not attested in the current dictionaries. 76

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

‫ חלב‬:‫( החלב המכסה את הקרב‬fol. 207b) or ‫( החלב אשר על הקרב‬fol. 217a) = Arab. ‫( ثرب‬SL 135, 2; 377, 3): ‘omentum’; cf. I:45 (SP fol. 207b; SL 135, 2: ‫כשיקרה בתק בעקרי הירכים ויתגללו קצת המעים או החלב המכסה את‬ ‫( הקרב אל האשכים‬When a rupture occurs in the groin, and part of the

intestine and omentum comes down into the scrotum). The Hebrew term is not attested in the current dictionaries. Both N and Z translate the Arabic ‫ ثرب‬as ‫( חלב‬MA 1:54, 55, 60; 9:102). ‫ = חלוקה‬Arab. ‫لزوجة‬: ‘glutinous property’; cf. III:1 (SP fol. 232a; SL 679, 15): ‫וכשיתחיל העצם הנשבר להרפא ראוי ליזון במזונות זנין מזון עב שיש בו חלוקה‬ (When the broken bone has begun to mend, the patient should be nourished with very nourishing food, fat, strong, having some glutinous property). Hebrew ‫ חלוקה‬is not attested in this sense in the current dictionaries. N translates Arab. ‫ لزوجة‬as ‫ דבקות‬and Z as ‫ דבקות‬or ‫דבקות‬ ‫( בלעז וויסקוזיטט‬MA 6:44; 7:13, 19; 9:75; 10:6, 23; 13:6; 15:52). M (BIZ 20:2) likewise has ‫דבקות‬. ‫ חלחל‬:‫ = מתחלחל‬Arab. ‫متخلخل‬: ‘porous’; cf. II:96 (97 MS Paris BN héb. 1163) (SP fol. 231a; SL 663, 68–70): ‫כי מי שיהיה רך הבשר מתחלחל הנקבים ראוי‬ ‫( לשרטו שריטה אחת לא יותר פן יתבעבע המקום‬The person who is tender of flesh and porous of skin you should scarify once only, not more, lest the place ulcerate). Hebrew ‫ התחלחל‬is attested in JD 466 in the sense of 1. to be perforated, to be open, esp. to be permeated by poison; 2. to tremble. N translates Arab. ‫( الأجسام المتخلخلة‬porous bodies) as ‫הגשמים‬ ‫ הרפים והרכים‬and Z as ‫( הגופות הרכות והנרפות‬MA 3:6). Arab. ‫تخلخل‬ (to become porous) is translated by N as ‫ היה מחולחל‬and by Z as ‫ספג‬ (MA 7:12). ‫ חלל‬:‫ = חלל הזנב‬Arab. ‫عجز الذنب‬: ‘the last vertebra of the tail’ (cf. DKT 821, s.v. ‫عاجز‬: ‘sacrum’); cf. I:47 (SP fol. 208a; SL 143, 11–14): ‫אמנם אם‬ ‫הגדמות כבר נתפרסם על החולה ויראה ראייה מבוארת ראוי אז לכוותו אלו הכויות‬ ‫וכויה אחת גדולה על העצה אצל חלל הזנב‬...‫( הנזכרות בראש‬If the elephantiasis

be widespread over the patient and appears obvious, you should give him, as well as the cauterizations described for the head…a great one over the coccyx by the last vertebra of the tail). The Hebrew term is not attested in the current dictionaries. ‫ חלצים‬:‫ = תחת החלציים‬Arab. ‫تحت الشراسيف‬: ‘beneath the false ribs, i.e. hypochondria’; II:76 (SP fol. 221b; SL 477, 13–14). The Hebrew term is not attested in the current dictionaries. N translates the Arab. ‫ما دون الشراسيف‬ as ‫ למטה מן הכסלים‬or ‫ מה שתחת הכסלים‬or ‫ תחת צדי הכסלים‬or ‫מה שלמטה‬ ‫ מצדי הכסלים‬and Z as ‫ למטה מהחלצים‬or ‫ מתחת החלצים‬or ‫ מתחת הצלעות‬or ‫( מה מתחת הצלעות‬MA passim). ‫ חלל‬:‫ = חלל העורף‬Arab. ‫نقرة القفا‬: ‘nape of the neck’; cf. I:47 (SP fol. 208a; SL 143, 3–8):‫והרוצה לכוותו צריך להתבונן אם בתחלת הגדמות רפאוה במה שזכרתי‬ ‫במאמר החלוקה ולא כהה הנגע ויש חשש על החולה שמא ישלוט ההפסד על כל מזגו‬ ‫ראוי לכוותו על הראש חמש כויות האחת באמצע הראש המפורסמת והשנית למטה‬ ‫ הנחת תפלין ושתי כויות על שני הקרנים ואחת מאחוריו‬59‫ממנה לעמת המצח במקום‬ .SL (Arabic text) ‫ عند نهاية الشعر‬:‫במקום הנחת תפלין‬ 77

59

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

‫( בחלל העורף‬When you wish to use the cautery, first look, and if the elephantiasis be in the early stage and you treat it with those remedies advised in the section but it does not abate and is not arrested, and you fear lest the corruption spread over the patient’s whole constitution, then give him five cauterizations on the head: the well-known one in the middle of the head; the second one lower than that, toward the forehead, where one places the Tefillin,60 and two at the temples; and one behind, on the nape of the neck). The Hebrew term does not feature in the current dictionaries; Cf. the Aramaic ‫ חללא דבי צואר‬below s.v. ‫פרק הצואר‬. ‫ = חללות‬Arab. ‫تقعير‬: ‘concavity’; cf. IV:31 (SP fol. 2238b; SL 821, 2.3): ‫פרק‬ ‫כף הירך ופרק השכם אמנם תקרה להם השמיטה בלבד ולא יקרה להם מה שיקרה‬ ‫( ליתר הפרקים מן ההסרה המעוטה והחללות‬A complete dislocation alone is

sustained by the hip and shoulder joints; they do not sustain the lesser displacements with concavity [as do the other joints]. Hebrew ‫חללות‬ features as modern in EM 544 in the sense of ‘emptyness, hollowness’. The common medieval term for ‘concavity’ was ‫( קערירות‬cf. BM 6051), while the term ‫ חללות‬was also used by Z; thus he translates ‫( مق ّعر الكبد‬the concave side of the liver) as ‫חללות הכבד‬, while N translates it as ‫מקוער‬ ‫ הכבד‬or ‫ קערירות הכבד‬or ‫( קערורית הכבד‬MA 6. 57; 9. 70, 75; 10. 48; 11. 14; 25. 12). ‫ = חניקה‬Arab. ‫خوانيق‬: ‘quinsy’ (cf. UW 373, s.v. kunágxj: ‘Halsentzündung, Bräune’; ibid., p. 654, s.v. sunágxj: ‘Halsentzündung, Diphtherie’); cf. II:95 (SP fol. 229a; SL 633, 84–5): ‫ושני הגידים אשר תחת הלשון תועלת‬ ‫הקזתם אחר הקזת גיד הראש אל החניקה אשר תהיה בגרון וחלי ערלתו ותחלאי הפה‬

(The two veins under the tongue: their venesection is, after section of the cephalic, of good effect in the quincy arising in the throat from disease of the uvula, and diseases of the mouth). Hebrew ‫ חניקה‬is not attested in a medical sense in the current dictionaries; cf. BM 1652. Arab. ‫ خوانيق‬is translated as ‫ מחנקים‬by N and as ‫ חנק הנקרא‬,‫ חנק‬,‫אסקיננציאה‬ ‫ אשכוויננציאה‬by Z (MA 12:33; 22:20; 25:11). ‫ = ֲח ִריכוּת‬Arab. ‫حرقة‬: ‘burning’; cf. II:87 (SP fol. 226b; SL 579, 31–2): ‫ואני‬ ‫מודיע בדמיון שקרה לאדם ברגלו זה המקרה בעצמו אשר אגיד וזה כי נתחדש ברגלו‬ ‫( שחרות עם חריכות דומה לשרפת האש‬Now I shall relate to you an example;

what I am going to tell you is exactly what happened to a certain man’s foot. He had a blackening of the foot, with a burning like that of fire). Hebrew ‫ ֲח ִריכוּת‬is only attested once in Ma}agarim, namely in a YoÂer by Khalaf Ibn Sa¨id (<29 ‫ אדוניה וקרוא‘ >ש‬:‫)יוצרות לשבתות השנה‬. ‫ = טיחה‬I. Arab. ‫لطوخ‬: ‘poultice’ (see WKAS II, 691–2): ‘medicine to be rubbed in, oitment, paste, unguent, salve’; cf. II:20 (SP fol. 211b; SL 247,4): ‫( ואחר לתת על העין טיחה עשויה מאקקיא ואילווא ולבונה וכרכום‬then put to the eyes a poultice made of acacia and aloes and olibanum and saffron)61; II. Arab. ‫‘ طلاء‬liniment’; cf. III:1 (SP fol. 232b; SL 685, 72).

60 61

The Arabic reads: ‫( عند نهاية الشعر‬about the hairline). The Arabic reads: ‫( عنزروت‬sarcocolla). 78

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

The Hebrew term ‫ טיחה‬features as ‘plastering’ in the current dictionaries, cf. JD 530; BM 1868. In SG Tet 6 it is mentioned as a synonym of Arabic ‫طلاء‬. N translates Arabic ‫ لطوخ‬as ‫יציקה‬, Z as ‫( מישרה‬MA 9:18), and M as ‫ ;טיחה‬cf. BIZ 18:4: ‫והנה אמר גליאה שתתרפא הבהרת אחר נקיון הגוף‬ ‫בשיטוח המקום בסיד ויושם עליו אחר זה טיחה נעשית באנאקירד הוא בלאדור וקבשיא‬ ‫( ואלואי ואקסייא וליטרגום וחומץ‬Galen has ordered to treat baraÒ once the

body has been cleansed by smearing quicklime on the spot. Then one should apply a liniment that has been prepared from marsh-nut, pepperwort, aloe, acacia, litharge and vinegar). ‫ טפח‬:‫ = הטפיח‬Arab. ‫نطل‬: ‘to foment’; cf. II:1 (SP fol. 209a; SL 173, 18–19): ‫ואחר הבקיעה ראוי להוציא הלחות כלו ולהדק הבקיעות בבגדים וכלונסות ואחר‬ ‫( להטפיחם ממעלה ביין ושמן עד היום החמישי‬After incising, draw out all the

humidity; then bind up the incisions with pads and bandages; and over the bandages foment with wine and oil till the fifth day). Hebrew ‫הטפיח‬ is mentioned in the current dictionaries as featuring in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘to moisten, to wet’ (cf. JD 546; BM 1906). It is not attested in a medical context in the sense of to ‘foment’ a part of the body. N translates Arab. ‫ نطل‬as ‫יצק‬, Z as ‫ טבל‬or ‫( משח‬MA 9:6; 15:17), and M (MZ fol. 98a) as ‫טבל‬. See as well entry ‫הטפחה‬. ‫ = טרפשה‬Arab. ‫حجاب‬: ‘pleura’ (see DKT 816: ‘diaphragme’); cf. II:92 (SP fol. 228a; SL 611, 26–7): ‫ואם יפול החץ על הטרפשה אשר בחזה יהיה‬ ‫( קרוב מן הצלעות הקטנות‬But if the arrow strike the pleura then it will be close to the small ribs). ‫טרפשה‬, Hebrew parallel to Aramaic ‫טרפשא‬ (cf. SDA 519: ‘membrane’; Low LIV: ‘diaphragma’), or to Hebrew ‫טרפש‬ (BM 1935) does not feature in the current dictionaries. It is attested in BIR as featuring for the first time in the Teshuvot (Part 2, Yoreh De¨ah, Siman Îet, starting with: Katav ha-™ur) of Isaiah Ben Mali Di Trani (c. 1200–before 1260). N translates ‫ حجاب‬as ,‫ טרפשא‬,‫טרפש‬ ‫ מסך‬,‫ טרפשות‬,‫טרפשה‬, Z as, ‫ אל חגאב הוא‬,‫המסך המבדיל הנקרא דיאפרמה‬ ‫ מסך‬,‫( דיאפרמא‬MA 1:2, 28–30; 3:40, 55, 98; 6:53; 9:85; 10:60; 12:29; 16:15, 16; 23:9a, 67; 24: 7), and M as ‫( המסך המבדיל‬MZ fol. 86a). ‫ ישן‬:‫ = התישן‬Arab. ‫أزمن‬: ‘to become chronic’; cf. II:81 (SP fol. 223b; SL 515, 31–2): ‫והפלחים יקרו הרבה מצד נגוב הצואה ואומץ המעים וכשיתישנו ולא יועיל בהם‬ ‫( סם ראוי לגרדם בפי המסמר גרע‬Fissures often arise from dryness of the faeces and from constipation. If they become chronic, and medical treatment is unavailing, you should scrape them with the edge of a scalpel). Hebrew ‫ התישן‬is only attested in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘to be chronic’; cf. BM 2188. N translates Arab. ‫ أزمن‬as ‫ישן‬, and Z as ‫( האריך‬MA 9:123). ‫ = כד‬Arab. ‫‘ أفطس‬blunt’; cf. II:85 (SP fol. 224b; SL 539, 23–6): ‫וזאת צורת‬ ‫הכלי יהיה קצהו האחד הכפוף חד והקצה האחר בלתי חד והקצה הדק לא יהיה בדקות‬ ‫( מסמר הגרע אבל יהיה כד מעט‬This is the form of the instrument. The

curved side should be sharpened, but not the other; the slender extremity should not be as slender as a scalpel, but rather blunt). Hebrew ‫כד‬ is attested in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘arched or rounded’ (JD 612). Cf. SG Kaf 30. 79

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

‫ = כווץ‬Arab. ‫تشنّج‬: ‘spasm’; cf. I:6 (SP fol. 204a: SL 31, 3–4): ‫וראוי להזהר שלא‬ ‫( לכוות כלל הנטייה המתחדשת מן הנגוב וכווץ העצב‬But cauterization [of the

twisted mouth] is to be carefully avoided in that type which is due to dryness or spasm of the tendon). Hebrew ‫ כווץ‬is derived from the root KW∑ ‘to curl, shrink’ (JD 625; SDA 556) which features in Rabbinic literature. The term features as ‫ קווץ‬in BM 5824 (cf. the synonym ‫קויצה‬ in BM 5826–7). N translates the Arab. ‫ تشنّج‬as ‫כויצה‬, Z as ‫ כווץ‬or ‫התכווץ‬ (MA passim), and M (BMR 4:18, 27) as ‫ ;קיווץ‬cf. KZ 65; SG Kaf 21. ‫ = כוליא‬Arab. ‫كلية‬: ‘kidney’; cf. I:37 (SP fol. 206b; SL 107, 2–4): ‫כשיתחדש‬ ‫בכליות כאב מרוח עבה או קרירות ויחסר בסבתם המשגל ראוי לכוותו במתניו על עצם‬ ‫( הכליות כויה אחת על כל כוליא וכוליא במכוה המסמרי אשר קדם זכרו‬When pain

strikes the kidneys from chill or heavy vapour, and the patient’s sexual vigour is impaired thereby, you should burn him right over the kidneys, once on each kidney, with the claviform cautery mentioned before). The term ‫ כוליא‬is Aramaic for Hebrew ‫ ;כליה‬cf. Levy, Chaldäisches Wörterbuch, p. 365.62 ‫ כיס‬:‫ = כיסים‬Arab. ‫أوعية‬: ‘vessels (i.e. blood vessels)’; cf. II:4 (SP fol. 209b; SL 187, 22): ‫( הכיסים היורדים מן הראש אל העינים‬the vessels passing from the head down toward the eyes). Hebrew ‫ כיס‬features in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘receptacle, pouch, bag, purse, fund’ (JD 633), and ‘scrotum, crop (of a bird), cyst’ (Low LVI). It also features in medieval medical literature as ‫( הכיס הקטן‬i.e. gall bladder) and ‫( הכיס הגדול‬i.e. urinary bladder); cf. BM 2347. N translates Arab. ‫ أوعية‬as ‫ כלי‬or ‫כלים‬, while Z translates it as ‫ גידים‬or ‫( כיסים‬MA 6:5, 91; 7:12; 10:40; 18:8; 23:1; 25:52). -: ‫ = כיס מקוה המים‬Arab. ‫مثانة‬: ‘urinary bladder’; cf. I:38 (SP fol. 206a; SL 109, 2–4): ‫כשיתחדש בכיס מקוה המים חולשה ורפיון מקרירות ולחויות עד שלא‬ ‫יוכל להחזיק השתן ראוי לכוותו כויה אחת למטה מן הטיבור על הכיס במקום שיתחיל‬ ‫( שער הזקן התחתון‬When there occurs in the urinary bladder a weakness

and relaxation due to chill and humidities, so that the patient cannot retain his water, sear him once below his navel, on the bladder, where the pubic hair begins). Hebrew ‫ כיס מקוה המים‬is not attested in the current dictionaries. N translates Arab. ‫ مثانة‬as ‫ מקוה‬and Z as ‫ שלפוחית‬or ‫הכיס‬ ‫( של השתן‬MA 1:28, 63, 65, 66, 68, 69 and passim). M (MZ fol. 93a) has ‫ מקוה‬just like N. ‫ כלונס‬:‫ = כלונסות‬Arab. ‫رفائد‬: ‘pads’; cf. Introduction (SP fol. 201b; SL 5, 25–7): ‫וראיתי אחר מתעסק בזאת המלאכה בכדי חייו אצל קצת קציני ארצותינו‬ ‫ונתחדש לסריס שחור שנשבר שוקו קרוב מן הערקוב ונתחדשה בו חבורה ומהר הסכל‬ ‫( בסכלותו והדק השבר על החבורה בכלונסות ובקשישים‬I saw another doctor

who had a regular salary from one of the high officers of our country. There had occurred to a black boy of his a fracture of the leg near the heel, together with a wound; the doctor rushed in, in his ignorance, and 62 J. Levy, Chaldäisches Wörterbuch über die Targumim und einen grossen Theil des Rabbinischen Schriftthums. Unveränderter Neudruck nach der Dritten Ausgabe (Köln 1959).

80

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

bound up the fracture, over the wound, very tightly, with pads and splints). The Hebrew term features in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘poles’; cf. JD 640. Both N and Z translate the Arab. ‫ رفائد‬as ‫רפידות‬ (MA 15:65,69,70); cf. SG Kaf 24. ‫ כלי‬:‫ = כלי ברזל‬Arab. ‫حديد‬: ‘knife’; i.e. surgical knife; cf. II:74 (SP fol. 221a; SL 465, 5–7): ‫וראוי לי שאזכור בזה המאמר הצמח החם אשר יקרה ברחם כשיהיה‬ ‫( מן הצמחים המקבצים מוגלא איך תהיה דקירתו בכלי ברזל‬But now in this treatise we must mention an inflamed tumour occurring in the uterus of the kind where there is a collection of pus, and the manner of its opening with the knife). Hebrew ‫כלי ברזל‬, lit., an iron instrument, is not attested in the sense of ‘surgical knife’, a loan-translation from Arab. ‫حديد‬, in the current dictionaries; cf. BM 2388–92. -: ‫כלי נוקב‬: See ‫מקבת‬. ‫ כף‬:‫ = כף הירך‬I. Arab. ‫ورك‬: ‘hip joint’; cf. I:40 (fol. 203a; SL 113, 2–3): ‫( לפעמים תשתפכנה לחויות עבות אל כף הירך ותהיינה סבה לצאתו ממקומו‬Sometimes harmful humidities reach the hip joint and result in its coming out of its place); II. Arab. ‫‘ ح ّق الورك‬the acetabulum of the femur’ (SP fol. 231b; SL 667, 109). The Hebrew term ‫ כף הירך‬means ‘hip-socket’ and features in the Bible and Rabbinic literature (BM 2480–1). The Arabic term is translated by NZ (MA 12:29; 23:14), and M (BMH 6:2) as ‫ ;ירך‬see as well SR 34. ‫ = כרכשה‬Arab. ‫مبعر‬: ‘rectum’; cf. II:80 (SP fol. 222b; SL 503, 5–6): ‫ועוד יהיה‬ ‫( ממיני הגרגתני מין מפולש אל הכרכשה ואל המעי או בלתי מפולש‬These fistulae may be perforating into the rectum or bowel, or non-perforating). Hebrew ‫ כרכשה‬coined after the Aramaic ‫‘ כרכשא‬large intestines’ (cf. SD 603) is not mentioned in the current dictionaries; it features, however, in BIR in an attestation from Sefer OrÌot Îayyim (‫הלכות אסורי מאכלות אות פד ד‘‘ה‬ ‫)חלב הלב‬. ‫ = כשיל‬Arab. ‫فأس‬: ‘pickaxe’, i.e. a phlebotome (cf. SL 624, n.1); cf. II:95 (SP fol. 229a; SL 629, 45–7): ‫ואיכות הקזתו על מה שאגיד והוא להדק צואר‬ ‫( החולה במצנפת עד שיראה הגיד ואחר לקחת הכלי הנקרא כשיל‬Now I shall relate to you the method of cutting [of the vein in the forehead]: you bind the patient’s neck until the vessel stands out; then you take the instrument called the ‘pickaxe’). Hebrew ‫ כשיל‬features in the sense of ‘a carpenter’s tool for chipping, axe’ in the Bible (KB 502) and Rabbinic literature (JD 675f); it is not attested in the sense of a ‘phlebotome’. Cf. SG Kaf 31. ‫ לבד‬:‫ = מתלבד‬Arab. ‫متل ّبد‬: ‘compact’; cf. II:82 (SP fol. 223b; SL 517, 13–14): ‫( והנמלה היא גם כן גרגתני קטן מתלבד עב הגוף הולכת בעומק מאד‬A pimple is also a little compact thick prominence on the skin surface, going deep). Hebrew ‫מתלבד‬, a loan translation of the Arabic ‫متل ّبد‬, is not attested in the current dictionaries; cf. JD 687, s.v. ‫לבד‬: ‘to full, to stamp' and KA 5:6: ‘verbinden, befestigen, anschliessen’ (to connect, attach). See ‫ התלבדות‬above. ‫ = לטש‬Arab. ‫جلا‬: ‘to cleanse’; cf. III:2 (SP fol. 233b; SL 711, 105): ‫ובכלל‬ ‫( ראוי להרגיל מהם כל סם לוטש בלתי עוקץ‬in short, in these cases use drugs whose nature is cleansing not irritating). Hebrew ‫ לטש‬does not feature in 81

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

this sense in the current dictionaries; cf. EM 810; BM 2667. N translates Arab. ‫ جلا‬as ‫ מירק‬or ‫צחצח‬, and Z as ‫ טיהר‬or ‫( ניקה‬MA 9:30, 70, 71; 14:1; 15:24, 57; 17:38; 22:69, 70; 25:8). ‫ = לכלך‬Arab. ‫لطخ‬: ‘to spread’ (see WKAS II, 684: ‘to rub, to smear, to whitewash a th., to soil, dirty, stain a th.’); cf. II:13 (SP fol. 211a; SL 223, 9–10): ‫ורטיית הדיאכילון נתכת עם מעט מן השמנים וללכלך בה הפתילה‬ ‫( ולרפא בה‬and [employ] diachylon plaster which has been previously softened with one of the oils and spread on the packs; and treat it with this). The Hebrew term means ‘to soil’; cf. BM 2678. In the sense of ‘to spread’ it is a non-attested semantic borrowing from the Arabic. N translates the Arab. term as ‫ טח‬or ‫ יצק‬and Z as ‫ משח‬or ‫( שם‬MA 9:18; 22:2), and M as ‫( משח‬BMR 4:12). ‫ לעוסה‬:‫ = לעוסות‬Arab. ‫مماضغ‬: ‘medicaments to chew’; cf. I:10 (SP fol. 204a; SL SL 39, 5). The Hebrew term does not feature in the current dictionaries; however, it is possible that the term should be emended as ,‫לעיסה‬ ‫ לעיסות‬which features in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘chewing’ (cf. BM 2713–14). ‫ מגולל‬is 1. Arab. ‫مش ّرب‬: ‘soaked’; cf. I.16 (SP fol. 204b; SL 53, 25–6): ‫ולתת‬ ‫( תחת העין צמר גפן מגולל בחלבון ביצה וראש החולה בחיק הרופא‬place also under the eye cotton wool soaked in egg-white; the patient’s head being in your lap); 2. Arab. ‫( مبلول‬damped); cf. I:17 (SP fol. 205a; SL 56, 5–6): ‫ואחרי‬ ‫( כן לשית צמר גפן מגולל בחלבון ביצה או בריר שיליות על העין‬Then place on his eyes cotton wool damped with egg-white or mucilage of psyllium seeds); 3. Arab. ‫مغموس‬: ‘soaked'; cf. I:22 (SP fol. 205b; SL 71, 8): ‫ולתת עליו צמר‬ ‫( גפן מגולל בחמאה‬and apply cotton wool soaked in butter). The term is possibly used by Shem Tov after Biblical ‫( ושמלה מגוללה בדמים‬Isa. 9:4). Both N and Z translate the Arabic ‫ مبلول‬and likewise ‫ مغموس‬as ‫טבול‬ (MA 9:118; 15:45 and 15:65). ‫ = מגופה‬Arab. ‫غطاء‬: ‘lid’; cf. II:78 (SP fol. 222b; SL 497, 4): ‫ואם לא ראוי‬ ‫לקחת קדרה ולהגיף אותה ולנקוב במגופה נקב ולתת בה העשבים הפותחים פי הרחם‬

(But if not, then take a pot, close it,63 pierce a hole in the lid, and put in it herbs that will open the womb). Hebrew ‫ מגופה‬is only attested in Rabbinic literature in the sense of 1. bung, stopper; 2. the clay used for sealing wine vessels (JD 726–7). ‫ = ַמגְ זֵ ר‬Arab. ‫مقطع‬: ‘chisel’; cf. III:2 (SP fol. 233a; SL 703, 40–1): ‫וזה יהיה‬ ‫ האופן האחד הוא לכרות העצם בתחלה במגזר דק‬.‫על אחד משני פנים מן המלאכה‬ ‫ ואחר כך להרגיל מגזר אחר אחר זה המגזר יותר רחב ממנו‬.‫צר הפה אשר זאת צורתו‬ ‫( מעט וזאת צורתו‬This [i.e. the trepanning and removal of the bone] may

be done in one of two ways. One way is to cut the bone with a finebladed chisel, this being the figure of it. Then after this one employ another chisel, a little broader). Hebrew ‫ מגזר‬is not attested in medical literature (cf. BM 2781, and Aram. ‫ מגזרא‬DA 223). It features especially in the combination ‫ מגזרי ברזל‬in Heykhalot literature; cf. Ma}agarim, s.v. ‫מגזר‬. 63

‘close it’: missing in the Arabic text. 82

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

‫ ַמגְ זֵ ָרה‬:‫ = מגזרות‬Arab. ‫مقاطع‬: ‘chisels’; cf. III:2 (SP fol. 233a; SL 703, 44–6): ‫ומן הראוי להיות אצל הרופא מגזרות משתנות זאת מזאת וזה להיות קצתן יותר רחבות‬ ‫( מקצתן וקצתן יותר קצרות מקצתן ולהיות פיותיהן בתכלית החדוד‬You should have

by you a number of different chisels, some broader than others and some shorter than others, their tips should be exquisitely sharp). It is possible that Shem Tov considered ‫ מגזרות‬as the plural of ‫ מגזר‬and not of ‫מגזרה‬ as he uses both ‫ מגזר‬and ‫ מגזרות‬but not ‫מגזרה‬. See previous entry and Ma}agarim, s.v. ‫מגזרה‬. ‫ = מדחה‬Arab. ‫مدفع‬: ‘obturator’ (see L 892: ‘An instrument for impelling, propelling, or repelling…; an instrument used by midwifes for protruding the foetus’); cf. II:6 (SP fol. 210a; SL 199, 60–1: ‫והרוצה להיות המדחה‬ ‫( אשר בתוך השפופרת של נחשת עשוי בחכמה הרשות בידו‬If you wish, you may make the obturator which goes in the cannula of strong bronze). The Hebrew term is a loan translation from the Arabic, and is not attested in this sense in the current dictionaries. ‫ = מזלג‬Arab. ‫نشل‬: ‘lancet’ (cf. SL p. 626, n. 3); cf. II:95 (SP fol. 229a; SL 635, 101–637, 103): ‫זה המזלג העשוי לבקע בו יש ממנו מין רחב ומין דק כפי‬ ‫( רוחב הגידים וצרתם ותוקח ראיה מהם על זולתם והוא אצל הרופאים מפורסם‬This is the lancet for making a slit. There are broad and narrow varieties of it according to the breadth or narrowness of the vein. This one indicates what the others are like; it is well known to surgeons). Hebrew ‫ מזלג‬is attested as ‘(meat) fork (for taking meat out of the cauldron)’ (KB 565; JD 755), and as an instrument for taking the child out of the womb (forceps?) (BM 2885). Another term used for “lancet” is ‫;מסמר מזלגי‬ cf. s.v. ‫מסמר‬. See as well SG Mem 34. ‫ = ְמ ֵח ֵבּש‬Arab. ‫مج ّبر‬: ‘bone-setter’; cf. III:3 (SP fol. 233b; SL 713, 14–15): ‫וזכרו קצת המחבשים מן הראשונים לבלול הפתילות בחמאה ולהחליפן בכל יום ואין‬ ‫( נכון אצלי לעשות כן‬Certain of the ancient bone-setters suggest that

you should soak the pads in butter and change them daily, but I do not think so). Hebrew ‫ ְמ ֵח ֵבּש‬does not feature in the current dictionaries. See entry ‫חבש‬. ‫ = מחבוא‬Arab. ٔ‫مخبا‬: ‘sinus’; cf. II:88 (SP fol. 226b; SL 583, 1): ‫ומהנה נתחיב‬ ‫( לקראו מחבוא ולא נקרא גרגתני‬and hence it [i.e. the abscess] merits the name of ‘sinus’ and is not called a fistula). The Hebrew term is not attested in this sense in the current dictionaries. Arab. Plur. ‫ مخابئ‬is rendered by Shem Tov as ‫ ;מחבואות‬cf. II:88 (SP fol. 226b; SL 583,1): ‫המורסות הנקראות‬ ‫( מחבואות‬abscesses which are called ‘sinuses’ [trans. Bos]). ‫ מחפש‬is 1. Arab. ‫مدس‬ : ‘explorer’; cf. II:45 (SP fol. 216a; SL343, 10–11): ّ ‫( וראוי למתחיל ברפואת האגודה לבדוק אותה ולחפשה בתחלה במחפש‬When you come to treat the cyst, you should first sound it and examine it with the instrument called the explorer); 2. Arab. ‫ ;مسبار‬cf. II:46 (SP 216a; SL 347, 8): ‫( וזאת צורות מחפשים‬And this is the shape of the probes). The Hebrew term does not feature in these meanings in the current dictionaries. ‫ מים‬:‫ = לעשות מי רגלים‬Arab. ‫بال‬: ‘to pass water’; cf. IV:18 (SP fol. 236a; SL 771, 6–7):‫וכשתרצה לעשות מי רגליה ראוי להסיר הצמר גפן בנחת ולהחזירו על‬ 83

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

‫( הענין הנזכר‬and when she wants to pass water gently remove the cotton wool so she may do so). Hebrew ‫ לעשות מי רגלים‬is not attested in the current dictionaries. For Hebrew ‫מי רגלים‬, featuring in Rabbinic literature

as a euphemism for ‘urine’, cf. JD 775. ‫ = מימיות‬Arab. ‫مائية‬: ‘serum’; cf. II:96 (SP 231a; SL 663, 71–3): ‫ואם יהיה בדם‬ ‫ ובשנית‬64‫עובי ראוי לשרטו שתי פעמים בפעם הראשונה לפתוח דרך לדם הדק ומימיותו‬ ‫( לחטט אחר הוצאת הדם העב‬If there be a thickness of the blood he should

scarify twice; the first time to make a way out for the thinner blood and serum; and the second time to complete the extraction of the thick blood). The earliest attestation of Hebrew ‫ מימיות‬in the sense of ‘serum’ is from Nathan ha-Me}ati’s Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun (cf. BM 2971). ‫ = מכוה‬Arab. ‫مكواة‬: ‘cautery’; cf. Introduction (SP fol. 202a; SL 15, 56–8): ‫והכויה בו יותר טובה ויותר חשובה מן הכויה בברזל כמו שאמרו אלא שהרופא כשיחמם‬ ‫( מכוה הזהב לא תתבאר בו חמימותו על השעור המכוון‬Cauterization with it [i.e.

gold] is indeed better and more successful than with iron, as they have stated; except that when you are heating the gold cautery in the fire you are uncertain when it reaches the desired temperature). The Hebrew term is not attested in the current dictionaries. -: ‫ = מכוה סכיני‬Arab. ‫مكواة سكّين ّية‬: ‘knife-edged cautery’; cf. Introduction (SP 219b; SL 429, 50–1):‫ויש שעושין רפואת זה האשך גם כן בכויה חלף מן‬ ‫( הבקוע בכלי ברזל והוא לקחת מכוה סכיני דק ולבקע בו עור הבצים‬This rupture may also be treated by cautery instead of surgery. This will mean taking a knife-edged cautery and cutting with it the skin of the testicles). The Hebrew term is not attested in the current dictionaries. ‫ מכחול‬:‫ = מכחל‬Arab. ‫مرود‬: ‘probe’; cf. I:17 (SP fol. 205b; SL 77, 9–79, 1): ‫שעושין המכוה בעל שלשה שפודין ותהיה תבנית הכויה אז שש כויות ויהיו השפודין על‬ ‫( דקות המכחל‬The cautery may be of three prongs and then the form of

the cauterization will be six burns. The prongs should be of the fineness of a probe). Hebrew ‫ מכחול‬features in rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘staff used for painting the eye’ (JD 782). N uses Hebrew ‫ מכחול‬to render Arab. ‫( ميل‬MA 9:27). ّ ‫مرا‬: ‘hypogastrium’; cf. II:62 (SP 219b; ‫ מכסה‬:‫ = מכסה הבטן‬Arab. ‫ق البطن‬ SL 427, 40–429, 43):‫ולהכניס בפלחים צמר מן הגזה טבול בשמן זית או בשמן ורד‬ ‫( ולתת מחוץ צמר אחר טבול ביין ושמן ולהשטיח על הבצים ומכסה הבטן‬and apply to the incisions wool that has been soaked in olive-oil or oil of roses and on that again more wool that has been soaked in wine and oil, and spread that over the testicles and over the hypogastrium). Hebrew ‫מכסה‬ ‫ הבטן‬is not attested in the current dictionaries. In Rabbinic literature we find ‫ שיפולי המיעים‬which is translated as ‘the lower part of the abdomen’ (JD 1566), ‘groin, lower intestines, sexual organs’ (Low LXXXIV) or ‘hypogastricum’ (MD 370). MD (ibid.) also refers to ‫ חומש‬as a synonym (see above).

.MS ‫ ומימיותיו‬emendation Bos :‫ומימיותו‬ 84

64

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

‫ = מלקחים‬Arab. ‫كلاليب‬: ‘forceps’ (see D 481, s.v. ‫ ;)كلا ّب‬cf. II:77 (SP fol. 222a; SL 487, 12–13): ‫תאר כלי אחר יותר נקל מזה ויותר דק עשוי מהבנים או מברוש‬ ‫( על תבנית המלקחים‬Another instrument, but smaller and lighter. It is made of ebony or boxwood in the shape of forceps). Hebrew ‫ מלקחים‬in the

sense of forceps is attested as ‘modern’ in EM 956. ‫ = מסמר‬Arab. ‫مسمار‬: ‘corn’; cf. II:82 (SP fol. 223b; SL 517, 3): ‫המסמר אמנם‬ ‫( הוא דבר עגול על עין הגוף דומה לראש המסמר‬A corn is a round knob, the

same colour as the body and resembling the head of a nail). Hebrew ‫ מסמר‬is only attested in this sense as featuring in Nathan ha-Me}ati’s Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun, and in Moses ibn Tibbon’s ‫חרוזי אבן סינא‬, i.e. the Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s ¨Urguza fi al-†ibb which Ibn Tibbon prepared in 126065; cf. BM 3127. -: ‫ = מסמר הגרע‬Arab. ‫مبضع‬: ‘scalpel’; cf. I:3 (SP fol. 203b; SL 23, 7): ‫ואחר‬ ‫( לבקע מקום הכאב מן הצדע במסמר הגרע‬then cut open the side of the pain in the temple with a scalpel). The Hebrew term is attested in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘a blood-letter’s pin’ (JD 809); cf. SG Mem 17. -: ‫ = מסמר מזלגי‬Arab. ‫المبضع النشل‬: ‘lancet’; cf. II:95 (SP fol. 2229b; SL 637, 113–14):‫ולקשור הזרוע ולבקע הגיד בקוע בנטיה במסמר המזלגי כמו שאמרתי‬ (Then bind the arm and cut the vein obliquely with the lancet as we said). Hebrew ‫ מסמר מזלגי‬is not attested in secondary literature. See as well s.v. ‫מזלג‬. ‫ מסרק‬:‫ = מסרק היד‬Arab. ‫مشط اليد‬: ‘metacarpus’; cf. I.44 (SP fol. 207b; SL 133, 15–16):‫ואם ישארו מן המכאובים באצבעות ראוי לנקוד אותם על כל פרק‬ ‫( ופרק נקודה אחת ועל מסרק היד‬If the pains remain in the fingers, pierce them once over each joint and once on the metacarpus). The Hebrew term is only attested in medieval medical literature in Nathan ha-Me}ati’s Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb (cf. BM 3139; MD 462; SR 26, n. 156). -: ‫ = מסרק הרגל‬Arab. ‫مشط الرجل‬: ‘metatarsus’; cf. II:86 (SP fol. 225b; SL 563, 117–18):‫ואם יהיה ההפסד במסרק היד או במסרק הרגל רפואתו קשה מאד‬ (If the disease be in the metacarpus66 or metatarsus it is a very difficult matter treating them). Hebrew ‫ מסרק הרגל‬is only attested as ‫מסרק כף הרגל‬ in BM 3139 as featuring in ¨Alilot Devarim. ‫ מעבר‬:‫ = מעבר השתן‬Arab. ‫مجرى القضيب‬: ‘urethra’; cf. II:80 (SP fol. 220a; SL 503, 8–9): ‫ולפעמים יהיה מהם טחורים כשיהיו בבית הפרשות מפולשים אל‬ ‫( כיס מקוה המים ואל מעבר השתן‬Sometimes also there are fistulae occurring in the perineum which penetrate to the urinary bladder and to the urethra). Hebrew ‫מעבר השתן‬, lit. passage of the urine, for ‘urethra’ is not mentioned in the current dictionaries, but features in BIR, a.o. in an attestation form Sefer OrÌot Îayyim (‫דין מתגאה אות ד‘‘ה ד‘‘ה אסור‬ ‫)להתגאות‬.

65 M. Steinschneider, Die hebräischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters und die Juden als Dolmetscher (Berlin 1893, repr. Graz 1956), p. 699. 66 ‘metacarpus or metatarsus’: ‘carpus or tarsus’ SL.

85

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

‫ מעד‬:‫ = לחויות ממעידות‬Arab. ‫( رطوبات مزلّقة‬cf. D 1:600, s.v. zaliq: ‘glissant,

visqueux, gluant’): ‘synovial fluid’; cf. I:25 (SP fol. 205b; SL77, 2): ‫( כשישמט ראש פרק המרפק הנקרא בלשונם אל עצד בסבת לחויות ממעידות‬When the head of the humerus is dislocated on account of the synovial fluid [note: lit. ‘lubricating humidities’]). For the Hebrew term ‫ ממעיד‬in the sense of ‘synovial’, possibly a semantic borrowing from the Arabic ‫زلق‬, see BM 3146 with a quotation from Vidal Ben Lavi’s Sefer Gerem ha-Ma¨alot, i.e the Hebrew translation of a medico-botanical work composed by Joshua ben Joseph ibn Vives Lorki (i.e. of Lorca), a Spanish Jewish physician living around 1400. Cf. entry ‫המעדה‬. ‫ = מקבת‬Arab. ‫‘ مثقب‬drill’ (see D 1:160: ‘trépan, instrument de chirurgie’); cf. II:94 (SP fol. 228a; SL 617, 89–92): ‫ואם לא יצא אחר ימים ראוי לנקוב‬ ‫( סביב החץ בעצם עצמו מכל צד במקבת דקה כדי להרחיב לחץ ואחר למשכו‬But if it [i.e. the arrow] will not come out after some days, you will have to drill away the bone from all round with a fine drill so as to make room for the arrow; then draw on it). Hebrew ‫מקבת‬, i.e. ‘hammer’ (cf. BM 3262) is not attested in the sense of ‘drill’, a semantic borrowing from the Arab. ‫مثقب‬, in the current dictionaries. In addition to ‫ מקבת‬Shem Tov uses a non-attested ‫ כלי נוקב‬for Arab. ‘drill’; cf. III:2 (SP fol. 332b; SL 705, 57–8): ‫אמנם איכות הנקב סביב העצם הנשבר הוא לתת הכלי הנוקב על‬ ‫( העצם ולסובבו עד שיודע שהעצם מפולש‬As to the manner of perforation round the fractured bone, you apply the drill to the bone and revolve it with your fingers until you know that the bone is pierced). ‫ = ַמקּוֹר‬Arab. ‫منقاش‬: ‘forceps’; cf. II:50 (SP fol. 217a; SL 373, 11): ‫ואם יהיה‬ ‫( הצמח קטון ראוי לחפשו במקור ולחתכו מן השרש‬and if the tumour be small take hold of it with the forceps and cut it away by the root). Hebrew ‫ מקור‬means ‘beak, a tool for whetting millstones’ (JD 830) and features in Rabbinic literature. It is possible that the term was used by Shem Tov in the sense of ‘forceps’ as a loan-translation of the Arabic ‫منقاش‬ which designates ‘an instrument with which variegated, or decorated or embellished, work is done’ or ‘a kind of tweezers, an instrument with which one extracts, or draws or pulls out or forth, thorns’ (L 2840), but also ‘an instrument used for whetting millstones’ (DAS 3:252). Cf. SG Mem 51. ‫ ְמ ֻר ַבּע‬:‫ = מרובע‬Arab. ‫متربّع‬: ‘crosslegged’; cf. IV:13 (SP fol. 235b; SL 753, 3–6): ‫וכשיקרה אל המסרק שבר או ריסוק ראוי להושיב החולה מרובע ולפניו כסא‬ ‫( ולתת היד על הכסא פתוחה‬When a fracture or crushing of the metacarpus67 occurs the patient should sit crosslegged with a chair of the right height in front of him, on which he should put his outstretched hand). Hebrew ‫ מרובע‬in the sense of ‘crosslegged’ is a non-attested semantic borrowing from the Arabic ‫متربّع‬. ‫ ַמ ְש ֵרט‬:‫ = משרטים‬Arab. ‫مشارط‬: ‘scarifying scalpels’; cf. II:46 (SP fol. 216b; SL 355, 41):‫ואלה הם המשרטים אשר יבוקעו ויופשטו בהם האגודות והצמחים והם‬ ‫( שלשה מינים גדולים ואמצעים וקטנים‬these are the figures of the scarifying 67

‘metacarpus’: SL have ‘palm of the hand’ (‫كف‬ ّ ). 86

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

scalpels with which you incise and dissect away casts and tumours. They are of three kinds: large, medium, and small). For the Hebrew term which is not attested in the current dictionaries, cf. MD 643, s.v. ‫ ַמ ְש ֵרט‬: ‘scarificator’. ‫ נחרה‬:‫ = נחרת הגרון‬Arab. ‫بحوحة الصوت‬: ‘hoarseness’; cf. I:23 (SP 202a; SL 73,1): ‫( שער כג‘ בכויה מנחרת הגרון וצרות הנשימה‬Chapter twenty-three. On cauterization for hoarseness and for constriction of the breath). Instead of the non-attested Hebrew term we find ‫ נחירות הקול‬in Moshe Narboni’s OraÌ Îayyim (cf. BM 3602)68, while Arabic ‫ بحح‬is translated by N as ‫ צרידות הקול‬and by Z as ‫( חסרון הקול‬MA 22:45). ‫ נטייה‬:‫ = נטיית הפה‬Arab. ‫لقوة‬: ‘twisted mouth’ (see WKAS 2:1134–6: ‘paralysis of the facial nerve, facial paresis, paralysis of one side of the face, crooked mouth’); cf. I:6 (SP 203b; SL 31, 1): .‫השער הששי בכוית נטיית הפה‬ ‫הנטייה הראויה לרפאתה בכויה היא המתחדשת מן הלחה הלבנה על מה שזכרתי‬ ‫( בחלוקות החליים‬Chapter six. Cauterization of the twisted mouth. The

twisting of the mouth which is curable with the cautery is that which arises from phlegm, as we have already noticed in the sections on sicknesses). In addition to this unattested Hebrew term Shem Tov uses the synonym ‫ עוות הפה‬in SG ¨Ayin 31. This last term also features in Z while N merely transcribes the Arabic term as ‫( לקוה‬MA 20:69), and M has ‫( ע)י(קום‬BMR 4:18, 27). See as well KZ 65. ‫ = נער‬Arab. ‫ص ّبي‬: ‘pupil (of the eye)’ (see L 1650: ‘A youth, boy, or male child’…; also signifies ‘The pupil of the eye’); cf. II:23 (SP 212a; SL 253, 11): ‫וראוי לתת שעור הכנסת המקדיח כעין שעור הרוחק אשר יהיה מן‬ ‫( הנער אל סוף השחרות והוא עגול העין‬The depth the needle goes in should measure as the distance from the pupil to the edge of the iris, which is the corona of the eye). The Hebrew ‫ נער‬in the sense of ‘pupil of the eye’ is a non-attested semantic borrowing from the Arabic. Cf. entry ‫ראות‬ below. ‫ סוף‬:‫ = סוף הפרשות‬Arab. ‫عجز الذنب‬: ‘coccyx’ (SP fol. 222b; SL 503, 10). Hebrew ‫ סוף הפרשות‬is not attested in the current dictionaries. In addition to this term, Shem Tov uses the term ‫ עצה‬for ‘coccyx’ (see below). ‫ספוגי‬: See ‫עצם‬. ‫ עגול‬:‫ = עגול העין‬Arab. ‫اكليل‬: ‘corona’; cf. DKT 814: ‘Couronne. Région ciliaire’; cf. II:23 (SP fol. 212a; SL 253, 7–8): ‫ואחר לשית פי המקדיח קרוב‬ ‫( מעגול העין כעובי המכחל בלובן העין עצמו מצד זנבו‬Then put the tip of the needle near the corona, about the thickness of a probe away, onto the white of the eye itself, on the side of the lesser canthus); see as well previous entry. Hebrew ‫ עגול העין‬is not attested in the current dictionaries. ‫ = ָע ֶצה‬Arab. ‫‘ عصعص‬coccyx’; cf. 2:96 (SP fol. 230b; SL 661, 54–5): ‫והרבידא‬ ‫האחת הנתנת על העצה תועיל מטחורי פי הטבעת ומן השחין השפל ר‘‘ל מן השחין‬ ‫( אשר יהיה בירכים ולמטה‬The application of a single cupping-vessel to the 68 For Moshe Narboni and his medical encyclopaedia see Gerrit Bos, ‘R. Moshe Narboni, Philosopher and Physician: A critical analysis of Sefer Orah Hayyim’, Medieval Encounters, 2/1 (1995), 219–51.

87

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

coccyx is effective for haemorrhoids of the anus and ulcers of the lower abdomen). Hebrew ‫ עצה‬is mentioned as featuring in the Bible in the sense of ‘coccyx of the sheep’ (KB 866), and in Rabbinic literature and medieval medical literature (a.o. Sefer Asaph) in the sense of ‘backbone, spine’ (JD 1102, BM 4636). However, Bar-Sela and Hoff pointed out that in Sefer Asaph the term apparently means ‘sacrum’69, while SingerRabin (SR 41–2, 320) translate the term as it features in Vesalius, Tabulae Anatomicae Sex, as ‘coccyx’. In addition to ‫עצה‬, Shem Tov uses the term ‫ סוף הפרשות‬for ‘coccyx’ (see above). ‫ ִעצּוּם‬:‫ = עיצום‬Arab. ‫تزحر‬ ُّ : ‘bearing down’, i.e. contracting the abdominal muscles; cf. II:75 (SP fol. 221b; SL 473, 45–8): ‫ואם לא יצא העובר תקח רגליה‬ ‫ביחד ותנענעם בחזקה ואחר כך תסחוט למעלה מן החלציים מעט מעט עד שיעלה‬ ‫העובר למעלה ואחר תכניס המילדת ידה ותשוה העובר מעט מעט ותצוה האשה‬ ‫( שתרגיל העיצום עד שיצא‬and if the foetus does not come out then, take

both her feet and shake them violently; then press upon her costal margin until the foetus ascends; then let the midwife insert her hand and put the foetus in the right position, very gently, and bid the woman bear down, until the infant is born). Hebrew ‫ עיצום‬is only attested in Rabbinic literature in the sense of 1. strength, and 2. surety (cf. JD 1073–4). See as well entry ‫ בדק עצמו‬above. ‫ עצם‬:‫ = התעצם‬Arab. ‫تزحر‬ ّ : ‘to bear down’, i.e. to push, to contract the abdominal muscles and diaphragm during childbirth; cf. II:75 (SP fol. 221b; SL 473, 59): ‫( ואחר כך תצוה שתתעצם ותעטישנה בחנינא כי העובר יצא‬then bid her bear down, and with ptarmica make her sneeze; then the foetus will come forth). Hebrew ‫ התעצם‬is only attested in Rabbinic literature in the sense of 1. to be closed; 2. to be headstrong towards one another; 3. to fortify each other. ‫ עצם‬:‫ = העצמים הספוגיים‬Arab. ‫العظام المتخلخلة‬: ‘ethmoid bone’; cf. II:24 (SP fol. 212b; SL 259,14–15): ‫ואם לא יעבור הלחות על מה שראוי בידוע‬ ‫ בעליון העצמים הספוגיים לא השיגו הכלי לחתכו‬70‫( שבתוכו בשר מת‬But if fluid does not pass through it as it should, you may know that there is a [polyp] within in the upper part of the ethmoid bone where the instrument could not reach to make an incision). Hebrew ‫ העצמים הספוגיים‬is not attested in the current dictionaries. For (‫‘ ספוגי)י‬porous’ cf. BM 4150. ‫ עקר‬:‫ = עיקרי הירכים‬Arab. ‫أرب ّية‬: ‘groin’; cf II: 65 (SP fol. 220a; SL 449, 2–3): ‫( לפעמים תקרה הפיתקא בעיקרי הירכים כמו שאמרתי ויבלוט המקום‬Sometimes there occurs a rupture in the groin as we have said, and the part protrudes). The Hebrew term is not mentioned in the current dictionaries, but it features in BIR, a.o. in attestation from Sefer OrÌot Îayyim (‫הלכות‬ ‫ המעי‬.‫ )טרפות אות ט‘ ד‘‘ה ט‬the same Arabic term is translated by N as ‫( אורבים‬Sing. ‫ארב‬, cf. BM 376) and by Z as ‫( אנגינלייא‬MA 15:48). See as well ‫ראשי הירכים‬. 69 A. Bar-Sela and H.E. Hoff, ‘Asaf on Anatomy and Physiology’, Journal of the History of Medicine 20 (1965), 358–89, p. 383. .SL ‫ نابت‬:‫ מת‬70

88

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

‫ ע ֶֹקץ‬:‫ = עוקץ החוטם‬Arab. ‫طرف الأنف‬: ‘the end of the nose’ (see FAL 3218:149: ‘wing of the nose’); cf. I:47 (SP 208a; SL 143,11–13): ‫אמנם אם הגדמות‬ ‫כבר נתפרסם על החולה ויראה ראייה מבוארת ראוי אז לכוותו אלו הכויות הנזכרות‬ ‫( בראש וכויה אחת על עוקץ החוטם‬If the elephantiasis be widespread over

the patient and appears obvious, you should give him, as well as the cauterizations described for the head: one at the end of the nose). The Hebrew term is possibly coined by Shem Tov as a loan translation of the Arabic; cf. SG Ayin 38. In addition to ‫ עוקץ החוטם‬we find the same Arabic term translated as ‫ ;עוקץ האף‬cf. II:25 (SP 212b; SL 265, 1): ‫ביבלת‬ ‫( הצומחת בעוקץ האף‬On warts growing on the end of the nose). ‫ = ערקה‬Arab. ‫علق‬: ‘leeches’; cf. II:97 (SP fol. 231b; SL 675, 2–3): ‫הערקה‬ ‫( תורגל ברוב הענינים באברים אשר לא תתכן‬Leeches are mostly used on those parts of the body to which application of cupping-vessels is impossible). ‫ ערקה‬is a non-attested Hebrew term coined after the Aramaic ‫ערקא‬ ‘leech’; cf. SDA 883. ‫ = פדלקון‬Arab. ‫‘ محقن‬clyster’; cf. II:83 (SP fol. 223b; SL 521, 3): ‫ראוי לעשות‬ ‫( הדלקון מכסף או מנחשת נתך‬A clyster may be made of silver or of cast bronze);71 the term features often in the combination ‫ עשית הפדלקון‬for Arab. ‫ ;حقن‬cf. II:59 (SP fol. 202b; SL 407,1): ‫באיכות עשית הפדלקון לכיס‬ ‫( מקוה המים‬on the manner of irrigating the bladder). The term ‫פדלקון‬ which could not be identified features in SG Pe 36 as a synonym for Arab. ‫( حقنة‬clyster) and Romance ‫ ;קלשטרי‬i.e. O.Occ. or O.Cat. clisteri for ‘clyster’. N translates Arab. ‫ حقنة‬as ‫ חוקן‬and Z as ‫ =( קרישטרי‬O.Occ. or O.Cat. cristeri, crestiri, cresteri and cristiri). M translates the Arab. ‫الحقن‬ ‫ الحادّة‬as ‫( קלוחים חדים‬BIZ 13:5). ‫פדלקן‬: ‫ = לפדלקן‬Arab. ‫‘ حقن‬to irrigate’; cf. II:88 (SP fol. 226b; SL 583, 14–15): ‫ואחר לקחת ממנו כפי הצורך ולטרפו במים ודבש ולפדלקן בו המחבוא‬ (Then take as much as you need and dilute it with water and honey, and with this irrigate the sinus). ‫ פדלקן‬could not be identified. ‫ פטר‬:‫ = הפטיר‬Arab. ‫‘ خلّص‬to free’; cf. II:94 (SP fol. 228b; SL 619, 106– 9):‫ואם יהיו לו אזנים ונאחז בהם ראוי להפטיר הבשר המתעכב בהם מכל צד בכל‬ ‫ערמה שתתכן או להשתדל אם אין יכולת להפטיר הבשר לשבור האזנים ולפתול אותם‬ ‫( עד שיפטרו‬And if it [i.e. the arrow] have two barbs by which it is held,

free them from the adherent flesh all round, in any way you can; if you cannot free the tissues, try skillfully to break off the two barbs and twist them about until the arrow comes free). Hebrew ‫ הפטיר‬is not attested in this sense in the current dictionaries; cf. JD 1157: 1. to discard; 2. to dismiss, adjourn a meeting; 3. to read the Haftarah. ‫ = פיתקא‬Arab. ‫فتوق‬: ‘hernia’; cf. I:45 (SP fol. fol. 202b; SL135, 1): ‫בכוית‬ ‫( הפיתקא‬On the cauterization of hernia). ‫ פיתקא‬is Syriac for ‘rupture; hernia’ (cf. BLS 618). N (MA 9:123) and M (MZ fol. 86a) translate the Arabic term as ‫בקיעה‬, and Z as ‫טוּרא‬ ַ ‫( בקיעה בלטין ְק ְר ַפ‬MA 9:123); cf. SG Pe 48; see as well entries ‫ אשך‬and ‫ ֶבּ ֶתק‬. 71 Cf. SL: ‘A clyster may be made of silver or Chinese alloy or of cast or hammered bronze’.

89

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

‫ = ֶפּ ַלח‬Arab. ‫شقاق‬: ‘cleft; fissure’; cf. I:18 (SP fol. 205a; SL 61, 1–8): ‫שער‬ ‫ יתחדש הרבה בשפה סדיקה תקרא השער וכל שכן בשפתי‬.‫יח‘ בכוית פלחי השפתים‬ ‫ כשירפאו אלה הפלחים בסמים במה שזכרתי במאמר החלוקה ולא תצליח‬.‫הנערים‬ ‫הרפואה ולא תשכיל ראוי לחמם מכוה קטן סכיני על זאת הצורה ולהיות גוף המכוה על‬ ‫דקות הסכין ואחר כך לחממו מהרה ולכוות בו הפלח עד שתגיע הכויה אל עומקו ואחר‬ ‫( כך לרפאו בקירוטי עד שיבריא‬Chapter eighteen. On cauterization of hare

lip. There often occur fissures in the lip which are given the name ‘hairs’; they are particularly common in the lips of boys. When you ineffectually treated these clefts with those things that we have mentioned in their section, then heat a small edged cautery of this shape. The hollow should be as sharp as a knife. Then quickly place it, hot, right on the fissure till the burning has reached the depth of the lip. Then treat with wax plaster till healed). The plural ‫ פלחים‬features for Arab. ‫ شقوق‬in the sense of ‘incisions’ in, for instance, II:62 (SP fol. 219b; SL 429, 41). Hebrew ‫ֶפּ ַלח‬ features in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘segment, slice, millstone’ (JD 1178), while the plural ‫ פלחים‬is attested in Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Ma}akhalot Asurot 9:19 for ‘tears’ in unclean birds (cf. BM 4944). M (MZ fol. 87a) translates Arab. ‫ شقاق‬as ‫בקיעה‬. N translates Arab. ‫شَ ٌّق‬ (incision) as ‫ שסוע‬and Z as ‫( הקזה‬MA 24:47). ‫ פלח‬:‫ = פלחי השפתים‬Arab. ‫شقاق الشفة‬: ‘hare lip’; cf. previous entry. The Hebrew term is not attested in secondary literature. Masie has ‫שפה סדוקה‬ or ‫( שפת ארנב‬MD 338); the modern Hebrew term is ‫( שפה שסועה‬AD 75). ‫ פלך‬:‫ = פלך הארכובה‬Arab. ‫فلكة الركبة‬: ‘the patella of the knee’; cf. III:15 (SP fol. 235b; SL 761, 2):‫פלף הארכובה לא יקרה בו שבר אלא על המעט‬ (You should know that the patella is rarely fractured). ‫ פלך הארכובה‬is not attested in secondary literature; we do find, however ‫( פיקה‬Tosefta Ohalot 1:6; cf. Low LXXI, s.v. ‫ )פיקא‬and ‫ ;עין הארכובה‬cf. MD 551; RS 26. ‫ פרונקא‬:‫( פרונקות‬Aram.: ‫ = )פרונקאות‬Arab. ‫خرق‬: ‘cloth’ (see L 729, s.v. ‫خرقة‬: ‘a piece torn off, a rag, a ragged, patched, garment’); cf. II:10 (SP fol. 210b; SL 209, 17; 211, 1):‫ואם לא יראה השרנאק בתחלת הביקוע ראוי להוסיף בביקוע‬ ‫מעט בנחת עד שיבלוט ואחר למשכו כמו שאמרתי ולטבול אחרי כן פרונקות בחומץ‬ ‫( ומים ולתתם על המקום ולהדקו בכלונסה‬If you do not see the hydatid at the

first incision, you must gently cut a little deeper, till it comes forth, then draw it out as described. Then dip some cloth in vinegar and water, apply it to the place and bind it up with pads). The Aramaic term ‫פרונקא‬ means ‘rag’ (SDA 929) and features in Rabbinic literature. cf. SG Pe 37. N translates the Arabic ‫ خرق‬as ‫ בגדים‬and Z as ‫( חתיכות בגד‬MA 23:33). ‫ פרק‬:‫פרק היד‬: See ‫פרק קנה הזרוע הסמוך ליד‬. -: ‫ = פרק המרפק‬Arab. ‫عضد‬: ‘humerus’; cf. III:11 (SP 235a; SL 741, 1–2): ‫ זה הפרק הוא בין המרפק אל ראש הכתף‬.‫( שער י“א בחבוש שבר המרפק‬Chapter eleven. On setting a fracture of the humerus. The humerus is what lies between the elbow and the head of the scapula). The Hebrew term, literally meaning ‘the joint of the elbow’, does not feature in the sense of ‘humerus’ in the current dictionaries. Both N and Z translate the Arab. ‫ عضد‬as ‫( זרוע‬MA 15:62). 90

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

-: ‫ = פרק קנה הזרוע הסמוך ליד‬Arab. ‫معصم‬: ‘wrist’; cf. III:28 (SP fol. 237b; SL 809, 1): ‫( שער כ“ח ברפואת שמיטת פרק קנה הזרוע הסמוך ליד‬On the treatment of a dislocation of the wrist). Another translation for the same Arab. term is ‫ ;פרק היד‬cf. III:28 (SP fol. 237b; SL 809, 2): ‫ישמט על הרב‬ ‫( פרק היד והשבת שמיטתו קלה בחלוף יתר הפרקים‬The carpus of the hand is often dislocated. Unlike other joints the reduction is easy). Both Hebrew terms do not feature in the current dictionaries. Masie (MD 781) mentions ‫ שורש היד‬or ‫ רסג היד‬featuring in Nathan ha-Me}ati’s Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb; for ‫ רסג‬see as well SR 25, 27. ‫ צבות‬:‫( צבות חמה‬fol. 209b) = ‫ورم حا ّر‬: ‘effusion, lit. hot swelling’; cf. II:4 (SP 209b; SL 187, 25–6): ‫ולשית עליו כלונסה טבולה ביין ושמן או חומץ ויין כדי שלא‬ ‫( תתחדש צבות חמה‬Over all put a pad soaked in wine and oil, or vinegar and oil, lest an effusion occur). The Arabic term is also translated as ‘abscess’ (II:6; SP fol. 209b; SL 193, 19). The Hebrew term ‫ צבות‬is attested in medieval literature, cf. BM 5357. In addition to ‫צבות חמה‬ Shem Tov translates the Arabic as ‫( צמח חם‬SP fol. 210b; SL 211, 22) N translates the Arabic ‫ ورم حا ّر‬as ‫ מורסא חמה‬and Z has ‫מורסה חמה‬ (MA passim); M has the same reading as N: ‫( מורסא חמה‬MZ fol. 139a). See as well entry ‫ צמח‬below. ‫ = צלעות‬Arab. ‫عرج‬: ‘to be lame’; cf. IV:14 (SP fol. 235bb; SL 759, 34–5): ‫ואם‬ ‫יחובש אחד מהם מבלי התחבר אליו השוק האחר על כל פנים יקרה לבעליו צלעות‬ ‫( מתמיד‬whereas if the [femur] is set alone without binding the leg to it the patient will inevitably be lame for always). Hebrew ‫צלעות‬, derived from ‫‘ צלע‬to limp’ (cf. BM 5501–2), is not attested in the current dictionaries. ‫ = צמח‬Arab. ‫خراج‬: ‘abscess’; cf. II:45 (SP 216a; SL 3–5): ‫ואומר כי הצמח יהיה‬ ‫עמו חמימות וקדחת ומכאובים מקיפים אותו מפה ומפה עד שתשקוט רתיחת המותר‬ ‫( ויגמר העפוש ואז תשקוט הקדחת והחמימות‬The abscess will be accompanied

by heat and fever and fearsome pain, until the boiling-up of the superfluous matter settles down and the suppurating process is completed: then the fever and intensity will subside). Hebrew ‫ צמח‬means 1. ‘growth, sprout, plant’, and 2. ‘morbid growth, swelling, ulcer, eruption’ (JD 1287; Low LXXIV s.v. ‫)צמחים‬. In the latter sense the term features in medieval medical literature (cf. BM 5522); cf. SG Zade 1. The Arabic term ‫ خراج‬is translated by N as ‫נגע‬,‫מורסה‬,‫ יציאה‬and by Z as ‫ יציאה‬or ‫( צמח‬MA passim), and by M as ‫( יציאה‬BIZ 23:2). -: ‫ = צמח חזירי‬Arab. ‫ورم خنزيري‬: ‘scrofulous tumor’; cf. Introduction SP fol. 201b; (SL 5, 19–21): ‫וזה שראיתי רופא איש בער לא ידע וכסיל לא יבין‬ ‫את זאת שבקע על צמח חזירי בצואר אשה וחתך בבערותו קצת ורידי הצואר והוא לא‬ ‫( ידע והרעיף דם האשה עד שנפלה בין ידיו ומתה‬I saw an ignorant doctor incise

a scrofulous tumour in a woman’s neck; and he cut certain arteries in the neck so that the woman bled until she fell dead before him). For ‫צמח‬ see previous entry; ‫‘ חזירי‬scrofulous’ is a non-attested adjective derived from ‫‘ חזירים‬scrofula’, cf. BM 1485. -: ‫צמח חם‬: cf. the entry ‫צבות‬. ‫ = צילחתא‬Arab. ‫شقيقة‬: ‘migraine’; cf. I:3 (SP fol. 203b; SL 23,1): ‫השער‬ ‫( השלישי בכוית הצילחתא החדשה‬Chapter three: On the cauterization of 91

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

non-chronic migraine). Aramaic ‫ צילחתא‬means ‘hemicrania, migraine’ (SDA 960). N translates the Arab. ‫ شقيقة‬as ‫פלוח הראש‬, Z as ‫מגראניאה‬ (MA 6:35); cf. SG Zade 15. ‫ = צפורן‬Arab. ‫ظفرة‬: ‘ungula, i.e. pterygium’; cf. II:16 (SP fol. 211a; SL 231, 2–3): ‫הצפורן תהיה על שני מינים עצביית דומה לקרום דק או בלתי עצביית דומה‬ ‫( ללחות קפוי לבן‬Ungula occurs in two forms: either the nervous, which resembles a fine hard membrane; or the non-nervous, like a white congealed humidity). The Hebrew term is attested by Ben Yehuda (BM 5609; cf. KS 114) in medieval medical literature, e.g. in Nathan ha-Me}ati’s translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb, and recurs in his translation of Maimonides’ Medical Aphorisms (15.24; 23.70); similarly in Z. ‫ קבס‬:‫ = נִ ְק ָבּס‬Arab. ‫( المتخوم‬Mss ABM) ‘someone suffering from indigestion’; cf. II:95 (SP fol. 230a; SL 641, 157–8): ‫ואין ראוי להקיז הנקבס עד סור‬ ‫( הקבסתו‬No one suffering from indigestion should be venesected until the indigestion is over [trans. Bos]). Hebrew ‫נקבס‬, i.e. Part. Nif ¨al from the root ‫( קבס‬cf. BM 5707) is not attested in the current dictionaries. The term ‫הקבסתו‬, from ‫הקבסות‬, is also not attested. N translates Arab. ‫ المتخوم‬as ‫ בעל הקבסא‬and Z as ‫( הממולא‬MA 9:48). ‫ קיבה‬:‫ = קיבת האשה‬Arab. ‫فرج المرأة‬: ‘female pudenda’; cf. III:18; SP 236a; SL 771, 1): ‫( שער י“ח בשבר קיבת האשה ועצם הזקן התחתון ואמת האיש‬Chapter eighteen. On fracture of the female pudenda and of the pubic bone and of the male organ). The Hebrew term is a synonym featuring in Rabbinic literature for ‫‘ נקבות האשה‬the female genitals’ (JD 930). The Arabic term is translated by N as ‫ ערוה‬and by Z as ‫פי הרחם‬/‫( ערוה‬MA 3:105; 16:18; 23:18, 96) and by M (MZ fol. 86a) as ‫כלי הערוה‬. ‫ קילור‬:‫ = קילורים‬Arab. ‫شيافات‬: ‘eye-lotions’; cf. II:15 (SP 211a; SL 229, 9–12): ‫ולהפריד בין העפעף והעין בפתילה של פשתן ולשית ממעלה על העין ספוג טבול‬ ‫( בחלבוני בצים ואחר שלשה ימים ראוי להרגיל הקילורים המגלידים עד שיבריא‬Then

separate between the eye and the lid with a linen pad and put over the eye a piece of wool moistened with white of egg; and after the third day employ healing eye-lotions till it is better). Hebrew ‫ קילור‬means ‘eyesalve, collyrium’ and is attested in Rabbinic literature (JD 1360; Low LXXVII). See SG Qof 22. ‫ קליפה‬:‫ = קליפות‬Arab. ‫خشكريشة‬: ‘eschar’ (see UW 270, s.v. êsxára: ‘Wundschorf, Schorf’); cf. I:1 (fol. 208a; SL 155, 6–7): ‫ואחרי כן להשהותו שלשה‬ ‫ימים ואחר לתת על המקומות הנכוים גפרית שחוק עם שמן זית עד שינתקו הקליפות‬ ‫( כלן‬Then let be for three days, applying to the cauterized site sulphur

beaten up with oil, until the whole eschar comes away). The Hebrew term is not attested in this sense in the current dictionaries. N transcribes the Arabic as ‫ ;כשכרישה‬Z describes it as ‫המקום בעצמו אשר שם כעין סובין‬ (MA 15:9), and M translates it as ‫( סנפירות‬BIZ 22:1). ‫ קרן‬:‫ = קרני הראש‬Arab. ‫قرنا الرأس‬: ‘the frontal prominences’ (see DKT 825, s.v. ‫قرن الرأس‬: ‘Corne de la tête. Bosse frontale’); cf. I:2 (SP fol. 203a–b; SL 21,11–12): ‫ועתיד אני לזכור עוד זאת הכויה במקומה וראוי להיות המכוה‬ ‫שמכ>וים< בו קרני הראש ואחוריו יותר דק מן המכוה שמכוים בה אמצע הראש‬ 92

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

(I shall describe this cauterization in its own place. The cautery for the frontal prominences and occiput must be more slender than that for the middle part). The Hebrew term does not feature in the current dictionaries. -: ‫ קרני הרחם‬or ‫ = קרנים‬Arab. ‫بظر‬: ‘clitoris’ (see DKT 815); cf. II:71 (SP fol. 220b; SL 457, 1–2): ‫שער ע“א בחתוך קרני הרחם הנקרא בלשונם אל‬ ‫ הקרנים לפעמים יוסיף שעורם על המנהג הטבעי עד‬.‫בטר ובשר הבולט בקיבות הנשים‬ ‫( שוב הרחם מכוער המראה‬Chapter seventy-one. On cutting the clitoris and

fleshy growths in the female genitalia. The clitoris may grow in size above the order of nature so that it gets a horrible deformed appearance). The Hebrew term does not feature in the current dictionaries. ‫ קשיש‬:‫ = קשישים‬Arab. ‫جبائر‬: ‘splints’. Cf. entry ‫ כלונס‬above. The Hebrew term is attested in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘splints put about a fracture’ (JD 1431). See SG Quf 28. N translates the Arab. ‫ جبائر‬as ‫ חבישות‬and Z as ‫( דבקות‬MA 15:69). ‫ = קשקש‬Arab. ‫جبيرة‬: ‘splint’: cf. I:4 (SP fol. 234a; SL 717, 13–14): ‫ואחר לתת‬ ‫על הלחי הנשבר הקירוטי ואחר כך לתת עליו בגד גס ולתת על הבגד קשקש גדול עשוי‬ ‫( בחכמה‬then put wax upon the fractured mandible, and upon that a

double72 dressing, and upon the dressing a large and strong splint). Hebrew ‫ קשקש‬is mentioned in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘splint’ (BM 6254). Cf. entry ‫ קשיש‬above. ‫ = ראות‬Arab. ‫ناظر‬: ‘pupil’; cf. II:23 (SP 212a; SL 253, 10–13): ‫וראוי לתת שעור‬ ‫הכנסת המקדיח כעין שעור הרוחק אשר יהיה מן הנער אל סוף השחרות והוא עגול‬ ‫( העין כי נחשת המקדיח יראה בעצם הראות היטב לזכות הקרום הקרני‬The depth

the needle goes in should measure as the distance from the pupil to the edge of the iris, which is the corona of the eye; you will clearly see the metal in the pupil itself because of the transparency of the corneal tunic). The Hebrew term does not feature in this sense in the current dictionaries. N translates the Arabic as ‫ רואה‬and Z as ‫( שומר‬MA 15.30). Cf. the entry ‫ נער‬above. ‫ ראש‬:‫ = ראש העין‬Arab. ‫مأق العين‬: ‘[inner] angle of the eye’ (see MH 201); cf. I:17 (SP fol. 201b; SL 57,1): ‫י“ז בכוית הגרגתני אשר יקרה בראש העין‬ (Chapter seventeen. On cauterization of a fistula in the angle of the eye). The same Hebrew term features in SG Resh 23 for the Arabic ‫النأق الأكبر‬, i.e. ‘the inner angle of the eye’. See as well the entry ‫ זנב העין‬above. -: ‫ = ראשי הירכים‬Arab. ‫أرب ّية‬: ‘groin’; cf. II:40 (SP fol. 215a; SL 323, 33–4): ‫ויש מהם מה שצריך לבקעו בקוע בעל שלש זויות >ומה שצריך< לחתוך ממנו כתבנית‬ ‫( עלה ההדס כמו צמח ראשי הירכים‬And there are some [i.e. swellings] that

should be incised triangularly; and others with an incision of myrtle-leaf form; e.g. a tumour on the groin). The Hebrew term is a non-attested variant to ‫ ;עיקרי הירכים‬see above s.v. ‫עקר‬. ‫ = רבידא‬Arab. ‫محجمة‬: ‘cupping-vessel’; cf. III:8 (SP fol. 234b; SL 731, 15): ‫( ואמרו קצתם שראוי לתת על המקום רבידא‬Some of them said a cupping vessel should be applied to the place). ‫ רבידא‬is attested as ‫ריבדא‬, meaning ‘incision, scratch’ (JD 1439, SDA 1072) and features e.g. in bShab 129a 72

‘double dressing’: translated after SL ‫ ;خرقة مثن ّية‬Shem Tov has ‘coarse cloth’. 93

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

as: ‫‘ ריבדא דכוסילתא‬incision of a scalpel’. As a plural to ‫ רבידא‬Shem Tov uses the Hebrew term ‫ ;רבידות‬cf. II:96 (SP fol. 230b; SL 657, 2–3): ‫( הרבידות נעשות מן הקרנות ומן העצים ומן הנחשת ומן הזכוכית‬Cupping-vessels are made of horn, wood, bronze, or glass). N translates the Arab. ‫محاجم‬ as ‫קרני המציצה‬, Z as ‫( כוסות‬MA 3:85,106; 12:37,46; 16:11, 12), and M as ‫( כלי המציצה‬MZ fol. 90a). Cf. SG Resh 20. ‫ = רגיל‬Arab. ‫حاذق‬: ‘having skill’, i.e. skilled; cf. II:86 (SP fol. 225b; SL 561, 81–2): ‫ורפאוהו רבים מן הרופאים קרוב משתי שנים ולא היה בהם רגיל במלאכת היד‬ (A whole host of doctors had been treating it for a matter of two years, not one of whom had any skill in the medical art). Hebrew ‫ רגיל‬is only attested in the current dictionaries in the sense of ‘accustomed to, common, regular’; cf. BM 6409–11. ‫ רגל‬:‫ = הרגיל‬Arab. ‫استعمل‬: ‘to apply’; cf. I:3 (SP fol. 203b; SL 23, 2–4): ‫כשיתחדש בחצי הראש כאב חזק נמשך אל העין ראוי להריק החולה בסמים המנקים‬ ‫( הראש ולהרגיל יתר הרפואות אשר זכרתי בחלוקות החליים‬When there occurs

strong73 pain in one side of the head and the pain extends to the eye; one74 should clear the head of the patient with purging drugs and75 to apply the other treatment that I have mentioned in the section on diseases). The Hebrew term does not feature in this sense in the current dictionaries. M translates the Arabic ‫ استعمل‬as ‫ עשה‬or ‫( לקח‬BMR 3:5, 7, 8), while N translates the Arabic ‫ استعمال‬as ‫עשיה‬, and Z as ‫ עשיה‬or ‫עשות‬ (MA 16:18, 30; 17:8). ‫ ִרסּוּק‬:‫ = ריסוק‬I. Arab. ‫وثء‬: ‘contusion’; cf. I:46 (SP fol. 207b; SL 141, 1): ‫( שער מו‘ בכוית הריסוק‬Chapter forty-six. On cauterization for contusion); II. Arab. ‫رض‬ ّ : ‘bruising’; cf. II:89 (SP fol. 227a; SL 591, 19–593, 20): ‫ואם תקרה אל הצפורן מכה או ריסוק ונתחדש בה כאב חזק ראוי להקיז החולה בתחלה‬

(If a laceration or bruising happen to the nail, with violent pain, you should first bleed the patient). Hebrew ‫ ִרסּוּק‬is attested in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘crushing, lesion’ and as ‫ ריסוקי איברים‬in the sense of ‘lesion of vital organs, internal injury’ (JD 1475; BM 6626). ‫ = ריקות‬Arab. ‫فضاء‬: ‘perineum’ (see DKT 824); cf. II:70 (SP fol. 220b; SL 455, 1–4): ‫ האנדרוגינוס יהיה בזכרים על שני‬.‫שער ע‘ ברפואת האנדרוגירוס‬ ‫מינים האחד מהם שיראה במה שימשך אל הריקות או בעור הבצים במה שיש בין‬ ‫( הבצים תבנית דומה לקיבת אשה יש בו שער‬Chapter seventy. On the treat-

ment of the hermaphrodite. There are two kinds of male hermaphrodite: one has the appearance as of female pudenda with hair in the region of the perineum; the other has the same in the skin of the scrotum between the testes). Hebrew ‫ ריקות‬is only attested in medieval literature in the sense of ‘vacuum’; cf. BM 6581. ‫ ריקות‬as ‘perineum’ is a semantic borrowing from Arab. ‫فضاء‬. In addition to ‫ ריקות‬Shem Tov uses ‫בית הפרשות‬ to render the Arabic ‫ ;فضاء‬see above. 73

‘strong pain’: ‘pain with headache’ SL. ‘one should clear the head of the patient’: ‘and the patient has cleared his head’ SL. 75 ‘and to apply’: ‘and there has been applied’ SL. 74

94

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

‫ רעיפה‬:‫ = רעיפת הדם‬Arab. ‫نزف‬: ‘haemorrhage’; cf. II:55 (SP fol. 217b; SL 391, 2–3): ‫ולהשמר בעת המלאכה מרעיפת הדם שהיא תקרה הרבה ואם תקרה‬ ‫( ראוי להרגיל מה שיפסיקנו ולרפא החבורה עד שתבריא‬And beware, in your

operating, of haemorrhage, which often happens; meet it with styptics and dress the wound until it heals). The Hebrew term is attested subsequently in medieval medical literature, a.o. in Nathan ha-Me}ati’s translation of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun fi al-†ibb (cf. BM 6654). The same Arabic term is translated by N a.o. as ‫ הזלת הדם‬and by Z as ‫הגרת הדם‬ (MA 15:13; 16:7, 15). ‫ רתע‬:‫ = הרתיע לאחור‬Arab. ‫ردع‬: ‘to suppress’; cf. II:87 (SP fol. 226b; SL 579, 37–8): ‫והשתדלתי להרתיע לאחור המותר ההוא במה שנתתי על היד מן הסמים אחר‬ ‫( הרקת הגוף ולא נרתע לאחור המותר‬and I attempted to suppress the superfluity with remedies that I applied to the hand, after purging his body, but the superfluity was not to be suppressed). While Hebrew ‫ נרתע‬is not attested in this sense in the current dictionaries, ‫ הרתיע‬is attested in a medical context in BM 6771, as featuring in N (MA 3:110). Z (ibid.) translates the Arab. ‫ ردع‬as ‫הזיר‬, and M (BIZ 14:3) translates ‫الأدوية التي‬ ‫( تردع‬repelling remedies) as ‫הרפואות אשר ישככו‬. ‫ = שבבים‬Arab. ‫شظايا‬: ‘fragments’; cf. II:84 (SP fol. 224b; SL 535, 88–9): ‫ואם‬ ‫( עשתה רושם בעצם וחתכה ממנו שבבים‬But if there has also been injury to the bone, cutting out fragments from it…). Hebrew ‫ שבבים‬means ‘splinters’; cf. KB 1382; BM 6820–1. It is not attested in medical literature. See as well SG Shin 30. For singular Arab. ‫ شظية‬Shem Tov uses the Aramaic term ‫( שיבא‬see below). ‫ שבלת‬:‫ = שבולת הזקן‬Arab. ‫ذقن‬: ‘chin’; cf. II:96 (SP fol. 231a; SL 661, 43):‫ונתינת הרבידות מתחת שבולת הזקן מועילות מן השחין הדק אשר בפה הנקרא‬ ‫( בלשונם אל קלאע‬The application of cupping under the chin helps against ulcers in the mouth). Hebrew ‫ שבולת הזקן‬is attested in BM 6849 in the sense of ‘a tuft of beard hair’, and in the sense of ‘chin’ in the Sefer haÎinnukh which was compiled at the end of the thirteenth century.76 ‫ שדף‬:‫ = השתדף‬Arab. ‫ذبل‬: ‘to wither’; cf. II:64 (SP fol. 220a; SL 439, 15–17): ‫ואם תקרה הזמורה לכל הכיסים ראוי להוציא אחד מן הבצים מן הכיסים פן תעדר‬ ‫( הביצה מזון מפני חתוך הכיסים ותשתדף ולא יהיה בה תועלת‬But if all the vessels

are varicose then you will have to remove one testicle with its vessels lest the testicle be deprived of nourishment through cutting into the vessels; for it will wither and be of no use). Hebrew ‫ השתדף‬is not attested in the sense of ‘to wither’ in a medical context in the current dictionaries. N translates the Arabic ‫‘ ذبل‬to suffer from marasmus’ as ‫ הצטמק‬and Z as ‫( ניתך ויבש‬MA 25:43). ‫ שחין‬:‫ = השחין הדק‬Arab. ‫بثور‬: ‘pustules’; cf. I:55 (SP fol. 208b; SL 161, 2–3): ‫( יתחדש בגוף שחין דק מכוער מחמרים קרים עבים נפסדים‬Foul pustules sometimes arise in the body, caused by heavy corrupt frigid matter). Hebrew ‫( השחין הדק‬lit. a thin ulcer) is not attested in the current dictionaries. 76 See Encyclopedia Judaica, vol. 7, cols. 1126–7, entry ‘Ha-Îinnukh’ (Shlomo Zalman Havlin).

95

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

Arabic ‫ بثر‬is translated by N as ‫ צמח‬while Z transcribes it as ‫בתר‬ (MA 6:24). M translates it as ‫( שחין‬BIZ 8:4) and as ‫( אבעבעות‬BIZ 22:1). ‫ = שחפת‬Arab. ‫ل‬ ّ ‫س‬: ‘wasting’; cf. I:24 (SP fol. 205b; SL 75, 2–3): ‫כשיהיה‬ ‫( השעול וחלי הריאה מלחויות קרות ולא תהיה אל החולה קדחת ולא שחפת‬When the cough and pulmonary disease arise from cold humidities and the patient suffers from no fever or wasting but the disease is chronic). The Hebrew term is attested in the sense of ‘consumption’ in the Bible (KB 1463) and medieval medical literature (Shabbetai Donnolo); cf. BM 7028. N translates the Arabic ‫ س ّل‬as ‫ שדפון‬or ‫ הסל הוא טישי‬and Z as ‫ טיציש‬or ‫( טישיש‬phtysis) (MA 6:51; 8:58; 22:44, 70; 23:17); M has the same term as N, namely ‫( שדפון‬MZ fol. 88a). Cf. SG Shin 36. ‫ = שטות‬Arab. ‫‘ مالنخوليا‬melancholy’; cf. I:11 (SP fol. 204a; SL 41, 1–3): ‫שער‬ ‫ כשתהיה סבתו לחויות נפסדות ולחה לבנה עבה ראוי לכוותו הכויות‬.‫י “א בכוית השטות‬ ‫( אשר זכרתי בבעל הפלג‬Chapter eleven. On cauterization for melancholy.

When the cause of the melancholy be corrupt humours and a thick phlegm, burn him with those cauterizations mentioned in the case of the paralytic). Hebrew ‫ שטות‬is attested in the sense of ‘madness; folly’ in Rabbinic literature (JD 1553), and in medieval medical literature it is used for the Arabic ‫‘ جنون‬madness; insanity’ by both N and Z (MA 6:3, 32; 16:38). See SG Shin 31. ‫ שטח‬:‫ = השטיח‬Arab. ‫‘ طلى‬to spread’; cf. I:49 (SP fol. 208a; SL 149, 4–6): ‫ואחרי כן לרפאתה בקמח עדשים עם שמן ורד ועלי לשון טלה ודם יונה ודם תחמס מכל‬ ‫אחד חלק שוה ולערב את הכל ולהשטיחם על בגד ולתתו על המקום עד שיבריא‬

(Then treat [i.e. the leprosy] with lentil flour, oil of roses, arnoglossa leaves, and pigeons’ or swallows’ blood, of each equal parts mixed all together and spread on lint; let this stick to the place till healed). The same Hebrew term is used for Arabic ‫‘ بسط‬to spread’; cf. IV: 9 (SP fol. 238b; SL 735, 11–12): ‫ואותות השמיטה הנשמטת לפנים שהחולה ישטיח שוקו שטיחה גמורה אלא‬ ‫( שלא יוכל לקפלה מבלי כאב בארכובה‬The sign77 of an anterior dislocation [of the hip] is that the patient can stretch his leg fully but cannot flex it without feeling pain in the knee). Hebrew ‫ השטיח‬is not attested in a medical context in secondary literature; cf. BM 7053 and Ma}agarim, s.v. ‫שטח‬. Arab. ‫ طلى‬is translated by N as ‫ רטה‬or ‫ שם‬and by Z as ‫משח‬ (cf. MA 8:12; 9:20; 22:21, 24, 26, 70), and by M as ‫( טח‬BIZ 7:1), ‫משח‬ (BIZ 13:1), or ‫( חבש‬BIZ 13.8). ‫ = שיבא‬Arab. ‫‘ شظية‬splinter’; cf. III:6 (SP fol. 234b; SL 727, 15–16): ‫ואם‬ ‫( יפרד מן העצם ִש ַיבּא ותהיה עוקצת מתחת העור ראוי לבקע עליה ולהסירה‬If a splinter of bone protrudes and starts to prick under the skin, cut down upon it and remove it). Aramaic ‫ שיבא‬is attested in Rabbinic literature in the sense of ‘chip’ (cf. SDA 1131). For plural Arab. ‫ شظايا‬Shem Tov uses ‫ ;שבבים‬see above. ‫ = שמיטה‬I. Arab. ‫‘ خَ ْلع‬dislocation’; cf. I:40 (SP fol. 206b; SL 113, 1–4): ‫שער‬ ‫ לפעמים תשתפכנה לחויות עבות אל כף הירך ותהיינה סבה‬.‫מ‘ בכוית שמיטת הירך‬ ‫ ואות השמיטה אורך השוק האחד על חברו כשיוקש אחד אל אחר‬.‫לצאתו ממקומו‬ 77

‘sign’; lit. ‘signs’; cf. Arab. ‫علامة‬. 96

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

(Chapter forty. On cauterization of a dislocated hip. Sometimes harmful humidities reach the hip joint and result in its coming out of place. The symptom of this is that one leg is longer than the other when one is measured against the other); II. ّ‫( فك‬SL 787,1; 789,1; 793,1; 795,1, etc.): ‘dislocation’; cf. III:23 (SP fol. 237a; SL 787, 2): ‫השמיטה הוא צאת‬ ‫( פרק מן הפרקים ממקומו‬A dislocation is a displacement of any of the joints from its place). The Hebrew term features a.o. in Moses ibn Tibbon’s ‫( חרוזי אבן סינא‬BM 7238), i.e. the Hebrew translation of Ibn Sina’s ¨Urguza fi al-†ibb. N translates the Arabic ‫ خَ ْلع‬as ‫שמט‬, Z as ‫( השמטה‬MA 15:46), and M as ‫( הקעה‬BIZ 15:1). Arabic ّ‫ فك‬is translated by M as ‫( רסוק‬BIZ 25:11). ‫ = שמיר‬I. Arab. ‫‘ الحديد الهندي‬Indian iron’; cf. II:19 (SP fol. 211b; SL 243, 7): ‫[ ויקרא‬illustration] ‫וכשיתגלה ויראה בו הפסד או שחרות ראוי לגרדו בכלי כזה‬ ‫ הראש ראוי לעשותו משמיר‬78‫( העץ‬When bone is reached and you see necrosis or blackness, scrape it with an instrument like this [illustration]. It is called ‘rough-head’79 and is made of Indian iron). The biblical Hebrew ‫ שמיר‬is traditionally interpreted as a diamond, cf. KB 1562–3. However, there may have been an ancient tradition related to the Latin translation of the term as ‘adamas’, which can mean both diamond and steel, according to which this term does not refer to a mineral but to a metal, possibly steel; cf. Löw, Fauna und Mineralien der Juden, 254–6.80 ‫ שקוי‬:‫ = השקוי הנאדי‬Arab. ‫الاستسقاء الزقّي‬: ‘ascites’; cf I:32 (SP fol. 206a; SL 95, 2): ‫( הכויה ראויה בשקוי הנאדי בלבד‬The cautery is particularly effective in ascites). N translates the Arabic ‫ استسقاء النوع الزقّي‬as ‫השקוי הנואדי‬ and ‫ השקוי הנודיי‬and Z as ‫( ההדרוקן הנאדי‬MA 4:41; 15:36). Ben Yehuda (BM 7422) mentions ‫ השקוי הנאדי‬as featuring in the Perush Ibn Rushd {al Îaruzei Ibn Sina (Ibn Rushd’s commentary on Ibn Sina’s ¨Urguza in the Hebrew translation prepared by Solomon Ibn Ayyub in the year 1261). See as well SG Shin 32, s.v. ‫שקוי‬. ‫ = שקיעה‬I. Arab. ‫صر‬ ْ ‫ َع‬: ‘squeezing’; cf II:59 (SP fol. 218b; SL 409, 27–8): ‫ולעשות בה כמו שנעשה בכיס מקוה המים משקיעת היד עד שיגיע הלחות אל הכיס‬

(Then tie it to the instrument and do with it as with the [camel’s] bladder, squeezing until the fluid reaches the bladder of the patient); II. Arab. ‫‘ َك ْبس‬pressing’; cf. II:63 (SP fol. 219b; SL 435, 11–12): ‫אמנם‬ ‫אשר יהיה מצבות הגידים הנחים לא יתפזר ממנו מאומה בעת שקיעת האצבע עליו‬

(The sort arising from a swelling of the vein will not disperse when you press upon it with your fingers); III. Arab. ‫‘ شَ ًّد‬to apply pressure’; cf. II:59 (SP fol. 218b; SL 409, 22–3: ‫ולהשקיע הכיס ביד על הלחות שקיעה‬ ‫( בחכמה עד שירגיש החולה שהלחות ההוא כבר הגיע אל הכיס‬Then apply strong pressure to the bladder containing the fluid until the patient can feel the fluid has entered his own bladder); IV. Arab. ‫‘ َغ ْمز‬pressing’; cf. II:95 .SL ‫ الخشنة‬:(‫ העץ )= الخشب‬78 Translation based on the Arabic ‫ ;الخشنة الرأس‬the Hebrew has ‘wood-head’. 80 I. Löw, Fauna und Mineralien der Juden, Repr. with an introduction by A. Schreiber (Hildesheim 1969). 79

97

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

(SP fol. 230a; SL 667, 203–4): ‫ויתחדש הרבה צבות ובליטה בעת הקזת הבאסליק‬ ‫וראוי אז לתת עליו היד ואם ימצא מתפשט בעת שקיעת היד עליו בידוע שהבליטה ההיא‬ ‫( רעה‬Often in section of the basilic vein there occurs tumour and swelling. Put your hand upon it, and if you find that it sinks when pressed then it is a harmful swelling). IV. Hebrew ‫ שקיעה‬does not feature in these meanings in the current dictionaries See as well entry ‫שקע‬. ‫ שקע‬:‫ = השקיע‬I. Arab. ‫أمعن‬: ‘to press’; cf II:45 (SP fol. 216a; SL 343, 14– 15): ‫( ואחר להשקיע היד על הצמח כפי גדלו‬then press it in proportionately to the size of the tumour); II. Arab. ‫‘ كبس‬to exert pressure’; cf. II:52 (SP fol. 217a; SL 377, 8): ‫( וכשיושקע עליו באצבע יתעלם‬And it will disappear on digital pressure); III. Arab. ‫‘ ش ّد‬to apply pressure’; cf. II:59 (SP fol. 218b; SL 409, 22–3: ‫ולהשקיע הכיס ביד על הלחות שקיעה בחכמה עד‬ ‫( שירגיש החולה שהלחות ההוא כבר הגיע אל הכיס‬Then apply strong pressure to the bladder containing the fluid until the patient can feel the fluid has entered his own bladder); IV. Arab. ‫‘ غمز‬to press’; II:95 (SP fol. 230b; SL 649, 235–7): ‫ואין ראוי כשיש רצון להתיר הקזת הזרוע להוציא מן הדם פעם‬ ‫שנית וכבר נסתם פי הגיד ותקשה יציאת הדם להשקיע עליו בחזקה ביד ולפתול אותו‬ ‫( בכח‬If you wish to loosen the arm and let blood a second time and you

find that the opening of the vein is now closed up and the outflow of blood is difficult, you should not press hard upon it nor twist the arm violently). Hebrew ‫ שקע‬does not feature in these meanings in the current dictionaries. See as well entry ‫שקיעה‬. ‫ = תונבא‬Arab. ‫خدر‬: ‘numbness’; cf. I:48 (SP fol. 208a; SL 147, 1): ‫שער מ“ח‬ ‫( בכוית התונבא והיא סור חוש אבר או איברין מן הגוף‬Chapter forty-eight. On the cauterization of numbness, that is the lack of feeling in a part of the body).81 Aramaic ‫ תונבא‬means ‘stupor, type of spirit; loss of sensation; numbness’ and features in Rabbinic literature (JD 1654; SDA 1198). N translates the Arab. ‫ خدر‬as ‫ תרדמת האיברים‬or ‫תרדמת החוש‬, Z as ‫ביטול‬ (MA 7:66; 22:38, 43; 23:22, 23), and M as ‫ תרדמה‬or ‫תרדמת האיברים‬ (BIZ 9:2; 17:2). Cf. SG Tav 15. ‫ תלולית‬:‫ = תלוליות של בשר‬Arab. ‫سلع‬: ‘cysts’; cf. II:42 (SP fol. 215b; SL 333, 4–6): ‫ויהיה אשר יקרה מהם בצואר אחד או רבים ויתילדו קצתם מקצתם וכל חזיר‬ ‫מהם יהיה בתוך קרום מיוחד לו כמו שיהיה בתלוליות של בשר וצמחי הראש כמו‬ ‫( שזכרתי‬Those [i.e. tumours] occurring in the neck are sometimes single

and sometimes multiple, one arising from another; and each scrofula is contained in a capsule of its own, like the cysts and tumours of the head that we have described). Hebrew ‫ תלולית‬is not attested in this sense in secondary literature, cf. BM 7771, and above s.v. ‫אגודות הבשר‬. ‫ תער‬:‫ = תער הגלבים‬Arab. ‫موسى‬: ‘(razor)’; cf. I:1 (fol. 203b; SL 6–8): ‫וצורת‬ ‫הכויה להריק החולה בתחלה בסם משלשל מנקה הראש שלש לילות או ארבע כפי חיוב‬ ‫( כחו ושניו ומנהגו ואחר להעביר שער ראשו בתער הגלבים‬The manner of per-

forming this operation [i.e. the single cauterization of the head] is first to bid the patient open the bowels with an evacuant which will also clear 81

‘that is the lack of feeling in a part of the body’: addition Shem Tov. 98

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

his head, for three or four nights, according to the strength, age, and habits of the patient. Then tell him to have his head shaved…). The Hebrew term features in Ezek. 5:1 (KB 1771). For further attestations cf. Ma}agarim (a.o.: Sefer ha-Mitswot le-Levi, Leke† Dinim 6:2: ‫תער הגלבים‬ ‫)אשר שמו מוס‬. ‫ תפירה‬:‫ = תפירות‬Arab. ‫خياطات‬: ‘sutures’; cf. II:1 (SP fol. 209a; SL 171, 11–173, 17): ‫ואם יהיה הלחות מתחת העצם ואותותיו הראות תפירות הראש‬ ‫פתוחות מכל צד והמים נשפכים לתוך הראש כשיוסחטו ביד וזה דבר בלתי נעלם מן‬ ‫( הרופא צריך לבקע באמצע הראש שלש בקיעות על זאת הצורה‬But if the humid-

ity is beneath the bone — and the sign of that is that you will see three sutures of the skull gaping on all sides, the water manifestly yielding when you press in with your fingers — you should make three incisions in the middle of the head). The Hebrew term ‫ תפירה‬is only attested in this sense as modern in AD 158. Vesalius’ Tabulae calls the sutures ‫מחוברים‬, the Fabrica ‫שלבים‬, while the Hebrew translations of Ibn Sina’s K. al-Qanun have ‫ חוליות‬or ‫ ;שלבים‬cf. SR 38. Address for correspondence: [email protected] ABBREVIATIONS AD BIR BIZ BLS BM BMH BMR BZ

D DA DAS = DKT

The Academy of the Hebrew Language. Dictionary of Medical Terms. English-Hebrew. Hebrew-English. (Jerusalem 1999) Bar Ilan Responsa Project Bos, G., Ibn al-Jazzar, Zad al-musafir, bk. 7; chs. 7–30. Critical edition of the Arabic text and Hebrew translation by Moses Ibn Tibbon (forthcoming) Brockelmann, C., Lexicon Syriacum, Editio secunda aucta et emendate. (Halle 1928) Ben Yehuda, Eliezer, Millon ha-Lashon ha-Ivrit. Thesaurus Totius Hebraitatis et Veteris et Recentioris. 17 vols. (Berlin-Tel Aviv 1910–59. Repr. Tel Aviv 1948–59) Bos, G., Maimonides, On Hemorrhoids, Critical edition of the Arabic text and Hebrew translations (forthcoming) Bos, G., Maimonides, On the Regimen of Health, Critical edition of the Arabic text and Hebrew translations (forthcoming) Bos, G., Ibn al-Jazzar on Sexual Diseases: A critical edition, English translation and introduction of Bk. 6 of Zad al-musafir wa-qut al-Ìadir (Provisions for the Traveller and the Nourishment of the Settled) (London 1997) Dozy, R.P.A., Supplément aux Dictionnaires arabes 2. 2 vols. (Paris-Leiden 1927) Dalman, G., Aramäisch-neuhebräisches Handwörterbuch zu Targum, Talmud und Midrasch. (2nd rev.ed. Frankfurt a. Main 1922) Dalman, G., Arbeit und Sitte in Palästina, 8 vols. (Repr. Hildesheim 1964–87, Berlin 2001) De Koning, Pieter, Trois traités d’anatomie arabes. Nachdruck der Ausgabe Leiden 1903, hrsg. von Fuat Sezgin, Frankfurt am Main, Institut 99

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

für Geschichte der Arabisch-Islamischen Wissenschaften an der Johann Wolfgang Goethe-Universität, 1986 EM Abraham Even-Shoshan, Ha-Millon he-Îadash, repr. in 5 vols. (Jerusalem 2000) FAL Fonahn, A., Arabic and Latin Anatomical Terminology. Chiefly from the Middle Ages. (Kristiania 1922) FEW Wartburg, W. von, Französisches Etymologisches Wörterbuch. (Bonn, Leipzig, Tübingen, Basilea, 1922 seqq.) JD Jastrow, M., A dictionary of the Targumim, the Talmud Bavli and Yerushalmi, and the midrashic literature, repr. 2 vols. (New York 1950) KA Kohut, A., Arukh shalem. Aruch Completum, and Krauss, Tosefet he-Arukh. Additamenta. Repr. in 9 vols. (Tel Aviv 1970) KB Koehler, L. and W. Baumgartner, The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament. Subsequently revised by W. Baumgartner and J.J. Stamm. With assistance from B. Hartmann, Z. Ben-Hayyim, E.Y. Kutscher, Ph. Reymond. Translated and edited under the supervision of M.E.J. Richardson, 5 vols. (Leiden, Boston, Köln 1994–2000) KG Krauss, S., Griechische und Lateinische Lehnwörter im Talmud, Midrasch und Targum. Mit Bemerkungen von Immanuel Löw, 2 vols. (Berlin 1898–9) KS David Kaufmann, Die Sinne: Beiträge zur Geschichte der Physiologie und Psychologie im Mittelalter aus hebräischen und arabischen Quellen. (Budapest 1884) KZ Kroner, H., Zur Terminologie der arabischen Medizin und zu ihrem zeitgenössischen hebräischen Ausdrucke. An der Hand dreier medizinischer Abhandlungen des Maimonides. (Berlin 1921) L Lane, E.W., Arabic-English Lexicon, I, 1–8. (London 1863–79) Low Lowinger, Adolph, ‘Register of Hebrew and Aramaic terms, translated and edited by S. Paley’, in J. Preuss, Biblisch-talmudische Medizin. Beiträge zur Geschichte der Heilkunde und der Kultur überhaupt. (Repr. New York 1971) LS Liddell, H.G. and R. Scott, A Greek English Lexicon. Revised and augmented throughout by H.S. Jones a.o. With a supplement 1968, repr. (Oxford 1989) LW Levy, Jacob, Wörterbuch über die Talmudim und Midraschim. Nebst Beiträgen von H. Leberecht Fleischer. Zweite Aufl. mit Nachträgen und Berichtigungen von L. Goldschmidt. I–IV. (Berlin-Vienna 1924) M Moses Ibn Tibbon. Ma}agarim Mif ¨ al ha-Millon ha-Histori la-Lashon ha-Ivrit: http://hebrew-treasures. huji.ac.il/ MA Maimonides. Medical Aphorisms, see N and Z. MD Masie, A.M., Dictionary of Medicine and Allied Sciences. Latin-EnglishHebrew. Edited by S. Tchernichowsky. (Jerusalem 1934) MH Meyerhof, M., The Book of the Ten Treatises on the Eye ascribed to Hunain Ibn Ishâq (809–877 A.D.). (Cairo 1928) MZ Moses Ibn Tibbon, Åedat ha-Derakhim (translation of Ibn al-Jazzar, Zad al-musafir), bk. 6, MS Berlin, Staatsbibliothek Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Qu 835 N Nathan ha-Me}ati, Hebrew translation of Maimonides’ Medical Aphorisms; edition of the medical terminology as part of a glossary of the 100

MEDICAL TERMINOLOGY IN THE HEBREW TRADITION

SDA SG SIN SL SR SP UW VL WKAS

Z

Arabic terminology and the Hebrew translations by Gerrit Bos (forthcoming) Sokoloff, M., A Dictionary of Jewish Babylonian Aramaic of the Talmudic and Geonic Periods. (Ramat Gan 2002) Gerrit Bos-Guido Mensching and Martina Hussein-Frank Savelsberg (eds), Shem Tov Ben Isaac, Sefer ha-Shimmush. Bk. 29, Glossary one (forthcoming) Mensching, Guido, La Sinonima delos nonbres delas medeçinas griegos e latynos e arauigos. (Madrid 1994) Albucasis. On Surgery and Instruments. A definitive edition of the Arabic text with English translation and commentary by M.S. Spink and G.L. Lewis. (London 1973) Charles Singer and C. Rabin, Prelude to Modern Science: Being a Discussion of the History Sources and Circumstances of the ‘Tabulae Anatomicae Sex’ of Vesalius. (Cambridge 1946) Shem Tov Ben Isaac, Sefer ha-Shimmush, MS Paris, BN héb. 1163. Ullmann, M., Wörterbuch zu den griechisch-arabischen Übersetzungen des neunten Jahrhunderts. (Wiesbaden, 2002) Vullers, I.A., Lexicon Persico-Latinum Etymologicum, 2 vols. (Bonn 1855– 64, repr. Graz 1962) Wörterbuch der klassischen arabischen Sprache. Hrsg. durch die Deutsche Morgenländische Gesellschaft. In Verbindung mit A. Spitaler bearb. v. Jörg Krämer u. Helmut Gätje (ab Lief. 3 bearb. von M. Ullmann). (Wiesbaden 1957ff) ZeraÌyah ben Isaac ben She}altiel Îen, Hebrew translation of Maimonides’ Medical Aphorisms (see N).

101

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE AMHARIC DEFINITE ARTICLE AND AN INDONESIAN PARALLEL AARON D. RUBIN PENN STATE UNIVERSITY

Abstract The definite articles of Amharic and some other Ethiopian languages derive from possessives rather than demonstratives, and the origin of these articles has never been convincingly explained. The development of a possessive into a definite article in Indonesian provides a clue to the origin of the definite articles in Ethiopic.

In a previous work, I set out to prove that the definite articles of the Central Semitic languages (Hebrew ha-, Aramaic -a, Arabic (}a)l-, Sabaic -(h)n, etc.) can all be derived from demonstratives.1 In the course of my argument, I gave examples from other language families in order to show that definite articles can nearly always be proven to have derived via grammaticalization from demonstratives. However, in Amharic and several other South Ethiopian languages, this seems not to be the case; it is on these languages that this paper will focus. 1. Ethiopic Data In Amharic there is a suffixed definite article, which has the following basic forms:2

Versions of this paper were read at the 218th Annual Meeting of the American Oriental Society in Chicago, March 14, 2008, and at the 3rd Meeting of the International Association for Comparative Semitics in Turin, October 3, 2008. 1 Rubin (2005: 65–90). 2 See Leslau (1995: 155–9) for discussion of forms and syntax. A nice overview of the various definite articles in Modern Ethiopian Semitic, including discussion of their syntax, can also be found in Appleyard (2005), a study of which I became aware only after completing my own. 103

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE AMHARIC DEFINITE ARTICLE

m.sg. -u f.sg. -wa, -itu, or -it wa (used interchangeably) c.pl. -u

The m.sg. article is identical in form to the 3rd m.sg. possessive suffix, so for example, Amharic bet-u can mean either ‘the house’ or ‘his house’. The f.sg. article -wa is identical to the 3rd f.sg. possessive suffix, while the variant -itu is composed of a feminine suffix -it plus the 3rd m.sg. possessive -u, and the variant -it wa is a combination the feminine marker -it and the 3rd f. sg. possessive suffix -wa. The plural article -u has been taken over from the masculine singular. Additional examples are färäs-u ‘the/his horse’, lam-wa ‘the/her cow’, and n¢gusocc-u ‘the/his kings’. There are parallels to the Amharic article in several other South Ethiopian languages. For example, the closely related Argobba has the definite articles -u (m. and pl.) and -wa (f. sg.), which are also identical to the third person singular possessive suffixes, e.g., bed-u ‘the/ his house’, lam-wa ‘the/her cow’.3 In Gafat, which is now extinct, the 3rd m.sg. possessive suffix -s was used as a common definite article, e.g., abäb¢-s ‘the/his flower’, täkul-s ‘the/his garden’.4 In Chaha, one of the so-called Gurage languages, definiteness is not regularly expressed, but the third person possessive suffixes -(ä)ta (m.sg.), -(ä)çta (f.sg.), -(ä) wxna (m.pl.), and -(ä)xnäma (f.pl.) can all be used as definite articles when needed, e.g., mädär-äta ‘the/his place’, ¢ng wäd-äwxna ‘the/their others’ (more on this below).5 In Harari, definiteness is also often left unexpressed, but can be made explicit with the addition of the 3rd m.sg. possessive suffix -zo, e.g. gar-zo ‘the/his house’.6 Similar use of the third person possessive suffixes are occasionally found in other South Ethiopic languages, e.g., Mäsqän.7 Because the Amharic forms -u and -wa are identical to the 3rd m.sg. and 3rd f.sg. possessive suffixes, respectively, and because we know from comparative Semitic evidence that the possessive function is the original one, it is undoubtedly the case that their use as articles derives from their use as possessives. This claim is widely, 3

Leslau (1997: 12). Leslau (1945: §44). 5 Leslau (1950: 17). I have modified Leslau’s transcription slightly; he used x for [ç] and a barred k for [x]. Leslau says that the article can be used when the noun has been previously mentioned, but this is not totally accurate; see the discussion below in Section 3. Rose (2007: 421–2) gives slightly different forms for the articles, and she only discusses the use of the singular possessives as articles. 6 Cerulli (1936: 171–2); Wagner (1997: 492). 7 Hetzron (1977: 56). 4

104

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE AMHARIC DEFINITE ARTICLE

but not universally, accepted. For example, W. Vycichl had a different interpretation, namely that the Amharic article derives not from possessives, but rather from demonstrative pronouns.8 However, the parallels from several other South Ethiopic languages and the forms of the individual morphemes make it clear that the article and the possessive suffixes are, historically, one and the same. Exactly how a possessive has come to indicate definiteness has never been explained. It has long been recognized that there are Ge¨ez precursors to the use of the third person possessive suffixes as a definite article.9 Ge¨ez itself has no articles, but it is not rare to find constructions of the Amharic type.10 Some examples are: Ìalamku kal¢}a Ì¢lma wa-kama-z¢ Ì¢lmu ‘I dreamt another dream and such was the dream’ (Gen. 37:9) wa-maÒa}k¢mu wa-qomk¢mu taÌta dabr wa-y¢nadd¢d dabru ‘you came and stood under the mountain, and the mountain burned’ (Deut. 4:11) wa-waradku }¢m¢nna dabr wa-dabru-ssa y¢nadd¢d ‘I came down from the mountain, and the mountain was burning’ (Deut. 9:15) g¢baru m¢rfaqata la-sab} … wa-rafaqu ¨¢dawihomu ‘make the people places to sit … and the men sat down’ (John 6:10)

Dillmann writes, or at least implies, that this use of the possessive suffix as an article occurs only upon second mention of a noun. This is not true, as evidenced by the final example above, though admittedly, sab} ‘people’ and ¨¢daw ‘men’ are synonyms referring to the same group. In summary, the third person possessive suffixes have developed into a definite article in several South Ethiopian languages — the most important of which is Amharic — and evidence of this development can be found already in Ge¨ez. This information has been long recognized and accepted by Semitists, and so the real task at hand is to explain exactly how a third person possessive suffix was reinterpreted as a definite article, especially since this is an unusual type of grammaticalization from a cross-linguistic perspective. A clue to answering this question lies in the parallel development of the definite article in Indonesian and several other Malayo-Polynesian languages, and it is to these languages that we now turn. 8

Vycichl (1957: 169–70). Cf. Praetorius (1879: 199–201). 10 Dillmann (1907: §172b); Tropper (2002: §52.21c). 9

105

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE AMHARIC DEFINITE ARTICLE

2. Indonesian Data Indonesian normally does not make use of articles, whether indefinite or definite, as illustrated by the following sentences:11 Kita mau sewa kamar. We want rent room ‘We want to rent a room.’ Ada kunci? Have key ‘Do you have the key?’

However, there are two means by which definiteness can be expressed in Indonesian. The first way is with the demonstrative adjective itu ‘that’, as in: nasi itu ‘that rice’ or ‘the rice’ negeri itu ‘that country’ or ‘the country’

The second method of expressing definiteness is through the addition of the suffix -nya, the basic function of which is a third person possessive or object pronoun.12 Examples of this are:13 Orangnya tinggi. person.3POSS tall ‘The person is tall.’ Kamarnya sudah terkunci. room.3POSS already locked ‘The room is already locked.’

Based on these simple examples, which are taken out of context, it would seem that we are dealing with two synonymous constructions for expressing definiteness. But, in fact, the two methods of indicating definiteness in Indonesian have some interesting restrictions to their usage, and these go a long way towards shedding light on the origins of the respective constructions. When a noun has been previously mentioned, it is the demonstrative itu that can be used as the definite article. However, when the reference is not explicit, but is only understood, then the suffix -nya is used.14 Consider the following examples:15 11

These examples are taken from Oey (1993: 45). On the various functions of the suffix -nya, see Sneddon (1996: §2.44, §2.50, §2.73; 2006: 34–43) and Englebretson (2003: 153–86). 13 These examples are taken from Oey (1993: 45, 131). 14 Sneddon (1996: 150–1). 15 These examples are taken from Sneddon (1996: 151), who in turn took them (with minor modification) from McGarry (1974: 42). 12

106

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE AMHARIC DEFINITE ARTICLE

Ibu sudah memasak nasi. Nasi itu di lemari. Mother already cook rice rice that in pantry ‘Mother has cooked rice. The rice is in the pantry. Kalau mau makan nasinya di lemari. If want eat rice.3POSS in pantry ‘If you want to eat, the rice is in the pantry.’

In the first example, ‘rice’ is mentioned once, and upon its repetition the demonstrative itu refers back to this initial mention: ‘Mother has cooked rice, and that rice [that I just mentioned] is in the pantry’. In the second example, however, rice is not explicitly mentioned in the first clause, but food is implied in the offer made to the addressee. Therefore, the suffix -nya is used in this context as the definite article. Following is another example of this use of -nya:16 Saya mau ke kantor pos tapi tidak tahu jalannya. I want to office post but not know way.3POSS ‘I want to go to the post office, but I don’t know the way.’

In this example, the way to the post office has not been mentioned before, but the fact that the post office exists implies that there is a way to get there. More so than the previous example, this example makes it very clear how the possessive pronoun is functioning; if we had translated the second half of this sentence as ‘I don’t know its way’, the English would sound somewhat awkward, but the reference to the post office would still be understood. Another example, this time from Colloquial Jakartan Indonesian, will illustrate this as well:17 Kemaren gua nonton film Bone Collector … Gua takut naik taksi … Yesterday I watch film I afraid get.in taxi Karena emang penjahatnya nyetir taksi. Because indeed criminal.3POSS drive taxi ‘Yesterday I watched the film Bone Collector … (and now) I am afraid to get in a taxi … because the criminal was a taxi driver.’

In this example, one could translate penjahatnya as ‘its criminal’ and it would still be evident that this meant ‘the movie’s criminal’. In other examples, the implied possessor comes later in conversation than the suffix: Hawanya panas sekali sore ini. weather.3POSS hot very evening this ‘The weather is very hot this evening.’ 16 17

Sneddon (1996: 151). Sneddon (2006: 37). 107

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE AMHARIC DEFINITE ARTICLE

Sopirnya sudah menunggu di mobil. driver.3POSS already wait in car ‘The driver waited in the car.’

In the first example, the suffix on hawa ‘weather’ refers to the evening, i.e., ‘its (the evening’s) weather’. In the second example, the suffix on sopir ‘driver’ refers to the car, i.e., ‘its (the car’s) driver’. Finally, we can even cite examples in which -nya refers to something that has not been mentioned at all: Bagaimana kabarnya? What news.3POSS ‘What’s the news?’

All of these examples from Indonesian show how the possessive suffix -nya functions as a definite article in contexts where the definite noun has not been previously mentioned. Before moving on to additional analysis, it should be pointed out that the development of the third person possessive marker into a definite article has parallels in several other Malayo-Polynesian relatives of Indonesian, including Sundanese (-na),18 Madurese (-na),19 Balinese (-ne), Malagasy (ny),20 and Biak (various forms).21 In some of these languages (e.g., Madurese), the use of the definite article seems to be even more widespread than in Indonesian, but it is Indonesian for which the most data and analysis is available. 3. Analysis The Indonesian definite article -nya provides a nice parallel to the Amharic definite articles -u and -wa, as all can formally be analysed as markers of the third person possessive. But how did a possessive 18 Müller-Gotama (2001: 25–6). An example is buku-na ‘his/her book’ or ‘the book’. The suffix -na has the form -ana after a word ending in a consonant. 19 Davies (1999: 15–16). An example is ghuru-na ‘his/her teacher’ or ‘the teacher’. The suffix -na has the form -a after a word ending in a consonant, and, in the western dialect, the form -¢ng or -k after a glottal stop. 20 Rasoloson and Rubino (2005: 466–7). The Malagasy article precedes the noun, though it has the same form as the suffixed possessive pronoun of the third person, e.g. ny boky ‘the book’, but bokiny ‘his/her/their book’. 21 Steinhauer (2005: 797–9). The third person possessive pronoun in Biak (and hence the definite article) has a singular, dual, trial, plural animate, and plural inanimate form. In addition, each suffix, with the exception of the inanimate plural, varies slightly depending on whether or not it occurs clause medially or clause finally. Examples are the clause-final forms rum-i ‘the house’, rum-sui ‘the two houses’, rum-skoi ‘the three houses’, and rum-na ‘the houses’.

108

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE AMHARIC DEFINITE ARTICLE

become an article? The vast majority of the world’s definite articles have arisen from anaphoric demonstratives.22 Anaphoric demonstratives are co-referential with a noun or noun phrase used in previous discourse,23 as exemplified by the following English example: We studied linguistics. That subject is very important.

Such an anaphoric demonstrative can take on a general meaning of definiteness, with the result that the demonstrative can come to indicate definiteness even when not used anaphorically. In the case of Indonesian discussed above, the demonstrative itu is used anaphorically to indicate definiteness, but cannot indicate definiteness generally. If the noun has not been explicitly mentioned before, then the third person possessive suffix (-nya) is used to indicate definiteness. The resulting situation is that there are two ways to express definiteness in Indonesian, each with syntactic restrictions. However, in Colloquial Jakartan Indonesian, it seems that the domain of -nya is spreading, as it sometimes occurs in contexts where one expects itu, for example:24 A: Jadi gua ntar ketemu dia langsung di salon. So I soon meet her direct in salon ‘So I’m going to meet her directly at the salon.’ B: Salonnya di deket rumah? salon.3POSS in near house ‘Is the salon near your house?’

In this example, one would expect Speaker B to say salon itu, since Speaker A has already mentioned the salon. This shows how -nya is taking over the domain of itu in the colloquial language, and is thus becoming a true definite article. That is, it is not the anaphoric that has come to indicate definiteness generally, but the possessive. I would suggest that at some point in the history of Ethiopic, the third person possessive suffixes served a similar function as in Indonesian. In some Ethiopian languages, as in Colloquial Indonesian, a re-analysis took place which led to their spread as true definite articles. The following five examples from Chaha provide a striking parallel to the use of the articles in (Formal) Indonesian:25

22 23 24 25

Diessel (1999: 128). Diessel (1999: 95). Sneddon (2006: 38). Leslau (1950: 76, 79). 109

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE AMHARIC DEFINITE ARTICLE

wugat-¢m yano säb y¢wägwan mädär-äta pain in the side-as for who-have people (that) pains.3ms place-its bä-q¢b. n¢q-qar y¢mwasi with-butter big-thing one rubs ‘People who have pain in the side, rub the place that pains with butter.’ anqäfqä bä-qän y¢säwkwci ¢ngwäd-äwxna ¢nn¢m yä-säxra ro. Spoons with-horn makes.3ms others-their all of-clay are ‘The spoons are made (one makes) of horn; the other things of clay.’ muky¢r bä-xwet enät y¢sägi. at-äta yä-dängya muky¢r, at-äta bonfire in-two kinds one divides one-its of-children bonfire one-its yä-gämya muky¢r. of-adults bonfire ‘The bonfire is divided into two kinds. The one is the children’s bonfire; the other is the adults’ bonfire.’ yancän bäxärä yä-sägwåre yarlä. sägwårä xuta it does not leave CONDIT. to-sorcerer one goes for him sorcerer he/that y¢b¢r… says ‘if it (the sickness) does not leave him, they go for him to the sorcerer. The sorcerer says…’ x¢no arämäne ro … arämäne x¢no bä-gäf wärä y¢täkso in-public (who) kindle it they pagans are pagans they/those bä-mäsä b-as¢r sat muk y¢r-äwxna y¢täkso. in-evening at-ten hours bonfire-their they kindle it ‘The ones who kindle it (the bonfire) in public are pagans. The pagans kindle their bonfire at the tenth hour of the night (= 4 a.m.).’

In the first two examples from Chaha, neither of the nouns with the article (mädär ‘place’ and ¢ngwäd ‘others’) have been explicitly mentioned previously, but instead are implied in the context of the story. In the first sentence, there is mention of a pain in the side, implying a specific place where the pain is located. The second sentence, in context, follows a list of kitchen items (pitchers, plates, and spoons). So in the example sentence above, ‘the others’ refers to these kitchen items minus the spoon. Therefore, in these two, the third person possessive is used to express definiteness. In the third Chaha example, it is the word ‘one’ that is being made definite with the possessive suffixes, but the possessive clearly refers back to the word bonfire. I translated ‘the one is the children’s’ and ‘the one is the adults’, but if I had translated ‘its one’, the meaning would still be clear. This is exactly like what we saw above with Indonesian examples jalannya ‘its/the way’ and penjahatnya ‘its/the criminal’. 110

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE AMHARIC DEFINITE ARTICLE

In Chaha, the third person pronoun/demonstrative can also be used to indicate definiteness. In the texts I examined, it is used mainly when the noun has already been mentioned, just as in Indonesian. So in the fourth Chaha example, we find sägwårä xuta ‘the sorcerer’ where xuta is the third person pronoun being used as an anaphoric demonstrative (like Hebrew or Aramaic hu), because the word for ‘sorcerer’ has already been mentioned. Similarly, in the final example, we get arämäne x¢no ‘the pagans’, where x¢no is the third masculine plural pronoun used here to indicate definitess, since the ‘pagans’ have already been explicitly mentioned. So, the expression of definiteness in Chaha, whether with the possessive suffixes or with the independent pronoun/demonstrative, shows the same syntactic restrictions found in Formal Indonesian. We saw in the first three Chaha sentences how the possessive suffix is used when the noun has not explicitly been mentioned previously, and we see the use of the anaphoric demonstrative (which in Chaha is the same as the independent pronoun) in cases where the noun has already been introduced into the discourse. We may find these syntactic restrictions in Chaha, but in some other South Ethiopic languages, including Amharic, the use of the definite article has become much more widespread and unrestricted in its usage. This seems to be what is happening in Colloquial Indonesian, where -nya is taking over the functions of itu, as discussed above. A final parallel between Ethiopic and Indonesian should be noted, namely the competing definite constructions in Ge¨ez. In addition to the occasional use of the third person possessive suffixes as definite articles in Ge¨ez, we also find the demonstratives used in this way. There are several demonstratives that can behave this way, but the most common is w¢}¢tu ‘that’, as in the following examples:26 wa-tala¨ala w¢}¢tu b¢}si and-became.great that man ‘and the man became great’ (Gen. 26:13) wa-w¢}¢tu qal s¢ga kona and-that word flesh became.3ms ‘and the Word became flesh’ (John 1:14)

So in Indonesian we find demonstrative itu vs. possessive -nya and in Ge¨ez we find demonstrative w¢}¢tu vs. the various possessive suffixes, although it must be emphasized that Ge¨ez does not show the same syntactic restrictions found in Indonesian. This is perhaps because the 26

Dillmann (1907: §172a); Tropper (2002: §52.21b). 111

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE AMHARIC DEFINITE ARTICLE

use of the possessive suffixes to indicate definiteness was a South Ethiopian feature that crept into the written language, and not a native development within Ge¨ez. It is interesting that in Tigrinya, one of the two other North Ethiopian languages, it is the demonstrative }¢tu that is developing into a real definite article.27 Finally, for the sake of thoroughness, we should include here the third (and by far most common) way of expressing definiteness in Ge¨ez, namely the use of the so-called qatalo la-n¢gus and betu la-n¢gus constructions.28 When a noun is the object of a verb, definiteness is made explicit by a proleptic object suffix on the verb and the prefixation of the particle la- to the noun, e.g. qatalo la-n¢gus ‘he killed the king’, literally ‘he killed him, la-king’ (vs. qatala n¢gusa ‘he killed a/the king’). The same construction is used to make definiteness explicit for the second member of a genitive chain, e.g. betu la-n¢gus ‘the house of the king’, literally ‘his house, la-king’ (vs. beta n¢gus ‘the house of a/the king’). I bring up here this method of indicating definiteness in order to note that this particular construction is likely the source of the definite article in another Ethiopian language, Tigré, as I have suggested elsewhere.29 Kapeliuk (1994: 3–5) believes that the possessive suffix used with the first noun of the Ge¨ez betu la-n¢gus construction is the source of the Amharic definite article.30 While her theory is certainly logical, it is problematic for at least two reasons. First, I do not think that we can assume Ge¨ez to be the representative of the ancestor of Amharic, as Kapeliuk does. Second, the parallel use of the various possessive suffixes in other South Ethiopian languages and the restrictions on the article found in Chaha support the theory advanced in the present work. In summary, Indonesian shows us how a possessive construction can originate as a marker of definiteness in certain contexts, and we find an exact parallel in Chaha. Further, Colloquial Indonesian shows us how this construction has been reanalysed and become a true definite article; something similar must have happened in the history of Amharic (and Argobba, Gafat, etc.). Thus the history of the definite articles in most South Ethiopian languages appears to parallel the situation in the history of Indonesian.31 27

See Rubin (2005: 88). Dillmann (1907: §172c); Tropper (2002: §52.21d, e). 29 Rubin (2005: 89). This is also suggested, with some hesitation, by Appleyard (2005: 59). 30 Kapeliuk (1994: 3–5). 31 I was delighted to learn from Prof. Christian Lehmann (Erfurt) that the expression of definiteness in Yucatec Mayan mirrors the situation in Indonesian and 28

112

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE AMHARIC DEFINITE ARTICLE

4. Addendum In some Semitic languages, we find a third person possessive used to indicate definiteness in a very restricted set of words, all having to do with time. One such example is Akkadian inumisu ‘at that time; then’. In Muher, another South Ethiopian language, the definite article, if expressed at all, is normally -we (e.g., säb-we ‘the people’). However, with words related to time the third person possessive suffixes are used instead. For example, yämännag-¢ wxta ‘the next morning’, bä-sost känä-wxta ‘on the third day’, yäsamm¢t-¢ wxta ‘for the week’.32 Ge¨ez qadamihu ‘the beginning’ (e.g., John 1:1) also falls into this category. The function of the possessive in these time words is no different from the function of the possessive as a definite article in Amharic, Indonesian, etc., and so the origin of these time words is no different. However, I simply add that the possessive is used in Akkadian and Muher in a far more restricted way than in Chaha or (Formal) Indonesian. Address for correspondence: [email protected] 221 Weaver Building, Penn State University, University Park, PA, 16802, USA REFERENCES Appleyard, David L. 2005. ‘Definite Markers in Modern Ethiopian Semitic Languages’, in Geoffrey Khan (ed.), Semitic Studies in Honour of Edward Ullendorff (Leiden). 51–61 Cerulli, Enrico. 1936. Studi Etiopici I. La lingua e la storia di Harar. (Rome) Davies, William. 1999. Madurese. (Munich) Diessel, Holger. 1999. Demonstratives: Form, Function, and Grammaticalization. (Amsterdam and Philadelphia) Dillmann, August. 1907 (1974). Ethiopic Grammar. 2d edn. Revised and edited by Carl Bezold. Translated by James A. Crichton. (Amsterdam) Englebretson, Robert. 2003. Searching for Structure: The Problem of Complementation in Colloquial Indonesian Conversation. (Amsterdam and Philadelphia) Hetzron, Robert. 1977. The Gunnän-Gurage Languages. (Naples) Kapeliuk, Olga. 1994. Syntax of the Noun in Amharic. (Wiesbaden) Leslau, Wolf. 1945. Gafat Documents: Records of a South-Ethiopic Language. (New Haven, CT) Chaha; that is, the third person possessive is used as a marker of definiteness when the noun has not previously been mentioned. That this restriction is found in both Mayan and Indonesian, as well as in Chaha, only strengthens the argument that this restricted use of the possessive suffix is the origin of the Amharic definite article. 32 Leslau (1981: 10). 113

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE AMHARIC DEFINITE ARTICLE

— 1950. Ethiopic Documents: Gurage. (New York) — 1981. Ethiopians Speak. Studies in Cultural Background, Part IV: Muher. (Wiesbaden) — 1995. Reference Grammar of Amharic. (Wiesbaden) — 1997. Ethiopic Documents: Argobba, Grammar and Dictionary. (Wiesbaden) McGarry, J.D. and Sumaryono. 1974. Learn Indonesian: Book Three. (Chatswood, Australia) Müller-Gotama, Franz. 2001. Sundanese. (Munich) Oey, Thomas. 1993. Everyday Indonesian: A Basic Introduction to the Indonesian Language & Culture. (Lincolnwood, IL) Praetorius, Franz. 1879. Die amharische Sprache. (Halle) Rasoloson, Janie, and Carl Rubino. 2005. Malagasy, in Alexander Adelaar and Nikolaus P. Himmelmann (eds), The Austronesian Languages of Asia and Madagascar (London and New York). 456–88 Rose, Sharon. 2007. Chaha (Gurage) Morphology, in Alan S. Kaye (ed.), Morphologies of Asia and Africa, vol. 1 (Winona Lake, IN). 403–27 Rubin, Aaron. 2005. Studies in Semitic Grammaticalization. (Winona Lake, IN) Sneddon, James Neil. 1996. Indonesian: A Comprehensive Grammar. (London and New York) — 2006. Colloquial Jakartan Indonesian. (Canberra) Steinhauer, Hein. 2005. Biak, in Alexander Adelaar and Nikolaus P. Himmelmann (eds), The Austronesian Languages of Asia and Madagascar (London and New York). 793–823 Tropper, Josef. 2002. Altäthiopisch: Grammatik des Ge¨ez mit Übungstexten und Glossar. (Münster) Vycichl, Werner. 1957. ‘Trois notes de linguistique amharique’, Annales d’Éthiopie 2, 167–70 Wagner, Ewald. 1997. Harari, in Robert Hetzron (ed.), The Semitic Languages (London and New York). 486–508

114

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR ABDULRAHMAN S. AL SALIMI CHIEF EDITOR OF AL-TASAMOH JOURNAL

Abstract The Iba∂i siyar literature can be considered a classical archive for Omani history and Iba∂i thought. Its conception and basic identification are still obscure and ambiguously interpreted. However, there is an increasing interest in the study of Omani siyar as historical and theological documents. The concept of siyar will be analysed from two main perspectives: linguistic form and content, both of which aim to convey a better understanding of its specific meanings. This article focuses on three aspects of Omani siyar: 1) it provides a theoretical framework for examining the content of Omani siyar in the context of Arabic literature. Through a survey of existing theoretical scholarship, this article establishes the history and origins of this genre, tracing its development in earlier Arabic literature and its introduction into Oman. 2). This survey provides an opportunity to reassess these early stages of the genre and to introduce observations about the content of the siyar. And 3) the variables in the chronological development of the siyar literature are analysed in order to illustrate the way in which the texts developed in the context of Omani history.

As soon as a researcher starts reading through Omani historical sources, it is apparent that the primary historical sources of Oman are the Omani siyar. These siyar, which were written at different times by various writers, constitute a unique source of historical data unparalleled in any other country. These documents reflect the political and social situation in Oman as well as the scholars’ ideologies. They also prompt us to look with greater care at the geography of Oman, which has shaped the history of the country. These aspects have influenced the Omani personality and scholarship and have given this part of the Arabian Peninsula a unique character throughout history. This study is designed as a simple introduction to the Iba∂i/Omani siyar, in order to understand the position of this genre in classical Arabic literature, in place and time, and the various forms the siyar take, from the point of view of subject and chronology, clarifying the most important underlying influences in the formation 115

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

of this genre, and tracing the manner in which the siyar developed, with the aim of facilitating their interpretation as historical documents. I Omani Siyar: History, Origins, and Description The sira is a fundamental source in classical Arabic literature, particularly when it is understood to be connected with the life of the Prophet MuÌammad.1 In Arabic, the term siyar (essentially: biographies) has several meanings.2 First, it is derived from the verb meaning to walk or travel, thus, it has the sense of narrating stories of travel, and hence journeying through life. Second, it also means the sunna, conduct, which itself means a way of living. Third, it is also connected to the idea of origin. This sense is found in the Qur} an 20 (™aha ):18, which reads: sanu}iduha sirataha al-ula, ‘We will restore it to its first state’.3 There, the word sira is used to mean appearance, and the meaning of the verse is that God shall retain His original nature. Fourth, the word has another meaning denoting narration of tales of the older generations. Conventionally, the word has been used to mean going to battles (maghazi ), as was pointed out by M. Hinds,4 and as one sees it in such books as Abu IsÌaq al-Fazari’s K. al-Siyar. The Omani siyar take the meaning of the term sira to a new level, whereby it comes to denote political-religious correspondence. The Omani siyar usually consist of around twenty to thirty pages each,5 and are considered to be among the most important historical and intellectual sources for both Omani political history and Iba∂i theological thought, and that for four main reasons. First, they address specific ideational topics, i.e. the points of view of the {ulama’ (religious scholars) who wrote them. Second, they represent exchanges between several parties about certain issues, theological and social, 1

EI 2, s.v. ‘sira’. MuÌammad b. ManÂur, Lisan al-¨arab (Beirut, 1955), 4:384; Isma¨il b. Îammad al-Jawhari, al-∑iÌaÌ fi al-lugha, ed. AÌmad ¨Abd al-Ghafur ¨A††ar (Cairo 1957), 2:691; MaÌmud b. ¨Umar al-Zamakhshari, Asas al-balagha, ed. ¨Abd al-RaÌim MaÌmud (Cairo 1953), 226; al-Firuzabadi, al-Qamus al-muÌi† (Cairo 1911), 2:54. 3 Qur}an, ™aha 20:18. 4 Martin Hinds, ‘Maghazi and Sira in Early Islamic Scholarship’, in Toufiq Fahd (ed.), La vie du Prophete Mahomet: Colloque de Strasbourg, 1980 (Paris 1983), 57–66. 5 Faruq ¨Umar, Muqaddima fi maÒadir al-tarikh al-¨umani (Baghdad 1979), 55. 2

116

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

which emerged at that time and needed to be discussed. Third, they usually include legal edicts, or fatwas, which by themselves reveal prevailing attitudes or opinions about specific issues. Fourth, they often include information about famous people (imams or ‘ulama’ ). On the origins of the Omani siyar. Crone and Zimmermann wrote: Most siras in the Omani sense of doctrinal epistles are pulpit manifestos (much as St. Paul’s epistles will have been), i.e. they are letters written to a congregation setting out what we should or should not believe or do, to be read aloud by a preacher. The sermons with which such siras begin, often quite long, reflect their original Sitz im Leben. The name under which they came to be known in Oman has its roots in the later Umayyad period, when sira seems to have been used in the sense of ‘doctrinal position’ or ‘stance’.6

The siyar also developed the term sira’s traditional Arabic sense of conduct or position. In a famous poem, the Murji} i poet Thabit Qu†na (d. 110/728) said: ‘Oh Hind, listen to me, our sira is that we worship God without giving Him a partner. We suspend judgment on things when they are doubtful’.7 Here, in setting out the basic tenets of Murji}ism, sira means doctrinal position.8 Also, when the Murji}i rebel al-Îarith b. Surayj was fighting against NaÒr b. Sayyar in Khurasan, he ordered his secretary Jahm b. ∑afwan to read publicly ‘kitab sayyara lahu [bihi?] sirat al-Îarith (a tract in which he put forward/propagated the sira of al-IsÌaq)’. Al-Îarith had written his sira and it was read aloud in the streets and mosques of Marw, as another version has it, and, according to another, he ordered Jahm to read aloud to the people his sira and what he was propagating.9 Again Crone and Zimmermann set out al-Îarith’s position in implicit or explicit contrast with that of the governor NaÒr. The tract in which the sira was recorded was composed for delivery to the public in a mosque.10 Likewise, Ridwan al-Sayyid through his research on the Zaydi epistles and monographs in Yemen found out that there is a convergence in using the term of sira between the Iba∂is in Oman and the Zaydis in Yemen in his discussion of the sira by MuÌammad al-Nafs al-Zakiya and he made a similar deduction to

6 Patricia Crone and Fritz Zimmermann, The Epistle of Salim ibn Dhakwan (Oxford 2001), 23. 7 Abu al-Faraj al-IÒfahani, al-Aghani (Cairo 1927–79), 14:270. 8 Crone and Zimmermann, The Epistle of Salim ibn Dhakwan, 23. 9 Ibn Khaldun, Tarikh (Beirut, n.d), 3:248. 10 Crone and Zimmermann, The Epistle of Salim ibn Dhakwan, 23.

117

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

Crone and Zimmerman as regards the sira’s root.11 Al-™abari also mentions that the term of sira was used by the imam Zayd b. ¨Ali and his son YaÌya.12 The term sira, although it invokes a mutual understanding among Omani Iba∂is to refer to a particular genre, has a different meaning and function when used by non-Omani Iba∂i groups, such as those in North Africa. Examples of these non-Omani siyar are al-Siyar waakhbar al-a}imma, known as Tarikh Abi Zakariya, by Abu Zakariya YaÌya b. Abi Bakr (d. c. 471/1078);13 Siyar mashayikh Jabal Naffusa, by Muqriyn b. MuÌammad al-Bagh†uri (sixth/twelfth century);14 Siyar al-Wisyani, by Abu al-Rabi ¨ Sulayman b. ¨Abd al-Salam al-Wisyani (sixth/twelfth century);15 K. ™abaqat al-mashayikh, by Abu al-¨Abbas AÌmad b. Sa¨id al-Darjini (d. c. 670/1271);16 K. al-Jawahir al-muntaqat fi ma akhalla bihi Kitab al-™abaqat, by Abu al-Qasim al-Barradi (d. second half eighth/fourteenth century);17 and K. al-Siyar by AÌmad b. Sa¨id al-Shammakhi (d. 928/1522).18 All these authors used the term sira to denote biography or biographical dictionary. Al-Barradi, however, gives a list19 of Eastern Mashriqi Iba∂i books that includes some of the Omani siyar. In 1970, Ennami gave a description of some early Iba∂i correspondence which is similar to the early Omani siyar.20

11

Ri∂wan al-Sayyid, al-Mujtama{ wa-al-umma wa-al-Òul†a1, (Beirut 1997), 167–

206.

™abari, History (Leiden, 1879–1901), 2: 1687–8. Abu Zakariya YaÌya b. Abi Bakr al-Warjalani, al-Siyar wa-akhbar al-a}imma, ed. al-¨Arabi Isma¨il (Algeria 1979); trans. E. Masqueray, Chronique d’Abou Zakaria (Algeria 1878); trans. R. Le Tourneau, ‘La chronique’ d’Abu Zakriyya} al-Warjlani}, Revue Africaine 104 (1960): 99–176, 322–90. 14 Tadeusez Lewicki, ‘La Repartition geographique des groupements Ibadites’, Rocznik Orientalistyczny 21 (1957), 309–43; ¨A. Ennami, ‘A Description of New Ibadi Manuscripts from North Africa’, JSS 15 (1970), 63–87. 15 Ennami, ‘A Description of New Ibadi Manuscripts from North Africa’, 85. 16 Abu al-¨Abbas Ahmad b. Sa¨id al-Darjini, Kitab †abaqat al-mashayikh, ed. by ™alay Ibrahim. (Constantine 1979). 17 Abu al-Qasim al-Barradi, K. al-Jawahir al-muntaqat fi ma akhalla bihi Kitab al-™abaqat (Cairo 1302/1885); Roberto Rubinacci, ‘Kitab al-Gawahir di al-Barradi’, Annali Istituto Orientale di Napoli 4 (1952), 95–110. 18 AÌmad b. Sa¨id al-Shammakhi, al-Siyar, 1st ed. (Cairo 1301/1884); 2nd ed. (Muscat 1984). 19 Abu al-Qasim al-Barradi, Risala fi taqyid kutub aÒÌabina: Dirasa fi tarikh al-iba∂iya, ed. M. ¨Azab and ¨Awa∂ (Cairo, 1994). Based on a manuscript in Dar al-Kutub al-MiÒriya, no. 21791.B. 20 Ennami, ‘A Description of New Ibadi Manuscripts from North Africa’, 65. 12

13

118

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

Michael Cook tried to assign distinctive features to mainstream religious epistles in Arabic literature,21 and proposed a method which might help to further delimit this genre. As far as the early Iba∂i tradition is concerned, he says: [T]he Iba∂ites seem to have left Iraq before Arabic literature was seriously affected by what one might loosely describe as the onset of belles lettres. The Iba∂i tradition is thus a relatively unembroidered one. The proliferation of worthless correspondence from ¨Umar II to all and sundry, which we find in the Sunni tradition is not paralleled in the Iba∂i record figures of equivalent stature. But by the same token, Iba∂i archaism carries its cost for us. It is here that the tradition of religious epistle stayed alive longest with the implication that the art of epistolary forgery probably did so too.22

When did these siyar start to be collected in volumes and who adopted and collected them? Salim al-Îarithi argues that Abu al-Îasan ¨Ali b. al-Îasan al-Bisyawi (fl. end of fourth/tenth–beginning of fifth/ eleventh century) was the first one to collect the siyar.23 On the other hand, Sayyida Kashif claims that they were first collected by Abu Bakr AÌmad b. ¨Abd Allah b. Musa al-Kindi (d. c. 557/1161), who wrote K. al-Ihtida} and K. al-Jawhar al-muqtaÒir, and who made use of several siyar.24 It could be argued that the siyar were collected after the third/ninth century on the orders of the Rustaq school, since both al-Bisyawi and al-Kindi were acolytes of this school. Another, theoretical, possibility is that Abu al-Îawari started to collect them at the beginning of the fourth/tenth century, since we have found a certain sira by Abu al-Mu}thir, which had been examined by Abu al-Îawari.25 But this would be a premature conclusion, since a detailed inspection of the siyar, as we shall show, indicates that many of them were written before the third/ninth century and, thus, before the formation of the Rustaq school. In addition, siyar continued to be written until the eleventh/seventeenth century. Before we analyse the Omani siyar, it is useful to determine the specific period in which siyar developed and relate them to Iba∂i thought in Oman. The period that we will cover is the first/seventh– eleventh/seventeenth centuries, for the following reasons: 21

For further details, see Michael Cook, Early Muslim Dogma (Cambridge 1981),

52. 22 23 24 25

Ibid. Salim al-Îarithi, al-¨Uqud al-fi∂∂iya fi tarikh al-iba∂iya (Beirut 1974), 145. Al-Siyar wa-al-jawabat, ed. Sayyida Kashif Isma¨il (Muscat 1984), 1:9. Al-Siyar wa-al-jawabat, 1:149. 119

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

1. The seminal biography of the Imam NaÒir b. Murshid al-Ya¨rubi, the Imam of Oman (from 1034/1624 until 1059/1649), written by ¨Abd Allah b. Khalfan b. QayÒar26 did not come into existence until the eleventh/seventeenth century. This sira is considered to be the first biography in Omani literature and the work which developed the idea of sira as biography. 2. The style of Omani historical compilations during this period was developing in new directions. 3. The development of the siyar was complete by the end of this period, and much of the work composed thereafter adds little more than embellishment and elaboration on the same themes. In addition, Omani historical works after the eleventh/seventeenth century ceased to use the sira form because it rarely suited their purposes. In the nineteenth century, Îumayd b. MuÌammad b. Ruzayq (d. 1291/1873) wrote a biography of Sultan Sa¨id b. Sul†an (1804– 56), entitled al-Badr al-tamam fi sirat al-Sayyid al-Humam Sa¨id b. Sul†an. He included it in his book al-FatÌ al-mubin fi sirat al-Sadat al-Bu Sa¨idiyin,27 which is divided into three sections. The first section deals with the tribe of al-Azd28 and their genealogy until the Bu Sa¨idiyin. In the second section, he gives some biographical details about the imams of Oman, and in the third, a narrative of the Bu Sa¨idiyin from 1741 until 1856. Furthermore, Abu MuÌammad ¨Abd Allah b. Îumayd al-Salimi (1866–1913) wrote the biography of his teacher ∑aliÌ b. ¨Ali al-Îarithi in his al-Îaqq al-jali fi sirat al-Shaykh ∑aliÌ b. ¨Ali.29 Like Ibn Ruzayq, he used the sira as a historical principle in his book TuÌfat al-a¨yan bi-sirat ahl ¨Uman, in which he says: ‘The influence of the Prophet and his Companions in Oman can be seen more than in any other country. My soul longed to write that which could tell the history of prominent leaders so that their history is known to the ignorant and that young scholars may see these as 26 Ibn QayÒar, Sirat al-Imam NaÒir b. Murshid, ed. ¨Abd al-Majid al-Qaysi (Muscat 1977). 27 Îumayd b. MuÌammad b. Ruzayq, al-FatÌ al-mubin fi sirat al-sada al-Bu Sa¨idiyin (Muscat 1977); trans. Rev. G.P. Badger: Salil Ibn Ruzayq, History of the Imams and Seyyids of Oman (London 1871). 28 Al-Azd are of three types: Azd Shanu}a, Azd al-Surat, and Azd ¨Uman. See details in Salama b. Muslim al-¨Awtabi, Ansab al-¨arab (Muscat, 1981–4), 1:43; Abu al-¨Abbas al-Qalqashandi, Nihayat al-arab fi ma¨rifat ansab al-¨arab (n.d.), 90; EI 2, s.v. ‘Azd’. 29 Including ∑aliÌ b. ¨Ali al-Îarithi, ¨Ayn al-maÒaliÌ fi jawabat al-Shaykh al-∑aliÌ (Damascus n.d).

120

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

leaders, despite the lack of material [about them] in this area’.30 Because of the diversity in Iba∂i thought in Oman, he adds: ‘As a result you do not normally find an integrated biography or comprehensive history about them [i.e. prominent leaders]’. He says that he searched as much as he could in the books of history and wrote what he could about the history of Oman.31 From this we can conclude that, although the earliest biography written in Oman was thought to have been written in the eleventh/ seventeenth century, the first sira, which recorded the history and death of the imams and ‘ulama’ of Oman, was in fact written in the early ninth/fifteenth century by MuÌammad b. ¨Abd Allah b. Maddad. This sira is considered a milestone in the development of the sira in Oman and is a remarkable biography. Nevertheless, the siyar had been pronounced as primary sources in the classic writings of Omani historians, such as al-Ansab (fifth/eleventh century) by A. al-Mundhir al-¨Awtabi,32 Kashf al-ghumma: al-Jami¨ li akhbar al-umma (eleventh/ seventeenth) attributed to SirÌan b. Sa¨id al-Izkawi,33 al-shu¨a ¨ al-Sha}i¨ bi }l-lum¨an fi dhikr a}immat ¨Uman34 by Îumayd b. MuÌammad b. Ruzayq (d. 1875) and TuÌfat al-a¨yan bi sirat ahl ¨Uman by Nur alDin ¨Abdullah al-Salimi (1866–1914). II Introductory Remarks about the Context of the Omani Siyar Before identifying the siyar that have survived, we must take into account several factors: 1. The Omani siyar were issued as individual manuscripts in Oman; there was no collection or collation of them until the eleventh/ seventeenth century. This is the period which witnessed the first of the Omani siyar collections in a book entitled K. al-Siyar al-¨umaniya or al-Siyar al-iba∂iya. Some of these siyar are still in manuscript form, and were written in different times and places. 2. Collections of Omani siyar were made at different times. 30 ¨Abd Allah al-Salimi, TuÌfat al-a¨yan bi-sirat ahl ¨Uman, ed. A. IsÌaq A†fayyish (Cairo 1380/1961). 31 Ibid., 1:4. 32 Al-¨Awtabi, Ansab. 33 SirÌan, ‘Annals of Oman’, trans. E.C. Ross, The Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal 1, no. 2 (1874). 34 Îumayd b. MuÌammad b. Ruzayq, al-Shu¨a¨ al-sha}i¨ bi-al-lum¨an fi dhikr a}immat ¨Uman (Muscat 1978). Based on a manuscript in the Cambridge University Library, which consists of 184 lines of poetry on the imams preceding the Bu Sa¨ids.

121

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

3. Some of the siyar which have been included in these differently dated collections are not Omani or Iba∂i but general Islamic literature, like the Sirat al-nabi ila al-¨Ala} b. al-Îa∂rami or Risalat Abi Bakr ila ¨Umar b. al-Kha††ab. They have been included in these collections because they give indirect support to the Iba∂i sect. 4. Most of the siyar have clear aims, and are similar to what we might now refer to as monographs. These siyar fall generally into four main categories in terms of the manner by which they are identified: first, by name of the author, as in the Sira of Salim b. Dhakwan (second/ eighth century), and the Sira of Khalaf b. Ziyad al-BaÌrani (second/ eighth century); second by name of writer and the people to whom the letter is addressed, as in the Sira of Imam Muhanna b. Jayfar (226–37/841–51) to Mu¨adh b. Îarb, and the Sira of MuÌammad b. MaÌbub to Abu Ziyad Khalaf b. ¨Udhra.; third by the subject with which they are concerned, as in the Sira of Abu al-Mundhir Bashir b. MuÌammad b. MaÌbub (third/ninth century) Fi al-Ìadath al-waqi¨ bi-¨Uman, about the events that took place in Oman, and Sirat al-su}al by Abu al-Îasan ¨Ali b. MuÌammad al-Bisyawi (late fourth/tenth–early fifth/eleventh century); fourth is by topical title, as in K. al-AÌdath wa-al-Òifat and K. al-Muwazana. 5. Some siyar deal with more than one topic and, when this is so, additions are made to the second topic by copyists.35 In other 35

Wilkinson suggests that the problems of identifying the Omani primary sources are: First, the conventions followed by the ‘ulama’ when citing their sources. The following basic rules seem to apply: (a) they usually quote sources when opinions or attitudes are involved; (b) they frequently quote a source when it contributes something of special importance; (c) they quote when their source is not generally known by scholars or it is questionable; (d) conversely, when the material seems to be generally accepted, the sources are not normally given. This, therefore, leaves a major area of unsupported statements, which probably can never be identified. Second, there is a problem of identifying the shorthand of the quoted source, e.g. ‘Abu Sa¨ id says…’ or ‘in the MuÒannaf I have found….’ This is relatively easy to overcome if the student is prepared to immerse himself in the scholarly tradition of the Iba∂i ‘ulama’. Thus, one soon learns that Abu Sa¨id is MuÌammad b. Sa¨ id al-Kudami, and one will not confuse him with MuÌammad b. Sa¨id al-Qalhati. Third, there is the bibliographical problem of establishing the work that an author wrote, what has survived, and whether a direct quotation is in fact from the original source or from a version preserved in some other work. See: John Wilkinson, “Bio-bibliographical Background to the Crisis Period in the Iba∂i Imamate of Oman,” Arabian Studies 3 (1976): 139. 122

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

words, the copyists thought it useful to add their own comments about some subject that is dealt with in the sira. An example can be found in the Sira of Abu al-Mu}thir al-∑alt b. Khamis.

In investigating the Omani siyar, it was found that a number of manuscripts had been grouped in collections: 1. The copy from the Ministry of National Heritage and Culture (MNHC) in Muscat. Kitab al-Siyar was written in 1299/1881 and collected in three volumes. (MS 1). 2. The copy from the al-Salimi library in Biddiya. It was written in 1120/1708 and collected in one volume entitled Kitab al-Siyar. (MS 2). 3. The copy from the collected manuscripts of AÌmad b. NaÒir alSayfi in Nizwa. It was written in 1141/1728 and collected in three volumes entitled al-Siyar al-iba∂iya. (MS 3). 4. Kitab Taqyid by Abu MuÌammad ¨Abd Allah b. Baraka (fourth/ tenth century). It is kept in the al-Salimi library in Biddiya, and was written in 972/1564. (MS 4). 5. Al-Sira al-kalawiya. There are two manuscript copies belonging to MNHC. The acquisition numbers of these two manuscripts are 138 and 1409. (MS 5). 6. The microfilm manuscript of al-Siyar in the Cambridge University Library, Or.1402. The date of this manuscript is unknown.36 (Mc. 1). 7. The microfilm manuscript of al-Siyar in the Wilkinson Archive at Exeter University Library. This came from the University of Lwow, and was used by Lewicki in the Encyclopaedia of Islam.37 (Mc. 2) Published Works Consulted: 1. K. al-Siyar wa-al-jawabat, edited by Sayyida Kashif Isma¨ il in 1984. This manuscript is in the library of MNHC, and the original manuscript is said by the editor to be dated 7 Jumada I 1009 (13 November 1600). (Pub. 1).38 2. TuÌfat al-a¨yan bi-sirat ahl ¨Uman, by ¨Abd Allah b. Îumayd alSalimi (1284–1332/1875–1913). (Pub. 2). 36

This microfilm was used by Michael Cook in Early Muslim Dogma and Crone and Zimmermann in The Epistle of Salim ibn Dhakwan. 37 EI 2, s.v. “Iba∂iyya.” 38 Al-Siyar wa-al-jawabat, 1:17. 123

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

3. ItÌaf al-a¨yan fi tarikh ba¨∂ ‘ulama’ ¨Uman, by Sayf b. Îammud b. Îamid al-Ba††ashi. (Pub. 3).39 4. K. Fawakih al-¨ulum fi †a¨at al-Îayy al-Qayyum, by Sa¨id b. AÌmad al-Kharassini (late eleventh/seventeenth–early twelfth/eighteenth century). (Pub. 4).40 For convenience, the Omani siyar will be studied according to three criteria: I- Chronology II- Subject III- Form Background debates concerning the authenticity of the siyar through a detailed examination of their contents will be explored and developed. III Chronology and Subject of the Siyar The First Period This period extends from the beginning of Islam until the first Imamate in Oman (131/748). It is divided into six stages: 1A. The first stage covers siyar that were written by neither Iba∂i nor Omani writers, consisting in fact of letters from the Prophet or his Companions. Only the Omani writers have collated these letters as siyar, possibly because there are parallels and similarities between them and the siyar penned by Omani writers. They appear under the rubric siyar only in the collection of al-Sayfi in the city of Nizwa (MS 3), and are arranged under the following topics: I A sira from the Prophet MuÌammad to al-{Ala} b. al-Îarith; the Prophet had appointed the latter governor of Bahrain. Sources reckon that this sira was written in the year 4 /625.41 39 Sayf al-Ba††ashi, ItÌaf al-a¨yan fi tarikh ba¨∂ ‘ulama’ ¨Uman (Muscat, 1st ed. 1992, 2nd ed. 1998). 40 Sa¨id al-Kharasini, Fawakih al-¨ulum fi †a¨at al-Îayy al-Qayyum (Muscat 1996). 41 MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 1; Mc. 2. In fact, there are some who doubt the authenticity of this sira, because the Prophet began to send his missionaries in the year 8/629; the end of the sira says ‘stamped by the ring of the Prophet’, whereas the Prophet used the ring only after the year 6/627. Moreover, the sira mentions Mu¨awiyah b. Abi Sufyan among the witnesses, although he only embraced Islam in 8/629. We can also find this sira in the Iba∂i tradition of North Africa by al-Ji†ali (sixth/twelfth century), Qana†ir al-khayrat (Muscat, 1989), 3:296. Wilkinson adds that, according to the text, this sira could have been quoted by Abu IsÌaq al-Îa∂rami

124

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

II A sira in the form of a letter from the caliph Abu Bakr to ¨Ali b. Abi ™alib.42 III A sira in the form of a letter from ¨Umar b. al-Kha††ab to ¨Ali b. Abi ™alib.43 IV A sira in the form of a letter from ¨Ali b. Abi ™alib to Abu ¨Ubayda ¨Amir b. al-JarraÌ.44 V A sira in the form of a sermon given by ¨Ali b. Abi ™alib on the day Abu Bakr died.45 VI A sira in the form of a statement by Abu Bakr addressed to ¨Umar b. al-Kha††ab.46 1B. The second stage covers siyar that reflect important events occurring after the crisis resulting from the assassination of the caliph ¨Uthman b. ¨Affan. The following siyar deal with the events of the period 35–45/656–65: VII An anonymous summary of the accomplishments of ¨Uthman b. ¨Affan during his caliphate, known as MukhtaÒar min kitab Òifat aÌdath ¨Uthman b. ¨Affan. Al-Barradi includes it among the first of the Eastern Iba∂i compilations that were written in the second/eighth century.47 VIII A letter from ¨Ali b. Abi ™alib to the people of Nahrawan.48 IX A letter from the Muslims of Nahrawan to ¨Ali b. Abi ™alib.49 X A sira in the form of a debate between the Muslims of Nahrawan and ¨Abd Allah b. al-¨Abbas.50

in The Imamate Tradition of Oman (Cambridge 1987), 167, 342; Abu Bakr alKindi, al-Ihtida}, ed. Sayyida Kashif Isma¨il (Muscat 1986), 240–9. 42 MS 3. 43 MS 3. 44 MS 3. 45 MS 3. 46 MS 3. Ibn al-Athir, al-Kamil, edited by ¨Abd al-Wahhab al-Najar. (Cairo, 1348/1930–1349/1931), 1:8. 47 MS 3; Mc. 1. Al-Barradi mentions this sira; Risala fi taqyid kutub aÒÌabina, 53. This sira raises questions about its authenticity. Crone and Zimmermann comment: ‘It cites information from the Kufan Shi¨ite al-A¨mash (d. 148/765) and gives verbatim extracts from Ibn IsÌaq (d. about 150/767), mostly without acknowledgement, though it does name him on one occasion. The work is unlikely to have been written much before the 150s/770s’. The Epistle of Salim ibn Dhakwan, 190. 48 MS 3. See also Ibn al-Athir, al-Kamil, 3:171. 49 MS 3; Mc. 2. 50 MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 1. Cf. M. Kafafi, ‘The Rise of Kharijism according to Abu Sa¨ id MuÌammad b. Sa¨id al-Azdi al-Qalhati’, Bulletin of the Faculty of Arts (Cairo) 14 (1952), 29–48. 125

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

XI A letter from ¨Ali b. Abi ™alib to ¨Abd Allah b. ¨Abbas, when the latter was accused of embezzeling money from Basra when he left from the Hijaz.51 XII A sira that includes letters written by ¨Ali b. Abi ™alib to ¨Abd Allah b. ¨Abbas.52 XIII An anonymous sira known as Sira fi al-radd ¨ala ahl al-shakk. This sira was composed in response to those who harboured doubts about the people of Nahrawan, and attempts to explain why the latter had rejected the arbitration between ¨Ali and Mu¨awiya.53 1C. The third stage is a collection of siyar which reflect the organization of the Iba∂i movement and the communications between its centre in Basra and several other groups of Iba∂is. It also presents political, theological and legal issues among Islamic sects. The third stage includes the following siyar: XIV A sira from ¨Abd Allah b. Iba∂ (the eponym of the Iba∂iya) to ¨Abd al-Malik b. Marwan.54 The first of two, it is specifically about ¨Uthman and Mu¨awiya. As such, it is a well-known correspondence and is considered to be one of the first Iba∂i works that clarifies Iba∂i thought as it stood in the first/seventh century.55

51

MS 3; Mc. 1. See Ibn Khaldun, Tarikh, 2:1131. MS 3; Mc. 1. 53 MS 3; Mc. 1. 54 MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 1; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 2:325. 55 Michael Cook devotes a chapter to discussing the authenticity of the letters of ¨Abd Allah b. Iba∂ to ¨Abd al-Malik b. Marwan. Ibn Iba∂’s first letter is about ¨Uthman and Mu¨awiya, and his second one concerns ¨Ali and his son al-Îasan. Cook believes that one cannot accept the first letter as a genuine composition of Ibn Iba∂. It is probably a copy of a letter from Jabir b. Zayd to some of his students at the end of the second/eighth century. Cook adds that if we accept the authenticity of the letter, we would consider that the letter is actually from Jabir b. Zayd to ¨Abd al-Malik b. al-Muhallab b. Abi ∑ufra. He states that the form of the first letter is characteristic of letters dating to the end of the Umayyad period. Cook tries in his arguments to cast some doubts on the existence of Ibn Iba∂. Cook, Early Muslim Dogma, 51–67. See also Carl Brockelmann, Geschichte der arabischen Literatur Supplementband (Leiden 1936–42), 1:104; L. Sachau, ‘Über die religiösen Anschauungen der Ibaditischen Muhammedaner in Oman und Ostafrika’, Mittheilungen des Seminars für Orientalische Sprachen 4 (1898), 61–82; Josef van Ess, Anfänge muslimischer Theologie (Beirut 1977), 7, 12, 151; R. Rubinacci, ‘Il califfo ¨Abd al-Malik b. Marwan egli Ibadite’, Annali dell’ Istituto Universitario Orientale di Napoli 5 (1953), 106–21; van Ess, Theologie und Gesellschaft, (Berlin and New York 1992–7), 2:187–90. 52

126

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

XV A sira by Jabir b. Zayd (d. c. 93/711).56 Jabir is considered to be the first Iba∂i leader in Basra. This sira is mentioned only by the author of Jami¨ Ibn Ja¨far and has not yet been found.57 XVI A sira which records the sayings of Jabir b. Zayd. This sira is known only from a quotation in the aforementioned Jami¨ Ibn Ja¨far.58 XVII A sira by Abu ¨Ubayda Muslim b. Abi Karima (d. c. 158/ 775)59 and Abu Ayyub Wa}il b. Ayyub al-Îa∂rami.60 Abu ¨Ubayda was the second Iba∂i imam who organized the Iba∂i movement in Basra after Jabir b. Zayd. Abu ¨Ubayda and Abu Ayyub, who were originally from the Îa∂ramawt, were regarded as third- and fourthgeneration Iba∂is respectively. This sira talks about the nature of those human beings who insist on committing sins; as such it is considered to be the first Iba∂i theological tract. The sira explains the concept of reward and punishment earned by human actions, pointing out that, while the performance of good deeds leads to paradise, people who insist on committing sins will reside permanently in hellfire.61 XVIII A sira by Abu ¨Ubayda Muslim b. Abi Karima and Abu Mawdud Îajib b. Mawdud al-™a}i to al-Fa∂l b. Kathir. Abu Mawdud died in Basra between 136/753 and 148/764, and certainly before Abu ¨Ubayda.62 He was also considered as a second-generation Iba∂i and one of the political organizers of the movement in Basra. This sira discusses Iba∂i opinions on the theological issue of free will and predestination.63 XIX A sira by Abu ¨Ubayda Muslim b. Abi Karima. This sira consists of advice given to the followers of the Iba∂i sect, encouraging them to continue their work and activities in a more discrete way.64 XX A sira in the form of a letter from Abu Mawdud to Abu al-Îurr b. al-Îusayn. Abu al-Îurr, regarded as second-generation, was a member of the Iba∂i delegation that went to the Caliph ¨Umar 56

EI 2, s.v. ‘Djabir b. Zayd’; van Ess, TG, 2:190. Ibn Ja¨far, Jami¨, MNHC, (Muscat 1981), 1:158. 58 Ibid., 1:93. 59 EI 2, s.v. ‘Iba∂iyya’; van Ess, TG, 2:193. Abu ¨Ubayda seems to have died after 150/760, because Abu ¨Ubayda ordered the killing of Ma¨n b. Za}idah alShaybani after Ma¨n killed Zajir al-Îa∂rami. Ma¨n was killed in Sistan in 150/760. Al-Shammakhi, al-Siyar, 1:107. 60 Al-Darjini, ™abaqat al-mashayikh, 2:278. 61 MS 3; Mc. 1. 62 Van Ess, TG, 2:196. 63 MS 3. 64 MS 3; Mc. 1. 57

127

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

b. ¨Abd al-¨Aziz (99–101/717–720). This sira sheds light on the events which caused its author to leave Basra, and records the problems that he encountered, such as fear and expulsion.65 XXI A sira by Imam ¨Abd Allah b. YaÌya ™alib al-Îaqq (d. 131/ 748). ™alib al-Îaqq was the Iba∂i leader of Yemen and Îa∂ramawt who revolted against the Umayyads in 129/746. This sira has been mentioned by al-Barradi, but has not yet come to light.66 It is, perhaps, the sermon given by ™alib al-Îaqq when he occupied Yemen.67 XXII A sira from MaÌbub b. al-RaÌil68 to Imam ¨Abd Allah b. YaÌya ™alib al-Îaqq. This sira was written when ™alib al-Îaqq rebelled in Yemen. It is recorded by al-Darjini.69 XXIII A sira by Abu Mawdud Îajib b. Abi Mawdud al-™a}i. This sira is in the form of an invitation to the Iba∂i people to organize themselves for jihad and revolution in order to establish the Imamate. As such, it illustrates the fundamental principles of Iba∂i political thought: equality among the people and the principle of consultation (shura ).70 XXIV A sira by Abu Ayyub Wa}il b. Ayyub al-Îa∂rami. This sira, for which the author has chosen the title Nasab al-islam (The Genealogy of Islam), is a summary of the main Islamic teachings. It also illustrates the Iba∂i position on the doctrine of divine unity (tawÌid ), refuting both anthropomorphism and the notion of the vision of God on the Day of Resurrection. The sira supports the idea that Islam consists of both faith and deeds.71 XXV A sira by Salim b. Dhakwan al-Hilali. Ibn Dhakwan was a member of the Iba∂i delegation which went to the Caliph ¨Umar b. ¨Abd al-¨Aziz (reg. 99–101/717–20). This sira is considered to be the most important Iba∂i document of the first half of the second/ eighth century. Cook argues that it could be dated between 72/680 and 73/681,72 while Crone and Zimmermann suggest a date in the range of 133–77/750–93.73 This sira discusses several ways in which Iba∂i beliefs might be maintained. Additionally, it clarifies the differences 65

MS 3. Al-Barradi, Risala fi taqyid kutub aÒÌabina, 61. 67 IÒfahani, al-Aghani, 23:236. 68 EI2, s.v. ‘MaÌbub b. al-RaÌil’; van Ess, TG, 2:201. 69 Al-Darjini, ™abaqat al-mashayikh, 2:279; al-Barradi, Risala fi taqyid kutub aÒÌabina, 56. 70 MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 1. 71 MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub, 2:46. 72 Cook, Early Muslim Dogma, 20, 89, 103. 73 Crone and Zimmermann, The Epistle of Salim ibn Dhakwan, 299. 66

128

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

in theological opinion between the Iba∂is and other Islamic sects, specifically the Murji}a. The sira rejects all Khariji opinions of the Azariqa, the Najdiya and the ∑ufriya, and their followers ¨A†iya b. ¨Amir, Abu Dawud and Abu Fudayk. It also expresses opinions on the issue of predestination, divine decree, and free will.74 XXVI A sira from Abu ¨Ubayda and Abu Mawdud Îajib to the people of the Maghrib (North Africa). This is in the form of a letter to the Iba∂i people of Tripoli (Libya), advising them to remain united and to eschew division and sectarianism.75 A secondary aim of this sira was to interpret three fundamental principles of Islamic dogma (uÒul al-din) held by the Iba∂is, namely association (walaya), dissociation (bara}a), and suspended judgment (wuquf ). The authors advise the Iba∂is to adopt the principle of wuquf with regard to the murder of ¨Uthman.76 XXVII A sira in the form of a letter from Abu ¨Ubayda Muslim b. Abi Karima and Abu Mawdud Îajib al-™a}i to the people of Oman. The date is unknown. This sira was written and sent in order to quell the sedition in Oman caused by Qutaybah b. Dirham and Sadus b. Yusuf, who were responsible for buying a free man from Thabit b. Juhri and enslaving him. This led the Iba∂i {ulama’ to proclaim dissociation (bara}a) from what they had done. This crisis demonstrated a lack of control in the internal affairs of Oman on the part of the authorities, and also led to confusion among scholars and some tribes at that time. Internal evidence in the sira points to its having been penned after the imamate of al-Julanda b. Mas¨ud in 134/750.77 74 MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 1. This sira is translated and studied by Crone and Zimmermann in The Epistle of Salim ibn Dhakwan. It is also studied by Cook in Early Muslim Dogma. Also see ¨A. K. Ennami, ‘Studies in Iba∂ism’ (Ph.D. diss., Univ. of Cambridge, 1971); van Ess, TG, 1:174; 2:661. 75 The year 132/748 witnessed the murder of al-Îarith b. Talid al-Îa∂rami and ¨Abd al-Jabbar b. Qays al-Murradi. The people found the corpses of ¨Abd al-Jabbar and al-Îarith, each with the other’s sword in his body. Some blamed their deaths on ¨Abd al-RaÌman b. Îabib, who was the Abbasid governor (wali) of North Africa, claiming that he murdered them because he was afraid of the gradual extension of Iba∂i influence into North Africa. The murders were not connected with the attempt to establish the first Iba∂i Imamate in North Africa (140–4/758–62) by Abu al-Kha††ab ¨Abd al-A¨la b. al-SamÌ al-Ma¨afiri. Cf. MuÌammad Khalifat, Nash}a† al-Ìaraka al-iba∂iya (Amman 1978), 139–42; Werner Schwartz, Die Anfänge der Ibadin in Nordafrika (Wiesbaden 1983), 129–36; Ulrich Rebstock, Die Ibaditen im Magrib (2/8-4/10) (Berlin 1983), 53. 76 MS 3. 77 MS 3.

129

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

XXVIII A sira from Abu ¨Ubayda al-Maghribi to Imam ¨Abd alWahhab b. ¨Abd al-RaÌman, the second Rustamid Imam of Tahart (168–208/784–823), whose accession to power sparked the Nukkar schism. This letter, which concerns the imam’s election, should be treated cautiously: if genuine, it provides a new terminus a quo for Abu ¨Ubayda’s death.78 At the end of the document there are several passages on Quranic exegesis. In fact, as it is well known that Abu ¨Ubayda’s death was in the 150s/770s, there are doubts concerning the sira’s authenticity. In this regard, compare this work with the sira from al-Rabi¨ b. Îabib to the people of the Maghrib (XXXIII).79 XXIX A sira by Hilal b. ¨A†iya al-Khurasani (d. 134/751). Hilal was a judge in the service of Imam al-Julanda b. Mas¨ud (132–4/749–51), hailing originally from Khurasan. This sira has yet to be found.80 XXX A sira by Khalaf b. Ziyad al-BaÌrani (second/eighth century). Khalaf was among the companions of Imam al-Julanda b. Mas¨ud. He was originally from Bahrain before going to Oman and joining al-Shurat, meaning the people who follow the idea of ‘selling’ oneself in God’s cause. He later became one of the leaders of al-Shurat. His sira outlines the underlying structure of al-Shurat and illustrates Iba∂i political and theological thought as it stood in the first half of the second/eighth century. The particular issue discussed in this sira is the unity of words and deeds. It also includes a response to the Khawarij, whom the author considers dissenters on account of the fact that they arrogated to themselves the authority to kill and take the property of any Muslim who disagreed with their ideas.81 XXXI A sira by Shabib b. ¨A†iyah al-Khurasani. Shabib was one of the army commanders of Imam al-Julanda b. Mas¨ud during the latter’s fight against the Abbasids in 134/752. He was among the migrants from Khurasan, although Ibn Baraka identifies him as an Omani.82 He later lived in Oman, where he was known as a market 78 Wilkinson, ‘The Fiqh and other Early Manuscripts in the Muscat Collection’, Arabian Studies 4 (1978), 191–207. However, al-Baruni claims that this sira was a letter from Abu ¨Ubayda Muslim to Imam ¨Abd al-Wahhab. See Sulayman al-Baruni, al-Azhar al-riya∂iya (Cairo 1324/1905), 2:611. On the other hand, ¨Ali Dabbuz argues that this sira could be attributed to Abu ¨Ubayda ¨Abd al-Îamid al-Jinawani, who was a scholar from Jabal Naffusa at the end of the second/eighth century. ¨Ali Dabbuz, Tarikh al-maghrib al-kabir (Cairo 1963), 3:181. On al-Jinawani, see EI 2, s.v. ‘Djanawani’; al-Darjini, ™abaqat al-mashayikh, 2:291. 79 MS 1; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 2:320. 80 Pub. 1, 1:300; Pub. 4, 3:241. 81 MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 1. 82 Pub. 1, 2:313.

130

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

inspector (muÌtasib), and he collected taxes. He continued this work after the death of al-Julanda up until shortly before the establishment of the imamate of MuÌammad b. ¨Abd Allah b. Abi ¨Affan (177– 9/793–5). Shabib wrote this sira after the death of Imam al-Julanda. We could consider this sira to stem from the period 140–65/756–81. The sira talks about a very important issue, namely that faith includes a combination of both words and deeds. The writer also calls for jihad in order to affect a revolution designed to re-establish the principles of early Islam, namely justice, equality, and shura.83 XXXII A sira by Shabib b. ¨A†iya to ¨Abd al-Salam, a replication of al-Shakkak min al-murji}a (those who had doubted the righteousness of the people of Nahrawan). This sira was probably written in the 160s/780s, because Shabib died before the establishment of Imam MuÌammad b. ¨Abd Allah b. Abi ¨Affan in 177/793.84 The sira shows the different theological positions taken in debates at that time among the various Islamic sects. This sira is a response to the Murji}i stance on the definition of faith as a combination of words and deeds. It also includes a reply to al-Shakkak, which claimed that ¨Uthman, ¨Ali b. Abi ™alib, and Mu¨awiya had made mistakes.85 XXXIII A sira from al-Rabi¨ b. Îabib (75–175/694–792)86 to the people of the Maghrib. This sira takes the form of a letter from Imam al-Rabi¨ to the Iba∂is of Tahart, in southern Algeria, after they fell into disagreement and schism over Imam ¨Abd al-Wahhab b. ¨Abd al-RaÌman b. Rustam (171–208/788–824), the second Rustamid imam. Al-Rabi¨ had supported the imamate of ¨Abd al-Wahhab; however, a conflict arose at that time among the Iba∂is, spearheaded by Yazid b. Fandin and his followers, who were known as al-Nukkar (the deniers) as a result of their rejection of Imam ¨Abd al-Wahhab.87 Van Ess, however, does not accept that al-Rabi¨ had a role in this schism.88 XXXIV A sira by Musa b. Abi Jabir (d. 181/797). He was one of four people who were Ìamalat al-¨ilm (missionaries) from Basra to Oman. He was also one of the most influential people in the imamate of MuÌammad b. ¨Abd Allah b. Abi ¨Affan al-YaÌmadi (177–9/793–5) 83 MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 1; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 2:346. See also the comments on this sira by Cook, Early Muslim Dogma, 57, 179. 84 Al-Salimi, TuÌfat al-a¨yan, 1:111. 85 MS 3; Mc. 1. Al-Barradi mentions it as among the early Eastern Iba∂i compositions. See Risala fi taqyid kutub aÒÌabina, 54. 86 Cook suggests that Rabi¨ died after 200 AH. Early Muslim Dogma, 56, 179. 87 MS 1. 88 Van Ess, TG, 2:198.

131

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

in Oman. Musa was mufti of Oman after Imam al-Julanda b. Mas¨ud until Imam Ghassan b. ¨Abd Allah al-FajÌi (192–207/808–23). This sira is a political statement explaining the reasons behind the removal of Imam MuÌammad b. ¨Abd Allah b. Abi ¨Affan from the Imamate. One of these reasons was his severity in running the country’s affairs.89 1D. The fourth stage covers the siyar that were written during the imamates of Ghassan b. ¨Abd Allah al-FajÌi (192–207/808–23) and ¨Abd al-Malik b. Îumayd (208–26/823–41). The Imamate in Oman during their time was stronger because the Omanis succeeded in restoring it. XXXV The sira of Abu Mawdud Îabib b. ÎafÒ al-Hilali. He is believed to have been an Iba∂i scholar operating in Oman in the second/eighth century. This sira is in the form of a letter of advice to Imam Ghassan b. ¨Abd Allah al-FajÌi upon the latter’s accession to the Imamate. The author recommends that the imam strengthen the Imamate in Oman by promoting justice and equality among the people.90 XXXVI A sira from Munir b. al-Nayyir al-Riyami al-Ja¨lani 91 to Imam Ghassan b. ¨Abd Allah. Munir was one of the aforementioned quartet of missionaries (Ìamalat al-¨ilm) sent from Basra to Oman to help in the establishment of the Imamate in Oman after Imam al-Julanda was overthrown. This sira, like the preceding one, lauds the righteousness of the previous imams and the Iba∂i {ulama’. The author informs Imam Ghassan about a band of pirates who were attacking ships in the Gulf and the Indian Ocean. The pirates’ latest 89

MS 3; Mc. 1. MS 3; Mc. 1. 91 Al-Ba††ashi gives an account of his genealogy as Munir b. al-Nayyir b. ¨Abd al-Malik b. Wassar b. Wahab b. ¨Ubayd b. ∑alt b. YaÌya b. Îa∂rami b. Riyam al-Riyami; Pub. 3, 1:171. However, there is a debate about the date of his death and about whether they were one or two persons, because he has been mentioned twice. First, he is mentioned among the Ìamalat al-¨ilm from Basra to Oman. See Al-Salimi, al-Lum¨a al-mur∂iya min ashi¨¨at al-iba∂iya (Muscat 1983), 12. Second, he is mentioned as having been killed in 280/893 at Dama. See Al-Salimi, TuÌfat al-a¨yan, 1:260. Thus his existence is unclear. Cf. Crone and Zimmermann, The Epistle of Salim ibn Dhakwan, 341. It can be deduced that there is only one figure named Munir b. al-Nayyir (d.c. 220s) and this deduction emerges for two reasons: 1. Munir is not mentioned in Omani Iba∂i tradtion since 220s, 2. he was not among the scholars who elected the Imamate in Oman since the Imam ¨Abd al-Malik b. Îumayd. See further ¨Abd al-Rahman al-Salimi, Ishkalat tawthiq al-shakhsiyat al-¨Umaniya al-mubakira: Munir b. al-Nayyir al-namudhaja, Nizwa magazine, Muscat, v44. 90

132

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

atrocity was the slaughter of more than fifty people in the region between Basra and western Oman. No one had been able to capture them. Consequently, the Imam built the first fleet in Oman to destroy them. This mission was completed successfully during the imamate of ¨Abd al-Malik b. Îumayd (208–26/823–41). This in turn led to the expansion of the Imamate outside the Indian Ocean and helped to spread Iba∂i thought in Asia and East Africa. As such, this is an extremely significant event in the history of Oman, signalling the achievement of independence for Oman from the Abbasid caliphate.92 XXXVII A sira from Hashim b. Ghaylan al-Sijani to Imam ¨Abd al-Malik b. Îumayd (208–26/823–41). Hashim was a powerful member of the {ulama’ during the imamate of ¨Abd al-Malik. In this sira, he answers some questions posed by the imam about the battle of ∑iffin, ¨Ali, Mu¨awiya, and the people of Nahrawan.93 XXXVIII A sira from Hashim b. Ghaylan al-Sijani to Imam ¨Abd al-Malik b. Îumayd. This sira concerns the Qadariya and the Murji}a, whose missionaries had established footholds in the cities of Sohar and Tuwam.94 At this time, theological debates between the various Islamic sects was on the rise. Oman had become a main centre for the influx of new theological ideas, since it was in close contact with the Abbasid capital of Baghdad. Iba∂i thought comes into greater focus after the establishment of the Imamate in Oman and its independence from the Abbasid caliphate.95 XXXIX A sira addressed to Imam ¨Abd al-Malik b. Îumayd from Hashim b. Ghaylan, MuÌammad b. Musa, al-Azhar b. ¨Ali, al-¨Abbas b. al-Azhar, Musa b. MuÌammad, Musa b. ¨Ali, MuÌammad b. ¨Ali, and Sa¨id b. Ja¨far. All of these third/ninth century scholars hailed from Izki.96 This sira is in the form of a letter of advice to the imam concerning some of the people around him.97 XL A sira addressed to Imam ¨Abd al-Malik b. Îumayd from Musa b. ¨Ali and Hashim b. Ghaylan and the people of Izki. This sira 92

MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 1; Pub. 1, 1:229. MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 1; Pub, 1:36. 94 Shams al-Din al-Muqaddasi, AÌsan al-taqasim fi ma¨rifat al-aqalim, ed. M.J. de Goeje (Leiden 1906), 93. Tuwam is present-day Buraymi. 95 MS 1; MS 2; MS 3. 96 Local tradition has it that Izki (in pre-Islamic times, Jurnan, from the name of the idol worshipped there) is the oldest settlement in Oman, pre-dating Nizwa by fifty years. See J. Wilkinson, ‘The Origins of the Aflaj of Oman’, Journal of Oman Studies 6 (1978), 177–94. 97 MS 3; Mc. 1. 93

133

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

is very similar to the preceding one, consisting of advice to the imam on the necessity of adherence to Islamic jurisprudence.98 XLI A sira from Musa b. ¨Ali b. ¨Uzra (177–230/784–845) to Imam ¨Abd al-Malik b. Îumayd. This sira is a reply to the imam concerning the issue of jihad. Musa was the grandson of Musa b. Abi Jabir and a student of Hashim b. Ghaylan. He was a powerful figure in Oman at the end of the imamate of ¨Abd al-Malik b. Îumayd whom some of the Iba∂i scholars wanted to remove from the Imamate because of his failure to run the affairs of the country successfully, and on account of his advancing years. Musa, however, was against the idea of isolating the imam. His role increased in importance during the imamate of Muhanna b. Jayfar al-FajÌi (226–37/841–51), because he was considered among the ahl al-Ìall wa-al-¨aqd (those who loosen and bind, i.e. the decision-makers).99 XLII A sira from Musa b. ¨Ali to ¨Abd al-Malik b. Îumayd. In this sira, Musa advises the imam not to appoint certain men to his government. As such, it demonstrates the role of the ‘ulama’ in the first Imamate of Oman.100 XLIII A sira from Musa b. ¨Ali to the ‘ulama’ and al-Shurat. In this sira, Musa divides people into three groups: unbelievers, Muslims, and ingrates (kuffar al-ni¨am). The relationship between the Iba∂is and the non-Iba∂is is clarified, and the concepts of walaya and bara}a are discussed.101 1E. The fifth stage covers the siyar which appeared during the imamate of Muhanna b. Jayfar al-FajÌi (226–37/841–51). The Iba∂i movement had at this point succeeded in extending the Islamic state. The Imamate of the Rustamids in North Africa was in a stronger position, especially after having established trade routes through the Sahara. The two also exchanged opinions on theological issues such as the creation of the Qur}an. The siyar of this stage are: XLIV A sira from Imam Muhanna b. Jayfar (226–37/841–51) to Mu¨adh b. Îarb. Originally this was a letter from the imam designed as a response to some fatwas. Ibn Ja¨far notes that this sira was written by the judge to Imam Abu ¨Ali Musa b. ¨Ali (d. 237/851).102 The imam discusses issues related to various theological and legal positions held 98

MS 3; Mc. 1; Mc. 2. MS 3; Mc. 1. 100 MS 3. 101 MS 3. 102 Ibn Ja¨far, Jami¨, 2:46. 99

134

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

by the Iba∂is. All of the responses outlined in this document reflect the basic differences which existed then between the Iba∂is and the other Sunnis, and which still exist today. These differences are: rejection of the notion of God as a corporeal entity or thing; opposition to the idea of man’s ability to see God on the Day of Resurrection; rejection of the practice of raising the hands when commencing prayer and clasping the hands over the abdomen during prayer, a practice known as sadal or isbal; and rejection of the idea that the name of God in surat al-FatiÌa (Qur}an, ch.1) is not a part of it. There are also opinions included in this sira that relate to the qunut during the prayer and the issue of truncated prayers during a journey. The imam was also advised, according to Iba∂i ethics, to forbid slavery. The only reason to allow slavery, it was claimed, was to invite the slave to Islam; otherwise, slavery was prohibited.103 XLV A sira from Abu Sufyan MaÌbub b. al-RaÌil to Imam Muhanna b. Jayfar about Harun b. al-Yaman.104 The author was the last Iba∂i leader in Basra, and died at the beginning of the third/ninth century. XLVI A sira from Abu Sufyan MaÌbub b. al-RaÌil to the people of Îa∂ramawt concerning Harun b. al-Yaman.105 XLVII A sira from Harun b. al-Yaman to Imam Muhanna b. Jayfar regarding MaÌbub b. al-RaÌil.106 The three siyar cited above help to explain Iba∂i thought on Islamic theological issues such as anthropomorphism, the vision of God on the Day of Resurrection, and the definition of faith whether or not it is combination of words and deeds. These siyar are of great importance to those studying the dynamics of interaction between the various Islamic sects. The author of TuÌfat al-a¨yan107 gives more information on these issues, stating that the people of Oman and Îa∂ramawt followed MaÌbub b. al-RaÌil while the people of Yemen followed Harun b. al-Yaman, who was also a member of the Shu¨aybiya sect.108 103

MS 3; Mc. 1. MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:273. 105 MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:305. 106 MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:323. 107 Al-Salimi, TuÌfat al-a¨yan, 1:157-158; Crone and Zimmermann, The Epistle of Salim b. Dhakwan, 309–15. 108 Abu IsÌaq A†fayyish (the editor of TuÌfat al-a¨yan) says that the founder of this sect (al-Shu¨aybiya) was Shu¨ayb b. MuÌammad, who followed the ¨Ajarida of the Khawarij. This sub-sect had similar views to the Qadariya on predestination. See TuÌfat al-a¨yan, 1:157–8; Sa¨id al-Qalhati, al-Kashf wa-al-bayan, ed. Sayyida Kashif Isma¨il (Muscat 1980), 2:233; al-Shahrastani, al-Milal wa-al-niÌal, 1:204. 104

135

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

In contrast, al-Ba††ashi argues that the dispute between Harun and MaÌbub took place during the reign of Ghassan b. ¨Abd Allah (192– 207/808–23).109 XLVIII The sira of Da¨wa. The author is unknown, and the sira is known only from a quotation in Ibn Ja¨far’s Jami¨.110 It is possible to argue that the sira was written at the end of third/ninth century, since it mentions the issue of MaÌbub and Harun. 1F. The sixth stage covers those siyar dating from the imamate of al-∑alt b. Malik al-KharuÒi (237–72/851–86). At this time, MuÌammad b. MaÌbub (d. 260/874), son of the aforementioned MaÌbub b. al-RaÌil, had arrived in Oman. The centre of Iba∂i thought in Iraq had come to an end, causing the Iba∂is in general to split into two schools: the Mashariqa, or Eastern Iba∂is (in Oman, Yemen, and East Africa) and the Maghariba, or North African Iba∂is (in Libya, Tunis, and Algeria). The siyar of this stage are: XLIX A sira from MuÌammad b. MaÌbub to Abu Ziyad Khalaf b. ¨Udhra. This is in the form of a legal fatwa, based on Iba∂i opinions concerning ¨Uthman, ¨Ali, Mu¨awiya, and the Nahrawan issue.111 L A sira from Imam al-∑alt b. Malik and MuÌammad b. MaÌbub to AÌmad b. Sulayman, the imam of the Îa∂ramawt. This sira was addressed to the Iba∂i people of Îa∂ramawt who had fallen into dissent and schism, resulting in opposition on the part of some of them to the rule of the imam. From this letter it appears that the root cause of the problem was the fact that the imam of Îa∂ramawt had abandoned jihad, the Friday prayer, and had sold some military equipment.112 LI A sira from MuÌammad b. MaÌbub to the people of the Maghrib. MuÌammad wrote this sira in response to questions posed by the North Africans concerning zakat (the fourth pillar of Islam), particularly whether zakat should be paid to a government that offers them no protection. MuÌammad advises them not to pay zakat to any government or person unless the conditions of protection are fulfilled. This sira was intended only for the Iba∂i people of Tripoli (Libya), because at that time the Imamate of the Rustamids was established (171–297/788–909) in Tahart. Not without justification can this sira be considered tantamount to an invitation to the people 109 Pub. 3, 2: 217–19. Also see further M. al-Kindi, Bayan al-shar}, (Muscat 1988), 28: 83–5, 140; 68: 307. 110 Ibn Ja¨far, Jami ¨, 1:226. 111 MS 3. 112 MS 2; MS 3.

136

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

to rise up in rebellion against the central government. The sira also outlines reasons for rejecting belief in anthropomorphism.113 LII A sira from the people of the Maghrib to Imam al-∑alt b. Malik. This is a letter defining the relationship of the Iba∂is with other Islamic sects and with non-Muslims as well, especially with regard to the concepts of association (walaya), dissociation (bara}a) and suspended judgment (wuquf ).114 LIII A sira by Imam al-∑alt b. Malik. Others, however, attribute authorship of this sira to MuÌammad b. MaÌbub.115 This sira is in the form of a proclamation to the Omani army, despatched to the island of Socotra to wage a jihad against the Ethiopian Christians who had occupied it in the third/ninth century. The sira outlines the Iba∂i ethics of jihad. The imam writes on correct conduct in warfare, and advises his army on how they should treat others, regardless of whether they are Muslim or Christian. In addition, this sira documents the powerful role of the Imamate of Oman in the Indian Ocean.116 LIV A sira from Imam al-∑alt b. Malik to Ghassan b. Khulayd, advising the latter, who was governor of the city of Rustaq, on certain points of state policy. It also includes guidelines on how Iba∂is should treat non-Iba∂i Muslims, the People of the Book, and non-Muslims.117 LV A sira by ¨Azzan b. al-∑aqar al-YaÌmadi (d. 268/882) on the creation of the Qur}an. ¨Azzan is considered to have been the first Iba∂i scholar (¨alim) from the Banu KharuÒ, and was among the students of MuÌammad b. MaÌbub. This sira is arguably the oldest surviving Islamic theological monograph dealing with the issue of the created or uncreated nature of the Qur}an, written in refutation of those who held that the Qur}an was created in time. This led to a long debate among the Eastern Iba∂is who, in the eighth/fourteenth century, eventually adopted the belief that the Qur}an was created.118 The Iba∂i scholars of the Maghrib had already accepted this position. In principle, the Iba∂i creed advocates neither anthropomorphism nor the uncreatedness of the Qur}an, holding that belief in the latter 113 114 115

MS 1; MS 2; MS 3. MS 1; MS 2; Mc. 2. Al-Fa∂l b. al-Îawari, Jami¨ (Muscat 1985), 3:207; al-Salimi, TuÌfat al-a¨yan,

1:186. 116

MS 2; Pub. 2, 1:168. Pub. 2, 1:184. 118 Cf. al-Salimi, TuÌfat al-a¨yan, 1:156; Nur al-Din al-Salimi, Raw∂ al-bayan ¨ala fay∂ al-mannan fi al-radd ¨ala man idda¨a qidam al-Qur}an, ed. ¨Abd al-RaÌman al-Salimi (Muscat 1994). 117

137

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

is to accept another entity as co-eternal with God. It is the belief of al-Salimi, however, that when this issue arrived in Oman during the reign of Imam Muhanna b. Jayfar, the Iba∂i scholars took the position that they did because they were afraid that the opinions of the Jahmiya on this issue would cause unnecessary conflict among them. Compare this issue with sira XXXVIII.119 LVI A sira from Imam Abu al-YaqÂan MuÌammad b. AflaÌ, the fourth Rustamid imam in Tahart (208–58/823–71), to the people of Oman. In this sira, the imam attempts to settle the issue of the nature of the Qur}an among the Maghrib school once and for all. The sira also illustrates the exchange of knowledge between Iba∂i schools. In particular, this sira formalizes the opinions of Iba∂i theological thought on divine unity. This issue caused a schism among the Islamic sects known as the fitnat khalq al-Qur}an between 198/813 and 232/847.120 LVII A sira known as K. al-Ra∂if wa-Ìuduth al-¨alam by Abu alMundhir Bashir b. MuÌammad b. MaÌbub (d. 278/887). He studied with his father, MuÌammad b. MaÌbub. The author has been considered to be among the earliest Iba∂i scholars who wrote on the fundamentals of Islamic jurisprudence (uÒul al-fiqh). Some scholars call this Sirat al-Musta}naf. Resembling a monograph on Islamic theology, this sira survives as the oldest Omani compilation of its type. It includes a complete account of Mashariqa Iba∂i theological opinions on divine unity. There are seven chapters: 1) on creation and causality, 2) on divine unity, 3) on the rules of the Qur}an, 4) on the divine names and attributes, 5) on the sunna, 6) on the duty to establish the Imamate, and 7) on dar al-islam and dar al-Ìarb121 and their rules.122 LVIII A sira entitled K. al-MuÌaraba (Book of Warfare) by Abu al-Mundhir Bashir b. MuÌammad b. MaÌbub. This monograph deals with the defensive war of jihad, and includes three chapters: 1) the kinds of people who have the obligation to fight, 2) the concept of commanding right and forbidding wrong, and 3) the fight against oppressors. This sira reveals two things about Omani history. First, it clarifies the relationship between the central power of the Iba∂is in Oman with other Muslims and non-Muslims; second, it shows a change towards greater sophistication on the part of sira writers when dealing with the state.123 119

MS 2; MS 3. MS 3. 121 Referring to three elements: place of Muslims, place of kuffar, and place of mediation. See EI 2, s.v. ‘Dar al-Islam’; ‘Dar al-Îarb’; ‘Dar al-¨Ahd’. 122 MS 2. 123 MS 1; MS 2; Mc. 2. 120

138

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

The Second Period The second period of Omani siyar contains those documents composed during the civil war. In 272/886, Imam al-∑alt b. Malik was removed from the Imamate, and Rashid b. al-NaÂar al-FajÌi was installed in his place (272–7/886–90), with support from Musa b. Musa (the son of Musa b. ¨Ali) and al-Fa∂l b. al-Îawari. This episode destroyed the monolithic structure of the Omani community and the Iba∂i movement after the end of the second and third generation of Iba∂i scholars. This is seen by historians as something of a disaster in Omani history, with three major effects. First came the overthrow of Rashid b. al-NaÂar and the appointment of ¨Azzan b. Tamim al-KharuÒi to the Imamate (277–80/890–3). This led to a civil war between the Arab clans of Nizar and Qăan, bringing in its wake five major battles and the deaths of Musa b. Musa, al-Fa∂l b. al-Îawari, and Rashid b. al-NaÂar. Second, the first Imamate in Oman was destroyed by MuÌammad b. Nur (Ibn Bur or Thur?), the Abbasid governor of Bahrain, when he killed Imam ¨Azzan b. Tamim in 280/893. Consequently, the Abbasids gained dominance over Oman; they were followed by the Carmathians and then the Buyids. This heralded the start of a long period of foreign involvement in the internal affairs of the country. Thirdly, a schism occurred amongst the Omani Iba∂i scholars, causing them to split along political and theological lines, resulting eventually in the foundation of three schools of political thought: 1 The Rustaq School. This faction supported Imam al-∑alt b. Malik and attacked those revolutionaries who were the root cause of him being removed from the Imamate. Additionally, they were involved in fundamental discussions on the nature of the Iba∂i Imamate. This school played a more active role in the second Imamate of Oman. 2 The Nizwa School. This faction dissociated itself from the confrontation between Imam al-∑alt and the opposition. Scholars of this school tried to achieve a balance between all the different opinions on this issue. 3 The revolutionary faction, whose views were expressed in arguments forwarded by individuals such as Musa b. Musa and al-Fa∂l b. al-Îawari to oppose Imam al-∑alt. This stage heralds a new approach in the style and method adopted by the writers of the siyar and other works. The designation siyar is still used, but some of these works have individual titles. In addition, there are basically four formats of the siyar in this stage: 139

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

letters between scholars, monographs, statements or proclamations, and fatwas. The later siyar display the conflicting arguments among all three parties about the aftermath of the overthrow of Imam al-∑alt b. Malik. These siyar cannot be limited to the second Imamate of Oman, because scholars continued to investigate and verify the opinions on this matter until the seventh/thirteenth century. The siyar are divided into three groups, which correspond to the three aforementioned factions.124 2A. The Rustaq School LIX K. al-AÌdath wa-al-Òifat by Abu al-Mu}thir al-∑alt b. Khamis al-KharuÒi (d. 280s/890s), who had been a student of MuÌammad b. MaÌbub, and who established the Rustaq school. This document is one of the earliest examples of the development of the sira style towards the monograph format. In it, the author attempts to defend Imam al-∑alt against the criticisms of his opponents. The importance of this sira is that it provides a comprehensive outline of the Imamate system and the essential qualities that an imam ought to have.125 LX K. al-Bayan wa-al-burhan fi al-radd ¨ala man qala bi-alshahidayn by Abu al-Mu}thir al-∑alt b. Khamis al-KharuÒi. It is clear that the author wrote this sira after K. al-AÌdath wa-al-Òifat because of the references he makes to it. The sira deals with the defects and mistakes of the opposition, and the fundamental error they are deemed to have made in championing Rashid b. al-NaÂar as the future imam. He discusses only one argument of those two witnesses (shahidayn) who elected the imam. The author lists the points of his opponents and refutes them in turn. In this sira, the dogma of Iba∂i theology shows that it is consonant with the general theology and politics of Islamic thought.126 LXI A sira by Abu al-Mu}thir al-∑alt b. Khamis al-KharuÒi. This sira, which was written in the early part of the second half of the third/ ninth century, includes Iba∂i positions on theological issues that were current at the time, as well as insights into Iba∂i opinions on other Islamic sects. It also reveals the opinions of the Mashariqa Iba∂is. It comprises eleven chapters: 1) on the Jahmiya and the Jabriya, 2) on the Qadariya, 3) on divine unity, 4) on divine decree and determination 124 These schools are described in more detail in al-Kudami, al-Istiqama (Muscat 1984); Abu Bakr al-Kindi, al-Ihtida}; al-Salimi, TuÌfat al-a¨yan, 1:197; Wilkinson, The Imamate Tradition of Oman, 166. 125 MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:21. 126 MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:149.

140

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

(qa∂a} wa-qadar), 5) on the unity of the divine names and attributes, 6) on fighting dissenters, 7) on the diversity of the Prophet’s Companions, 8) on the Islamic sects, 9) on the imams among the Prophet’s Companions and those who came after them, 10) on obedience to those in authority and the unlawfulness of disobedience, and 11) on association and dissociation. This sira includes the opinions of Abu Malik Ghassan b. al-Kha∂ar, who succeeded Abu al-Mu}thir in the same school. One should exercise caution when citing these opinions, for many writers have added the opinions of other scholars, resulting in some confusion about the identities of the scholars and the attributions of their opinions.127 LXII A sira in the form of a letter from Abu al-Mu}thir al-∑alt b. Khamis to Abu Jabir MuÌammad b. Ja¨far (third/ninth century), a powerful figure in the Nizwa school. Both of them were taught by MuÌammad b. MaÌbub. In this missive, Abu al-Mu}thir castigates his friend for supporting the opposition and advises him to eschew dissent. This sira clearly reflects the influence of Omani political thought among the scholarly class during the aftermath of the overthrow of Imam al-∑alt.128 LXIII A sira by Abu al-Mundhir Bashir b. MuÌammad b. MaÌbub (d. 273/887) entitled Fi al-Ìadath al-waqi¨ bi-¨Uman. Bashir was the son of MuÌammad b. MaÌbub, and also contributed to the field of fundamentals of Islamic jurisprudence (uÒul al-fiqh) with works such as al-Bustan, al-Ra∂if wa-Ìuduth al-¨alam (on divine unity, LVII) and the 70-volume K. al-Khizana. Abu al-Mundhir was somewhat less fanatical in his disagreement with the opposition than Abu al-Mu}thir. In this sira, he attempts to respond to the arguments and opinions of the revolutionary faction, and also endeavours to evaluate the causes of the civil war in Oman.129 LXIV A sira by Abu al-Mundhir Bashir b. MuÌammad b. MaÌbub. This sira is a short fatwa encapsulating his opinion on the civil war.130 LXV A sira by Abu al-Mundhir Bashir b. MuÌammad b. MaÌbub, consisting of an abridgement of a book of his that remains otherwise unknown. The sira is in the form of a fatwa produced in response to questions concerning the downfall of Imam al-∑alt. It adopts a narrative style, outlining the story of the imam’s fall from power, and 127 128 129 130

MS MS MS MS

1; 1; 1; 3;

MS 2; MS 3; Pub. 1, 2:269–317. MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:251–72. MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2. Mc. 2. 141

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

the accession of his replacement, Rashid b. al-NaÂar. Bashir was able to adopt a comfortable, credible narrative style on account of the fact that he was a contemporary of those who deposed Imam al-∑alt.131 LXVI A sira by Abu Qăan Khalid b. Qăan. Abu Qăan was one of the Iba∂ite scholars operating in the first half of the fourth/ tenth century. He wrote Jami¨ Abi Qăan, most of which has been lost. This sira has numerous references to the Omani history of that time. The author, after rejecting the opinions of the opposition, and especially those of Musa b. Musa, introduces two topics. First, he deals with the internal conflicts in Oman after the civil war and the invasion of MuÌammad b. Nur. Second, he looks at the imams who took power during the confrontation in Oman, concentrating in particular on the rule of the Carmathians. The sira also includes a quotation from a letter written by Imam al-∑alt b. Malik to MuÌammad b. Sinjah, in which he explains the opposition’s plans to depose him from the Imamate.132 LXVII A sira in the form of a letter from Abu Qăan Khalid b. Qăan to al-Azhar b. MuÌammad b. Ja¨far, who succeeded his father in the Nizwa School. This fourth/tenth-century sira is a missive from the leader of one dogmatic school to another, and as such is similar in style and format to sira LXII. It differs, however, in that Abu Qăan gives the opinions of some scholars of the Rustaq school in addition to those of his father.133 LXVIII A sira in the form of a letter from Malik b. Ghassan b. Khulayd to Abu ¨Abd Allah MuÌammad b. RawÌ (first half of the fourth/tenth century). The author recounts the news of the civil war and the aftermath of the overthrow of Imam al-∑alt, and records some of the opinions of Omani scholars on the civil war. It is clear from the information in this sira that Abu al-Îawari al-Fa∂l b. al-Îawari supported Rashid b. al-NaÂar and Musa b. Musa, and that he died in battle against Imam ¨Azzan b. Tamim, although this sira reveals different opinions from those of Abu al-Îawari, which are very similar to those of the Rustaq school.134 LXIX A sira by Abu MuÌammad ¨Abd Allah b. Baraka (fourth/ tenth century). Ibn Baraka was one of the famous jurists and exponents of the fundamentals of Islamic law, and his book, Jami¨ Ibn Baraka, is one of the earliest important books on this subject in the 131 132 133 134

MS 3. MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Pub. 1, 1:81–148. MS 2. MS 3. 142

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

Mashariqa school.135 His teachers were Imam Sa¨id b. ¨Abd Allah b. MuÌammad b. MaÌbub and Abu Malik Ghassan b. al-Kha∂ar. This school had a greater role in the second Imamate of Oman. Ibn Barakah also authored many other works, including al-Taqyid, al-Ta¨aruf, al-Mubtada}, and al-Iqlid.136 During Ibn Baraka’s time, Abu Sa¨id MuÌammad b. Sa¨id al-Kudami (305–55/917–66) appeared from the Nizwa school and was called by eastern Omani scholars Imam al-Madhhab. Although both men were jurists of equal standing, they disagreed about the ousting of Imam al-∑alt, and both founded schools and sought logical evidence with which to refute other rival schools. Abu Sa¨id al-Kudami also attempted to conciliate divergent opinions on this issue, and he had greater success in finding a solution to satisfy all concerned parties in his book K. al-Istiqama. This sira is a reply to an anonymous petitioner who had asked for advice on this issue. The author confirms the logical evidence for rejecting the Nizwa school. Ibn Baraka sent this sira to his friend to refute Abu Sa¨id’s opinions.137 LXX A sira entitled K. al-Muwazana (Equilibrium) by Ibn Baraka. This sira is in the form of a monograph in which the author tries to balance all the points on this issue, hence the title, but in which he is unable to hide the fanaticism inherent in his party. The distinctive thing about this sira is that it illustrates the author’s excellence in the fundamentals of jurisprudence.138 LXXI A sira by Ibn Baraka. This sira is a fatwa that reveals the scholarly opinions of Ibn Baraka’s teacher, Abu Malik Ghassan b. al-Kha∂ar, on Imam al-∑alt.139 LXXII A sira entitled al-Su}al fi al-Ìadath al-waqi¨ bi-¨Uman, or, alternatively, Sirat Ìujjah ¨ala man ab†ala al-su}al fi al-Ìadath al-waqi¨ bi-¨Uman by Abu al-Îasan ¨Ali b. al-Îasan al-Bisyawi (alBisyani) (end of the fourth/tenth century). Abu al-Îasan was a student of Ibn Baraka and was greatly influenced by the opinions of his teacher. He wrote many books, the most famous being Jami¨ Abi al-Îasan al-Bisyawi, summarized as MukhtaÒar al-Bisyawi.140 The author considers the critical approach to be the basic principle in studying the creed; only then should one attempt to seek the truth. This is because 135 136 137 138 139 140

EI 2, s.v. ‘Ibn Baraka’. Al-Salimi, Lum¨a, 23. MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2. MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 1; Mc. 2. MS 3; Pub. 1, 2:384. Al-Salimi, Lum¨a, 28. 143

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

the truth does not come without searching for it and linking it to analytical endeavours.141 LXXIII A sira by Abu Îasan al-Bisyawi in the form of a reply to one MuÌammad b. Sa¨id, most probably Abu Sa¨id MuÌammad b. Sa¨ id al-Kudami (fourth/tenth century). It would appear that this sira was written at the order of his teacher Ibn Baraka because of the rivalry and conflict among the schools.142 LXXIV A sira by an anonymous author, written in the form of a letter to one Abu ¨Ali. Internal evidence suggests that it was written after the sira of Abu al-Îasan al-Bisyawi, and probably at the end of the fifth/eleventh century. The recipient appears to be Abu ¨Ali al-Îasan b. AÌmad al-Hijari (d. 502/1108). The author of the sira advises Abu ¨Ali to retain his allegiance to his school and stay firm in his opinions on the issue.143 LXXV A sira in the form of a fatwa. Both author and recipient(s) are unknown. The edict was written in response to questions submitted concerning the opinions and views of the Rustaq school.144 2B) Nizwa School LXXVI A sira by al-Azhar b. MuÌammad b. Ja¨far (end of the third/ninth beginning of the fourth/tenth century). Al-Azhar was the son of Ibn Ja¨far, author of the seminal legal work, Jami¨ Ibn Ja¨far, one of the earliest compilations to reach us from the school of the Mashariqa Iba∂is. Ibn Ja¨far was among the scholars who established the Nizwa school, and he became the most powerful figure in it, Al-Azhar succeeding his father. This sira is a statement issued by alAzhar advising the Omani people to remain calm and to stay neutral with regard to the debate concerning the removal from the Imamate of Imam al-∑alt b. Malik. The beginning of the sira includes the opinions on this issue of Omani scholars such as the author’s father and Abu al-Mu}thir.145 LXXVII A sira in the form of a letter from Abu ¨Abd Allah MuÌammad b. RawÌ b. ¨Arabi (end of the third/ninth century) to Abu MuÌammad ¨Abd Allah b. MuÌammad b. MaÌbub (a member of the Rustaq school and father of Imam Sa¨ id b. ¨Abd Allah). Both

141 142 143 144 145

MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 2:62. MS 1; MS 2; Mc. 2. MS 1; MS 3. MS 1; Pub. 1, 1:373. MS 3. 144

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

author and recipient are considered first generation scholars of their respective schools. This sira was written after the death in battle of Imam ¨Azzan b. Tamim in 280/893, and describes the reaction of powerful figures to the imam’s demise. This sira is significant because Ibn RawÌ collected the opinions of all the people who participated in the discussions and sought a reasonable explanation for the imam’s overthrow.146 LXXVIII A sira from Abu ¨Abd Allah b. MuÌammad b. RawÌ to ¨Umar b. MuÌammad b. ¨Umar. This document is a fatwa dealing with the concepts of association (walaya) and dissociation (bara}a).147 LXXIX A sira by Abu ¨Abd Allah b. MuÌammad b. RawÌ. This is a fatwa on the removal from office of Imam al-∑alt. Ibn RawÌ stresses the idea that the root of the creed must be based on knowledge, which is the only way to the truth.148 LXXX A sira from Abu al-Îasan MuÌammad b. Abi al-Îasan to MuÌammad b. Sinja (end of the third/ninth century). This sira is a fatwa, in which Abu al-Îasan explains that removing Imam al-∑alt should not be considered a theological matter but mainly as a matter of public opinion.149 2C. The ‘Revolutionary Faction’, namely those in support of Imam Rashid b. al-NaÂar and Musa b. Musa LXXXI A sira attributed to al-Fa∂l b. al-Îawwari (third/ninth century), who is considered to be one of the scholars who caused the civil war in Oman. He was also a member of the influential {ulama’, the ahl al-Ìall wa-al-¨aqd. In this sira, he expresses his ideas about supporting the imamate of Rashid b. al-NaÂar, and the reasons for removing Imam al-∑alt b. Malik and opposing Imam ¨Azzan b. Tamim.150 LXXXII A sira in letter form from al-Fa∂l b. al-Îawari to Rashid b. al-NaÂar. This sira attempts to prove that the recipient was elected to the Imamate through proper procedures. It also documents the reasons for ousting Imam al-∑alt b. Malik.151

146 147 148 149 150 151

MS 2; MS 3. MS 2. MS 2. MS 2; MS 3. MS 2. MS 2. 145

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

The Third Period The third period of the Omani siyar includes those texts that were written between the years 320/923 and 549/1154, during the period of the second Imamate of Oman. The distinctive characteristics of this period of Omani history are: 1 The interference of foreign forces in Oman. First came the Abbasid Caliphate (280–320/893–922), then Carmathians, who dispatched armed expeditions to seize and occupy Oman on three occasions. The first invasion, headed by Abu Sa¨id al-Jinnabi, came in 294/905–6, the second in 305/917, and the third and largest campaign, spearheaded by Abu ™ahir al-Jinnabi, occurred in 318/930; this occupation continued until 375/985. During the 57 years of the third Carmathian occupation, the Buyids also sent three expeditions: the first in 354/965, the second a year later, and the third in 363/973, after the revolution and election of the new imam in Oman. The final foreign invasion was that of the Saljuqs in the fifth/eleventh century. They remained in Oman for almost 80 years. However, these foreign invasions gained only partial control over Oman, essentially the coast. 2 Maritime trade in Oman grew and the merchants flourished. The Omani cities thrived and attracted vital commercial trade. Sohar (∑uÌar) was described at that time in the following terms: ‘The capital is Sohar which is on the sea; here reside many sea merchants who trade in ships with other countries. It is the most popular and wealthy town in Oman and it is not possible to find on the shore of the Persian Sea nor in all the land of Islam a city more rich in fine buildings and foreign wares than Sohar’.152 Oman produced several commodities that were significant in traditional Asian trade: dates and dried fruits, horses, copper from the mountains, and ambergris from the seashore. Sohar’s importance stemmed principally from its role in the trade of luxuries and spices between the Far East and India on the one hand and the Near East and Europe on the other.153 Other ports on the Omani coast, such as Dama,154 Sur, and Qalhat,155 had particular 152

Andrew Williamson, Sohar and Omani Seafaring in the Indian Ocean (London 1973), 3. 153 Ibid., 3. 154 Dama was the main centre on the lower Ba†ina in medieval times, and was a pre-Islamic suq al-¨arab, today represented by Seeb City. See Yaqut, Mu¨jam albuldan, (Beirut 1961), 3:461. 155 EI 2, s.v. ‘Ëalhat’. 146

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

roles to play in this trade. Certainly, the trade influenced Omani community life through interaction with the outside world and other civilizations overseas. 3 The Imamate in Oman was weakened by conflict within the country, and was not able to regain the strength it enjoyed during the previous Imamate. Consequently, most of the imams employed the policy of difa¨ (defence) rather than Âuhur (open manifestation). Significantly, there was also flexibility with regard to the community as a whole. Masalik al-din, or the ways (or stages) of religion, refers to the four possible relationships between the Iba∂is, the rest of the Islamic lands, and the world as a whole, which were allowed to exist under virtually any circumstances. These were: 1) Âuhur, open manifestation of the Imamate, 2) difa¨, militarily defensive and restricted Imamate, 3) shira}, literally “selling” oneself in Allah’s cause, in open opposition to tyranny, and 4) kitman, concealment, or lapse of the Imamate under impossible conditions. The siyar documented below show that the Rustaq and Nizwa schools continued in the same style among the Omani scholars during this time. The Rustaq school had greater influence in appointing imams. At times, the rival schools appointed different imams at the same time, causing conflicts and occasional wars between the numerous imams and their supporting scholars. The siyar of this third period are divided into further smaller periods. 3A) The period between the imamate of Abu al-Qasim Sa¨id b. ¨Abd Allah (320–8/932–40) and the imamate of al-Khalil b. Shadhan (407–25/1016–33). LXXXIII A sira from Abu Ibrahim MuÌammad b. Sa¨id b. Abi Bakr al-Azkawi to al-Îawari b. ¨Uthman. I have not found a biography for the author, but al-Îawari was a figure of the Omani {ulama’ who lived at the end of third/ninth century and the beginning of the fourth/tenth century.156 LXXXIV A sira in letter form from Abu al-Îawwari MuÌammad b. al-Îawari b. ¨Uthman (end of the third/ninth beginning of the fourth/tenth century) to Abu ¨Abd Allah, Abu ¨Amir, Abu Yusuf MuÌammad b. ¨Abd Allah, AÌmad b. Sulayman, MuÌammad b. ¨Umar, ¨Abd al-RaÌman b. Yusuf, and the people of the Îa∂ramawt. Abu al-Îawwari is regarded as one of the most famous Omani authors 156

Ibn Ja¨far, Jami¨, 1:177. 147

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

at the end of the third/ninth century. He wrote Tafsir khamsimi}at aya, an exegesis of five hundred legal verses from the Qur}an, and Jami¨ Abi al-Îawari. This sira is a response to questions about the legality of action against the Julandanis (the royal family in Oman),157 who revolted against Imam ¨Abd al-Malik b. Îumayd and Imam al-Muhanna b. Jayfar, as well as to questions about the wealth of oppressors.158 LXXXV A sira from Abu ¨Abd Allah MuÌammad b. al-Îasan to Abu al-Qasim ¨Umar b. al-Qasim b. al-Yaman. Ibn Ja¨far has preserved it in part. The sira appears to be a legal edict, written in response to questions posed by Abu al-Qasim.159 LXXXVI A sira in letter form from Imam Abu al-Qasim Sa¨id b. ¨Abd Allah (320–8/931–40), grandson of MuÌammad b. MaÌbub, to Yusuf b. Wajih, the amir of Oman. In it, the imam writes about Iba∂i war ethics. When the imam had gained a victory in Nizwa, a soldier looted the padlock on Yusuf b. Wajih’s door. The imam had the soldier arrested and forced him to return the padlock to Ibn Wajih, on the grounds that it is prohibited to take any Muslim property.160 LXXXVII A sira from Abu ¨Abd Allah MuÌammad b. Za}ida (or Ziyad?) (first half of the fourth/tenth century) to Abu Ibrahim MuÌammad b. Sa¨id b. Abi Bakr al-Azkawi. The author was among those scholars who elected Imam Abu al-Qasim Sa¨id b. ¨Abd Allah.161 LXXXVIII A sira by Abu al-Îasan al-Bisyawi concerning Imam ÎafÒ b. Rashid’s war with al-Mu†ahhar b. ¨Abd Allah. Al-Mu†ahhar was the leader of a Buyid military campaign to Oman, which, according to Ibn al-Athir, had been sent by ¨A∂ud al-Dawla in the year 363/974.162 Imam ÎafÒ b. Rashid (455–72/1063–79) is not mentioned in the Omani sources of the time;163 according to al-Salimi, it is possible that he was a son of Imam Rashid b. Sa¨id (425–55/1033–63). This sira brings out three points. First, Imam ÎafÒ b. Rashid came to the Imamate after the Nizwan Imam Rashid b. al-Walid (328–42/940– 54) and is evidence of the continued Imamate at this time, for Abu al-Îasan al-Bisyawi was a contemporary of Imam ÎafÒ b. Rashid in 157 John.C. Wilkinson, ‘The Julanda of Oman’, Journal of Oman Studies 1 (1975), 97–108. 158 MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2. 159 Ibn Ja¨far, Jami¨,1:206. 160 Pub. 2, 1:289. 161 Not found nor consulted by the author, but it is mentioned in Pub. 1, 1:380; Pub. 3, 1:435. 162 Ibn al-Athir, al-Kamil, 7:57. 163 Al-Salimi, TuÌfat al-a¨yan, 1:315.

148

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

the fourth/tenth century. Second, ÎafÒ b. Rashid was appointed to the Imamate twice, and Abu al-Îasan seems to throw doubt on the validity of ÎafÒ b. Rashid’s first Imamate. Third, the Omanis opposed the Buyids from the start. This sira is valuable because it records the period between Imam Rashid b. al-Walid and Imam al-Khalil b. Shadhan (407–25/1016–33).164 LXXXIX A sira entitled Fi al-tawÌid wa-al-imama kayfa hiya (On Divine Unity and the Imamate: A Commentary), by Abu alÎasan al-Bisyawi (end of the fourth/tenth century). This sira is a treatise on the creeds and dogmas of the various Islamic sects. It also alludes to the differences between the Iba∂i creed and the creed of other Muslim groups such as the Khawarij, Murji}a, Qadariya, and Mushabbiha (anthropomorphists).165 XC A sira from Abu al-Îasan al-Bisyawi to an unknown missionary in the Îa∂ramawt. In it, Abu al-Îasan offers his opinion to the people of the Îa∂ramawt concerning their inquiry about pawning property. It also reveals that the Imamate in Îa∂ramawt was in a state of difa¨ (defence).166 3B) In 407/1016, the Imamate of Âuhur (manifest Imamate) appeared in Oman upon the accession of al-Khalil b. Shadhan, who was the grandson of Imam al-∑alt b. Malik. The Imamate was powerful, expanding overseas on account of the thriving maritime commerce of Oman at that time. This improvement in fortune had spread to other Iba∂i groups, especially those in East Africa, on the Indian coastline, in the Îa∂ramawt, and in Yemen. This became obvious during the imamate of Rashid b. Sa¨id al-YaÌmadi. XCI A sira from Musa b. AÌmad, AÌmad b. MuÌammad, alÎasan b. AÌmad, ¨Umar b. MuÌammad, and Rashid b. MuÌammad to Abu ¨Abd Allah MuÌammad b. ∑ulham (the vizier for Imam alKhalil b. Shadhan). In this sira, a group of Omani scholars complain to the vizier about the corruption of some of the imam’s governors, who are unnamed.167 XCII A sira in the form of a letter written by Abu al-Îasan b. AÌmad (a judge for Imam al-Khalil b. Shadhan), addressed to an unknown person. Internal evidence suggests that the judge penned this sira in response to the above letter of complaint (XCI).168 164 165 166 167 168

MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 2:5–9. MS 2. MS 2. Pub. 2, 1:300. Pub. 2, 1:302. 149

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

XCIII A sira to the people of Khwarazm. This sira, written in the fourth/tenth century, is a letter from the people of Oman to their co-religionists in Khwarazm, explaining the Omani opinions on certain theological issues, especially on wilaya (association) and bara}a (dissociation).169 XCIV A sira to the people of Khurasan. This is a letter written by a group of Omani scholars in the fourth–fifth/tenth–eleventh century, including an exposition of the general principles of the Islamic faith.170 XCV A sira by Abu al-Mundhir Salama b. Muslim al-¨Awtabi (late fifth/eleventh–early sixth/twelfth century). Salama has been considered primarily an Omani historian, although he also wrote the 24-volume al-Δiya} on Islamic jurisprudence, al-Ansab on genealogy, and al-Ibana on the Arabic language. This sira constitutes a commentary on Takalif al-shari¨a.171 XCVI A sira from Abu al-Mundhir Salma b. Muslim al-¨Awtabi to ¨Ali b. ¨Ali and his brother, al-Îasan b. ¨Ali, after the conflict between them in Kilwa (a city on the East African coast) had escalated. This sira sheds some light on the role of Omani scholars in East Africa.172 XCVII A sira bearing the title al-Su}al fi al-wilaya wa-al-bara}a (Questions Concerning Association and Dissociation), by an unknown writer. This sira was probably written in the fifth/eleventh century, and appears in some sources as K. al-∑ulÌ. The sira reviews opinions concerning the caliphs ¨Uthman b. ¨Affan, Mu¨awiya b. Abi Sufyan, and Yazid b. Mu¨awiya, among others. It also discusses the causes of dissociation (bara}a) in Islam.173 XCVIII An untitled sira by an anonymous writer. Based on the style and tenor of the sira, it seems to have been written in the fifth/ eleventh century, most likely by an author from the Rustaq school. The significance of the sira lies in its coverage of the events of the civil war, and its lucid attempt to define the concepts of association and dissociation.174 XCIX A sira entitled al-Wilaya wa-al-bara}a (Association and Dissociation). This treatise was written in 512/1118 by Yusuf b. Sa¨id 169 170 171 172 173 174

MS 4. MS 4. MS 2; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 2:39. MS 5. MS 1; MS 2; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:373–80. MS 2; Pub. 1, 1:393. 150

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

b. Yusuf al-¨Umani, probably for the Nizwa school. In the sira, the author calls for unity and harmony among them to avoid the kinds of disputes that led to the civil war.175 C A sira by Imam Rashid b. Sa¨id al-YaÌmadi concerning Imam al-∑alt b. Malik, Musa b. Musa, and Rashid b. al-NaÂar. This sira comes in the form of a manifesto, issued by the imam and a group of influential people after they had convened in the village of Suny (present-day al-¨Awabi) on Thursday 14 Shawwal 443 (17 March 1052). This sira represents the most important attempt to find a solution to the splits and differences of opinion responsible for causing the civil war. Unanimously, the signatories to the manifesto declare in no uncertain terms that the absolute blame for the civil war lies with Musa b. Musa, who supported the overthrow of al-∑alt b. Malik. The signatories listed are: Abu ¨Ali Musa b. AÌmad b. MuÌammad b. ¨Ali, Abu Al-Îasan ¨Ali b. ¨Umar, Abu Bakr AÌmad b. MuÌammad, Abu ¨Abd Allah MuÌammad b. Khalid, Abu ¨Ali al-Îasan b. Sa¨id b. Quraysh, Abu Îamza al-Mukhtar b. ¨Isa, Abu ¨Abd Allah MuÌammad b. Tamam, and Abu al-NaÂar Rashid b. al-Qasim.176 CI A collection of three siyar177 from Imam Rashid b. Sa¨id to his governors: 1 Abu al-Ma¨ali MuÌammad b. Qăan b. al-Qasim, on the occasion of his election to the governorate of Sohar. 2 Abu MuÌammad ¨Abd Allah b. Sa¨id, on his election to the governorate of ManaÌ (a town in the interior of Oman). 3 Musa b. Nijad, on the occasion of his election to the governorate of ManaÌ, Adam, and Sinaw. These siyar are basically statements outlining the administrative policies of the Imamate, including the imam’s special orders to his governors always to be on their best behaviour, to foster equality among the people under their jurisdiction, and to refrain from injustice and cruelty. They are, therefore, predominantly ethical in tone. CII A sira from Imam Rashid b. Sa¨id al-YaÌmadi to the people of ManÒura, the capital of Sind, written to enlighten its recipients with regard to Iba∂i opinions on various issues of Islamic theology. This sira mentions the Iba∂i scholars in ManÒura: Abu al-¨Abbas b. Murayj, al-Muhannad b. Sadha, and Abu ¨Abd Allah b. MuÌammad b. Baruzan. It is valuable because it adds to our information on 175 176 177

MS 2; Mc. 2. Pub. 2, 1:312. Pub. 2, 1:308–12. 151

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

the evolution of Iba∂i thought in South Asia. It also sheds light on the role of the second Omani Imamate in the Indian Ocean.178 CIII A sira entitled Tawba (Repentance), written on behalf of Imam Rashid b. ¨Ali (471–513/1078–1119) by his judge Abu ¨Ali al-Îasan b. AÌmad b. NaÒr al-Hijari (472/1079). It was written on 11 Rabi¨ II 472 (10 October 1079). In it, the imam expresses regret for the behaviour of his governor, Musa b. Nijad al-ManaÌi. The sira carries the signatures of the following witnesses: Abu Bakr AÌmad b. ¨Umar b. Abi Jabir, Abu Jabir MuÌammad b. ¨Umar, ¨Ali b. Dawud, and ¨Abd Allah b. IsÌaq al-Minqali.179 CIV A sira from Abu ¨Abd Allah MuÌammad b. ¨Isa al-Sirri to Imam Rashid b. ¨Ali. In this sira, Abu ¨Abd Allah replies to the imam after being asked about his repentance in 501/1107. This work discusses at length the link between repentance and the right way, highlighting the need for consistency between repentance and deeds.180 CV A sira composed by Abu ¨Abd Allah MuÌammad b. ¨Isa alSirri for Imam Rashid b. ¨Ali. This sira advises the imam about various issues in Islamic ethics, including the duties and responsibilities of the imam, the relationship between the imam and those whom he rules based on shura, and the circumstances in which the imam is justified in resorting to military action inside the country.181 CVI A sira entitled Fi al-farq bayna al-imam al-¨alim wa-ghayr al-¨alim (The Difference between the Learned Imam and the Unlearned Imam), by Abu ¨Abd Allah MuÌammad b. ¨Isa al-Sirri (d. 472/1079). It appears that this sira was written after the appearance of imams who were intellectually weaker than their predecessors. However, the document has an overtly political flavour, being for the most part a set of guidelines for potential governors in the Islamic state. Three main topics are addressed: the status of the imam if his position is in doubt or suspicion, the characteristics required of an imam, and the manner in which an imam ought to discharge his judicial and legislative duties.182 CVII A sira from Abu Zakariya YaÌya b. Sa¨id b. Quraysh alHijari (d. 502/1108) to ¨Abd Allah b. MuÌammad b. ™alut. Abu Zakariya is among the most famous Iba∂i scholars and writers of the fifth/eleventh century. His magnum opus is the 5-volume work of 178 179 180 181 182

MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2. MS 1; MS 2; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:423. MS 1; MS 2; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:427. MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:413. MS 1; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub. 1, 1:399. 152

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

jurisprudence, K. al-I∂aÌ fi al-aÌkam, although he also wrote K. alImama on the office of the Imamate. This sira refutes Ibn ™alut’s criticisms of the Imamate. It is not clear in the sira who the imam was at the time, although it was possibly written during the imamate of either ÎafÒ b. Rashid (455–72/1054–79) or Rashid b. ¨Ali (472– 513/1079–1119). The end of the sira is missing.183 CVIII A sira from Abu Zakariya YaÌya b. Sa¨id b. AÌmad (d. 472/1079) to Abu ¨Abd Allah MuÌammad and Abu Bakr AÌmad, the sons of al-Nu¨man b. MuÌammad, and the people of Îa∂ramawt. From the contents of this sira, it appears that the people of the Îa∂ramawt had encountered certain problems with other sects at the end of the fifth/eleventh century, when Iba∂i thought in the Îa∂ramawt had started to decline. The Iba∂is of the Îa∂ramawt thus wanted advice on how to save their sect. The significance of this particular sira lies in the fact that the author counsels the people of Îa∂ramawt to have recourse to dissimulation (taqiya) whenever they are afraid for their sect — a remarkable piece of advice, given the fact that the practice of dissimulation had never before been specifically encouraged in Iba∂i thought.184 CIX A sira by Abu Bakr AÌmad b. ¨Umar al-ManaÌi (d. 496/ 1103). This sira is a fatwa concerning the issue of election to the Imamate. Its main thrust is that if a candidate for leadership already enjoys the informal acceptance and support of the people, he does not need to be elected formally to the Imamate. In all of the collections, this sira is found immediately after sira LXXXVIII. Al-Salimi believes that this fatwa pertains to the election to the Imamate of ÎafÒ b. Rashid.185 CX A sira by Nijad b. Musa b. Nijad al-ManaÌi (d. 513/1119), who was the son of Musa b. Nijad and the grandfather of Imam Musa b. Abi al-Ma¨ali b. Musa b. Nijad (594–7/1197–1200). This family played a prominent role in the Rustaq school. Musa wrote K. al-Akilla fi Ìaqa}iq al-adilla. The sira is a theological monograph written to refute Risalat al-isti¨dad fi ma la yasa¨ al-mukallaf jahlahu by Ibn al-Taj, a treatise of Ash¨ari dogma. The Iba∂i scholars at the time were concerned with the theological debates taking place among the various Islamic theological groups.186

183 184 185 186

MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; Pub, 2:30. MS 2; MS 3. MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; al-Salimi, TuÌfat al-a¨yan, 1:315–17. MS 1. 153

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

CXI A sira in the form of an athar (tradition) and letters from the spokesman of the people of Nizwa, Abu MuÌammad b. al-Îasan b. al-Walid (sixth/twelfth century). The Nizwan provenance of this sira seems assured, since all the fatwas included therein are from the Nizwa school, most of these being extracts and citations from other siyar, such as the sira of MuÌammad b. RawÌ mentioned above (LXXVII, LXXVIII, or LXXIX).187 CXII A sira entitled K. al-TakhÒiÒ, by Abu Bakr AÌmad b. ¨Abd Allah b. Musa al-Kindi (d. 557/1162). Abu Bakr al-Kindi is a very famous Omani writer of the sixth/twelfth century. He wrote al-MuÒannaf, an encyclopaedic work of Islamic jurisprudence in 42 volumes, Jawhar al-muqtaÒar, on the elements, al-Ihtida}, al-Dhakhira, on theology, and various other books.188 Al-Kindi’s family produced many other scholars and writers, especially in the fifth–sixth/eleventh–twelfth centuries, including MuÌammad b. Ibrahim al-Kindi, author of the 72-volume Bayan al-Shar¨, and MuÌammad b. Musa al-Kindi, who wrote al-Kifaya in 51 volumes. Abu Bakr was from the Rustaq school, which appeared in the fifth and sixth/eleventh and twelfth centuries. In this sira, the author attempts to expound the concepts of wilaya and bara}a. Attributed to Abu Bakr is the method of interpreting Quranic verses through logical analogy in order to derive both particular and universal proofs.189 CXIII A sira entitled Fi ida¨ al-mutawalli li}l-wilaya, on the concepts of wilaya and bara}a. This dates from the sixth/twelfth century, but the writer, who is clearly affiliated with the Nizwa school, is unknown. It seems to be an excerpt of a longer work and is without either an introduction or a conclusion.190 CXIV A sira from Imam MuÌammad b. Abi Ghassan advising the people of al-¨Aqar.191 The Omani writers regard this sira as an epic, because, as far as the contents are concerned, it is more of an artistic and literary work than a religious treatise. Initially, it appeared from our study of the sources that this sira was actually written in 576/1181 by MuÌammad b. Malik192 to advise Imam Musa b. Abi al-Ma¨ali b. Musa b. Nijad before war broke out in 579/1184. However, the history of this period is too chaotic to enable us to identify the author with certainty.193 187 188 189 190 191 192 193

MS 2. Al-Salimi, Lum¨a, 20. MS 2. MS 2; Pub. 1, 2:113. MS 1; Mc. 2. MS 2; Pub. 2, 1:343. For more details, see Pub. 3, 1:298. 154

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

CXV A sira from MuÌammad b. Malik b. Shadhan (the amir or imam mentioned above?) to Sa¨id b. Rashid b. ¨Ali, who was probably the son of Imam Rashid b. ¨Ali (first half of the sixth/twelfth century). The writer of the sira reproaches its recipient for his deeds, describing him as mendacious. Such invective reflects the divisions existing in the feudal system of Oman at that time between the amirs and the imams.194 CXVI A sira by Abu Bakr AÌmad b. MuÌammad b. ∑aliÌ (d. 546/ 1151). The scholars of Abu Bakr’s family had significant influence in the Nizwa school; he himself was the teacher of the author of al-MuÒannaf. This sira presents the author’s opinions about Imam MuÌammad b. Abi Ghassan, who had fought his way into the Nizwan village of al-¨Aqar when the villagers opposed him. Here the author opposes the imam’s action. This sira includes some quotations from the sira of Abu al-Îawari, the sira of Abu ¨Abd Allah al-Sirri and the discourse of Abu Îamza al-Shari.195 CXVII A sira by Abu Bakr ¨Abd Allah b. Musa al-Kindi, written to refute his teacher’s sira. (CXVI) The author rejects his teacher’s opinions about the imam’s fight against the people of al-¨Aqar and castigates him for writing the above sira. On the whole, this sira reflects the Iba∂i stance on jihad and warfare.196 CXVIII A sira in the form of a statement issued by the people of al-Ba†ina (a region in northeastern Oman) in support of the preceding sira. In it, the imam’s actions are defended and his approach praised.197 CXIX A sira from Abu ¨Abd Allah MuÌammad b. Khalid to the people of ManaÌ. It is in the form of a fatwa on the civil war and the opposition of Musa b. Musa and Rashid b. al-NaÂar. The author appears to be affiliated with the Rustaq school, since he includes quotations from Rustaq scholars about the issue.198 CXX A sira by an unknown writer, addressed to the people of the Îa∂ramawt. It was recorded by Ibn al-NaÂar who lived in the sixth/ twelfth century. The author is anonymous but is clearly from the Rustaq school. He discusses various topics and advises his readers to be more objective and responsible to the Imamate.199 194 195 196 197 198 199

Pub. 3, 1:296; al-Kindi, al-Ihtida }, 187–9. MS 2; MS 3; al-Kindi, al-Ihtida}, 190–5. MS 1; MS 2; MS 3; Mc. 2; al-Kindi, al-Ihtida}, 195–234. MS 2; Pub. 2, 1:339. MS 2. MS 2. 155

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

CXXI A sira that discusses the concepts of wilaya and bara}a and their classifications. The author is unknown, as is the date, although the writer appears to be aware of the Nizwa school.200 CXXII A sira by Abu al-Ma¨ali Kahlan b. Musa b. Nijad (first half of the sixth/twelfth century). Kahlan was the father of Imam Musa b. Abi al-Ma¨ali (594–7/1197–1200). The subject of this sira is repentance.201 The Fourth Period 4A) The fourth period of Omani siyar covers the Nabhani state (549–1034/1154–1624). There is a general consensus among historians that this state spanned five centuries in Oman, with the dynasty’s rule divided into two distinct stages. The first stage is known as the Early Nabhanis, whose rule began after the death of Imam Abu Jabir Musa b. Abi al-Ma¨ali in 549/1154 and ended after Sulayman b. Sulayman al-Nabhani was expelled in 906/1500. The second stage, known as the Later Nabhanis, continued from 906/1500 to 1034/ 1624,202 and was witness to the Portuguese invasion of the eastern coast of the Arabian Peninsula. Another distinguishing characteristic of this period is the atmosphere of conflict between scholars and governors on political issues. However, the period as a whole remains largely unexplored by scholars, and it is the task of Omani historians to discover the reasons for the collapse of both Omani overseas trade and Oman as an important maritime power. The siyar from this period are the following: CXXIII A sira entitled al-Sira al-Kilwiya, by Abu Sa¨id MuÌammad b. Sa¨id al-Qalhati (late sixth/twelfth early seventh/thirteenth century). Al-Qalhati is among the most famous Omani writers of his time, noted for his distinguished prose style in works such as al-Kashf wa-al-bayan, a treatise on Islamic sects and dogmas. This particular sira reflects the beginning of a new stage in the art of the composition of siyar, for now we see the appearance of siyar in the form of the maqama. In this sira, the author tells the story of an earlier mission to Kilwa in East Africa, where extremist Shi¨i propaganda was being preached on how the Kilwans were brought back into the fold. The formalized art of the maqama represents a turning point in the writing of the Omani siyar. This sira was glossed by Rashid b. ¨Umar 200 201 202

MS 2. MS 2; Mc. 2. Oman in History (London 1995), 165. 156

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

b. AÌmad b. Abi al-Îasan b. ¨Abd Allah b. AÌmad b. al-NaÂar towards the end of the seventh/thirteenth century.203 CXXIV A sira from Ward b. AÌmad to Imam Abu al-Îasan b. MuÌammad b. Khamis b. ¨Amir (839–46/1436–43). It is a letter from Ward to the imam advising him to remain firm and to endeavour not to be overthrown from the Imamate following the rebellion of Banu al-∑alt al-KharuÒi.204 CXXV A sira by Abu ¨Abd Allah MuÌammad b. Sulayman b. AÌmad b. Mufarraj, a judge and mufti for the imam. It is a legal declaration, ordered by Imam ¨Umar b. al-Kha††ab al-KharuÒi (885– 94/1480–8) and issued in order to confiscate the property of the Nabhani family. The sira was written on 7 Jumada II 887 (23 July 1482). The declaration closes with a statement of approval signed by the judicial committee.205 CXXVI A sira by Imam MuÌammad b. Isma¨il (906–24/1500– 18). It is also a legal edict issued by the imam in 909/1503. Again, the edict was issued in order to confiscate property, this time belonging to the Banu RawaÌa, who had given help and support to Sultan Sulayman b. Sulayman al-Nabhani.206 CXXVII A sira by Imam MuÌammad b. Isma¨il (906–24/1500– 18). It comprises a legal ruling issued by the imam for the confiscation of the property of the Nabhani family on a Friday in 917/1511. The document ends with the signatures of the judicial committee.207 CXXVIII A sira by MuÌammad b. ¨Abd Allah b. Maddad (d. 917/ 1511). The Maddad family enjoyed considerable influence with the Mufarraj family at the end of the Nabhani state. This is the first Omani sira to be written about the Omani imams and {ulama’ that goes into such depth and detail concerning their lives and works. It is at this stage, then, that the Omani siyar begin to expand their coverage to include biography and bibliography.208 203 MS 5. Also see further studies on this text by John C. Wilkinson, ‘The Omani and Ibadi background to the Kilwa Sira: the Demise of Oman as a Political and Religious Force in the Indian Ocean in the 6th/12th Century’, in A.K. Irvine, R.B. Serjeant and G.R. Smith (eds), A Miscellany of Middle Eastern Articles in Memoriam Thomas Muir Johnstone 1924–1983 (London 1989). ‘Oman and East Africa: New Light on Early Kilwan History from the Omani Sources’, International Journal of African Historical Studies, v.6 (1981). 204 Pub. 3, 2:119. 205 Pub. 2, 1:372; Pub. 3, 2:13. 206 Pub. 2, 1:379; Pub. 3, 2:71. 207 Pub. 2, 1:373; Pub. 3, 2:16. 208 MS 3; Mc. 2.

157

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

CXXIX A sira by Imam MuÌammad b. Isma¨il in the form of a statement concerning the practice of optional sale (bay¨ al-khiyar). It is dated Wednesday 6 Jumada II 918 (18 August 1512). The Omani scholars unanimously supported the resolution to prohibit the practice of optional sale and to consider it usurious.209 CXXX A sira by AÌmad b. MuÌammad b. Maddad concerning Imam MuÌammad b. Isma¨il (906–24/1500–18) and his son Barakat b. MuÌammad b. Isma¨il. In this sira, Ibn Maddad proclaims dissociation from the imam and his son. This was to be expected, since the imams were collecting the zakat from the people without protecting them.210 CXXXI A sira by ¨Abd Allah b. ¨Umar b. Ziyad b. AÌmad (980s/ 1570s), a contemporary of Imam MuÌammad b. Isma¨il and his son Barakat. The sira seems to have been written in the 950s/1540s for Imam Barakat when he was about to prepare the falaj (irrigation channel)211 of Maytha in the city of Bahla. This sira discusses the construction of this channel.212 4B) This period of siyar starts at the beginning of the Ya¨aribi period (1034/1624). It marks the beginning of modern Oman: power had shifted from the dynasty to the imams and the state of Oman had begun to flourish. It is possible to argue that only those siyar that were written in the first Imamate of Ya¨aribah until the death of Imam NaÒir b. Murshid in 1059/1649 should be considered. Yet it can be argued that this period should be extended until the end of the first half of the eleventh/seventeenth century, when ¨Abd Allah b. Khalfan b. Sulayman, who was known as Ibn QayÒar, wrote the first biography in Omani literature, the sira of Imam NaÒir b. Murshid. The style of writing demonstrated in the Omani siyar of this period clearly exhibits the dominant style of writing common among the Arabs in general at this time. It is a style replete with rhetorical devices, embellishment, and ornamentation. The siyar from this period are the following: CXXXII A sira from an unknown writer among the people of Nafusa (a region in Libya). This sira is essentially a monograph on divinity, translated from the original Berber; however, it is unclear 209

Pub. 2, 1:381; Pub. 3, 2:74. MS 1; Mc. 2; Pub. 2, 1:384; Pub. 3, 2:78. 211 Cf. Wilkinson, Water and Tribal Settlement in South-East Arabia: A Study of the Aflaj of Oman (Oxford 1977). 212 Pub. 3, 2:198. 210

158

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

whether it was translated in Oman or in Nafusa before the Iba∂is sent it to Oman. It was basically written to teach the fundamentals of Islamic faith and Iba∂i dogma to the Berber people.213 CXXXIII A sira attributed to Sulayman b. al-Qasim al-Maghribi, written to the Mashariqa Omanis. This sira was probably written prior to, or at, the beginning of the imamate of NaÒir b. Murshid (1034–59/1624–49), because the writer mentions scholars of that time but does not name Imam NaÒir. The sira sheds some light on the situation of the Iba∂is in the Maghrib, especially concerning the problems between the people of Naffusa and Mizab.214 CXXXIV A sira from MuÌammad b. AÌmad al-Kharassini to Sulayman b. Abi al-Qasim and the people of the Maghrib and Nafusa. This sira is a reply to the preceding one, written at the behest of Imam NaÒir b. Murshid. The imam invites those addressed by the document to unite with others and to be more pragmatic about their problems.215 CXXXV A sira from Khamis b. Sa¨id al-ShaqÒi to the Banu MuÒ¨ab (Mizab) in southern Algeria. Khamis b. Sa¨id was the powerful figure behind the appointment of Imam NaÒir, who was his son-in-law. He is also the author of one of the most famous jurisprudential works of this period in Oman, Manhaj al-†alibin. Like the preceding sira, this sira was written on the orders of Imam NaÒir b. Murshid. It appears that the imam attempted to use his prestige in Oman to encourage the Iba∂is of North Africa to settle their differences and live in harmony.216 CXXXVI A sira by Sa¨id b. AÌmad b. MuÌammad al-Kharassini. This sira is a monograph, similar in style and content to ¨Amir b. ¨Ali al-Shammakhi’s (d. 792/1389) Risalat al-diyanat.217 The author of this sira gives a brief description of the Iba∂i movement and its creed. It is noteworthy that he includes a whole chapter on taqlid (emulation) and those sects that allow it. The last chapter in the sira is a biographical index of Iba∂i and Omani scholars.218 The final four siyar 219 come in the form of orders and counsels of advice from Imam NaÒir b. Murshid (First Ya}rubi Imam 1624–49) to his governors concerning the correct way of conducting political affairs. 213 214 215 216 217 218 219

Pub. 4, 1:189–97. Pub. 4, 1:198–202. Pub. 4, 1:203–12. Pub. 4, 1:213–19. Ennami, ‘Studies in Iba∂ism’, 249. Pub. 4, 1:220–48. Pub. 3, 2:24–34; Pub. 4, 1:256–65. 159

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

CXXXVII A sira to Abu al-Îasan ¨Ali b. AÌmad b. ¨Uthman, governor of Liwa, Îatta, Diyar al-Îuddan, al-Jaww, Buraimi oasis area, Najiran and Dima, written in Dhu al-Îijja 1050/April 1641. CXXXVIII A sira to ∑aliÌ b. Sa¨id al-Ma¨mari, governor of Sur and Ibra in eastern Oman. CXXXIX A sira to Abu ¨Abd Allah Sulayman b. Rashid b. ¨Abd Allah al-Kindi, governor of al-∑ir (also known as Julfar or present-day Ra’s al-Khaymah). CXL A sira to Sul†an b. Sayf al-Ya¨rubi, written after the latter had excused himself from the duties of the Imamate. He had been governor of the Bahla area. He succeeded Nasir as Imam in 1649 and ruled until 1680. Conclusions In the above, the Omani siyar have been presented as a cultural and intellectual phenomenon in classical Arabic literature, rather than merely as a large number of epistles and letters scattered throughout numerous Omani compilations. As such, they form an archive of primary sources for twelve-hundred years of Omani history. The study also adds a new dimension to the conventional definition of sira. This point allows us to make two conclusions. First, the Omani siyar consist of various expressions that reflect the periods in which each sira was written. Therefore, one cannot find a consistent theme for all Omani siyar. Second, the appearance of sub-divisions of Omani siyar is related to the progressive development of the Iba∂i intellectual movement in the East and the internal events of Omani history up to the eleventh/ seventeenth century. So, it is clear that the siyar first appeared in the Iba∂i centre in Basra and were written by the Iba∂i leaders. Later, however, the writers were Omanis, who adopted this kind of writing style. On a constructive level, this approach permits one to draw the conclusion that the Omani siyar have been shaped by three factors. First, all the siyar express and are formed by Iba∂i ideology. At the beginning, as Wilkinson says about the siyar, ¨Iba∂i theological literature really came into existence when personal communication was difficult. At one level they constitute what is little more than fragmentary correspondence, inter-scholarly and inter-community opinions and advice offered individually or collectively to imams and other {ulama’.’220 220 John. C. Wilkinson, ‘Iba∂i Theological Literature’, in M. Young, J. Latham, and R.B Serjeant (eds), Religion, Learning and Science in the ¨Abbasid Period (Cambridge 1992), 2:35.

160

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

Therefore, is it beneficial to use the siyar to study Iba∂i intellectual and theological opinions and their development within the Iba∂i movement. Afterwards, the siyar changed to express the ideology of the Mashariqa Iba∂is in Oman. Second, the siyar are connected especially with Oman as their origin and historical context. Third, the variation and development in Omani policy prompted the recording and writing of the siyar. Thus it is necessary when Omani history is divided into periods that it be noted how these correspond to similar stages or periods in the siyar. The evolving needs of the Omani community throughout the periods of its history influenced the style and content of the siyar that the community’s scholars composed. In the first period, most of the siyar were epistles containing the Iba∂i scholars’ opinions. In the second period, there was an exchange of letters between the rival Rustaq and Nizwa schools, especially about their chief concern, namely the nature of the Imamate. During this period, the siyar started to take a specifically Omani form, and it can be said that this period has shaped the style of Omani writers. In the third period, most of the siyar were monographs and fatwas, which deal with the internal politics of Oman rather than with Iba∂i ideological opinions. The Omani writers of the third period were influenced by the style of Arabic literature outside Oman, like the sira of Nijad b. Musa al-ManaÌi that refutes Ibn al-Taj’s Risalat al-isti¨dad fi ma la yasa¨ al-mukallaf jahluhu, and the epic sira of Imam MuÌammad b. Abi Ghassan to the people of al-¨Aqar. In the fourth period, the maqama and the judgment manifesto became part of the sira genre. At the beginning of the Ya¨ariba state, it was fashionable to use rhymed prose in their writings. This development took a clear line of greater specialization, reflecting the increased consciousness of Omani communities. The sira had developed into an extremely adaptable and flexible form. To sum up, the sira as a style of writing adopted by the Iba∂i {ulama’ was at first restricted to doctrinal polemics, and then became used for wider concerns in Oman. One cannot find writers of siyar who could be specifically described as being Omani poets like Ibn Durayd, al-Sitali or al-Kidhawi, or writers who adopted Iba∂i ideology like al-Khalil b. AÌmad221 and Abu ¨Ubayda Ma¨mar b. al-Muthanna.222 These siyar are primarily concerned with the doctrine of Iba∂ism. This point leads us to conclude that, although the formulation of these siyar is based on the framework of the ¨aqida (creed) 221 222

Yaqut, Mu¨jam al-udaba} (Cairo, n.d), 11:72. Ibid., 19:156. 161

IDENTIFYING THE (IBAΔI/OMANI) SIYAR

form, they are significant as sources for the history of Iba∂i doctrine and also of Oman. The recording of Omani history was greatly influenced by Omani siyar, since these were written by religious scholars. Some researchers have believed that some events in Omani history may have been ignored, in particular the {ulama’ focused mainly on writing about their ideology, while considering other literature as merely the evil state of jababira, the oppressors.223 In their opinion, the {ulama’ have tended, therefore, to overlook the historical events and figures in Oman that are not directly relevant to their ideology, such as the rule of the Banu Makram, the Banu Wajih and the Nabhanis, who were Omanis, or foreign powers such as the Carmathians and the Buyids. Addressing this point, one could make the following observations. First, all the Omani historical compilations that have survived were written after the twelfth/seventeenth century, and their compilers wrote about Oman as an independent state, whereas it appears that Oman was a semi-independent state in the early days of Islam, and became an independent state only after the establishment of the imamate of al-Julanda b. Mas¨ud in 132/749. This could be the reason why the Omani historians regarded the other states as imperialistic foreign states, and why they ignored them. For example, Yaqut (seventeenth/thirteenth century) refers to the city of Sohar as ‘the greatest city in the Chinese sea’, and Sohar was well known to be under the rule of the Imamate and yet Omani historians did not record anything about it. Second, the non-Iba∂i Omani writers did not record their history, so we do not hear of non-Iba∂i people. As a result, Oman’s history is largely Iba∂i history. Third, as Wilkinson has noted, ‘a complete study of the background to this period (the early Imamate history) must involve use of the external as well as the internal sources because without them the general historical framework cannot be reconstructed’.224 Overall, the Omani siyar can be described as a phenomenon that is the archive of the early history of Oman and is a distinctive feature both of early Iba∂is and Omani historical writing. Address for Correspondence: P.O. Box 4, Code 421, Bidiyah, Sultanate of Oman

223

See Faruq, Muqaddima fi maÒadir, 16; Oman in History, 265. Wilkinson, ‘Sources for the Early History of Oman’, in Studies in the History of Arabia, (Riyadh 1979), 91. 224

162

RHYTHM AND BEAT: RE-EVALUATING ARABIC PROSODY IN THE LIGHT OF MAHRI ORAL POETRY SAM LIEBHABER MIDDLEBURY COLLEGE

Abstract This article attempts to resolve ambiguities that surround the prosody of bedouin vernacular poetry by analysing poetic performance amongst the Mahra of Southeast Yemen. As speakers of one of the few, remaining indigenous languages of the Arabian Peninsula, the Mahra have preserved an oral poetic practice that is free from the influence of literate Arabic poetics, including its prescriptive metrical rules. At the same time, Mahri poetry bears close thematic similarities to Arabic naba†i poetry, indicating an overlapping history with shared pre-historic roots. Based on fieldwork conducted in al-Mahra between 2003 and 2004, this article revisits the question whether bedouin vernacular poetry follows a qualitative or a quantitative metric and explores what this binary conception of prosody reveals about the performance of early historic Arabic poetry.

The question whether the prosody of Bedouin, vernacular poetry is quantitative or qualitative has generated considerable discussion yet the issue still seems unsatisfactorily resolved since a key ingredient, the influence of a literate practice, cannot be isolated from the analysis of Arabic oral poetics. Any oral performance in the Arabic language, even if it falls under the rubric of the ‘popular’, unwritten praxis, will draw on an awareness of the common literary tradition, if not on the literary tradition itself.1 The question of what pre-literate Arabic poetry would have sounded like is even more problematic; the written texts of early Arabic poetry provide a distorted record of a poetic practice 1 Distinguishing between vernacular genres of Arabic poetry (such as Ìumayni poetry in Yemen or naba†i poetry in the Najd) and literary genres (such as Ìakami poetry or the qaÒida) on the basis of theme, topic or narrative structure is fraught with difficulty. Both registers are appreciated by all audiences and their themes and topics frequently overlap. Crossover is a fact of their production and performance.

163

RHYTHM AND BEAT

that was once exclusively oral in composition, performance and transmission. Standing outside the Arabic linguistic domain and yet a native part of Arabia, the Mahra of Southeast Yemen retain one of the last vestiges of purely oral, Arabian poetry. As one of the few remaining, unwritten languages of the Middle East, the Mahri language is demonstrably free from the influence of literary guidelines and prescriptive rules to which Arabic poetic prosody is beholden. The oral traditions of the Mahra provide a window into an era of Arabic poetry that predates the advent of classical philology, written texts and canonical metrical rules, all of which exerted a profound pull on the production, transmission and performance of oral poetry. This article revisits one topic of scholarly discussion concerning Bedouin oral poetry, meter and prosody, and re-evaluates it in light of recent fieldwork on Mahri poetry.2 Historical and Linguistic Background Mahri is the most widely spoken Modern South Arabian language today with approximately 187,000 speakers.3 Although it once belonged to an unbroken swath of South Semitic languages that extended along the periphery of Southern Arabia into East Africa, the 2

This article is based on research carried out in Yemen in 2003–4 with the support of a Fulbright-Hays DDRA fellowship and a fellowship from the American Institute for Yemeni Studies (AIYS). I would like to thank the Centre Français d’Archéologie et de Sciences Sociales de Sanaa (CEFAS) and the Yemen Center for Studies and Research (YCSR) for their generous logistical support. In addition, I would like to thank MuÌammad ¨Akkush, Îajj Dakon, Christopher Edens, ¨Askari Îujayran, MuÌammad Salim al-Qumayri and Alexander Sima for their kind support in bringing this project to fruition. This article is based on an appendix to my dissertation: ‘Bedouins Without Arabic: Language, Poetry and the Mahra of Southeast Yemen’ (University of California, Berkeley 2007). All Mahri poems cited in this article were recorded by myself and all translations into English are my own. 3 It is difficult to derive an actual figure for the number of Mahri speakers. Îasan Maqbul al-Ahdal cites a census from 1999 that puts the number of inhabitants of al-Mahra at 183,000, although this figure does not distinguish between Mahri speakers and non-Mahri residents of al-Mahra (al-Ahdal 1999: 10). Assuming that the administrative capital of al-Mahra, al-Ghaydha, is largely made up of non-Mahri speaking Yemenis, then al-Ghaydha’s population of 38,000 (based on the same 1999 census) can be subtracted from the total population figure and the result multiplied by a growth rate of 3.6% (Qumayri 2000: 30), to yield an approximate figure of 187,000 Mahri speakers. 164

RHYTHM AND BEAT

Mahri language is currently limited to the Governorate of al-Mahra in Eastern Yemen and to Dhufar in Oman. Since Mahri is the least isolated of the Modern South Arabian languages (a group that includes Soqo†ri, Jibbali, Hobyot, Îarsusi and Ba†Ìari), Mahri is also the most transparently related to Arabic and appears to be converging towards it in terms of phonology and vocabulary. Although the Mahri language is explicitly mentioned in Arabic sources as early as the tenth century CE, actual linguistic specimens in Arabic-language scholarship were not available until very recently.4 In western scholarship, the Modern South Arabian languages first appeared in the mid-nineteenth century and abundant linguistic specimens were published shortly thereafter by members of the Südarabische Expedition (Hein 1909, Jahn 1902, Müller 1902, 1905 and 1907).5 Mahri poetry remains an under-studied phenomenon and its potential as a testing ground for theories concerning the practice of contemporary vernacular and pre-literate Arabic poetry has been overlooked. Even if we take into account the material published by the Südarabische Expedition, there have not yet been any systematic studies of Mahri poetry and certainly not of Mahri prosody. The chief question that this article addresses is whether Mahri prosody is qualitative, quantitative or a combination of the two. In asking this question, we are embarking into territory well mapped out for vernacular Arabic poetry in the Arabian Peninsula. 4

One of the earliest texts to point out the linguistic anomaly of al-Mahra is Abu MuÌammad al-Hamdani’s (d. ~ 945 CE) ∑ifat Jazirat al-¨arab, in which the Mahra are said to speak ‘gibberish’ (ghutm) and so resemble foreigners (al-¨ajam) in their speech (al-Hamdani 1974: 277). There are only two books in Arabic exclusively devoted to the Mahri language: ¨Ali MuÌsin Al ÎafiÂ’s Min lahajat ‘Mahra’ waadabiha (1987) and ¨Adil Mas¨ud Murikh’s al-¨Arabiyya al-qadima wa-lahajatuha (2000). In neither book is the Mahri language presented as an independent language in its own right; rather, the authors view Mahri as a dialect of ‘ancient Arabic’. Four books deal with the Mahri language in passing: Îasan Maqbul al-Ahdal’s MuÌafaÂat al-Mahra: Ìaqa}iq wa}l-arqam (2000), ¨Ali Sa¨id Bakrit’s al-Mahra: al-ar∂ wa} l-sukkan (1999) and Salim Qumayri’s al-Mahra: bawabat al-Yaman al-sharqiyya (2000) and al-Mahra: al-qabila wa}l-lugha (2003). Jibbali/SÌeri, a linguistic relative of Mahri, is treated by ¨Ali AÌmad al-ShaÌri in Åufar: kitabatuha wa-nuqushuha al-qadima (1994) and in Lughat ¨Ad (2000), where it is likewise viewed as ‘ancient Arabic’ and not as a member of a distinct, linguistic sub-family. 5 Lexical data for the MSA languages first appeared in 1835 when Lieutenant James Reynold Wellsted of the British Army visited Soqo†ra on his way to India and collected 250 words in the Soqo†ri language (Wellsted 1835: 220–9). In 1840, Wellsted published another 37 words in the Mahri language (Wellsted 1840: 26–7). 165

RHYTHM AND BEAT

The Debate: Qualitative Versus Quantitative Prosody Two ‘schools’ of thought on the prosody of Bedouin poetry are delineated by scholarly discourse: the qualitative ‘school’ and the quantitative ‘school.’ For the most part, the boundary between qualitative accent and quantitative metrics is viewed as an impermeable one, perhaps due to the success of al-Khalil b. AÌmad’s (d. 791 CE) rigorously schematic analysis of literate Arabic prosody. Representing the first ‘school’, Clinton Bailey asserts that the prosodic system of Bedouin poetry from the Sinai and Negev is accentual and based on the opposition of stressed and non-stressed syllables. Moreover, he proposes that any accentual patterns are irregular and subordinate to the rhythmic exigencies of accompanying melody. The only constraint in a line of Bedouin poetry, other than rhyme, is that the number of stressed syllables must remain constant throughout.6 I would add my own observations in support of Bailey’s conclusion: stress patterns in declamatory recitals of Mahri poetry are clearly audible and the number of stressed syllables per line is a key factor of Mahri poetic prosody.7 Indeed, stress was the first, salient quality of Mahri poetry that struck my ears. This is not my impression alone. ∑aliÌ al-Din al-Dakkak, a cultural reporter for the Yemeni cultural magazine al-Thaqafiyya, reported a similar impression of overpowering rhythm in Mahri-language poetry: I didn’t trouble myself very much to search for the meaning of the lines written in the Mahri language; suffice it to say, the rhythm [al-iqa¨] made quite an impression on me [shaddani ¨an naÌwin ma]. The tendency for rhythm to triumph over meaning [taghlib al-iqa¨ ¨ala }l-ma¨na] is the basis for the modern theory of poetry that states: ‘In the beginning, poetry was pure rhythm [iqa¨]…a chant that took after the chant of camel drovers.’ (al-Dakkak 2003: 11) 6 ‘Although the sung verses of the above poems could ignore the natural stress and bend any of their component words to the dictates of the tune, they were not devoid of scansion. Both the bida¨ and the imweli, when sung, comprised three stressed syllables to a hemistich, six to a line. Even bida¨ poems not composed to music…are generally careful to keep to a six-foot line, despite their not being sheltered by the tune of a song to relieve them of the need to accent the poem’s words naturally. The composition of a non-sung bida¨, like its sung counterpart, is none the less facilitated in composition by the device of irregular metre’ (Bailey 2002: 387). 7 This is also Palva’s impression for poetry composed by speakers of an atrochaic, Arabic dialect: ‘[The] scansion leaves the impression that it is based on a number of accents’ (Palva 1993: 83).

166

RHYTHM AND BEAT

The importance of accentual stress in recitation is demonstrated by a short lyric poem (Mhr. naÒÒ ÈÒidet [‘story qaÒida’]) composed by the Mahri poet, Îajj Dakon: SawÈ (‘Desire’). In this poem, nearly every syllable is heavy (CV:, CVC, CV:C, CVCC), making quantitative analysis all but impossible:8 Ìa †0† ∂-hal4È // siw3† b¢-l2f | – –¬ || – –¬ | // | – –¬ || ˇ –¬ | hoh Òábri támm // w¢-Ì3li sf2f | – –¬ || – –¬ | // | ˇ –¬ || – –¬ | Like a dry palm frond with fire on its fibres My patience is finished and my condition is weak

The meter of these lines is expressed through expiratory stress on alternating syllables. This pattern is consistent throughout the entire poem: four syllables per hemistich and every other syllable is stressed. However, since seven of the eight syllables are heavy, any quantitative metrics must be augmented by stress. Additionally, the light syllable [CV], including the coordinating conjunction w¢- and personal verbal prefixes, will occasionally receive stress while neighbouring heavy syllables do not. For example, the following lines of a praise-poem for a young girl (a genre called semret in Mahri) by the Mahri poetess, Raghbon birt Sa¨id, exhibit a pattern of six-syllables per hemistich with an alternating stress pattern: 3) ∂¢-m0ken b2s ¢rÌ2m // l-ad †ˇéyres t1 ysus3f ´ Ì¢m1d // b¢-lᆢf w¢ˆˆ-terh3f 4) È¢nát¢s birt She has abundant beauty // no one exceeds her in description Birt Îmed raised her // with gentleness and grace

In line 4, the coordinate conjunction w¢- (‘and’) receives the penultimate stress of the line while the neighbouring heavy syllables, /-†¢f/ and /ter-/ do not. The same non-quantitative, accentual scansion can be demonstrated in a line of collectively performed couplets (regzit meydani): gáyber séttal k¢ˆ-n¢b1} // w¢ˆ-s¢n1g ∂¢-h1h ¨ad2d // r3keb w¢ˆ-g¢z1 Ì¢m4l The guests packed up and went with the news // people of dear relations // the traveller has brought [his] kin 8 Following the lead established by Albert Socin and by nearly every specialist in Arabian ethnopoetics since, I have inserted an anaptyctic vowel /¢/ wherever the original recitation provided one to justify a consistent syllable count or to resolve a consonant cluster. As Heikki Palva points out, the insertion of a short vowel is not just ‘a biased theoretical reconstruction’ but is a typical linguistic feature of the Najdi Arabic (Palva 1993: 76).

167

RHYTHM AND BEAT

In this couplet, the preposition k¢- (‘with’) and the conjunction w¢receive stress twice, although surrounding heavy syllables do not. In the chanted performance that I recorded for this exchange of couplets, the stress pattern is clearly audible even when the ictus falls on a light syllable. Yet Mahri, like Arabic, distinguishes between long and short vowels and we should therefore expect quantity to play a role in Mahri prosody. Two Mahri-language poets, Îajj Dakon and ¨Ali NaÒir BalÌaf, insisted that Mahri prosody followed Arabic patterns of syllabic quantity (buÌur). In an interview with al-Thaqafiyya, Îajj contends that Mahri poetry is richer than Arabic poetry in metrical patterns, (although in the same interview Îajj states that Mahri has both metrical patterns [buÌur] and rhythms [iqa¨at]).9 Both Îajj and ¨Ali NaÒir demonstrated specific meters for specific genres of poem, each of which also has its own, characteristic melody. For example, the poem Writ ∂-Baris (‘The Moon of Paris’) by Îajj is meant to be sung to a melody known by its refrain, ya s0ma¨2 sam¨2 (‘O listener, hark!’), while collectively performed couplets, regzit meydani, are always chanted (or sung) to the same, characteristic melody.10 Secondly, my informants suggested a metrical system of prosody that is independent of melody. For instance, Îajj sang the poem }Aser seh driyet la according to two different melodies: the ‘night time’ melody (lawli) and the melody customarily used for tribal odes (}odi w¢-krem krem). In each case, the meter was preserved intact although Îajj averred that instrumentation might distort the regularity of the metrical pattern. The interplay of meter and accent, subject to a near infinite variety of possible combinations, is demonstrated through J.A. al-Dafari’s analysis of the prosody of Arabic, vernacular poetry in Southern Arabia. In an unpublished dissertation, al-Dafari argues for a rhythmic effect in the performance of humayni poetry that is achieved by manipulating internal pauses. To wit, ‘the vitality in Ìumaini is derived from the contrast between the metrical scheme of the poem and its rhythmical pattern as largely determined by the natural flow 9 ‘Mahri poetry is just like Arabic poetry with respect to its metrical patterns [buÌur] since it branches out into the same patterns [buÌur] as Arabic poetry, approximately, and with the added consideration that Mahri poetry has its own rhythms [}iqa¨atahu] which differ from the rhythms of other types of poetry’ (al-Dakkak 2003: 11). 10 We can contrast the syllabic length of g0bem g3li le}ass3È // w-legt2r men ¢kemméth (‘Leave my darling to her heart’s desire and let her speak from her mind’) — 7 syllables per hemistich — and †a† wét f¢†áwn // gw1 ∂-l¢†3f (‘When one remembers his passion for gentle women’) — 4 syllables per hemistich.

168

RHYTHM AND BEAT

of the language’. Al-Dafari thus raises the possibility that the prosody of South Arabian Ìumayni poetry can be both qualitative and quantitative in the same poem, even during in the same performance (Wagner 2004: 42–3).11 This brings us to the position of David Semah, Saad Sowayan, Marcel Kurpershoek and Steve Caton. All four apply classical Arabic metrical schemes (vowel or syllabic length), to contemporary, vernacular, Arabian poetry. For one, Semah critiques Bailey’s characterization of Bedouin prosody as accent-based (Semah 1991: 187–200). Sowayan is no less emphatic in demonstrating the quantitative metrics of naba†i poetry; indeed, he finds 51 quantitative patterns (Sowayan 1985: 159).12 Caton likewise derives a series of quantitative patterns for Yemeni poetry from Khawlan; fundamental to his argument, however, is the optional segmentation of a word-final monosyllable CV:C into two syllables: CV: + C(V). Thus, ‘Ìawlan’ is scanned as Ìaw la n(V) {| – – ˆ |}, ‘allah’ as }al la h(V) {| – – ˆ |} and ‘ÒalaÌ’ as Òa la Ì(V) {| ˆ – ˆ |} (Caton 1990: 279–81). Caton’s addendum to the prosody of the Yemeni zamil closely mirrors Semah’s critique of Bailey’s analysis of Bedouin metrics. Like Caton, Semah finds regular quantitative meters by breaking apart overlong, final syllables. For instance, Semah rightly points out that ‘kull ÒaÌib’ should be scanned as kull(i) ÒaÌib {| – ˆ – – |}, and not {| – – – |} as Bailey scans it (Semah 1991: 190–1). The position advocated by Semah, Sowayan, Caton and others is amply supported by Heikki Palva, who adduces a linguistic proof for the presence of anaptyctic vowels in Bedouin poetry and provides empirical support for the theory of quantitative meters. Palva divides North Arabian Bedouin dialects into a trochaic group, in which overlong syllables are broken in two by the insertion of a short vowel, and an atrochaic group, which permits overlong vowels and is thus characterized by a low frequency of short vowels. This has critical implications for the prosody of Bedouin oral poetry since poetry of the trochaic group will be based on quantitative metrics whereas poetry of the atrochaic group will tend towards accentual rhythms (Palva 1993: 87). Palva’s work is an important contribution to the field of 11

Ja¨far ¨Abduh al-Dafari’s dissertation, ‘Îumaini Poetry in South Arabia’ (School of Oriental and African Studies 1966), was unavailable to me at the time this article was written. The quoted material has been taken from Mark Wagner’s dissertation, ‘The Poetics of Îumayni Verse: Language and Meaning in the Arab and Jewish Vernacular Poetry of Yemen’ (New York University 2004). 12 Kurpershoek’s metrical analysis of najdi (i.e. naba†i ) poetry is based on Sowayan’s work (Kurpershoek 1994: 86–90). 169

RHYTHM AND BEAT

oral Arabic prosody. However, Palva maintains an ‘either/or’ position: either the prosody of a poem is quantitative or accentual depending on which geographical region of the Arabian Peninsula it derives from. The introduction of anaptyctic vowels à la Caton, Palva, Semah and Sowayan is tailor-made for Mahri poetics. Unlike Arabic, there are no dictionary forms of Mahri words against which deviations can be measured. As a result, the syllabification of individual words can vary greatly, particularly when dialectal differences are brought into consideration. As we have already seen, short helping vowels such as /¢/ and /e/ are regularly introduced to resolve consonantal clusters or to ‘fix’ syllable counts. Provided that these alterations are minor, they do not violate any rules of the language since there are no normative vocalizations in Mahri to begin with, nor is there a single, exemplary dialect of the Mahri language.13 We can use lines 12 and 13 from the poem SawÈ by Îajj Dakon to illustrate this principle: leyw0 ÒwaÈ0r // fr1r w-ay2f w-b3Òer w-b0r // men ¢ˆmÌayf2f O little falcon! Go quickly! Fly! Go at dusk, travel all night from MÌayfif

In the second hemistich of the second line, an anaptyctic vowel has been affixed to MÌayfif. In poetic recitation, the hemistich is rendered: m(¢) ném Ìey f2f, with the reduction of the preposition men (‘from’) to a quasi-syllabic m(¢). The re-syllabification and vocalization of this village’s name is thus completely subordinate to prosodic needs; at the same time, there is no sense that the integrity of this name has been compromised. Quantitative analysis of Mahri prosody is further supported by the fact that the word final syllable CVC, elsewhere considered heavy, is treated as a short syllable in spoken Mahri.14 This enables us to scan Mahri poetry according to quantitative metrics with some regularity. If we take a look at another semret by Raghbon birt Sa¨id, Gguten ber 13 The Mahri language is broken into a number of dialectal groups, some of which are nearly distinct languages. Of the dialects that have been surveyed thus far, the western dialect of Qishn and the eastern Mahri dialects of Îawf and Oman are the most represented; the Mahri dialects of the inland steppe and Wadi Masila remain virtual terrae incognitae. 14 The rules of stress in Mahri are summarized as follows: ‘L’accent tombe sur la (dernière) syllable longue {CVC(C), CV:(C)} ou, si toutes les syllables sont brèves {CV}, sur la première (CVC en fin de mot compte pour brève)’ (Lonnet and SimeoneSenelle 1997: 354; my italics).

170

RHYTHM AND BEAT

trok faÌret (‘The Girls Have Forsaken Their Pride’), and scan it with this principle in mind, some patterns begin to emerge. In the first three lines, we find the following: 1) g¢|g4|ten ber t¢|r3k // faÌ|r1t w¢ l-¨ad ¨a|k3f | ˇ | – | ˇ | / | – | ˇ | – | // | – | – | ˇ | / | – | ˇ | – | 2) man h0s ¨aÈ|rot †¢|m0¨ // ¨a∂ méd|Ìes ber s¢|l3f | – | – | ˇ | / | – | ˇ | – | // | – | – | ˇ | / | – | ˇ | – | 3) ∂¢-m0|ken bis ¢r|Ì2m // l-ad †ˇéy|res te-y|su|s3f | ˇ | – | ˇ | / | – | ˇ | – | // | – | – | ˇ | / | – | – | – | 1) The girls have abandoned their pride // and no longer gather their hair in a bun 2) Since ™ma¨ has grown up // her praise has already preceded [her] 3) She has abundant beauty // no one exceeds her in description

For one, we notice that the initial hemistich of each line follows a pattern, {| ˇ | – | ˇ | / | – | ˇ | – |}, that consists of two feet, {| ˇ | – | ˇ |} and {| – | ˇ | – |}, with one exception in line 2: {| – | – | ˇ |}. The second hemistichs of each line follow a slightly different pattern, {| – | – | ˇ | / | – | ˇ | – |}, consisting of two feet, {| – | – | ˇ |} and {| – | ˇ | – |}, with an exception in line 3: {| – | – | – |}. The pattern of the initial hemistich, {| ˇ | – | ˇ | / | – | ˇ | – |}, is precisely repeated in four lines and with one syllable altered in another five lines for a total of nine out of thirteen lines in this poem. The initial hemistichs of the remaining four lines consistently follow another pattern: {| – | – | – | / | – | ˇ | – |}. The pattern for the second hemistich, {| – | – | ˇ | / | – | ˇ | – |}, is precisely repeated in six lines and with one syllable altered in another four lines; the remaining three lines are problematic. It is safe to say that Mahri poetry follows a qualitative metric since scanning it according to syllable length does reveal a general repetition of patterns. I am certain that any inconsistencies in my scansion derive from the fact that I transcribed this poem with the help of an informant from Qishn in western al-Mahra, whereas the poet herself, Raghbon, hails from the eastern district of Îawf on the Omani-Yemeni border. This was no inconsiderable problem; in addition to differences in stress and intonation, there are also significant phonological and lexical differences between eastern and western Mahri dialects.15 The presence of ¨ayin in the dialects of the hinterlands of Îawf is one such obstacle to scansion since ¨ayin was generally omitted by Îajj Dakon, a speaker of the ¨ayin-less Qishn dialect of Mahri. Thus, ba¨l(i) (‘God’) {| – ˇ |} in the dialect of Raghbon would be related to me as bal {| – |} by Îajj. 15

171

RHYTHM AND BEAT

Despite some clear evidence, I think that Semah errs in insisting on the exclusivity of their quantitative analysis; I disagree with Semah’s suggestion that ‘the theory of accentual metre expounded [by Bailey] has little relevance to the poetry of the Bedouin with which we are dealing’ (Semah 1991: 192). This statement does not agree with my own experience; as pointed out earlier, the accentual metrics of Mahri poetry in recitation is clearly audible. How do we reconcile these two opposing views when personal experience indicates that both are valid? For a solution to this inconsistency, we can turn to an observation made by Carlo Landberg. While attempting to resolve metrical and phonological discrepancies in his transcriptions of Îa∂rami oral poetry, Landberg reports making the following statement to his informants: ‘But you pronounce the words in an entirely different way while chanting’. To this, he received the ‘significant’ response: ‘This is because chanting is something other than reciting’ (Landberg 1905: 117).16 Landberg’s observation is noted by Caton and Sowayan, yet I would like to take their conclusions even further (Caton 1990: 280–1; Sowayan 1985: 152). The response of Landberg’s informants indicates that different systems of prosody are used for different modes of performance. In melodic or chanted performances, a quantitative system prosody comes to the fore and restores the short vowels that were elided in recitation. Conversely, in a non-chanted, non-sung recitation of poetry, (generally the performance of a single, unaccompanied individual), accentual rhythm takes precedence. The critical element of difference is melody: in the absence of it, accent becomes the structuring principle behind verse while quantitative patterns go hand-in-hand with the presence of melody.17 Thus, Bedouin metrics is both quantitative and accentual, depending on the mode of performance. 16 Elsewhere, Landberg states: ‘There are many examples of this in my work. The form gìt, with a short “i”, is much rarer than gä:t. I asked my Datini [informants] why they do not say gä:t. “It doesn’t work here,” they responded, and yet they all chanted gä:t! This is explained by the rhythmic accent of this syllable: “i” often becomes becomes “ä” in chanting and the vowel is elongated under the accent. When I asked them to chant the second verse and to substitute gä:t for git, they began: “la-ga˙}te-ge ” but then immediately stopped and said: “Look! It doesn’t work.” I repeat that these people do not know what a “meter” is and were completely ignorant of why I always had them chant “recited poetry” (les poésies dictées)’ (Landberg 1905: 134). 17 This is easily demonstrable in recordings in which I solicited recitations and sung performances of the same poem. One such recording was made for a semret poem composed by MuÌammad AÌmad Za¨banot that was both recited and sung by him (January 12, 2004).

172

RHYTHM AND BEAT

The importance of performance in determining which system of prosody is used can be demonstrated through the Mahri lexicon. My fieldwork indicates that the Mahri verb ‘rwo/yrey’ (and its derived substantive ‘riwi ’) points to a recited, accentual declamation of poetry as opposed to other performance types that are guided by melody and therefore follow a quantitative metric. This became clear to me when the Mahri poet, Îajj Dakon, explained Mahri ‘riwi ’ as ‘shi¨r nathari ’ in Arabic. Although the meaning of ‘nathari ’ can be ambiguous in the context of vernacular Arabic poetry, Îajj must have meant a nonmelodic recitation of poetry since his contrasting category, ‘shi¨r ghina}i ’, unambiguously indicates ‘sung-poetry’. The interpretation of rwo/yrewy as a recited, (non-melodized) performance is borne out in a poem that I collected from ¨Isa KedÌeyt, a retired judge from the district of Îawf. As a judge, ¨Isa KedÌayt was called upon to relate (‘rwoh’ < riwi ) his judgment in a case brought to him by ¨Abdallah son of LeddeÌ: lawb gáwnes Ìy3m // w-h3la Èf3d // w¢-gs3h b-rehd2d 18 l-¨abdálleh ¢redd // ¢b2r ledd1Ì ˛ // ∂¢-¨aÒfeh g2d 19 ¨am3rem rw3h // w-r3keb gr3y // w¢-bh1l habd2d 20 O Sun, you have set // the shadow of evening has descended // and encircled the expanse of the land. 2) I’ll respond to ¨Abdallah // the son of LaddeÌ // of good repute 3) They said: ‘Tell [us]! // arrange your speech // in a number of words’.

1) 2) 3) 1)

The word ‘rwoh’ in the third line must be an invitation for ¨Isa to speak (or recite) his judgment as a poem and not to chant or sing it.21 Indeed, it is impossible to imagine ¨Isa actually singing or chanting his legal judgments, although whether they might be melodicized afterwards is another issue entirely. 18 gawnes < G.N.¨.: ‘g¢no, g¢not/t¢gona: to be nearly set (sun)’ (Johnstone 1987: 121); hola < H.L.¨: ‘hola}/hila’: shade, shadow; reflection…moving shadow in a valley (poet.)’ (Johnstone 1987: 156); gsuh < G.S.[V].: Ar. ghasa: to cover, envelop, conceal; rehdid: plot of land, Ar. masaÌat al-ar∂, < R.D.Y.: ‘ridit: field, fertile area’ (Johnstone 1987: 315). 19 }aÒfeh < W.∑.F.: ‘m¢yÒáyf, m¢wÒ¢fut: fine-looking, famed, famous’ (Johnstone 1987: 431). 20 bhel < B.H.L.: ‘b¢hlit/b¢hel: word’ (Johnstone 1987: 45); habdid < B.D.D.: a group, collection, Ar. kammiya, majmu¨a. 21 The rendition of legal judgements in verse is meant to aid the oral transmission of the courts’ rulings. In the fiqh culture of Northern Yemen, scholarship and poetry went hand-in-hand (Messick 1993: 48).

173

RHYTHM AND BEAT

For the Mahra, the basic distinction in poetry is not between formal genres but between performance types. However, due to a reliance on literate models of ‘word-art’ in which formal distinctions in genre, not performance, define the basic categories, the meaning of riwi has been lost to Arabic and Western scholarship. For instance, MuÌsin Al Îafi contrasts riwi poetry with regzit poetry on formal, thematic grounds (bipartite thematic poetry versus tripartite occasional poetry [Al Îafi 1987: 71]), and adds that riwi is the less prestigious of the two poetic types. In fact, regzit can be performed as a riwi poem if it is stripped of the melody that usually accompanies it. Al Îafi is correct in asserting that riwi is less prestigious than regzit; however, this is due to the fact that a non-chanted performance does not require the social coordination that a communal performance of regzit does. The meaning of the root R.W.Y. in Mahri is confused by T.M. Johnstone as well, who lists ‘to sing’ amongst its meanings (Johnstone 1987: 333–4). This appears to directly contradict my own data in which ‘riwi ’ indicates anything but sung poetry. These misconceptions can be explained in light of Îajj’s binary organization of Mahri poetry into ‘nathtari’ versus ‘ghina}i ’, an oral conception of the Mahri poetic system that was likely valid for Arabic poetry as long as its practice remained entirely oral. However, this distinction ceased to be valid for Arabic poetry once it moved into a literate practice where the distinction became one of ‘prose’ versus ‘poetry’. Al Îafi projects this literary distinction onto Mahri poetry and therefore views ‘riwi’ as a formal category and not as a mode of performance. Using Mahri data to resolve an Arabic ambiguity, I suggest that ‘nathr’ in Arabic once indicated the non-melodic mode of performance (cf. Mahri riwi), whereas ‘shi¨r’ indicated everything else, both chanted and sung. Once Arabic developed a literate poetic praxis, ‘nathr’ took on the meaning of prose to designate this relatively new, un-sung and un-chanted literary genre. The question remains why some field researchers hear stress (such as Bailey and myself ), while others (Sowayan, Caton, et al.) hear quantity in Arabian vernacular poetry. The answer to this is related to the purpose that lies behind data collection and the techniques used to collect it. Bailey recorded performances by individual bedouin in order to capture an ‘original’ text of the poem. This involved writing an oral poem down in Arabic characters and circulating it amongst the tribal ruwah (‘transmitters’), who then weighed in with their emendations. The poets or ruwah were aware that they were commending a text to an abstract and de-contextualized posterity. Under 174

RHYTHM AND BEAT

these circumstances, melody, dance and collective performance were unnecessary to the process of recording a fixed text and could therefore be dispensed with. This yielded poetry in spoken recitation, neither chanted nor sung, that lacked the regular quantitative meter noted by Landberg, Socin, Sowayan and many others. My own methods of poetry collection were similar to Bailey’s. When I asked an informant to provide a poem, the informant delved into his or her memory and retrieved a previously memorized poem that was often the work of another poet. This suited the setting: I would organize an ‘official’ session, arrive with a tape recorder and microphone and work alone with the informant or with a limited number of friends or family. Melody and dancing, so intrinsic to the production of Mahri poetry, were almost always absent. Chanting or singing, without the accompaniment of the poet’s peers or a social event to frame the performance, would have been completely incongruous and even impossible to re-create. A recited performance emerged as is typical when a poem is casually delivered to a small audience. Although spoken recitation may lack the cultural and social significance of a collective performance, it compensates for this lack of social relevance through sheer frequency. These were the performances that I primarily recorded and observed and like al-Dakkak and Bailey, I was struck by the regularity of accentual stress patterns. A different set of conditions and interests obtained for Caton’s and Sowayan’s collections of Arabic vernacular poetry. Caton’s interests lie in the enactment of social conflict and resolution through Yemeni tribal poetry. This naturally led him to emphasize the two, extemporized genres of collective poetry, the balah and the zamil. As a result, Caton’s data were gathered in the context of chanting and the swaying, rhythmic dances of Khawlani tribesmen; in this ‘melody forward’ environment, accentual stress was doubtless subordinate to quantitative metrics. Sowayan has a different approach to Arabian poetics and yet arrives at the same conclusion. In my view, this is the result of two principles. The first, as is made clear in Sowayan (1985), is his treatment of the long, mono-rhymed texts of naba†i poetry within the referential framework of the pre-Islamic qaÒida, which followed quantitative meters.22 22

‘The roots of [modern vernacular poetry] can be unmistakably traced back to [classical Arabic poetry], and the divergences that distinguish the two traditions from one another do not imply any categorical difference between them…Employing the same formal principles and compositional devices of their ancient predecessors, vernacular poets continued to discover new themes and explore new compositional techniques without interrupting the continuity between their poetry and that of the ancients’ (Sowayan 1985: 167). 175

RHYTHM AND BEAT

Sowayan emphasizes the quantitative component of naba†i prosody since it harmonizes with the classical lineage of naba†i poetry. Secondly, in a way that neither myself nor any of the aforementioned researchers can claim, Sowayan grew up in the milieu of his data and no doubt heard much of the poetry presented in Naba†i Poetry (1985) performed in a variety of different modes: sung, chanted and recited, collectively and individually.23 Since these tunes were effectively in his ears from his childhood on, Sowayan could restore a latent melody to a straight recitation without resorting to singing or chanting. The fifty-one quantitative patterns analyzed by Sowayan may have been clear to him even in spoken recitations of poetry, whereas to other researchers such as Bailey and myself, only stress patterns would be audible for the same performance. Conclusion The rule for vernacular Arabian prosody can be summarized as follows: a de-contextualized, non-melodic performance by a single individual will follow an accentual rhythm whereas a collectively chanted or sung performance will feature quantitative meters. This is the case for both Mahri poetry and for vernacular poetry in Arabic. The question remains whether this double-layered prosodic system was true for vernacular Arabic poetry prior to the increased ‘literacization’ of Arabic poetics from the Umayyad period and onwards. In the light of evidence presented in this article, I suspect there was once a greater role for stress in the declamation of early Arabic poetry. This leads us to the conclusion that the record of performance of Arabic poetry is half complete since recited performances, rather than qualitative, chanted performances, never made it into the record. There are some brief remarks in the classical record that support this position. According to al-JaÌi (d. 981 CE), partisans of the shu¨ubiyya movement were fond of pointing out the Arab predilection for using a staff (akhdh al-mikhÒara) while engaged in oratory, 23 ‘I have been effectively exposed to Naba†i poetry since my childhood. I have heard it quoted or recited almost every day of my life at home or elsewhere. My hometown, ¨Unaizah, is famous for its outstanding Naba†i poets, some of whom I know personally. However, I owe my early introduction to Naba†i poetry chiefly to my maternal grandfather, MÌammad as-Sleman aÒ-∑wayyan, an excellent raconteur of anecdotes and a gifted reciter of poetry. His polished style and elegant delivery have fascinated me and captured my imagination since I was a small boy; it was he, more than anyone, who opened my eyes to the rich field of this poetry’ (Sowayan 1985: 11).

176

RHYTHM AND BEAT

presumably to emphasize stressed syllables.24 I question the conventional understanding of this passage as a reference to speechmaking or saj¨, but prefer a broader understanding that includes the performance of poetry as well.25 While the meter and rhyme (mawzun, muqaffa) mentioned in the passage could equally be applied to saj¨, it is twice linked to ‘manthur’ (i.e. exhibiting the traits of nathr). In the light of the Mahri translation of Arabic ‘nathr’ as non-sung, recited poetry, I would raise the possibility that the partisans of the shu¨ubiyya were describing the performance of poetry accompanied by the metronymic beat of a staff in addition to the aforementioned saj¨ and oratory. Though the link is tenuous, it would suggest that the prosodic rules of classical Arabic poetry were not as unambiguously quantitative as al-Khalil b. AÌmad’s metric analysis would later make them out to be. In short, thanks to oral data provided by the Mahra, we can begin to interrogate some fairly basic assumptions about early Arabic poetry and its contemporary, vernacular offspring. Complete Text of Mahri Poems I: SawÈ (‘Desire’) by Îajj Dakon (published in The Diwan of Îajj Dakon [AIYS, forthcoming]) 1) 2) 3) 4) 5) 6) 7) 8) 9)

r2 w¢-fwod // ymoh ∂-irfif bar mel}am sawÈ // w-b}ar getlif 26 l-¨ad witÌem la} // men zawl w¢-∂lif 27 w¢-mbeyn l¸ila} // ∂-yehhargif ¨ar sefh sawÈ // ̆eyr w¢-klif ¨am bar metkun // w-Ìell b¢-gwif yesdud nefset // w¢-tlobed tlif w¢-tkun maÌses // s}of w¢-Ìfif 28 Ìa †a† ∂-haluÈ // siwo† b-lif 29

24

Al-JaÌi 1998, III: 3. ‘The Arabian habit of gesticulating with a stick in hand while speaking, and other linguistic and non-linguistic habits of speech, served only to expose the emptiness of the Arabian claim to eloquence’ (Enderwitz 1997: 515). 26 getlif (sing. getlef, transitive: egelfek, egolef) < G.L.F.: to be filled with fluid vs. ketlif < K.L.F.: to be filled with a solid. 27 witÌem (witÌek, witeÌ) < W.T.Î.: to settle down, to quiet. 28 maÌses (Ìatsek, pres. aÌsos) < Î.S.S.: to be tense, angry, < ‘Ìesyos: having all the bones smashed’ (Johnstone 1987: 191); s}of (set}afk, yestof) < S.¨.F.: to get angry very quickly; Ìfif < Î.F.F.: ‘Ìátt¢f: to be easily angered…Ì¢fáyf: easily angered’ (ibid., 168). 29 haluÈ < ¨.L.Ë.: a dry palm frond used a kindling for a fire, ‘haloÈ/y¢haloÈ: to light, kindle’ (ibid., 21); lif < L.Y.F.: ‘layf: coconut hair, fibre’ (ibid., 259). 25

177

RHYTHM AND BEAT

10) hoh Òabri temm // w-Ìoli sfif 30 11) w¢-mhawgesi kell // mni ∂-nessif 31 12) leywa} ÒwoÈar // frer w-ayif 32 13) w-boÒer w-bar // men ¢mÌeyfif 33 14) w-het Ìatfo†ˇ // Èa} hini wkif 34 15) w-menbad ¢sslom // m∂ebbel rdif 16) }amer badis // Ìa hoh mhaÒrif 1) 2) 3) 4) 5) 6) 7) 8) 9) 10) 11) 12) 13) 14) 15) 16)

My lungs and heart // today are fluttering Desire has filled them // they have been filled to the brim. They haven’t yet settled down // from anxiety and excitement. Between my ribs // they are shivering. I’ve seen that desire // is dangerous and troublesome If it becomes rooted // and settles in its cavities, It blocks the breathing // and you become a wreck. You are agitated // quick to anger and impatient Like a dry palm frond // with fire on its fibres. My patience has finished // and my condition is weak, All my emotions // have been torn to shreds. O little falcon! // Go quickly! Fly! Go at dusk, travel all night // from MÌayfif, Keep my order in mind // and act faithfully in my stead. After the greetings // have been exchanged twice-over Say: ‘After you // I’m like a man all used up’.

II. Semret by Raghbon birt Sa¨id 1) 2) 3) 4)

gg4ten ber tr3k // faÌr1t we-l-¨ad ¨ak3f 35 men has ¨aÈrot †m0} // ¨a∂ médÌes ber sl3f 36 ∂-m0ken bis ¢rÌ2m // l-ad †ˇéyres te ysuÒof 37 Ènéts birt Ìm1d // b-lá†f w-terh3f 38

30

sfif (setfek, settef) < S.F.F.: to be weakened, Ar. naÌif. nessif (nesfek, nsuf) < N.S.F.: to shred, Ar. mansuf. 32 ayif (ayfut, pres. tayif) < ’.Y.F.: to take to wing, to fly, Ar. jannaÌa. 33 boÒer < B.∑.R.: ‘aboÒ¢r: to go in the twilight, evening’ (ibid., 55); bar < B.¨.R.: ‘bar/y¢bor: to go by night, be out at night’ (ibid., 41). 34 wkif < W.K.F.: a support, an equal (colleague), ‘h¢wkuf/hewkefk: to let s.o. ill rest on your breast; to set up (a stone)’ (ibid., 425). 35 }akof < ¨.K.F.: Yem. Ar. ‘¨akfa/¨ukfa, pl. ¨akaf: coiffure’ (Landberg 1920–42, III: 2317). 36 }aÈrot < ¨.Ë.R.: ‘}aÈáwr/yáwÈ¢r: to be, become big, grow up’ (Johnstone 1987: 20). 37 ysuÒof < W.∑.F.: to describe sth. or so. 38 Ènets (3rd fem. sing. + d.o. suffix) < Ë.N.N.: verbal derivative from ‘È¢nnáwn, È¢nnét: child; little, young’ (ibid., 232); terhof < R.}.F.: Ar. ra}uf, ‘En ¨Oman, }arhafa est devenir pauvre…= tarayhaf ’ (Landberg 1920–42, II: 1485). 31

178

RHYTHM AND BEAT

5) 6) 7) 8) 9) 10) 11) 12) 13)

b¢-nh2r tÌáwl¸ef h2s // wel }aÒer tsuk3f 39 nÌáts his hr1 // w¢-tbéts ÌarÈ¢f3t 40 w-f0m el seh ganÒéyt // w¢-bd1n mhagd¢l3t 41 legr1d †ma} teÈm1r // men h0l ∂-¨asot naÌg3t 42 men m1t Ìaddut Ìlát // w-b3Èi hans¢l3t 43 w-w4d}am bis dw1l // w-kéll ber sehem Òf3t ¨ar bír }arman Ìl0 // w¢-mlátya ber br3k44 haÈh3b ¨asrin bk4r // w-mén †Ìob gz3f 45 reyt térÌam horem s1h // w¢-mg3 kteb haml3k46

tÌawl¸ef < Î.L¸.F.: ‘Ì¢zzáwf/y¢Ì¢zzáwf: to sit cross legged’ (Johnstone 1987: 199); }aÒer < ¨.∑.R.: ‘}aÒ¢r/}aÒor, }aÒáwr: night’ (Johnstone 1987: 31); tsukof < W.K.F.: ‘s¢wkuf/y¢s¢wkuf: to sleep, go to sleep, lie down’ (Johnstone 1987: 426). A verb derived from the same stem, h¢wkuf/h¢wkéfk, means ‘to let so. ill rest on your breast’ (Johnstone 1987: 425). This latter meaning forms a nice pair with the first hemistich: during the day, she sits in her mother’s crossed lap and at night, she rests her head on her mother’s breast. 40 nÌats < Ar. N.Î.T.: to fashion, hew (in equal proportions). I would have expected to find /-s/ as the object suffix for this verb and the following verb and not the personal, 2nd fem. suffix /-s/, which we find here. Translated according to the latter, these two verbs would be addressed directly to the mother of ™ma. ÎarÈ¢fot < R.Ë.F.: (Jibbali) ‘Ìorqofot: waist’ (Nakano 1986: 8). 41 fam < F.¨.M.: ‘fem, fawm: foot, leg’ (Johnstone 1987: 87); ganÒeyt < G.N.∑.: ‘gáyn¢Ò/y¢gnoÒ: to be bent, twisted’ (Johnstone 1987: 139); mhagd¢lot < G.D.L.: tresses, Yem. Ar. ‘jaddala: to plait o.’s hair [tresser les cheveux]’ (Landberg 1920–42, I: 271). The translation ‘well-arranged’ is the closest possible fit I could find as a modifier for ‘her body’ (bden); the fact that the two rest uneasily with each other leads me to suspect that ‘bden’ may be a mistake in the transmission. 42 legred: in order to, < Ar. li-ghara∂: for the purpose (of); teÈmer < Ë.M.R.: ‘È¢mur/ y¢Èáwm¢r: to beat in a game, win; to surpass’ (Johnstone 1987: 231); asot < ¨.S.S.: ‘}¢s/ yasos: to rise, get up’ (Johnstone 1987: 31); naÌgot < N.Î.G.: ‘n¢Ìag/y¢noÌ¢g: (women) to dance, (men) to be at leisure, (children) to play’ (Johnstone 1987: 291). 43 Ìaddut < Î.D.D.: [dancing] area, Yem. Ar. ‘sha¨ruha murkha ¨ala al-thara li-khaddi }aqdam: her unbound hair [fell] onto the ground in the space before her feet…floor, earth, ground [sol, terre, terroir]’ (Landberg 1920–42, I: 566); Ìlat < Î.L.[W]: ‘xáyli, x¢lyut: to be empty’ (Johnstone 1987: 442); hans¢lot < N.S.L.: ‘n¢sul: (unfastened clothes) to fall down…to feel completely exhausted…h¢nsul: to lower slowly’ (Johnstone 1987: 300). 44 Ìla < Î.L.W.: ‘x¢láy, x¢láyy¢t: unmarried, bereaved’ (Johnstone 1987: 443); mlatya < L.W.Y.: to turn towards s.o., to wend o.’s way, ‘látwi/y¢ltuwi: to get bent, bend’ (Johnstone 1987: 258). 45 haÈhob < Ë.H.B.: ‘h¢Èhub: to bring the animals back at midday out of the sun’ (Johnstone 1987: 226); †Ìob < ™.Î.B.: ‘†¢Ìob: herd (of about 100 camels)’ (Johnstone 1987: 408); gzof: he took, < G.Z.F.: ‘gazfun signifies the taking of a thing… or the taking largely, or copiously and it is [from] a Persian word’ (Lane 1955, II: 420). 46 terÌam < R.Î.M.: ‘r¢Ìam: to be kind to so.’ (Johnstone 1987: 321); horem < }.R.M.: ‘wor¢m, def. Ìor¢m/Ìayrem (f.): road; way to obtain satisfaction’ (Johnstone 1987: 7); hamlok < M.L.K.: ‘h¢mluk/y¢h¢mluk: to give legal possession of a wife in a marriage contract’ (Johnstone 1987: 266). 39

179

RHYTHM AND BEAT

1) The girls have abandoned their pride and no longer gather their hair in a bun 2) Since ™ma¨ has grown up, her praise has already preceded [her] 3) She has abundant beauty, no one exceeds her in description. 4) Birt Îmed raised her with gentleness and grace 5) During the day, she kept her in her lap and at night stayed up for her 6) [Birt Îmed] made her head round and made sure her hips grew evenly and solid 7) Her legs are not at all crooked and her body is kept well arranged 8) So that ™ma¨ could be the winner whenever she gets up to dance. 9) At that time the [dancing] ground is left empty, and as for the other girls, she leaves them standing off to the side 10) Every country knows of her and of all the ways they have of describing her. 11) But now the son of ¨Arman is unmarried and turned [towards her] with hobbled camels [for a dowry] 12) He brings 20 un-bred female camels that he has taken from his ample herds. 13) Would that they keep the roads open for him and that Fate give her to him!

III. Regzit meydani a) Family of the bride, (composed by Sadeyn b. Ali b. Arba¨in Kalshat): 1. b0li †elbéyya t1k // ∂ed yÈáwder w-yehm4m // w¢-hd0} leÈ0} Òf1} 47 2. w-neÒw1l men ¢mw0g // wet néggem l2n leb4d // b-s3n ∂-hább¢z1} 48 b) Family of the groom, (poet unknown): 1. gáyber has tenÈáwf // b¢-l¸h2r ∂-abr3t // tedÌ2Ìen hayy¢r1m49 2. ¢tteh Òr3ma ÌawÒáwl // b¢-mdinet ¢Ìnob // hal késb w¢-gl1 [*kr1m] 50

47

yehmum < H.M.M.: ‘h¢m/y¢hmom/y¢hmem: to be able (to do s.th.)’ (Johnstone 1987: 157); leÈa} < W.Ë.¨.: ‘wiÈa/y¢woÈa/yaÈa: to be, become’ (Johnstone 1987: 426). 48 neÒwel < N.∑.L.: ‘to withdraw, take away [retirer]’ (Landberg 1920–42, III: 2776); lebud < L.B.D.: ‘¢wbud/y¢lub¢d/y¢wbed: to shoot, strike; make, knock together’ (Johnstone 1987: 250); son: sea storm, uncertain etymology; habb¢ze} (< habze): the East Wind < }.Z.Y.B.: ‘}azyab: North Wind’ (Landberg 1920–42, I: 76). 49 gayber < G.B.R.: ‘g¢bor/y¢gawber/y¢gber vn. gáyb¢r: to meet, come to meet’ (Johnstone 1987: 131), used here in the sense of ‘all of a sudden’; tenÈawf < Ë.F.Y.: to set out, to lift (baggage) over one’s head, ‘aÈofi/yaÈáyf¢n/yaÈofi: to go away; to turn o.’s back…Ì¢Èfu: to finish st., put st. behind one; to throw st. backwards over o.’s head…to take o.’s family behind the mountain’ (Johnstone 1987: 226), also Ar. ‘iqtafa }atharahu [to follow s.o.’s tracks]’ (Ibn ManÂur 2005, VI: 166); tedÌiÌen: to travel down (a road), < D.Î.Î.: Ar. ‘al-dakhdakha: to pick up the pace…to pass by quickly’ (Ibn ManÂur 2005, III: 227); hayy¢rem < }.R.M.: ‘worem (def.) Ìor¢m/Ìayrem: road; way to obtain satisfaction’ (Johnstone 1987: 7). 50 ¢Ìnob < N.W.B.: ‘nob/n¢yob: big’ (Johnstone 1987: 306). 180

RHYTHM AND BEAT

c) Guests, (poet unknown): 1. géyber séttel k¢-nb1} // we-sn1g ∂-heh ¨ad2d // r3keb w¢-gz1 Ìm4l 51 2. w-ly1h mtémm¢n2n // yl¸éy†em ¢rg¢Ì0t // w¢-Ìm4l l-b3h my4l 52 a) Family of the bride: 1. Lord, I ask you // He who is able and capable [of performing any deed] // and makes [the weather] calm and clear 2. He quiets down the waves // when the rain-stars are triggered for us // with a sea-storm on the East Wind. b) Family of the groom: 1. Unexpected news, you load up // on the back of pack-animals // and travel down the roads 2. Until arriving just now // at the large town // where there is profit and gain [*generosity]. c) Guests: 1. The guests packed up and went with the news // people of dear relations // the traveller has brought [his] kin 2. To those who are precious // and take the grosser weight // that tips the scales to this very place. Address for correspondence: [email protected] 205 Farrell House, Middlebury College, Middlebury, VT, 05753, USA REFERENCES Al-Ahdal, Îasan Maqbul. 2000. MuÌafaÂat al-Mahra: Ìaqa}iq wa}l-arqam (Sana}a) Al ÎafiÂ, ¨Ali MuÌsin. 1987. Min lahajat “Mahra” wa-adabiha. (Muscat) Al-AnÒari, Ibn ManÂur. 2005. Lisan al-¨arab. (Beirut) Bailey, Clinton. 2002. Bedouin Poetry from Sinai and the Negev. (London) Bakrit, ¨Ali Sa¨ id. 1999. al-Mahra: al-ar∂ wa¨l-sukkan. (Aden) Caton, Steve. 1990. Peaks of Yemen I Summon: Poetry as Cultural Practice in a North Yemeni Tribe. (Berkeley) Al-Dakkak, ∑alaÌ al-Din. 2003. ‘al-Mahra: shurukh fi}l-baÌr wa shurukh fi}l-qalb’, al-Thaqafiyya 217, 4–11 Enderwitz, S. 1997. ‘al-Shu¨ubiyya’, EI IX, 515 Al-Hamdani, Abu MuÌammad. 1974. ∑ifat jazirat al-¨arab. (Riyadh) Hein, Wilhelm. 1909. Mehri- und Îa∂rami-Texte. (Vienna) Al-JaÌiÂ, Abu ¨Uthman. 1998. al-Bayan wa}l-tabyin. (Beirut) Jahn, Alfred. 1902. Die Mehri-Sprache in Südarabien. (Vienna) Johnstone, Thomas. 1987. Mahri Lexicon and English-Mehri Word-List. (London) Kurpershoek, Marcel. 1994. Oral Poetry and Narratives from Central Arabia I: The Poetry of ad-Dindan, A Bedouin Bard in Southern Najd. (Leiden) settel < S.L.L.: ‘sáttel/y¢st¢lul/y¢st¢l: to transhume, migrate, move o.’s home’ (Johnstone 1987: 379); sneg: relationship, kinship, Ar. nasb; ¨adid < ¨.D.D.: considerable, dear, Ar. ghali, < Ar. ¨adid? gze: tribe, people, kin, Ar. qawm. 52 yl¸ay†em < L¸.B.™.: ‘za†/y¢zo†/y¢záy†¢n: to take’ (Johnstone 1987: 472). 51

181

RHYTHM AND BEAT

Landberg, Carlo. 1920–42. Glossaire Datînois. 3 vols (Leiden) —— 1905. Études sur les dialects de l’Arabie méridionale. (Leiden) Lane, Edward. 1955. Arabic-English Lexicon. (New York) Lonnet, Antoine and Marie-Claude Simeone-Senelle. 1997. ‘La Phonologie des langues sudarabiques modernes’, in Alan Kaye (ed.), Phonologies of Asia and Africa I (Winona Lake). 337–72 Messick, Brinkley. 1993. The Calligraphic State: Textual Domination and History in a Muslim Society. (Berkeley) Müller, David. 1907. Die Mehri- und Soqo†ri-Sprache III. (Vienna) —— 1905. Die Mehri- und Soqo†ri-Sprache II. (Vienna) —— 1902. Die Mehri- und Soqo†ri-Sprache I. (Vienna) Murikh, ¨Adil Mas¨ud. 2000. al-¨Arabiyya al-qadima wa-lahajatuha. (Abu Dhabi) Nakano, Aki}o. 1986. Comparative Vocabulary of Southern Arabic – Mahri, Gibbali and Soqotri. (Tokyo) Palva, Heikki. 1993. ‘Metrical Problems of the Contemporary Bedouin Qasida: A Linguistic Approach’, Asian Folklore Studies 52, 75–92 Al-Qumayri, Salim LuÌaymir. 2003. al-Mahra: al-qabila wa}l-lugha. (Sana}a) —— 2000. al-Mahra: bawabat al-Yaman al-sharqiyya. (Sana}a) Semah, David. 1991. ‘On the Metre of Bedouin Poetry’, Asian and African Studies 25, 187–200 Al-ShaÌri, ¨Ali AÌmad. 2000. Lughat ¨Ad. (Abu Dhabi) —— 1994. Åufar: kitabatuha wa-nuqushuha al-qadima. (Dubai) Sowayan, Saad. 1985. Naba†i Poetry: The Oral Poetry of Arabia. (Berkeley) Taminian, Lucine. 2001. ‘Playing With Words: The Enthnography of Poetic Genres in Yemen’. Unpublished thesis, University of Michigan Wagner, Mark. 2004. ‘The Poetics of Îumayni Verse: Language and Meaning in the Arab and Jewish Vernacular Poetry of Yemen’. Unpublished thesis, New York University Wellsted, James Reynold. 1840. Travels to the City of the Caliphs. (London) —— 1835. ‘Memoir on the Island of Socotra’, Journal of the Royal Geographical Society 5, 220–9

182

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN: PART ONE SADOK MASLIYAH DEFENSE LANGUAGE INSTITUTE, MONTEREY, CALIFORNIA

Abstract The folk songs of Iraqi children have been passed from one young generation to the next. Iraqi children acquired the lion’s share of these songs from one another. As a result, the tunes retained unique styles of speech and venerable lexical items that sharply reflected the perspectives of the youth of the day. Although song lyrics were everchanging along with slight variations in melody, over the course of time the substance and the spirit of these songs remained unchanged and the songs continued to reflect the way Iraqi children looked at themselves and their surroundings. I have collected these songs from different sources, including journals, books and periodicals. This collection contains songs of religious occasions (20 songs), the sun, the moon and the rain, (15 songs), animals, birds and insects (37 songs) and teasing and taunting (32 songs).

Introduction This paper examines a collection of published folk songs of Iraqi children some of which the children sing when they play games and dance. The majority of these songs were part of an oral tradition before appearing in print. It is hard to determine their origin, mainly because they were considered for centuries too insignificant to be written down, published or recorded. However, Îusayn Qadduri collected these songs from various provinces of Iraq and published them in three volumes with their musical notes, and attempted to explain ambiguous words. He culled the majority of these songs from children whose ages ranged between five and fourteen and obtained the rest from adults who remembered the songs and their tunes from their own childhoods. ¨Abd al-La†if Dulayshi also published an important collection of well-known children’s folk songs in Basra, and other writers published several songs in various local magazines, journals, and newspapers. I have made use of them too. 183

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Today most of these folk songs are fast dying out, mainly because children are using computers, listening to recorded music, and/or watching movies and television. The increase in number of Iraqi children in villages and small towns attending schools contributed to the decline in the number of those participating in playing games accompanied with singing. In fact, only a few new such songs have been introduced during the last 50 years. The folk songs of Iraqi children (as well as those of other countries) have been constantly shaped and passed from one young generation to the next, a process that added a unique flavour. The Iraqi children did not acquire the majority of these songs through their parents or teachers, but from other children and, as a result, the tunes retained old words and speech that were specific only to young people at a certain time. In the course of time many words were added and omitted with slight variations in melody, but most importantly, the substance and the spirit of these songs remained unchanged and the songs continued to serve as a window through which Iraqi children look at themselves and their surroundings. Improvisation was also essential to the survival of these songs. Iraqi children (like those in other countries) would create unique words or verses and combine parts of different songs into one song. It is no wonder then, that there are various rhyme schemes in a single song. The rhythmic vitality of the songs facilitated the process of improvisation as it gave a solid foundation on which to build. In some cases, the same songs have various names in different parts of Iraq and are performed in a slightly different fashion from one province to another. It is evident that the majority of these folk songs reflect rural society and that a considerable number of songs contain recollections of local events, customs, and beliefs and that allusions have generally been lost in many songs, and hence the remaining references are for the most part indirect and veiled in ambiguity. The Iraqi children’s folk songs cover a multitude of subjects, including Rama∂an (the month of fasting), the Feast of Immolation (¨Id al-A∂Ìa) and the Feast of Breaking the Rama∂an Fast (¨Id al-Fi†r). The Iraqi children also embrace whatever attracts them, including old men who are married to more than one woman, horse carriage drivers, relatives, beggars, schoolmates, playmates, and even the children themselves and a few domestic animals, the sun, and the moon. Exact age level is difficult to determine for any of these songs because local village and city customs varied greatly, though it is believed that children would sing these songs primarily between the 184

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

years 5 and 14. Often, children in one neighbourhood will play certain games that might only be done by younger children in another neighbourhood. Segregation between boys and girls meant that only a few tunes would be performed by both genders. Several versions of these songs are known in other Arab states, especially in nearby Kuwait and the United Arab Emirates. Prior to a game, the children would assign the role of the lead singer to the player considered to have the most beautiful voice, or to the oldest person among them. Otherwise, they would resort to casting lots. A participant rarely wants to play the role of a bad character, thus to decide the issue, a race might be conducted to a designated spot. The last player to arrive there would play that role. Simple language is but one feature among many that characterize these special folk songs, including diminutive proper nouns for endearment and children’s speech. In some of these songs, the children clap and sing while sitting or standing at home, or outside in the orchards, or even en route to and from school. When playing games and dancing they sing too. Usually they stand and hold hands in a circle while one child remains in the centre of the circle or just outside it. No musical instrument accompanies their singing, but when needed, the children would use pans, trays, and pots for banging, or imitating animal sounds. Most of the melodies are composed of two measures repeated many times, albeit with various pauses. The same song might be performed with different melodies and rhythms depending on the region of Iraq. Only a small number of songs are performed individually, and only a few songs use dialogues and refrains. I have sorted the songs into five groups according to their subject matter: Part A includes songs for religious occasions and others pertaining to Iraqi customs and beliefs. Part B includes songs about nature, the sun, the moon, and the rain. Part C contains songs about domestic animals, while Part D provides taunting and teasing songs. Part E introduces a few cumulative songs and many miscellaneous songs about the children themselves, as well as their friends, family, and surroundings. (Parts D and E will be published in JSS 2010/2). In several cases I have presented more than one variant of a song, especially when dialectical and lexical differences exist. The linguistic and lexical items are explained in the notes following the end of all songs. Frequent sources of the songs are abbreviated and mentioned before the text of the songs as follows: 185

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Q 1, 2, 3 = Îusayn Qadduri, Lu¨ab wa-Aghani al-A†fal al-Sha¨biyyah fi al-¨Iraq. Hajj. 1–7 = Jasim al-Îajjiyyah, Baghdadiyyat, I–VII; D= ¨Abd al-La†if al-Dulayshi, al-Al¨ab al-Sha¨biyyah fi al-BaÒrah (Baghdad 1968). Other abbreviations used: are Ar. = Arabic; Arm.= Aramaic; CA= Classical Arabic; Heb.= Hebrew; IA= Iraqi Arabic; JB=Baghdadi Jews; Pers.= Persian; Tur. = Turkish. The transcription scheme in this article reflects the Muslim prestigious dialect of Baghdad, unless otherwise indicated. The use of /}/ as a symbol of the glottal stop in initial position is dropped. The sound /çi /, voiceless palatal affricative is similar to the first sound of the English word church. Pausal ta} marbu†ah, /h/, is used when reference is made to Classical Arabic (CA), but omitted in Iraqi Arabic unless it is changed to /t/ due to suffixing (qal¨ah- qal¨atuhu). /l/ stands for the voiced alveo-dental lateral, velarized, similar to the English /l/ in mill. /gh/ is the transcription of the voiced velar spirant, similar to the French /r/. /dh/ is a voiced interdental spirant; similar to the English /th/ as in than. The voiceless glottal spirant similar to the English /h/ in home is transcribed as /h/ and the voiceless interdental spirant similar to the English /th/ as in thank is /th/. /∂/ is the voiceless interdental, spirant, velarized (no equivalent in English). Other Arabic sounds that have no equivalents in English are transcribed as follows: /q/ is the voiceless uvular stop, /¨/ is the voiced pharyngeal spirant; /†/ stands for the dental stop, velarized, and /Ò/ stands for the voiceless dental spirant, velarized. The voiceless pharyngeal spirant and the voiceless velar spirant (similar to the German ch in Bach) are transcribed as /Ì/ and kh/ respectively. In Iraqi Arabic (IA) the sound /Â/ merges with /∂/. The definite article is transcribed as /al/ in CA regardless whether it is attached to a word beginning with a sun or a moon letter. Final /a/, /i/, /u/ in IA are transcribed as /a/, /i/, and /u/ respectively since they are pronounced as short vowels in a final pause. Short and long vowels are transcribed as a/a, i/i, u/u, o/o, and e/e. The sound of the vowel in face is transcribed as /ay/. The contrast e: i noted for some speakers of IA is ignored here. No attempt is made to mark stress since in the majority of cases it falls on the first vowel of words having two syllables; otherwise it is placed on the vowel which precedes the last V or CC. It should be mentioned that there are ethnic and geographical differences among the socio-religious communities of Iraq. The Christians and the Jews of Baghdad speak dialects different from that of the Muslims and the Jews mix certain Hebrew lexical items in their everyday speech. Additionally, the rural sedentary dialect differs from the urban Muslim dialect of Baghdad and some other cities. There 186

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

also exist dialectal differences within Baghdad due to classification and a continuous flow of a greater number of non-Baghdadi speakers into the city of Baghdad (Blanc 1964: 182, n. 2 and al-Toma 1969: 6). Part A: Songs for Religious Occasions (Songs 1–20) This part presents folk songs and songs for games chanted by Iraqi children during Rama∂an, on the eve of and during the two Muslim feasts, and the months of Sha¨ban, ∑afar, and MuÌarram, as well as other songs that reflect local customs and beliefs. Song 1: Majina Majina/il-majina Majina Majina/il-majina Baghdad, Q 1:145–6 Majina is a children’s holiday, similar to Halloween observed during the month of Rama∂an. It is a very popular in all of Iraq. In the centre of Iraq children call this song, Majina and in Basra — Girgi¨an. This song is well known in Kuwait,1 but it contains various different lexical items than that in Basra. Groups of boys and girls take to the streets after the evening prayers during Rama∂an and go from house to house asking for a treat, or a small gift, or money. At the doorsteps of the houses, they clap and chant. In the hot summer nights, Iraqis sleep on the rooftops, and hence the children address the people there. Ma-jina Ma-jina Îillu-ç-çis wun†una Tin†una lo nintikum Bayt makkah 2 nwaddikum ™in†una kulma jina! Ya ahl is-su†uÌ! Tin†una lo nruÌ Tintuna lo nitkarbas Yahl il-su†uÌ! Tin†una lo nruÌ Tin†una lo [I]nfiÌ il-jifah

Majina Majina Untie the pouch and give us Give us or we’ll give you To the House of Mecca we’ll take you Give us whenever we come! O people of the rooftops! Give us otherwise we’ll go Give us, or we’ll fall O people of the rooftops! Give us, or we’ll go Give us, or otherwise we’ll spread the stink

In another version (Q 1:147), the following lines are added after the first two rhymes: 1 2

Al-Îanafi 1964: 312 and al-Maghribi 1966: 293. Bayt Makkah is the Ka¨bah, the sacred house in Mecca, Saudi Arabia. 187

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Bab ash-shaykh wul-ri¨yan Zaynah zaynah … Digg il-Ìajar brijlayna Brijlaynah WaÌid †ubag laylu WaÌid †ubag mirjan ™ubag mirjan Yi∂wi ¨alas-sul†an Yidwi ¨ala-s-sul†an Sarbas ¨ala sarbas

Bab ash-Shaykh and the shepherds Are beautiful, beautiful … Bang the stones with our legs With our legs One platter of pearls One platter of corals One platter of corals Shines on the sultan Shines on the sultan A wheel with buckets of water on top of a wheel with buckets of water

Song 2: Girgi ¨an3

Girgi¨an

Basra, Q 3:116 Girls sing this song during the second half of Rama∂an to the end of the feast that follows Rama∂an. Girgi¨an is a mixture of peanuts, raisons, chickpeas, watermelon seeds, and raisons put in a bag and given to children as a treat. Girgi¨an u-girgi¨an Kull-is-sanah wul-li¨an4 A¬¬ah yi††ikum5 In†una a¬¬ah yi††ikum Bayt makkah ywaddikum Ya makkah yal-ma¨murah! Yamm6 idh-dhahab wun-nurah

Girgi¨an and girgi¨an All year long and every year May God give you [more] Give us [a treat]. God will give you [more] To the House of Mecca He will take you O Mecca, O inhabited Mecca! [Built] with cement and lime

Then they would wait for a short while and add: Ahl-is-su†uÌ tin†una lo-nruÌ!

O people of the rooftops give us, otherwise we’ll go!

If the children get gifts they sing: A¬¬ah yikhalli ra¨i-l-bayt! 7

May God protect the owner of the house!

3 For details about the celebration of this event in Basra, see al-Dulayshi 1968: 40–4. 4 Li¨an is a distortion of kull ¨amm, ‘every year’. 5 Yi††ikum < yin†ikum, ‘He will give you’, the nun of yin†ikum is assimilated with the /†/ of the verb. 6 Yamm is a contraction of ya and umm, (lit. ‘the mother of’). About the various meanings of umm, see my article, Maliyah 1998: 113–29. 7 Ra ¨i-l-bayt (lit. ‘the shepherd of the house’), i.e. ‘the bread winner’, ‘the father’.

188

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

If they get nothing, they sing: Il-Wawi yilhashkum A¬¬ah 8 y†ayyir barkatkum

May the jackle eat you May God make your bliss fly away

In a variant from Basra (D: 41–2), this line is added before the last one: Il-yiraydi †aÌ ibhalthatkum

May the mouse fall in your jar

Song 3: Hayyam Irshad!

Come on, Irshad’s mom!

Dhi-Qar, Q 1:131 Girls chant this song during Rama∂an. Hayyam 9 irshad! Hayya! ∑ayim Rama∂an Hayya! Ug¨ud 10 u-shuf Hayya! Shuf Aminah Hayya! [i]Tdugg makinah11 Hayya! Shuf rzuqi 12 Hayya! Yidugg bil-buqi Hayya!

Come on, Irshad’s mother! Come on! [He] is fasting in Rama∂an Come on! Get up and look Come on! Look at Aminah Come on! She works hard on the sewing machine Come on! Look at Rzuqi Come on! He is blowing the trumpet Come on!

Song 4: il-Ma Yi†la¨ Hal-laylah

He Who Doesn’t Go Out Tonight

Basra, D: 35 At the end of breaking the fast in Rama∂an, children take to the streets and sing the following verses:13

8

yi†ayyir, lit. may he ‘make fly’. Hayyam is a contraction of hayyah, (CA) ‘let us’+ umm, ‘mother’. 10 Ug¨ud admits two meanings, ‘to sit down’ and ‘to get up’, referring to the son, Irshad. 11 it-Dugg makinah, ‘She strikes the [sewing] machine’ (lit.), where i†-†ugg > iddugg, /†/ > /d/. 12 Rzuqi, dim. of Razzaq 13 For more details about celebrating this occasion in Basra, see al-Dulayshi 1968: 7–9 and 35. 9

189

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

il-ma yi†la¨ hal-laylah Ummah ityib i¨yaylah14 Wul- i¨yaylah gharrah Til¨ab bil-majrah U-ana ga¨id biz-zuliyyah15 Wasma¨ dabuç il-Ìaramiyyah La adri ¨agrab La adri Ìayyah La adri ¨ashrah La adri miyyah Ya sibyan iltammu! iltammu!

He who doesn’t go [outside] tonight May his mother give birth to a colt And the colt is white-spotted Playing with the rope While I am sitting on the carpet Hearing the thieves’ dancing and singing Not knowing [if] it is a scorpion [crawling] Or a snake [creeping] Neither knowing [if] there are ten Nor knowing [if ] there are one-hundred O boys. get together! Get together!

Song 5: Ya Naymin il-layl, Ya Kuffarah! O Those Who Sleep Tonight, O Heretics! Diwaniyyah, Q 3:245 Children chant this song in the late night hours of the middle of the Muslim month of Sha¨ban. An Iraqi legend relates that the gates of heaven are wide open on this night and that God fulfills the wishes of Muslims who stay up all night and make a wish. Al-¨Alawchi says that this practice at night, which is known as Laylat al-MuÌayya,16 is a remnant of an old custom from the thirteenth century. Ya naymin il-layl ya kuffarah! O those who sleep tonight! O heretics! Intu shiba¨tu nom17 wuÌna sahharah You slept a lot While we are staying up all night long 14 Ityib, people in southern Basra, often pronounce /j/ as /y/, hence, itjib > ityib, ‘she gives birth’ and i¨jaylah > i¨yaylah, ‘colt’. More features of the dialect in Basra are: a. /q/ > /j/, as in qadir, ‘able’ > jadir; qarib, ‘near’ > jarib. b. Less common than (a.) and as in the Baghdadi dialect /q/ > /g/, as in qal, ‘he said’ > gal and qa∂i, ‘judge’> ga∂i. Seldom /gh / > /q/, as in ghafur, ‘forgiven’ > qafur and ghaym, ‘clouds’> qaym. c. Rarely /q/ > k/, as in maqtul,‘killed’ > maktul and qabqab, ‘wood slipper’> kabkab. d. /k/>/ç/, as in yikwi, ‘it burns’> yiçwi and Ìarrik, ‘move’! (tran.) > Ìarriç! e. /dh/ > /d/, as in dhaq, ‘he tasted’>∂aq and dhra¨, ‘arm’> dra¨. f. Seldom ¨ > n, as in yi¨†i, ‘he gives’> yin†i and ¨a†iyyah, ‘a gift’ > ni†iyyah. This change exists in Mosul and Baghdad too. g. The change of gh > kh of a few words exists in Basra, as well as in Mosul and Baghdad, maghsul, ‘washed’ makhsul. The same may be said about the sibilants /Â/, /Ò/ and /s/ in those three cities as far as the interchangibilty of these silibants. Examples: sa†Ì, Òa†Ì, ‘rooftop’; sakhi > Òakhi, lazik, laziq, and laÒiq, ‘he glues’. See al-Samarra’i 1968: 235–7 and al-Dulayshi 1968: 7–9. 15 Biz-zuliyyah, a few Iraqi children misuse prepositions in their speech, hence biz-zuliyyah, ‘in the carpet’, instead of ¨az-zuliyyah’, ‘on the carpet’. 16 About this night see al-¨Alawchi 1966: 97–100. 17 Shiba¨tu nom, ‘You satisfied yourselves with sleep’ (lit.).

190

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Another song celebrating the night of Laylat al-MuÌayya is Ghammiçi, ‘Open Your Eyes’ (f.). It comes from Najaf and Karbala’, (Q 3:246): Ghammiçi ¨alayya yal-naymah! Hiyyah fard hal laylah Îijjah liÒ-ÒubuÌ ma anam Bi¨yuni miliÌ ma nam

Song 6: Dalluna! Dalluna!

O the one (f.) who is sleeping, open your eyes! It’s only this night [up] It is (an excuse) for me to stay up until morning [As if] salt is in my eyes and I [can’t] sleep

Guide Us! Guide Us!

Karbala}, Q 3:343 The ceremonies of al-¨Ashurah commemorating the death of alÎusayn (d. 680), the son of the Caliph ¨Ali, and his comrades are held during the first ten days of the Muslim month of MuÌarram in the southern Shi¨ite cities. Following these ceremonies, children there stand by the thresholds of houses and chant this song expecting a small gift from the residents. Dalluna dalluna! ¨Ala-}l-qimah dalluna! RaÌ il-¨id wuhlalu WuÌna jogat 18 Ìaffay Nimshi wundawwir çay Dalluna dalluna! ¨Ala-}l-qima dalluna! ∑arinna 19 sab¨ snin Nakul khubuz tamwin Dalluna dalluna! ¨Ala-}l-qimah dalluna!

Guide us! Guide us! To the fried meat, guide us! The feast and the crescent passed We are a bare-footed group Walking and looking for tea Guide us! Guide us! To the fried meat, guide us! Seven years we’ve been Eating bread with rations Guide us! Guide us! To the fried meat, guide us!

Song 7: Ashwi Ashwi

I grill, I grill

¨Amarah, Q 3:290 Girls form two parallel lines. In each of the two lines five girls stand singing with or without clapping and moving their heads left and right. The song is performed in the month of MuÌarram (in ¨Ashurah). 18

(CA). 19

Joqat, Joqah, ‘group’ borrowed from the Turkish, çok, ‘a lot’, ‘very’, jawq, ∑arinna is a contraction of Òar+il+na, lit. ‘it became to us (lit.)’. 191

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Ashwi ashwi Liyyah liçin20 Ummi itfarji¨ 21 Wana an†için

I grill, I grill Fat for you (f.p.) My mum boils the fat And I give you (f.p.)

Song 8: RaÌ ∑ufar

∑afar is Over

Najaf and Karbala}, Q 3:240 The word Òufar is derived from the verb Òafura, ‘to be empty of ’, referring to the month in which the Muslims in the past used to leave their homes and carry out raids.22 Some Iraqi Muslim women believe that the two Muslim months of ∑afar and MuÌarram may bring misfortune to their families, so they hold celebrations if none of their relatives falls sick or is harmed during these months. It is related in a Ìadith (tradition) attributed to the Prophet MuÌammad, ‘man bashsharni binsilaqat Òafar wa-muÌarram bashshartuhu jannati ’,23 ‘whoever tells me good tidings that the months of ∑afar and MuÌarram have passed, I’ll tell him the good tidings that he will enter Paradise’. Here are two variants of the song RaÌ ∑ufar from Baghdad (Q 3:240). RaÌ Òufar Jana rabi ¨ Ya MuÌammadaya shafi ¨!

[The month of] ∑afar passed Spring came to us O Prophet MuÌammad, O interceder!

And: ™ila¨ Òufar WuÌna salamat

∑afar passed And we are safe and sound

Song 9: Ya Zakariyya!

O Zakariyya!

Baghdad, Q 1:103 This song is known mainly in the south of Iraq. When celebrating the fulfillment of a vow, the Iraqi women who took the vow invite friends and relatives for a small party held at the end of the last day of fasting in Rama∂an. A platter with treats and colourful candles is placed in the middle of the room. Al-Hajjiyyah says that this small celebration takes place in the first Sunday of the Muslim month of 20 The use of the suffix nun (nun al-niswah) in liçin, ‘for you’ (f.p.) and an†için, ‘I’ll give you’ in IA suggests that the origin of the song is Bedouin. 21 itfargi¨, ‘to burst’ (CA). 22 Al-Maghribi 1996: 312. 23 See al-∑arraf year 5: 466 and 470.

192

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Sha¨ban in which a few women fast from morning until evening. Other women, who desire to take a vow, go to the celebrant’s home and light candles there.24 Al-¨Alawchi believes that this celebration goes back to a legend,25 which reminds us of the Biblical story of Abraham and Sarah, (Genesis 4:8) that when Zakariyya, the saint, was ninety-two years old and his wife ninety-eight, he pleaded to God to bless her with a male child. God answered his wish. Ya zakariyya! ¨Udi 26 ¨alayya Kull sana u-kull ¨amm Nish¨il Òiniyyah

O Zakariyya! Come back to me! Every year and year We light [candles on] the platter

Song 10: Jidyah

Begging

NaÒiriyyah, Q 3:255 Girls go to the Shi¨ite neighbourhoods asking for treats and sing to a woman celebrating the fulfillment of an oath by giving birth to a boy: I††una-}l-khatir 27 il-¨Abbas Middi }idiç middi idiç! Wa¬¬ah iykhalli wlaydiç 28 Middi idiç nobtayn! A¬¬ah (i)ykhallil-ithnayn Middi idiç lil-Ìwas! Wa¬¬ah iykhalli }id-dawwas 29

Give us in the honour of al-¨Abbas Stretch your hand (f.s.), stretch your hand [to your pouch]! May God protect your little son Stretch your hand [there] twice! May God protect the two [the father and the new born boy] Stretch your hand to [your] clothes! May God protect the head of the house

Song 11: A¬¬ah yiÒabbuÌkum bi}l-khayr Ya}l-¨ammarah Good Morning, O Kind People Basra, D:126–7 It is customary in Iraq to ask for the hand of a girl during the feasts and the end of Rama∂an. This song alludes to this custom. Two groups of girls/boys stand in separate lines facing each other. Every time the 24

Al-Îajjiyyah 1967, I: 97–8; 1973, III: 145, and al-∑arraf year 6: 31. Al-¨Alawchi 1966: 41–3, esp. 42. 26 The imperative ¨udi, f.s. refers to the implied sanah, ‘year’. Some Iraqi woman believe that by fasting on this day God will prolong the life of their children. 27 I††una < in†una where the initial nun of the verb ni†a ‘he gave’ in the imperative is assimilated with the second root radical /™/ of the verb ni†a. 28 Wlaidiç, is dim. of walad, ‘son’, ‘boy’. 29 Dawwas, lit. ‘lion’. 25

193

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

first group advances towards the second group, the latter retreats. The advancing team sings one line while the retreating team sings the next line until the end of the song.30 Gr.1: A¬¬ah yiÒabbuÌkum bi}l-khayr ya}l ¨ammarah! 31 Gr. 2: A¬¬ah yimassikum32 bi}l-khayr ya}l-¨ammarah! Gr. 1: Jina ¨ala babkum wunkassir shababikum Wish-shami¨ [ib]diwankum u-jina nakhudh bitkum Gr. 1: Hya bit il-takhdhun? Hya bit il-takhdhun? Nakhudh flanah il-¨arus

Good morning to you, O kind people! Good evening, O kind people! We came to your door and we will shutter your windows The wax is [in] your guestroom and we came to ask for your daughter’s hand Who is the girl you are asking for her hand? Who is the girl you are asking for her hand? We are asking for the hand of so and so, the bride [to be]

Song 12: Baçir ¨Id Wun¨ayyid Tomorrow is a Feast and We will Exchange Good Wishes Baghdad, Q 1:133 On the eve of the two Muslim feasts, ¨Id al-Fi†r, ‘the Feast of Breaking the Rama∂an Fast’ and ¨Id al-A∂Ìa, ‘the Feast of Immolation’, groups of children take to the streets clapping and singing: Baçir ¨id wun¨ayyid Wunkharrib bayt abu sa¨ayyid 33 U-sa¨ayyid grabatna U-nidhbaÌ-lah dajajatna

Tomorrow is a feast and we will exchange good wishes And destroy the house of Abu Sa¨ayyid And Sa¨ayyid is our relative And we’ll slaughter our hen for him

Song 13: Jani-il-¨Id

The Feast Came to Me

Basra, D: 50 In the following song a child complains about his/her parents who did not buy him/her new clothes for the feast:

30

For a variant of this song, see Q 1: 277–8. ¨Ammarah, (lit. ‘builders’). Lines 5 and 6 imply that if the children’s demand is not met, they will do so and so. 32 This greeting indicates that the visitors stayed in the bride’s house until the evening in order to get a positive answer. 33 Sa¨ayyid, dim. of Sa¨id (proper noun). 31

194

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Jani }l-¨id u-ana ibtarg 34 thobi }l-khalig U-idi mÌannayah wakhu∂ bil-marag

Song 14: Ya}l-¨Aydah!

The feast came but I am wearing my worn-out clothes My hands are dyed with henna but I am stirring the soup

O Feast!

Basra, D: 49–50 Walking in alleys on the eve of the feasts, girls chant this song together. The refrain ya ¨aydu is sung by all the participants except one girl who also sings the rest of the lines. Girls may also chant this song when they ride swings during the two feasts ¨Id al-Fi†r, ‘the Feast of Breaking the Rama∂an Fast’ and ¨Id al-A∂Ìa, ‘the Feast of Immolation’. The words ¨aydah 35 and ¨aydu in children’s language stand for ¨id, ‘feast’. Ya-¨id! Baçir il-¨id Wun-nagish ha}l-laylah Ya ¨aydu! U-niswan ¨ammi ∑affat inkhaylah36 Ya¨aydu!

O feast! Tomorrow is the feast And the decorating is tonight O feast! And my uncle’s wives [braided their hair] like small palm tree fronds O feast!

The following is a variant song from Mosul37 (Q 3:144). 34 Ib†arig, lit. ‘alone, ‘by itself’, ‘just’, as in shiftha b-†arig il-libas, ‘I saw her in just her pants’. Woodhead and Beene 1967, I: 289 and ’ani sakin b-†arig ruÌi, ‘I live alone’. 35 ¨Aydah and ¨aydu are alternates for ¨id, ‘feast’ in children’s speech. About this celebration in Basra, see al-Dulayshi 1968: 45–6. 36 ∑affat, lit. ‘she arranged/ set’; inkhailah, dim. of nakhlah, ‘palm tree’. AlDaywachi explains that some of the expressions in this song are used by Bedouins who settled in Mosul, see al-Daywachi 1966, I: 20. 37 A few characteristics of the Arabic dialect of Mosul are: a. /r/ as gh, like the Christian and Jews in Baghdad and Mosul. See al-MallaÌ 1928: 349–53. For more about the dialect of Mosul, see al-Samarra’i 1968 and alDabbagh 1956, I: 8–16. b. ∑ad > sin, Òaqi’ ‘frost’, for saqi’. c. Sin > Òad, satÌ, ‘rooftop’ > Òa†Ì, jaras, ‘bell’ for jaraÒ. d. t > †, †ghab, ‘dust’/ turab, tirrahat, ‘nonsense’ > †irrahat. e. th > z, dayyuth > dayyuz. f. k to ç, çidhib for kidhib. g. ‘ >’ , ¨ahirah, ‘whore’ >}ahirah. h. Another feature of the Mosul dialect is imalah, i.e., the pronunciation of a shaded toward e. There are a few sounds which change to another sound in some words, but maintain their sounds in other words. These are: dal/dhal, qaf/ghayn, as in qasha¨ and gasha¨, ‘to see’; qal and gal ‘to say’; b/m, as in mismar and bismar, ‘a nail’; Òad /sin and z, as in laÒaq/lazaq/lasaq, ‘to glue’.

195

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

During the two Muslim feasts boys and girls go from house to house wishing a long life to the woman of the house and that she celebrate the next feasts, in the hope she will give them a small gift. The leading girl sings the refrain Ya}l-¨Aydah, and the other girls sing the rest of the verses. Ya}l-¨aydah ya}l-¨aydah! Bab-iç-çibir bab-iç-çibir 38 ¨Amudkum fi∂∂ah U-dayirkum Ìarir Ya}l-¨aydah! Jina ¨ala abu-dhnun 39 ¨AyÒalli ¨ayÒalli 40 Jidr-iç-çibir jidr-iç-çibir M¨ashshi-}l-¨uÒmalli il-¨UÒmalli Khatunat-in-niswan! 41 Yam girdanah girdanah! Gumi l-Ìayliç wun†ina Ha}l-¨anah ha}l-¨anah 42 Ya}l-¨aydah!

O feast! O feast! The big gate, the big gate Your pillar[s] are of silver And around you is silk O Feast! We came to Abu Dhnun (Yunus) While he was praying, while he was praying [His] big pot, [his] big pot Fed dinner to the Ottoman [army] The Ottoman [army] O the most respectful women! O the wearer of a necklace, a necklace! Get up and give us This ¨anah this ¨anah O Feast!

Song 15: ¨Idi

My Feast

Basra, D: 49 Children chant this song while riding swings during the sunny days in the middle of Rama∂an until the end of the feast. They praise the person who set up the swings and swings them. ¨Idi u-ya ¨aydi u-ya ¨aydi! Ya ¨aydu! ¨Umrak †awil ya }n-naÒib il-maryuÌah! 43

My feast, O my feast, O my feast! O feast! May you live long, O the one who set up the swing!

38 A big gate signifies generosity, because a wide opening enables the camels and their loads to enter the tent. It also faces the desert to welcome the nomads. 39 Abu Dhnun is an epithet for the proper noun Yunus. 40 ¨Aysalli The use of /¨/ with the imperfect verb to indicate a progressive action in the present tense is surprising here. It is likely that the children used it for joking instead of da before the imperfect verb. It is, however, possible that /¨/ is a remnant of the old word qa¨id used as a marker like da and sometime qa before the imperfect to indicate a progressive action. 41 Khatun, and girdanah are borrowed in IA from the Persian khatun ‘lady’ and gerdaneh, ‘necklace’ respectively. 42 ¨Anah, an Indian coin used in Iraq equal to 4 fils. 43 Maryuha < marjuhah, ‘swing’.

196

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

U-ya ¨aydu! MuÌaÒÒan yabu MaÌmud! U-ya ¨aydu!

O feast! May you be protected, O Mahmud’s father! O feast!

Song 16: Hayyus

Hayyus

Basra, Q 3:130 After fasting in Rama∂an and during al-A∂Ìa Feast, children go to parks and ride swings while singing. They sing the refrain and the man who pushes the swings sings the rest. The swings are like hammocks made of palm tree fronds. In a different area, children alter a few words and sing this song when they lose money (part E:43). Hayla ya mali! Hayyus Wul-mal mu mali! Hayyus Wa¬¬ah mu mali! Hayyus Hayla ya mali! Hayyus

Come on, my money! Hayyus The money is not mine! Hayyus By God it’s not mine! Hayyus Come on, O my money! Hayyus

Song 17: Sho† Sho† ¨Idah

Up and down, do it again!

Children sing the following two songs when they are on swings. The first one comes from Baghdad and the second from Basra. Q3: 127. Sho† Sho† ¨idah! 44 U-Ìammilah u-zidah Wuçfih[a] ¨ala-}l-munkhal Shankhul shankhul bi}l-munkhul Wu-çlaybna45 warana Wi-laglig min il-ga¨ Îbayb ir-rumman Wunfargah ¨al-jiran

Up and down swing again! Load it [the swing] and add to it And turn it over the sieve What shall I sift, what shall I sift in the sieve? While our puppy is behind us Licking from the ground The pomegranates’ kernels We’ll distribute them to the neighbours

44 Sho† (IA), shaw† (CA), ‘round’, which is ‘up and down’ when speaking of swings. 45 Çlaib and Ìbaib are dim. of çalib, ‘dog’ and Ìabb, ‘seeds’ respectively.

197

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Kulman Ìabbah Ìabbah Wu}l-baqi tars-id-dabbah

One kernel, one kernel to everyone And [with] the rest we’ll fill the jar

The children sing the following song occasionally when they ride the swings. Basra, D: 142–3 Sho† sho† ¨idi! Waçamlah wazidi Marat abuya-s-saÌÌarah TisÌar ¨ala}l-makkarah Wuçlaybhah waraha Yiga††i¨ min faraha }U-faraha zingi zingi il-Farangi bidah rishah

Up and down, swing again! And I’ll fill it and add more My stepmother the witch She bewitches the camels’ drivers While her puppy is behind her Plucking from her fur And her fur is black, black The foreigner is holding a feather in his hand

This type of song may also include praise to family members for their virtues, like generosity, courage, and love for others (D: 49–50). Below is an example from Basra praising two courageous men: Khalid u-Ìamid min farid çitayah It¨annaw ¨ala Ìiss il-rÒaÒ ¨inayah

Khalid and Îamid are of the same stock They followed the sound of bullets quickly

And a song as a tribute to a certain woman follows: Lagat ¨ala-l-maÌbub Dishdashah46 mawi dishdashah mawi U-min †abbatah lis-sug 47 tizhi-}l-gahawi U-min †abbatah lis-sug tizhi-}l-gahawi Tizhi-}l-gahawi

She met the beloved dressed A blue robe, a blue robe And when she enters the market the cafés shine And when she enters the market The cafés shine

46

Dishdashah is a standard dress for children and adults not wearing western clothing. It is an ankle-length robe with a buttoned opening halfway down the front. About types of this garment see al-Îajjiyyah 1981 IV, 1981: 106. 47 Note the double objects in u-min †abbatha lis-sug… The first object is a pronominal suffix -ha attached to the verb †abbat, ‘she entered’, and the second one is the noun itself sug, ‘market’ preceded by the Aramaic object marker li (lit. ‘and when she entered it, the market’). This construction is a regular one in BJ (Baghdadi Jewish), in Mosul, and in the Bedouin dialects of Iraq. See Mansour 1991: 44. Examples: akhadhu l-ibnu, ‘he took his son’, (lit. ‘he took him, his son’); al-Karmili 2003: 153, u-gamat galatah la-buha, ‘and then she began to tell her father’, (lit. ‘and she began to tell him, to her father’); qaÒaÒu l-ebnu l-ekbigh, ‘he punished his eldest son’, (lit. ‘he punished him, his old son’); Abu-Îai∂ar 1991: 99; kisruha lil-jarrah, ‘they broke the jar’ (lit. ‘they broke it, the jar’), al-Dabbagh 1956: 15. 198

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Song 18: Ya ¨Id Yabu Nimnimah! O Feast, O the Wearer of a Dress with Tiny Beads! ¨Amarah, Q 3:149 Walking in the alleys on the eve of the two feasts, and riding horse carriages and swings during the feasts, Iraqi children chant this song together. Some Iraqi children wear dresses decorated with very tiny beads (nimnim), hence the expression yabu nimnimah, (lit. ‘the one who wears beads’): Ya ¨ id yabu nimnimah! Khudhna wyak li}s-sinima! Ya ¨id yabu mrayah! Khudhna wyak mashshayah 48

O feast, [in which we wear dresses] with tiny beads! Take us with you to the cinema! O feast, [in which] we wear [dresses] with shiny beads (lit. ‘mirrors’)! Take us with you walking

Song 19: Ya ™ayr Ghanni Ghanni!

O Bird, Sing, Sing!

Children sing the following song and clap after the words ashrab mayy, akul tin, kull mayrid and baba yrid 49 when they sit on the ground or on the swings, or strolling together: Karbala, Q 2:117 Ya tayr ghanni ghanni! ¨Ala jnaÌak †ayyirni Waddini li}l-basatin50 Ashrab mayy }akul tin Ashrab mayy }akul tin FarriÌni farÌat il-¨id Labbisni thobi-}l-jidid Kull mayrid baba yrid Kull mayrid baba yrid

Sing, sing, O bird! On your wing[s] fly me Take me to the orchards To drink water and eat figs To drink water and eat figs Make me joyous in the feast Put my new dress on me Whatever my dad wants, he wants Whatever my dad wants, he wants

48

Mashshayah admits of two meanings, ‘those who go to ask a girl’s hand’ and ‘those who walk’. 49 This song and many other Iraqi children’s songs are recorded on the internet: www.Iraqiart.com. 50 Basatin, pl. of bistan < bustan, (Per.) ‘garden’ which is a compound of the Persian bu, ‘smell’ and stan, ‘place’. Iraqis use bistan to mean ‘orchard’, see al-Çalabi 1960: 171. 199

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Song 20: RaÌ il-¨Id

The Feast Has Gone

The following are two farewell songs to the feast, which differ slightly from each other. Children sing them in the last evening of the feast. ¨Amarah, Q3:155 RaÌ il-¨id wuhlalu U-kilman radd ¨ala jlalu51 RaÌ il-¨id wamrightah U-kilman rija¨ likhrightah

The feast and the crescent passed away Then everyone wore his shabby clothes again The feast and the nice clothes passed away Then everyone wore his rags again

Mosul, al-¨Ubaydi, 155–6 52 GhaÌ il-¨id wuhlalu RaÌ il-¨id u-murraqu U-kilman radd ¨ala khiraqqu

The feast and the crescent passed away The feast and the nice clothes passed too. Then everyone wore his shabby clothes again

Part B: Sun, Moon, and Rain (Songs 1–15) The triad sun god, moon god, and ¨Ashtar the god of irrigation were worshipped by Babylonians among other gods. The sun god brings light, enlightenment and wisdom. Shamash, the sun-god in ancient Mesopotamia was considered a god of oracles and diviners, a warrior, the god closest to Gilgamesh in the Gilgamesh Epic. Hammourabi called him the great judge of heaven and earth, source of laws and order.53 It is surprising, however, that there are only a few childrens’ songs that allude to ancient Babylonian customs or rituals concerning the moon, the sun, and inducing rain. Iraqi children, especially those who live in the villages, are observant of the changes in nature. In the cold winter, when the sun rises they go outside to play and enjoy the warm weather. When it rains after a drought, they sing and play, and when the moon appears in the summer nights they go to the rooftops of their homes and observe the sky, the stars and the moonlight. 51 Jlal, lit, ‘backsaddle’, for a donkey. This verse became a proverb, said about a person who is in dire need after having abundance. See al-Îanafi 1962, I: 186. 52 Al-¨Ubaydi 1989: 155–6. 53 See Jones (ed.), Encyclopedia of Religion2 2004, VI: 3618; Leick 1991: 148, and Shawqi 1978: 91–113.

200

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Sun Song 1: ™il ¨at ish-Shummaysah

The Sun Has Risen

Baghdad,54 Îajj 1:164–5 ™il¨at ish-shummaysah 55 ¨Ala gubbat ¨ayshah ¨Ayshah bit-il-bashah 56 Til¨ab bi}l-khirkhasha ∑aÌ-id-diç bi}l-bistan A¬¬ah yunÒur-is-sultan! Ya mullatna Òurfina! RaÌ–il-wagit ¨alayna Wu-shmusa ghabat Wu-rwaÌna dhabat ™ila¨nah li-barrah Shifna Îabiba¬¬ah Bidah qadam fu∂∂ah Yiktub kitab a¬¬ah Ya fatmah bint-in-nabi U-khdhi kitab il-munazzal 57 ¨Ala Òadr MuÌammad il-¨aliyy

The sun has risen On the room of ¨A}ishah ¨A}ishah, the daughter of the Pasha She is playing with the poppyseed rattle The rooster crowed in the orchard May God make the Sultan victorious! O, our teacher (f.), dismiss us! We lost [a lot] of time And our sun disappeared And our souls melted We went outside We saw Îabiballah [Holding] a silver foot in his hand Writing the Book of God O Fatmah, the Prophet’s daughter Take the revealed Book [from] The chest of MuÌammad the Magnificent

54

This song in Basra (D:144) contains fewer verses than that in Baghdad. It also differs from it in the employment of a few lexical items. See also an abridged version of this song in Ibrahim al-Samarra’i 1975: 242. 55 Shummaysah, dim. of shams, ‘sun’. So is ¨Ayshah for ¨A’ishah (proper noun). When the sun shines in the morning, some children sing this song. Occasionally the children sing it also to urge the Mullayah, or the religious teacher (f.), to dismiss them from class. 56 B/Pashah A Turkish word borrowed from the Persian padishah. Sarkis says that it came from the Ottoman Turkish bashqaq, ‘a high official title used after the first name. See Sarkis date? I: 122 n. 1. 57 Kitab il-munazzal. The absence of the definite article in the noun of this noun +adjective construction is rare in the Muslim Iraqi dialect, but it is a common feature in the Bahghdadi Jewish dialect (as well as in Mishnaic Hebrew). See examples in the Judaeo-Arabic translation of the Passover story or Haggadah (the story of the exodus of the Israelites from Egypt), baiyad il-shididah, ‘with a mighty hand’ and bi-rah†an il-qalil, ‘with a few persons’ and note the nunation in birah†an. See Mansour 1965: 28. The -an in birah†an is probably a link between the indefinite noun rah† and the qualifier qalil. Such omission of the definite article was noted in medieval Judeo-Arabic by Baneth (1950: 88, n. 72). 201

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Song 2: Îishshaykah Ya Îimsayyi

O Chickpea[s] Get close

Mosul, Q 3:171 On sunny winter days, children go outside their houses and sit close to each other near warm walls, almost like chickpeas stuck to each other. Hishshaykah Ìu!msayi! Dan¨al abu-l-qi††ayi 58 Qi††ayi jabat walad Semmitu Qunbar ¨Ali Kin-ja abu-Ò-Òuwani Natash minnu Òiniyyi

O chickpea get close! May the father of the cat be cursed A cat gave birth to a boy She named him Qunbar ¨Ali Then the platters’ vendor came He snatched one platter from him

In another version from Mosul (Q 3:200) the following verses are added: Qi††ayi lozi lozi Dan¨al abu glozi Glozi hadha il-miskin ¨Undu komat bzayzin WiÌdi tiqa††¨ rishtah59 Wullekh itbuq il-¨ajin Ha rishtah ha rishta †bakhna!

A cat [as small as] an almond [as small as an almond] May the father of Glozi be cursed This poor Glozi He has a group of cats One cuts the dough cooked with lentils And the other one steals the dough Ha, we cooked dough with lentils! Ha, we cooked dough with lentils!

Song 3: il-Wagif ¨ala Shamsi He Who Stands in the Way of My Sunshine Samarra}, Q: 1:165 Usually boys and girls chant this song in the streets and alleys during sunny winter days. They stand there forming a ring and holding hands. When another child blocks the sun from one of them, they sing: Il-Wagif ¨ala shamsi La-yÒabbiÌ wala yimmasi 60 B-laylat il-jum¨ah

He who stands in the way of my sunshine May he not wake up in the morning and may he not last until evening On Friday night

58

Qi††ayi, dim. of qa†a, ‘cat’ (CA). Rishtah/rashtah (Per.), ‘dough’ cut into small thin pieces and cooked with lentils. See Fraihah 1996: 64, and al-Bakri 1972: 30. 60 The verse la-yÒabbiÌ… is a curse, where inshallah, ‘God willing’ is implied. 59

202

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Ummah itkhasillah61 Wabuh içafinlah Mayy u-miliÌ ¨as-saddah 62 Mayy u-miliÌ ¨as-saddah

May his mother wash him And his father shroud him Water and salt are on the dam Water and salt are on the dam

Song 4: Hak Sin il-Jihhal

Take the Kid’s Tooth

The following two versions come from Baghdad. They reflect a widespread custom in Iraq and in the other Arab countries.63 When children lose a baby tooth, they throw it at the sun and sing: Baghdad, Îajj 1:60 Haç sinn il-jihhal 64 Wun†ini sin il-ghazal

Take the tooth of kids And give me the tooth of the gazelle

Song 5: Shams u-Ma†agh ¨al Ghabi ¨

Sun and Rain in the Spring

Mosul, Q 2:261

In sunny days women spinners used to work in the courtyards of their houses and sing with the children. They equate the expert spinner to a beautiful gazelle: Shams u-ma†agh ¨al ghabi ¨ Ghazzalah tughzul wutbi ¨ Wutqul ghazli gifi ¨ Shams u-ma†agh ¨al ghabi ¨ Ghazzalah tughzul wutbi ¨ Wutbi ¨ wazni ip-parah 65 U-timtili-}l-kawwarah

Sun and rain [came] in the spring A spinner spins and sells And says, ‘My spinning is thin’ Sun and rain came in the spring A spinner spins and sells She sells one wazni for one parah And the jar is filled

61

itkhassil, the pronunciation g > kh by some IA speakers is common. Mayy u-miliÌ, This expression denotes a lack of abundance of food, and it seems that it is out of place. See al-Ma¨dadi date?: 70. 63 This custom prevails in several Arab countries. In Egypt, the children sing, ‘ya shams ya shammusa, kho∂i sinnit ig-gamusa u-hati sinnit il-¨arusah, see Ammar 1954: 104. In Libya, ‘ya shams ya ‘awaynat il-¨rusah khidhi sin Ìmar wa¨†ini sin ghazal, ‘O sun, O glasses of the bride, take the tooth of the donkey and give me the tooth of the gazelle’. In Lebanon, ‘ya shams ya shammusi waÌyat ¨ammi Musi, khaydi sinn il-Ìmar a¨tayni sinn il-ghazali’, ‘O sun, O my little sun, by the life of my uncle Musi, take the tooth of the donkey and give the tooth of the gazelle’. 64 Jihhal, ‘kids’ (lit. ‘ignorant’, sing. jahil ) in IA. 65 Wazni < waznah, is a unit of weight roughly equal to one hundredth of a kilogram, and parah (lit. ‘piece’) is an Indian coin of small value. 62

203

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Moon In earlier times the appearance of the new crescent moon was often greeted with joy as a return of the moon from the dead. The waning and eclipse of the moon were a cause of anxiety and fear. In religion and mythology the moon plays a variety of roles. Whether male or female divinity, the moon, like the sun, was thought to be an object thrown up into the sky by some supernatural being. The Babylonians took over from the Sumerians the worship of the moon deity under the name of Sin.66 Sin was worshipped in Haran and Ur the birthplace of Abraham, founder of the monotheistic faiths. In early sixth century BCE, Babylon was the area’s greatest city. Nebuchadrezzar’s successor, Nabonidus, was a devoted worshipper of the moon. Moon worship continued into Islamic times. Some Baghdadis believe that the moon became one-eyed, because it quarreled with the sun that hit it in one eye and extinguished its light.67 A few Iraqis quote to the moon as saying, ‘lo ¨indi ¨ayntayn çan aglub il-layl nahar’68 ‘If I had two eyes I would have turned the night into day’. When a few Baghdadis see the crescent in the first nights of Rama∂an they would look at a silver coin or at the river and pray humbly ‘O God make it a month of bliss and abundance for us and for all the community of Muhammad’.69 Iraqis may take an oath by the moon, u-Ìaqq ha}l-badir ¨al-¨ibad,70 ‘by the Truth of this moon [that shines] on the worshippers’ and u-Ìaqq ha}l-gumriyyah,71 ‘by the Truth of this moon light night’. Among Baghdadi proverbs in which the moon is employed are: il-gumar may-∂urha nbaÌ-i-}l-klab,72 ‘the moon is not blemished by the barking of the dogs’ which is said about a respectful person who does not care about being criticized’, and il-gumar min hlalah mbayyin,73‘the moon is apparent from its crescent’, said about taking actions whose results are predicted from the start. They also believe that a lot of blood will be shed when the disc of the moon becomes red. 66

Wikipedia Encyclopedia and Leick 1991: 152, Jones 2004, IX, 6172. Al-Îajjiyyah 1991, VI: 117. 68 Jones 2004, I: 443, IX: 6172; Shawqi 1991: 149 and al-Îajjiyyah 1999, VII: 118–19. 69 Ibid., 119. 70 Ibid. 71 Ibid. 72 Ibid., 120 73 Ibid., 117 67

204

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Song 6: Ya Gumar, Ya DaÌlabi!

Moon, O Round Moon!

The following song is similar to the song Ya Gumar Latghib (Part B:9) in content, but not in melody and some lexical items. Both are variants of one song in which the children ask the moon to bring their fathers home safe and sound. This is not necessarily an indication of paganism. Rather, it refers to God who created the moon. Karbala}, Q 3:178 Ya Gumarna ya daÌlabi! 74 Dizz abuyah khal yiji! Jabli sallat ¨inab Farraghtah (i)bab75 in-nabi Wu}n-nabi min Ìishmituh Jatti-l-ghazala zarutuh Labsah gladah dhahab Naz¨ah gladah dhahab Shafha il-mullah irtahab ¨Af qur¨anah76 wu-lÌagah

O our moon, O round moon! Send my father let him come! He brought me a basket of grapes I distributed it at the Prophet’s gate Because of his dignity The gazelle came and visited him Wearing a golden necklace Taking off a golden necklace The Mullah saw her and was surprised He left his Qur}an and followed her

Song 7: Ya Qamag Ya DaÌraji!

O Moon, O Rolling Moon!

Mosul, Q3: 178 Ya qamag ya daÌraji! 77 ∑iÌ abuyi liji! Ijibilna sallat ¨inab Min slal in-nabi Wu}n-nabi min haybatu Jatti-l-ghazalah zagetu ∑allat ¨ala sajjadah Jana il-¨inab kullu Ìulu

O Moon, O rolling moon! Call my dad to come! He’ll bring us a basket of grapes From the baskets of the Prophet And because of the Prophet’s dignity The gazelle came and visited him She prayed on a praying carpet We got all the grapes sweet

74 DaÌlabi, The meaning of the verb daÌlab is unclear. It exists in the Kuwaiti and Lebanese dialects, ‘to bend down’, al-Bakri 1972: 226. If this is so, then the root of the verb daÌlab ‘to bend’ is Î.D.B. and the /l/ is an infex added to the root (Î, D, B) creating a quadrilateral verb, Ìadlab > daÌlab. 75 Farraghtah, i.e. ‘I gave it’ to the beggars, who usually stand by the gates of the cemeteries. 76 Qur’an > Qur¨an used by children. Children and several adults who pretend to take an oath by the Qur’an may say wu’l-Qur’an, see al-Îanafi 1962, I: 33. 77 DaÌraja (CA), ‘to roll down’.

205

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Song 8: Hadha Gumarna il-¨Ali

This High Moon is Ours

Basra, D:136–7

This song is a variant of the previous one. Girls stand forming a ring on moonlit nights and go around dancing and singing the main lines. The leader stands in the centre and sings the last onetwo words of each line. In Mosul all the girls sing together the entire song. Leader: Hadha gumarna il-¨ali Group: il-¨Ali… il-¨ali… il-¨ali – Ijib abuya bi}s-salamah – Bi}s-salamah bi}s-salamah – Wijib-li sallat ¨inab – Sallat ¨inab sallat ¨inab – Wi}l-¨inab ma-ridu – Ma-ridu 78 ma- ridu – Dhabbaytah ibbab in-nabi 79 – Ibbab in-nabi, ibbab in-nabi – Wun-nabi ibÌa∂ratu – IbÌa∂ratu, ibÌa∂ratu – IbÌa∂ratu, ibÌa∂ratu, ibÌa∂ratu Jatt-il-ghazalah zaritu80 – Zaritu, zaritu, zaritu

This high moon is ours The high… the high…the high Will bring my father safely Safely, safely And he will bring me a basket of grapes A basket of grapes, a basket of grapes And the grapes I do not want I do not want it, I do not want it I distributed them at the Prophet’s gate At the Prophet’s gate, at the Prophet’s gate While the Prophet is in his shrine In his tomb, in his tomb In his tomb, in his tomb, in his tomb The gazelle came and visited him She visited him, she visited him, she visited him

Then the girls disperse singing: Labsah gladah dhahab Naz¨ah gladah dhahab

Song 9: Ya Gumarna Latghib

Wearing a golden necklace Taking off a golden necklace

O Our Moon, Don’t Disappear!

Ramadi Q3:165 On full-moon summer nights, children in Ramadi sit outdoors clapping and chanting and look at the shining moon surrounded by the stars. The words gubbah, ‘room’ and sharashib, ‘hems’ stand metaphorically for the sky and the stars respectively. 78

Maridu. Often Iraqi children pronounce two words as one when the first word ends with fatÌah and the second word has a hamzah followed by a fatÌah, hence ma+’aridu> maridu. Dhabbayt, ‘I threw’ (lit.). 79 Bab an’nabi, ‘At the Prophet’s gate’, i.e. the cemetery where beggars are found. 80 An Iraqi legend relates that the prophet MuÌammad gave shelter to a gazelle chased by a hunter (Q 3:168). 206

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Ya Gumarna latghib! Yabu gubbah u-sharashib! Bint il-Ìawwa kalhadh-dhib 81 Sukkar ma¨jun ibÌalib82 Wu}l-¨arayis ¨arrasu Wu}l-¨ajayiz ¨ajjazu Shaggu magrunat Îasan Îasan shayil 83 dinbusah Yimshi wi¨idd bi-flusah

O our moon, don’t disappear! O the one who has a sky and stars The wolf ate the daughter of Eve Sugar mixed with milk The brides got married And the old women grew frail They tore Îasan’s garment Îasan is wearing his pin Walking and counting his money

Song 10: Ya Îutah Ya ManÌutah!

O Whale! O Whale!

When the moon disappears in an eclipse, many Iraqi adults and children believe that a giant whale has swallowed it. They also believe that the whale carries the earth and that the eclipse causes disasters to them. The Arabs in the pre-Islamic period were also scared of the eclipse of the moon, so were many Muslims in later times.84 To appease his followers, it is related that the Prophet MuÌammad said, ‘Inna-sha-shamsa wa}l-qamara atiyani min ayatihi la yakhsufani li-mawti aÌadin wa-la li-Ìayatihi, fa-idha ra}aytumu dhalika fafza¨u ¨ila dhikri-llahi wa}l-Òalati ’,85 ‘the sun and the moon come from His signs, they do not eclipse for the death of anyone, or for his life, so if you see this [the eclipse], rush to mention the name of God and pray’. To scare the whale and force it to let the moon free during the eclipse, several Iraqis still take to the streets and the rooftops with pots, platters, forks, knives, pans, and bang on them while chanting this song. When the eclipse is over, they feel relief. Baghdad, Îajj 1:111 and Q2:231 Ya Ìutah ya manÌutah! 86 Hiddi gumarna-}l-¨ali Hadha gumarna inridah Wunçan ma-thiddinah Adugliç [i]b-Òiniyyah

O whale! O whale! Let our high moon go free We want this moon of ours And if you don’t let it go free I’ll bang on a tray for you

81 Kalha. In fast speech children do not pronounce the initial hamzah from verbs whose initial consonant is a hamzah followed by a fatÌah, as in ’akalha > kalha, ‘he ate it’. 82 Ma¨jun, lit. ‘kneaded’. 83 Shayil, lit. ‘carrying’. 84 About the fear of the Iraqis of the eclipse of the moon, see al-¨Alawchi 1966: 21, 47–8; Sa¨d al-Din 1998, I: 29; al-Îajjiyyah 1967, I: 111, 1999, VII: 118–19. 85 Al-¨Alawchi 1966: 49. 86 ManÌutah. It means literally ‘carved’ used to create assonance with Ìuta.

207

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

The women on the rooftops reply addressing God: Ya qarib il-faraj! Ya ¨ali bila daraj! ¨Abdak ib-shiddah

O the One who brings relief soon! O the High One without steps! Your worshipper is in stress

And another version from Baghdad:87 Ya Ìutah ya maltutah Hiddi gumarna-}l-¨ali Wunçan ma-thiddinah Ni∂irbiç [i]b-sakkinah

O whale, O giant Let our high moon go And if you don’t let it free And if you don’t let it free, we’ll strike you with a knife.

In a version from Qal¨at ∑aliÌ (Q 2:231), the following verse is added: khalli gumarna sa¨ah, ‘let our moon free for a while’. Rain The life-renewing and life-sustaining powers of rain have been personified in the pantheons of both primitive and higher religions. Rites to ensure rain had their origin in remote antiquity and have been observed throughout the world, and worship of rain gods as a symbol of fertility prevailed in the ancient cultures. Sorcery, magical charms and prayers were employed by rainmakers, among other rites, to induce rain. Thunderstorms are prominent in representations of the gods of ancient Sumer, Babylonia, Assyria, and Akkad. Among these great storm gods were Enlil of Mesopotamia and Marduk of Babylon.88 In the seasonal revival of nature and the infusion of new life, rain was seen in the ancient Middle East and other parts of the world as a dispenser of divine grace and plenty and the promise of survival. Worship of rain gods as symbols of fertility prevailed in the East, as well as elsewhere. The Mesopotamian symbol for ‘height’ also meant ‘rainy sky’, and thus linked rain to divinity. In the Qur}an,89 Allah is described as the One who created the heavens and earth and sent water down out of heaven. To evoke rain in drought times, some Iraqi children in the villages take a stick and wrap it with rags and old clothes to make a doll which they call umm il-ghayth,90 ‘the one who has the rain’. They 87 88 89 90

See Fattal 2003: 71, n. 12. Jones 2004, XI: 7602. Qur’an, 13:2–4, 48–9. See Q 1:467. 208

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

roam the alleys singing in front of every house. The owners of the houses pour a bowl of water on the doll as a symbol of inducing rain. When the sky becomes cloudy, a few Baghdadis would say mçalçilah u-¨ala hawaha,91 i.e. ‘the sky has black clouds loaded with water’, and when the thunder and lighting increase and it pours, one member of the family would recite from the Qur}an (chapter 13 [Surat al-Ra¨d]); believing that God will order the thunder, the lightning and the rain to ease up. Some Iraqis believe that God used a black angel to drive the clouds with a whip and that the thunder is the sound of the angel’s feet. The rain is mentioned in a few Iraqi proverbs like ¨ilm bila ¨amal mithl il-ghaym bila ma†ar,92 ‘knowledge without deed[s] is like a cloud without rain’, and il-mbalbal maykhaf min il-ma†ar,93 ‘the wet person does not care about (lit. ‘fear’) the rain’, is said about someone in trouble, who does not care if he gets into more trouble. The following rain song is reminiscent of an ancient Babylonian practice pleading Ishtar, the god of irrigation, to induce rain. Song 11: Yamm il-Ghayth!

O the One Who Has the Rain!

Mosul, Q 1:191 Yamm il-ghayth! Lola-l-ma†ag ma jina Îu††u-l-na bi}†-†absha AÒbaÌ 94 waladkum yimsha Wu}l-Ìin†ah ib-†ulu-}l-bab 95 Wu}sh-shi¨ir bila Ìsab Ti¨†una [w]illa ndiqq il-bab

O the One who has rain! Had it not been for [lack of] rain, we wouldn’t have come Put [water] for us in the wooden bowl Your son has begun to walk And the wheat is as high as the door And the barley is countless Give us, otherwise we’ll knock at the door

Mosul, Q 3: 228 Ya umm il-ghayth ghithina! Billi ¨ibshit ra¨ina Khalli i¨shaybitna tunbut Yir¨aha i†layyina 96

O the One who has rain, help us! Wet the grass of our shepherd Let our grass grow So our sheep graze in it

91

al-Îajjiyyah 1999, VII: 121. Ibid., 122. 93 Ibid., 123. 94 More common in IA than aÒbaÌ is Òar. 95 In the construct phrase ib†ulu-’l-bab, ‘in the height of the door’ (lit. ‘in its height [of] the door’) is the regular one among the Christians and Jews of Baghdad. See examples in Mansour 1992: 44 and Abu-Haidar 1991: 116. 96 I¨shaybitna, dim. of ¨ishibna, ‘grass’ and i†laynna, dim. of †ilyanna, ‘our sheep’ 92

209

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

They also sing (Q 3:228): Ya rabbi shilah shilah! 97 Ti¨†i il-ra¨dah il-laylah W-uflan yisqi khaylah

O my Lord make it rain, make it rain! Give the thunder to night And let so and so water his horses.

Song 12: Mu†ar Mu†ar Îalabi

Rain, Rain, Light Rain

Basra, Q3: 217 When it rains in Basra, girls take to the streets, singing and dancing. The first four lines of the following song are a plea to God to induce rain, followed by four lines which allude to the fact that it rains cats and dogs to the extent that people are carried from one side of the road to the other. Mu†ar mu†ar Ìalabi 98 ¨Abbir banat iç-çalabi Mu†ar mu†ar shashah 99 ¨Abbir banat il-basha

Rain, rain, pouring rain Take the Çalabi’s daughters across Rain, rain, rapid rain Take the Pasha’s daughters across

Song 13: il-Matar ¨Asi

The Rain is Stubborn

Samarra} 100 When it rains, children go outside their homes, dancing and singing: Mu†ar mu†ar ¨asi Rain, rebellious rain ™awwil sha¨ar rasi Make the hair of my head long Rasi bi’l-madinah yakul Ìabb u-tina Rasi is in the city eating seeds and a fig

Song 14: Ya Rabbi Ma††irha O my Lord, let it rain! This song reflects a reality of Iraqi life when the ¨alawchi, ‘the wholesale vegetables and fruit vendor’ raises the prices of his merchandise as a result of drought.

97

Shila, probably this word is a distortion of çailah, ‘bullet’, i.e. the rain is so strong that it falls and makes a sound like a bullet. 98 Îalabi, The meaning of word Ìalabi is unclear. al-Dulayshi suggests ‘strong rain’ (al-Dulayshi 1968: 151 n. 4). 99 Shashah, ‘fast’. Ibid.: 151 n. 2. 100 Children are happy to see the rain falling. They take to the streets and alleys barefoot and sing loudly this song. See al-Samarra’i 1975, VIII–X: 243. 210

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Baghdad, Îajj 1:166 and al-Musayyab Q 3:221 Ya rabbi ma††irha! ¨Ala ¨nad il-¨alawci 101 ¨Alawci bidah †asah Yimshi wiÌikk ib-rasah

O my Lord, make it rain! Despite the vegetables’ vendor The vegetables’ vendor holds a bowl in his hand He walks while scratching his head

Song 15: il-Ma†ar ™ashsh

The Rain Poured

Ramadi, Q 3:224 In the past when a Bedouin noticed a flash of lightning, he would tell the good tidings to friends and relatives, ‘abraqat wa-ar¨adat wa}stahallat wa-am†arat ’, ‘[after] the lightning there will be thunder followed by a rain’ (Q 3:233). The Bedouin children get out of their tents and sing while it rains: il-Ma†ar †ashsh102 ¨Allana in¨udah103 il-Ma†ar †ashsh Ruzzan ya r¨udah! Il-Ma†ar †ashsh! Ikh∂arr ya ¨udah!

It rained cats and dogs May we see it coming again It rained cats and dogs Multiply its thunder! It rained cats and dogs! O grass, turn green!

Part C Animals, Birds, and Insects (Songs 1–37) Song 1: Ghazalah Ghazzaloki O Beautiful Gazelle, They Twirled you Karbala}, Q1: 285 When walking in groups, boys sing and clap. In the upper Euphrates areas, they chant the following song while standing in a ring and holding hands. In Samarra} they stand nude by the shore of the Tigris and sing to it. The gazelle stands for a beautiful girl.

101 The word ¨Alawçhi is a compound word from ¨alwah, ‘a wholesale farmers market’ and the Turkish suffix çi. When the suffix is added, there is a shift of stress to the next to last syllable. 102 ™ashsh, lit. ‘to spread’, ‘to scatter’. 103 Bedouin children sing this song. The use of ¨allana is found in CA.

211

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Ghazalah ghazzaloki 104 Bi}l-mayy da¨biloki Ga¨dah ¨ala-}sh-sha† Ga¨dah timashshi† Ajaha numi Gallilha gumi! Hadha ÌÒaniç Ashiddah wa}rkab ¨Ala-l-sikarkab105 Sikarkab il-barriyah La-tibçin ¨alayya Ibçi ¨ala Ìjuliç Îjuliç barba¨miyyah

O beautiful gazelle, they twirled you In the water they rolled you She was sitting by the river bank She was sitting and combing [her hair] Numi came to her He told her ‘Get up!’ Here is your horse I’ll saddle it and mount The clip–eared horse The clip–eared horse of the desert Don’t cry for me Cry for your anklets Your anklets are worth four hundred [dinars]

Song 2: Ghazali Ghazal

My Gazelle is a [Beautiful] Gazelle

Ramadi, Q 2: 170 Like the previous song, the following contains verses from various songs. The last few lines have religious tones. Children used to chant it with or without clapping, while sitting or strolling together. Ghazali ghazal ™ab li¨biç †ab, †ab! Wu}l-gumar shallali 106 Ib-nuÒÒ il-layl ghab Waraha wara-}l-Ìennah Waraha wara-}z-zaytun Maktubah ib-bab il-jannah Bab in-nar li}l-kuffar U-bab il-jannah li}l-islam

My gazelle is a [wonderful] gazelle Your play is enjoyable, is enjoyable! When the moon is slack At midnight it disappeared Behind it, behind the henna [bush] Behind it, behind the olive [trees] It is written at the gate of Paradise: The gate of hell is for the unbelievers And the gate of paradise is for the Muslims (lit. ‘for Islam’).

104

Boys sing Ghazala Ghazzaloki in the summer when they stand nude by the shore of the Tigris. Cited also in al-Samarra’i 1975: 246–7. The gazelle is an epithet for a beautiful girl. The word ghazzaloki makes no sense, but it is used for producing assonance with ghazalah. 105 Sikarkab is a compound word. Rajul asakk in CA is ‘a clipped-eared man’ (CA) and rakaba (CA) ‘to ride’, but in the context of the song it means, ‘a clippedeared horse’. 106 Shallali, ‘slopy’. It is unclear to what noun the suffix h in waraha refers. Probably this verse is taken from a different song, as are some of the other verses in the song. The several rhyme schemes in the song attest to that. 212

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Song 3: Kharuf Ya Kharuf!

Sheep, O Sheep!

Baghdad, Îajj. II, 71 Baghdadis call the male sheep çibis (CA kabash) and the female, na¨jah. A small çibis is †ili, and a small na¨jah is fa†imah. The aborted foetus is called quzi, and its delicate skin is lisa. A group of sheep is ghanam or ghnaym.107 When some Iraqi children start playing with a small sheep they hit it gently on its forehead and enrage it by saying, ‘Ti-khmmas’. When the villagers see a sheep the first thing in the morning, they believe that their day will be a fortunate one. They also believe that when they run into a herd of sheep in the morning, they have to count seven red ewes, otherwise a misfortune will befall them. If a baby does not stop crying, his mother will walk with her baby behind a herd of sheep which stirs the dust, then she will say, ‘ya ¨ajjah ukhdhi il-lajjah’, ‘O dust take away the hubhub’, believing this will make her baby stop crying. The white sheep used to be the preferred domestic animal for children in the Iraqi home prior to the introduction of toys. The children would take good care of the sheep and often wash its wool, hang a chain of blue beads and small bells on its neck, and dye its forehead and legs with hennah.108 The following is a song for the sheep: Ya Kharuf ya Kharuf! Akul laÌmak wa-khudh Òuf Wan†ik iÌshish ihwayah Min tukbar wutÒir [i]smin AdhbaÌak bis-sakkin Ya kharufi ya miskin!

O sheep, O sheep! I eat your meat and take [your] wool And give you lots of grass When you grow up and become fat I’ll slaughter you with the knife O my sheep, O poor sheep!

Song 4: Arnab, Arnab

Rabbit, Rabbit

Ba¨qubah, Q 2:194 Children clap and sing together while sitting or standing in the alleys. ‘Titu’ is a rabbit in children’s language. Arnab, arnab Urku∂, urku∂! Inta Òadiqi Wana Òadiqak AsbaÌ bi}l-mayy Ya titu! 107 108

Rabbit, rabbit Run, run! You’re my friend And I am your friend I swim in the water O Titu!

See a variant in Q:288. Ibid., 71–2. 213

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Jana kamala Ya titu! Rakib zmalah Ya titu! Gi†a¨nah tamrah Ya titu! Tamur il-khistawi Ya titu! Titu ya titu titu!

Kamala came to us O Titu! Riding his donkey O Titu! We picked one piece of date O Titu! [From] the Khistawi dates O Titu! Titu, O Titu, Titu!

Song 5: B ¨irah Nami Nami! 109

Camel, Sleep, Sleep!

Baghdad, Q 1:427 Some Iraqis say the following proverb about a person who is able to perform hard tasks but fails to do simple and easy jobs, ‘il-bi¨ir yishil kull shi u-¨al-munkhul yibruk,’110 ‘the camel carries everything, but on the sieve it kneels down’, and about a person who resorts to obvious excuses rather than being frank, they say, ‘il-bi¨ir yi∂la¨ min idhnah’,111 ‘the camel is lame in its ears’, which is an absurdity. In the 1930s, the Bedouins used to pass through the town of al-Musayyib on their way to graze their camels. A group of children would imitate the camel’s rider, move their heads and chests up and down, follow the camel and sing: B¨ irah nami nami! Jaç MÌammad [il] Ìarami Dhabboh bi}l-darbunah ™il¨at simçah zgayrunah112

Camel, sleep, sleep! MuÌammad the thief came to you They tossed him in the alley A very small fish emerged

In a version from al-Ramadi Q 2:221, the last two verses read: Çakkiç ibhal ¨aghulah ™ila¨ lisniç ha††ulah

He pricked you with this thorn Your tongue came out this long

Song 6: Haydaw Yab ¨ayyiri Haydaw!

Get up, O my Camel Get up!

Qal¨at Sukkar, Q 2:224–5 A group of Bedouin children move their heads up and down and sing together the following song. To urge the camel to get up and walk, the camel driver shouts, ‘Haydaw’. 109 110 111 112

Repeated in al-™u¨mah 1976, II–III: 208. Al-Îanafi 1962, I: 95. Ibid. Zgayrunah, dim. of zgayrah, small’. 214

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Haydaw yab¨ayyiri113 Haydaw! Haydaw! Haydaw wayn mgayyil!

Get up, O my little camel, get up! Get up! Get up! Where are you resting your knees? Get up! Haydaw! Get up! Haydaw bi}s-sabkhayah Haydaw! Get up off the dusty ground, get up! Haydaw! Get up! Haydaw wum¨allig rayah Haydaw! Get up, he is hanging a piece of cloth, get up! Haydaw! Get up! Haydaw bit-il-bidwi Haydaw! Get up the daughter of the Bedouin, get up! Haydaw timshi u-tidwi Haydaw! Get up! She is walking and making noise, get up! Haydaw! Get up! Haydaw min diwwaha Haydaw! Get up! Who made her make noise, get up! Haydaw rayil isbaha, Haydaw! Get up!It is the man of her youth, get up! Haydaw! Get up! Haydaw raÌat li}l-mayy, Haydaw! Get up! She went to the well, get up! Haydaw! Get up! Haydaw yabat walad,114 Haydaw! Get up! She gave birth to a boy, get up! Haydaw! Get up! Haydaw sammoh Òamad,115 Haydaw! Get up! They named him Samad, get up! Haydaw! Get up! Haydaw ¨abir baÌrayn, Haydaw! Get up! He is crossing two seas, get up! Haydaw! Get up! Haydaw shayil rumÌayn, Haydaw! Get up! He is carrying two spears, get up! Haydaw! Get up!

Song 7: Laysh Ya Wawi!

Why, O Jackal!

Tikrit, Q 2:179–80 Iraqi children call the jackal, abu-l-wayw and hÒayni as epithets. When travelling, several villagers believe that the jackal is a good omen if they run into one, because they consider it a witty animal. Often the Iraqi mother says to her child, ja il-wawi, ‘The jackal has come’ as a means to scare him/her to go to bed. The following proverb, ‘itÌazzam li}l-wawi biÌzam sabi¨ ’,116 ‘wear a belt to face the jackal [as if you 113

Ba¨ayyiri is dim. of b¨iri, ‘my little camel’. jabat > yabat and rajul /y/ according to the local dialect. 115 ∑amad, ‘eternal’ is one of God’s attributes. The word ‘Abd, ‘servant’, ‘worshipper’ as the first part of a proper name ¨Abd al-∑amad occasionally is dropped in IA. See al-Îanafi 1978, I: 184. 116 For these proverbs, see al-Îanafi 1962, I: 114, and al-Îajjiyyah 1968, II: 81–2. 114

215

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

confront] a lion’, warns about taking precautions even against those who pretend to be weak. When some children in Iraqi villages see the feathers of a killed hen, they sing: Laysh ya wawi! Takul dijajatna Min bayt ¨ammatna? Khalli-}l-farukh yukbar U-yin†aÌ il-¨askar ¨Askar Ikhdayrawi 117 ma-yakul it-timman Illa-b-khashugah 118 Khashugah mangushah Wul-¨ayn majlutah Bint AÌmad il-kursi Timshi w-tugmuzli WashmaÌla gumzatha! Marid gumzatha ¨illa b-sh¨fatha

Song 8: ∑alat il-Wawiyyah

Why, O jackal! You eat our hen From our aunt’s house? Let the chick grow And butt the army Ikhdairawi’s army doesn’t eat the rice Except with a spoon A decorated spoon And the eyes are peeled (i.e. open) AÌmad il-Kursi’s daughter She is walking and winking to me How beautiful her winking is! I do not want her winking unless she has her hair, lock on lock

The Prayer of the Jackals

D: 123–4 Boys and girls in Basra stand in a ring holding hands. One of them, the leader, sings every other verse and the group the rest. The following song has a deductive message that people should pray only to God. Leader- ∑allu Òalat il-wawiyyah! Girls- Ma-nsalli – ∑allu Òalat il-bazazin – Ma-nÒalli

Pray the prayer of the jackals! We won’t pray Pray the prayer of the cats! We won’t pray

The leader asks the participants to pray for three-four more animals, and when they refuse, he/she sings: – ∑allu Òalat rabbkum

Pray the prayer for your Lord

All the children bend their head and sing: 117

In Samarra’ this song is slightly different than in Baghdad. Kh∂airawi (dim. Khu∂ur), instead of ¨Allawi. See al-Samarra’i 1965: 20. 118 Khashugah, pl. khawashig. A few Baghdadis say qashuqah, Per. qashiq, see al-Îanafi 1982, II: 442. 216

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

– A¬¬ah Akbar! Leader- Idha jatkum saÌabah bay∂ah – La-tkhafun! – Idha jatkum saÌabah Òafrah – Latkhafun – Swayf 119 abuna Ìadir rusna – Idha jatkum saÌabah sodah, sodah, sodah, tiru!

Song 9: Il-Tha¨lab Fat Fat

God is great! If a white cloud comes to you Don’t be afraid! If a yellow cloud comes to you Don’t be afraid Our father’s sword is under our pillows (lit. ‘heads’) If a black, black, black cloud comes to you, fly!

The Fox Passed By

Îillah Q: 198–200 Girls sit in a ring. One girl is chosen as a leader. The girls sing while the leader goes around the circle trying secretly to put a handkerchief behind one of the girls. If this girl discovers it, she runs with the handkerchief after the leader. They exchange roles if the girl behind whom the handkerchief was placed discovers the handkerchief before the leader completes going around the circle once. Leader: Dayir dwayrah120 Girls: Îibiç libiç121 – Maksurah – Biha ithna¨ash ba¨rurah – Ba¨rurah – Baycikil – Cikil cikil – ¨Araqçin, ¨araqçin122 – çin çin – Wu}th-tha¨lab – Fat fat – Wubdhaylu – Sab¨ liffat – Baysikil

He is going one around Quickly Broken In it are twelve sheep droppings Sheep droppings Bicycle Cikil cikil Skullcap, skullcap Çin, çin And the fox Passed by, passed by And in his tail Seven knots Bicycle

119

Swayf, dim. of sayf, ‘sword’. Dwayrah, ‘small round’, dim. of da’irah. 121 The two-echo words Ìibiç and libik create assonance. Qadduri says that both words mean ‘quickly’. Other such pairs of echo words in this article are Ìajanjalibajanjali (part E, song 51) and shandal-mandal (part E, song 58). The Arabic term for such two words is itba¨, which is an intensification by repeating a word with its initial consonant changed. 122 ¨Araqçin, a compound word of Arabic ¨araq, ‘sweat’ and Persian çin, from the verb çaridan, ‘to absorb’. 120

217

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

– Sikil sikil – Ith-tha¨lab fat – Wub-dhaylu – Sab¨ liffat – Baysikil

Cikil, Cikil The fox passed by And in his tail There are seven knots Bicycle

Song 10: idh-Dhib Wul-Na¨jah

The Wolf and the Ewe

Hit and the Upper Euphrates, Q 1:280 In Iraqi lore and folk literature, the wolf enjoys a good reputation. It is a custom in Iraq to put a wolf ’s tooth on a necklace and hang it on the child’s neck to drive away demons and the evil eye. At present, instead of a real wolf’s tooth, some Iraqis use ivory shaped like a wolf ’s tooth covered with strips of gold. In the middle of the ivory, a small blue stone is placed. Wolf ’s eyes and claws are used as talismans too. The blue colour also has the power to drive away the evil eye.123 Some Iraqis say that the wolf will be the last to die of all living creatures at the end of the world, because all the metaphysical creatures are afraid of it.124 Among the Iraqi proverbs where the wolf is mentioned are: Shayil ¨ayn idh-dhib,125 ‘he carries the wolf ’s eye’, said about a successful person’, and Ìukum ¨adil ikhalli in-na¨jah tisraÌ waya dh-dhib,126 ‘a just regime lets the ewe graze with the wolf’. A few variants of the following song exist in different parts of Iraq. In Baghdad children hold hands and form a ring. One child stands in the centre of the ring (the lamb) and another (the wolf) stands outside it. The wolf tries to slip inside the ring to eat the lamb, but the children in the ring resist. When the wolf succeeds in penetrating the ring, he exchanges places with the ‘lamb’ and the game is played again. In al-Hillah, and the southern cities of Najaf and Karbala}, boys and girls play this singing game together. One boy (the wolf ) is chosen to play the father and one girl (the mother) undertakes the role of protecting the ewes from the wolf (the father). The following song is from al-Ramadi. Father: (wolf) Mal ¨un †ashtash khirzi Mal¨un scattered my beads Mother: Mal¨un bayig wuldi Mal¨un stole my children – Ani-dh-dhib wakulhum I am the wolf and I eat them 123

Al-Îajjiyyah 1967, II: 85. Ibid. 125 Ibid., 86. In Basra the proverb is shayil ¨yun dhib, ‘He is carrying wolf ’s eyes’. It is said about someone who cannot sleep at night, see ShuÌan 1984: 113. 126 Al-Îajjiyyah 1967, I: 110 and 1968, II: 23. 124

218

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

– – – – – – – – – –

Wani-}l-umm waÌmihum In†uni flanah! Wa¬¬ah ma-n†ikiyyaha TiÌlibli l-Ìuliyyah ¨Asa-}l-Ìuliyyah bi}l-¨ama TÒammu†li-j-jidriyyah ¨Asa-}j-jidriyyah bi}l-kasir In†iniyyah! Wa¬¬ah ma-n†ikiyyaha ¨Ayni ¨al dhiç il-binit ¨Ayni ¨ala dhak il-walad

I am the mother and I protect them Give me (a name of a girl)! By God, I won’t give her to you So that she milks the she-camel for me May the she-camel become blind So that she washes the small pot for me May the small pot be broken Give her to me! By God I won’t give it to you I leer with my eyes at that girl I leer with my eyes at that boy

The game is over when all the children are kidnapped. Song 11: Bazunti Fog il-Îa†ab

My Kitten is on the Firewood

The cat is among the favourite domestic animals for most Iraqi children. Several Iraqis in Baghdad call the male cat bazzun, and the female bazzunah and qa†a. In northern cities, especially in Mosul, the Aramaic word biss is frequently used for a cat. Some Iraqi women still believe that a guest will visit them when they see a cat moving its paws towards its face. When a cat fights another cat some Iraqi women do not interfere with them, because they believe that by doing so a mishap will befall their families. The existence of a lot of cats in the kitchen is a sign of wealth.127 Among the Iraqi proverbs said about the cat are: mithl il-bazzun shlon matdhibbah yoga} ¨ala rijlah,128 ¨like the cat, no matter how you drop it, it falls on its paws’, and il-bazzun ilha sab¨-i- rwah,129 ¨the cat has nine (lit. ‘seven’) souls’, said about someone who escapes every trouble. Another proverb is rizq il-bazazin ¨ala-}l-m¨aththarat,130 ¨the livelihood of the cats depends on the careless women’ who does not keep the food away from the cat. The following song is from Karbala} (Q 2:166). Bazunti fog il-Ìa†ab Takul khokh takul ru†ab Dhabaytha ibdhak iÒ-Òob ∑aÌat mayw bazzunti ∑aÌat mayw bazzunti

127 128 129 130

My kitten is on the firewood She eats peaches, she eats dates I threw her in the other side [of the river] My cat meowed My cat meowed

Al-Îajjiyyah 1967, I: 110 and 1968, II: 23, 74. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. 219

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Song 12: Bazzunti bazzunah

My Cat is [a Pretty] Cat

Îadithah, Q2: 158 Until the introduction of refrigerators to Iraq in the 1940s, women used to leave cooked food during the summer nights on the rooftops so it would not spoil. This proved futile though, as the cat would reach it and eat it after removing the lid. Girls sing this song when walking in the alleys or sitting on the floor. Bazzunti bazzunah Ya maÌlah zoj i¨yunah! Bazzunti takul far TiÌmi bayti u-bayt ij-jar Ya yummah131 †ag†ag ij-jidir! 132 Kishfatha-}l-bazzunah

My cat is [a pretty] cat How beautiful are her pair of eyes! My cat eats a mouse She protects my home and the neighbour’s home O mum the pot rattled! The cat removed it

Song 13: Bazzuni Ghasli Wuçki! 133

Cat, Wash Your Face!

Mosul, al-¨Ubaydi: 210 Two girls stand facing each other and holding hands to form a rectangle. A third girl lays her chest on their arms pretending she is a cat washing her face. The two girls carry her to a designated location agreed upon in advance. While doing so, the carried girl sings the refrain and the other two girls sing the rest. Bazzuni Ghasli wuçki! Nyayw nyayw Ba¨d ghada nzawwijki Nyayw Nyayw Inzawwijki ¨al-qessab Nyayw Nyayw Yi†¨imiki shish kabab

Cat, wash your face! Meow meow We’ll marry you off the day after tomorrow Meow meow We’ll marry you off to the butcher Meow meow He’ll feed you a skewer of kebab

A similar song from Samarra} follows (Q2:162): Ya bzayzitna! Ghasli wujhiç Bi}Ò-Òabuna U-mayy il-Ìar

O, our kitten! Wash your face With a piece of soap And hot water

131 IA has more words for ‘mother’, ¨umm, maymah, (‘dear mother’, dim. of ¨umm and mama. Mama, borrowed from English is seldom used in villages and small towns. 132 In a few words in IA, the /j/ is a sun letter, and hence the l of the definite article assimilates with it. 133 This song in Samarra’ (Q 2:161) is called Ya Bzayzitna, ‘O Our Kitten’.

220

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Song 14: Bazzunah Ya Mayw!

Cat O Meow!

Najaf, Q 2:164 This song comes from the southern town of Najaf. Seeing a cat eating a fish, several village girls clap and chant this song: Bazzunah, ya mayw! Ahl il-simaç jo Gumi tlaggihum Ukli maÌarihum Ukli bananinhum Bazzunah, ya mayw!

Cat, O meow! The fish vendors came Get up and welcome them Eat the scales of their fish Eat their outside (scales) Cat, O meow!

Song 15: Bashbusha Ya Bashbusha!

Kitten, O Kitten!

NaÒiriyyah, Îillah, and Ramadi, Q 2:154 Bashbushah ya bashbushah! 134 Wayn çinti maÌbusah? MaÌbusah bi}l-magharah? ™ifrat ¨alayç il-farah Wul-farah hindi hindi Wu}l-laylah bati ¨indi Aqaddimliç Òiniyyah Îamra w-kha∂ra u-mawiyyah

Kitten, O kitten! Where were you imprisoned? Were you imprisoned in the cave? The mouse (f.) jumped on you The mouse is an Indian, an Indian Stay tonight with me I’ll bring you a platter Red, green, and blue

Song 16: Çalib

Dog

Baghdad, Îajj 1:167 Iraqis, in general, have a negative attitude towards dogs. There are a few animals that play a significant role in the realm of insults and curses and Iraqi folklore counts several animals in this category. The dog (and the pig) seems to have a deeper religious nature than others. Some Baghdadis believe that the barking of a dog is a bad omen; others keep away from the dog because they consider it an impure animal to the extent that they discard a dish licked by a dog. If a child 134 Basbusah, dem. of the Aramaic word biss, and basbusah, ‘kitten’ is dim. of biss > bashbusha where s > sh. In a variant from Karbala’ bish and basbusah are employed in the same song, see al-Tu¨mah 1976: 203, where the following verses are added most likely recently: Ag¨ud min il-ÒubÌiyyah I get up in the early morning Aghsil wujhi widayyah I wash my face and hands AruÌ il-mama u-baba I go to my mummy and daddy akhu∂-ilhum taÌiyyah And greet them

221

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

was scared of a dog, his mother would cut a lock of the dog’s hair and put it under the pillow of her child before she puts him/her to bed.135 There are several Ìadiths (traditions) showing that the current negative attitude towards the dog is not a new one. According to one Ìadith, Gabriel said to the Prophet, ‘the angels do not enter a place housing a dog’. A tradition transmitted by Abu ™alÌah relates that the reward in the next world for anyone who keeps a dog not intended for watching sheep or the fields will be reduced.136 It is related also that the Prophet MuÌammad said, ‘lawla anna al-kilaba ummatun la amartu bi-qatliha walakin khiftu an ubida ummatan faqtulu minha kulla aswada bahimin fa}innahu jinnuha ’,137 ‘Had the dogs not been a community, I would have ordered them to be killed, but I was afraid to destroy a community. So, kill every jet-black dog among them, because it is a devil’. To compare a person to a dog is to wound his dignity deeply. No wonder then that the dog appears in Iraqi proverbs in a negative light. For example, il-çalib ishgad ma-yisman il-çalib laÌmah mayinwakil,138 ‘no matter how much the flesh of the dog gets fat its meat can’t be eaten’. The following song comes from Baghdad (Îajj 1: 166). Ummi raÌat li}s-sug Jabat çalib maslug139 Çakçaktah bi}l-ibrah ™il¨at dam wujraÌah

My mum went to the market She brought a boiled dog She pricked it with a needle Blood and puss came out

Song 17: Ya-Jraywati!

O My Puppies!

Mosul, Q3: 415 Children sing the refrain wayÒ wayÒ, and the leader the remaining verses. –Ya jraywati! 140 – WayÒ wayÒ 135 136 137

O my puppies! Ways ways (Chirp! Chirp!)

Al-Îajjiyyah1968. II: 76. Al-Zubaydi 1994: 925. For another Ìadith, see ¨Athamnah 1987, VIII: 83–122 (see especially 93,

n. 54). 138

al-Îanafi 1962, I: 137. It seems that the children used here a dog instead of a hedgehog because in folk medicine a hedgehog is boiled in water and some of the water is given to a child to drink to stop diarrhoea, see al-Îajjiyyah 1968, II: 76–8. 140 Jraywat pl. of jraywah, ‘bitch’. 139

222

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

– Bayt il-mullah – WayÒ wayÒ – ™ubkhaw shillah – WayÒ wayÒ – Jit adhughah – WayÒ wayÒ – Kisraw sinni – WayÒ wayÒ – Bi}l-khashughah – WayÒ wayÒ WayÒ wayÒ yawladi

The family of the Mullah Ways, ways They cooked lentil soup Ways ways I came to taste it Ways, ways They broke my tooth Ways ways With the spoon Ways ways Chirp chirp. O my chicks

In Mosul (Q2: 245–6), a mother warns her children not to go out for fear that a certain old woman named Khajjawah will kidnap them. WayÒ WayÒ Yawladi! La ti†la¨u ¨al wadi! La-tikh†efkem khajjawah

Ways ways, O my Chicks! Don’t go out to the valley! Lest Khajjawah kidnaps you

Song 18: Ya Ragg!

O Turtle!

Tikrit Q 2:258 A group of boys stand in the river up to their knees. When another boy (called rafash) dives into the river and tries to touch the knees of one of the boys, they sing: Ya ragg! Ya ragg! 141 AÌmar id-darag Jaç il-rafash Yu†fush †afish Ghatti!

O turtle! O turtle! With a red back The male turtle came to you Attacking [you] violently Take cover!

Song 19: Ana il-Si ¨luwwah

I am the Demon

Karbala}, Q 2: 238-39 The si¨luwwah, or the female demon plays an important role in Iraqi legends similar to that of the witch or the ogre in Western fairy-tales. This demon is a composite myth made out of some ancient rivergoddess cult. She is a water spirit, for she dwells either in the river, or in caves or woods near running water. Her body is covered with 141

About playing this game song in Samarra’, see al-Samarra’i 1965: 64. 223

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

long hair, her breasts are hanging down, reaching her knees. In shape, she is a woman, but is represented sometimes as having a fish’s tail instead of two legs. She is fond of human flesh, but at the same time, she has a partiality for human lovers.142 In the following song, one of the boys in the group acts like a female demon and another plays the role of the mother. The rest of the group stands in a file behind the mother and another boy, the wolf, stands two or three meters in front of the mother. The boys sing and move one step to the right and one step to the left. The demon asks the mother to bring her a little water. When the latter goes to do so, the demon kidnaps one of the girls. The game ends when all the girls are kidnapped one by one. – Ana-}s-su¨luwwah – Byammah – Akul bnayyah – Byamma – Baysh a†fur? – Bi}†-†awah – Baysh a†fur? Bi-}Ò-Òiniyyah

I am the demon Next to her I eat a girl Next to her By what [shall] I jump? By the frying pan By what [shall] I jump? By the platter

Song 20: Frayj il-Agra¨

Frayj il-Agra¨

Samarra} and Tikrit, Q 2:241 According to a legend, Frayj (dim. of Faraj) is the son of the mother demon Si¨luwwah, that eats people. He is fond of riding horses and playing tricks on fishermen and river-dwellers, but is different from his mother. He resembles an old man, his head is red and bald and the hair of his beard is green.143 In summer, boys jump into the river naked. One boy stands on the bank of the river and rubs his body with mud. When the other boys get out of the river, they run after him singing: Frayj il-agra¨ yakunna144 Frayj il-agra¨ yakunna

Frayj ‘the bald’ will eat us Frayj the bald will eat us

142

Sa¨d al-Din 1979: 24. Ibid. 144 Yakunna < yakulna. the lam of yakul, ‘eat’ is assimilated with the sun letter suffix /n/, ‘us’. 143

224

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Song 21: Ya Ghrab Ya Ghrab

O Crow! O Crow!

Karbala}, Q 2:146–7 In southern Iraq, the crow is called abu bgay¨, ‘the one with spots’. Many people in the Middle East, including Iraqis, dislike the crow and regard it as a messenger of death and bad luck. Because of its black feathers they associate it with grief and death. So, they say, ‘it is black’, about a bad day, as well as about bad news and a gloomy face.145 One legend claims that a crow killed another crow and buried it in the ground. Abel learned this from the crow and he, in turn, killed his brother Cain (Gen. 4:8) and buried him in the ground.146 They also dislike the crow, because it is ugly and it attacks the chickens and the birds, and eats their vegetables and fruit. When the children hear the crow crowing, they say ‘khayr, khayr’ [God willing] ‘it is good news’, or ‘idha khayr dhibbah u-fut’,147 ‘if it is good [news] throw it and go’, and ‘idha sharr ukhdhha bijnaÌak u-tir”,148 ‘and if it is bad [news], take it in your wings and fly’. An Iraqi saying about a malicious person is ‘mithl il-ghrab’149 ‘like the crow’ and others say, il-ghrab ma yidalli illa ¨al-kharab,150 ‘the crow leads [people] only to destruction’. Ya ghrab ya ghrab! Ma shifit abuyah? Yakul u-yibçi ¨Ind il-kababçi ! 151 Bidah ¨aÒayah Ysug il-ma†aya

O crow, O crow! Haven’t you seen my daddy? Eating and crying At the kebab vendor’s shop? [Carrying] a stick in his hand Driving the donkeys

Song 22: IÌmayrah152 Min Sagiç? Little Donkey (f.) Who Drove you? Fallujah, Q 2:304 Six boys stand in a line next to each other. A seventh boy, who stands twenty feet away, moves towards them. One of the six boys steps forward and another boy pushes him lightly on his back and sings 145

Sa¨d al-Din 1966. Khayyat 1986, I: 163. 147 Sa¨d al-Din 1966: 63. 148 Ibid. 149 Ibid. 150 Al-Îanafi 1962, I: 277. 151 Kababçi, Çi is a Turkish suffix borrowed in Iraqi Arabic and denotes several meanings in IA. See my article (Masliyah 1966: 291–300). 152 About playing this game song in Samarra’, see al-Samarra’i 1965: 22. 146

225

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

the first line. If the pushed boy identifies the culprit, he rides on the latter’s back to an agreed location. If he does not, the opposite occurs. IÌmayrah153 min sagiç U¨urfi sawwagiç

Little donkey (f.), who drove you? Know your driver!

Song 23: Shuf Hadha ™ayri! Look, This is My Bird! Karbala} and Middle Euphrates villages, Q 2: 121 The bird (†ayr) is mentioned in many Iraqi proverbs, such as, i†-†ayr ib-†ayr yinÒad wu}l-mal bi}-lmal yinjab,154 ‘the bird is caught by another bird, [the same way] money brings more money’; †ayr u-†ar,155 [it is like] ‘a bird that flew’, said about missing a good opportunity, and makil lsan †ayr,156 ‘he ate a tongue of a bird’, said about a talkative person. A quick person is as fast as the bird. He is mithl il-†ayr,157 ‘he is like the bird.’ Sitting in an orchard, children sing: Shuf hadha †ayri Ma yiÌibb ghayri Yulgu† ish¨iri MiniÒ-Òiniyyah Min shaf il-bishbish158 Min khofah Ìanfash159 Bi-}t-tali yifashfish160 Yukhtul bi-zwiyyah

Look, this is my bird He loves no one but me He picks my barley From the platter When he saw the kitten Out of fear, he ruffled his feathers In the end he would deflate the air And hide in the corner

Song 24: Ani ™ayr Akh∂ar

I Am a Green Bird

Îillah, Q 2:124 This song recalls a Babylonian legend, which relates that a wife slaughtered one of her husband’s boys from a previous marriage and made a meal of the boy’s flesh for her husband.161 The boy’s sister, IÌmayrah, dim. of Ìmarah, ‘female donkey’. Al-Îanafi 1962, I: 245. 155 Ibid. 156 Al-Îanafi 1964, II: 51. 157 Sa¨d al-Din, 1966: 63. 158 Bishbish is dim.< biss, (Arm., ‘cat’). The doubling of biss is for endearment for ‘a kitten’ where the s > sh. 159 Îanfash. To become furious. Possibly from Ìanfish, ‘hairy (dog) ’. 160 Fashfash is a quadrilateral verb formed by doubling the verb’s two consonants /f/,and /sh/ to intensify the meaning of fash,‘to deflate air.’ 161 The song reminds us of a folk tale in ancient cultures. See Sa¨d al-Din 1979: 26–7, 34, and 60–1. 153 154

226

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

however, revived her brother by gathering his bones and putting them under a porous pottery vessel. As a result, a watermelon appeared and when it ripened, a green bird came out of it. The refrain is the last word of each verse, which is repeated by all the children. Ani †ayr akh∂ar ™ayr akh∂ar Amshi watfakkar Watfakkar Ummi dhibÌatni DhibÌatni Wabuy kalni162 Kalni Wukhti-}l-¨azizah il-¨Azizah Lammat i¨Âami163 [I]bçis il-Ìarami il-Îarami

I am a green bird Green bird I walk and think And think My mother slaughtered me She slaughtered me And my father ate me He ate me And my dear sister My dear [sister] Collected my bones In the pouch of the thief The thief

Song 25: Kukukhti 164

Kukukhti

Baghdad, Îajj 1:167 The word kukukhti is composed of kuku, ‘dove’ (Per.) and [u]khti, ‘my sister’ (Ar.). Children in Najaf and Karbala} say ‘ya quqti ’ instead of kukukhti. Some Iraqis believe that doves have black wings because they swam in the blood of a Muslim saint and that they moaned when al-Îusayn, the son of the caliph ¨Ali, was killed in 680 AD. Doves are seen in Iraqi gardens, mosque yards and especially sitting in palm trees. Imitating the cry of doves, children in Baghdad sing the following song. Kukukhti Wayn ukhti? Bi}l-Ìillah Wash takul? Bajillah Wash tishrab? Mayy A¬¬ah

Kukukhti Where is my sister? In Îillah And what does she eat? Pava beans And what does she drink? God’s water (i.e. rain)

162

Kalni < akalni, ‘he ate me’. In another version, ‘lammat ¨Âami u-Ìayyatni’, ‘she gathered my bones and revived me’. See Sa¨d al-Din 1966: 59. 164 Variants of this song from Karbala’ (Q 2:131–2) and Mosul (Q 2:133) are slightly different from that of Baghdad. 163

227

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Wayn tnam? [i]Bga¨ A¬¬ah

Where does she sleep? On God’s ground

Song 26: Ya Gunburah /Gumburah, Ya WaÒwaÒ Lark, O Chirping Bird Kut, Q 3:66 Some Iraqi children say the phrase, ‘mithl il-gumbarah’,165 ‘like a lark’ about a short boy. A playmate who falls in a trap set by his peers is compared to a trapped lark: Ya gunbarah ya waÒwaÒ! Wush jabak li}l-mifgaÒ?

O lark, O chirping bird! What brought you to the trap?

The following is a variant from Basra, Q 2:254 Ya gumbara yammiÒ-Òuf Takul zar¨ wana ashuf Yal hu huw, yal huw huw SabbiÌ wakalna khyar Yal hu huw, yal huw huw

O lark with wool [feathers] You eat seeds while I watch Yal hu huw, yal huw huw Praise God [while] we eat cucumbers Yal hu huw, yal huw huw

Song 27: Bali Ya Bulbul!

Ya, O Bulbul!

Ramadi, Q 2:101 Iraqis say about someone who speaks and reads eloquently, ‘yiqra mithl il-bulbul ’,166 ‘he reads like the nightingale’, and about someone who repeats a story or something else word by word, ‘Ìifaz il-Ìçayah mithl il-bulbul ’167 ‘he memorized the story like the nightingale’. One girl (the leader) stands in the centre of a ring of girls holding hands. All the other girls sing the refrain bali. The girl, who stands in the centre of the ring sings the rest of the song. Leader: Ya bayt Bulbul! Group: Bali – Ma ¨idkum bulbul? – Bali – YurguÒ bi}†-†asah – Bali – Îamamat yassah168 165 166 167 168

O, Bulbul’s family Ya Don’t you have a nightingale? Ya Dancing in the bowl Ya The dove of Yassah (Yassin)

Sa¨d al-Din 1966: 61. Ibid., 63. Ibid. Yassah, dim. of the proper noun Yasin. 228

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

– Bali – Ya bint il-muluki! – La, la – Jo khi†boki – La, la –}Umki wabuki – La, la

Ya O the daughter of kings! No, no They came and asked for your hand No, no [From] your mother and father No, no

In Baghdad, however, boys used to sing this song when taking swimming lessons in the Tigris with their swimming teacher. The teacher would ask them in a loud voice, Ya-wlad bulbul, ‘O children of Bulbul’, and the students would answer, bali, ‘yes’ (Îajj1, 141–2). Song 28: Inshid Inshid Ya Bulbul!

Sing! Sing! O Nightingale!

¨Anah, Q 2:98 Children sing this song in the spring and summer in the gardens with or without clapping. Inshid inshid ya bulbul! Ukul il-Ìabbah min is-sunbul Wu}s-sunbul minnak za¨lan Wigullak iÌna jiran Ta¨al il¨ab wayyayah Îatta an†ik Ìabbayah Inta tgarrid u-farÌan Wani yiÌsibni-}†-†aÌÌan Wi-sawwini Òammunah169 Îatta yakulni-}l-ju¨an

Sing, sing, O nightingale! Eat the grain from the stalk And the stalk is mad at you He tells you we are neighbours Come play with me So I give you a grain You sing and you are happy While the miller thinks of me And makes of me a loaf of bread So that the hungry one eats me

Song 29: ¨AÒfuri Min Kaffi ™ar

My Sparrow Flew from my Palm

Îillah, Q 2:111 For a person with a strong sexual drive, the epithet ¨aÒfur, ‘a sparrow’ is employed. Some Iraqis believe that eating the brain of the sparrow enhances the sexual drive of males.170 Children in Hillah sing this song during spring and summer. ¨AÒfuri min kaffi tar ¨AÒfuri fog il-ashjar Inzil inzil ya ¨aÒfur 169 170

My sparrow flew from my palm My sparrow is on top of the trees Come down, come down, sparrow

∑ammunah, pl. Òammun, ‘a kind of sour bread baked in diamond loaves’. Sa¨d al-Din 1966: 61. 229

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Ukul il-Ìabbah bliyyat gshur! ¨AÒfuri çan iÒghayyir Rabbaytah ¨ala idi 171 Lumman kubar wutrayyash Gam iynaggir bi-khdudi

And eat the grain[s] without shells! My sparrow was little I raised him by myself When he developed and grew feathers He began to peck my cheeks

Song 30: ¨AÒfuri ™ayir

My Sparrow is Flying

Hit, Q 2:106 An Iraqi legend relates that God asked the sparrow to bring the water of life, but the sparrow drank it. So God tied its legs with an unseen chain, and this is why it is jumping.172 No wonder then that there are several negative sayings about the sparrow in Iraqi lore, like ¨aqlah mithl ¨aql il-¨asfur,173 ‘his brain is [as small] as the sparrow’, which is said about someone incapable of thinking. However, sharp memory and fluency are attributed to the sparrow. Some Iraqi villagers encourage their children to drive away sparrows and all kinds of birds from their plants and seeds. They expect visitors when they see the sparrows fighting each other and attribute the black chests of the sparrows to swimming in the blood of a saint.174 ¨AÒfuri †ayir Fog il-manayir Wa¬¬ah lagulla-l-baba Yishrab jighayir

My sparrow is flying Above the minarets I swear by God I’ll tell daddy That he smokes cigarettes

Song 31: ¨AÒfuri Fog il-Manarah

My Sparrow is above the Minaret

Karbala}, Najaf, and Ka∂imiyyah, Q 2:114 Children stand in a circle, clap hands, dance, and sing: ¨AÒfur fog il-manarah Bidah gu†mat175 ikhyarah Kittillah176 dadah177 ishwayyah

A sparrow is above the minaret He holds a piece of cucumber in his hand I told him, ‘brother, [Give me] some’

¨Ala idi, lit., ‘on my hands’. Sa¨d al-Din 1966: 61 173 Ibid., 63. 174 Ibid., 61. 175 Gu†mah, lit. ‘a cigarette butt’. 176 Kittillah < gilit+lah, ‘I told him’. 177 Dadah (m.) and dad, words used for requesting help, Per., dadash, ‘brother’. 171 172

230

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Galli nafsiç diniyyah178 Kittillah jawayn rayiÌ179 Galli rayiÌ lil-bistan Ajib khokh u-rumman Kittillah, il-man il-man? Galli li-bint is-sul†an

He answered me, ‘You have no shame’ I asked him, ‘Where are you going?’ He replied, ‘I am going to the orchard To bring peaches and pomegranates’ I asked him, ‘For whom, for whom?’ He replied, ‘For the Sultan’s daughter’

Song 32: Laglag Laglag!

Stork! Stork!

Karbala} Q 2:135–6 The following song alludes to the belief of some Iraqi children that storks steal soap. Indeed, the stork is depicted in folk tales as a thief and a liar.180 It is related that the stork was an owner of a grain shop and that it cheated in weighing the goods and stole the necklace of the Sultan’s daughter.181 Laglag, laglag! Ummak ti†lag Wabuk yizlag Jabat wawi Ismah ¨laywi182 Bawwag iÒ-Òabunah! Min jawwah ir-razunah

Stork!, stork! Your mother is in labour And your father slips She gave birth to a jackal His name is ‘Laywi’ The thief of a piece of soap! From under the window shelf

Song 33: Laglagayn foq il-Qibbi Two Storks on the Top of the Room Mosul, Q 3:463 Children are enchanted when they see storks perching on the rooftops of mosques and minarets. They sing: Laglagayn foq il-qibbi Yighislon [i]Ìwas il-li¨ib Lamman yiji il-pasha Yil¨abu ™ammasha183 Lamman yiji-l-Ìajji

Two storks are on the top of the room Washing the play clothes When the Pasha comes They will play the ™ammasha game When the Hajji comes

178

Nafsiç diniyyah, lit. ‘you have a low soul’. Jawain, and ja/ça+wayn? ‘to where?’ 180 The stork appears in this proverb, mithl il-laglag, ‘like the stork’, said about someone with slim and long legs, see Sa¨d al-Din 1966: 63. 181 Ibid. 182 ¨Laywi, dim. of ¨Ali 183 ™ammasha is the name of a game in Mosul. 179

231

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Yil¨abu Talghadi 184 Îajji ¨ayb! Laglag ¨ayb! Bawwaq iÒ-Òabuni

They play the Talghadi game Hajji [what] a shame! Stork [what] a shame! You are the thief of the soap

Song 34: Nugri Nugri Ya ¨Ajah!

Peck! Peck! O Bird!

Samarra}, Q 2:251 A group of girls sits on the floor holding toys. When they begin to sing, they move their toys in different directions according to the rhythm of the song. Nugri nugri ya ¨ajah! Nagriç nagr id-dajajah La-tÌasbin Ìsabi Îsayn il-tagga ¨ in-Nayim juwwa-l-ga ¨ ¨A¨ … ¨A¨

Peck! Peck! O bird! Your pecking is that of a hen Don’t take me into account Îusayn the coward Who sleeps beneath the ground Yek … Yek

Song 35: Korat iz-Zanbur

The Wasp’s Nest

Karbala}, Q 2:95 Strolling together, or sitting on the ground in a circle, girls sing the following song holding hands. One of the girls, the leader, calls the name of a girl (Sa¨diyyah) while clapping and going around the circle. Sa¨diyyah follows the leader. The game ends when all the girls’ names are called and they have followed the leader. Korat iz-zanbur ™ir ya ¨aÒfur! ™iri Sa¨diyyah! ™arat … ™arat

The wasp’s nest Fly, O sparrow! Fly, O Sa¨diyyah! She flew … She flew

Song 36: ZalantaÌ

Snail

Îillah Q 2:91 When a villager’s child catches a snail in the fields during spring, he/ she imagines that the snails’ antennae are horns with which it fights the crab. Zalan†aÌ, zalan†aÌ ™alli¨ grunak wun†aÌ 184

Snail, snail Stick out your horns and butt!

Talghadi is a name of a game, a contraction of ta¨al, ‘come’ and ghadi,

‘close’. 232

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Song 37: Bit is-Saqqah185

The Butterfly

Musayyab, Q2: 89 Iraqi children call the brownish spotted butterfly, bit is-saqqah (lit. ‘the daughter of the water vendor’). When they catch one, they put it gently on their palms, and let it go free singing: Bit is-saqqah, Bit is-saqqah! ™iri †iri!

Butterfly! Butterfly! Fly! fly!

Address for correspondence: [email protected] 25205 Ward Place, Carmel CA, 93923, USA REFERENCES Abu-Îaidar, Faridah. 1991. Christian Arabic of Baghdad. (Wiesbaden) Al-¨Alawçhi, ¨Abd al-Îamid. 1966. Min Turathina al-Sha¨bi. (Baghdad) —— 1975. al-Turath al-Sha¨bi IV (Baghdad), 47–53 ¨Ammar, Hamid. 1954. Growing in an Egyptian Village. (London) Al-¨Ani, Walid ¨Abd al-¨Aziz. 1975. ‘al-Al¨ab al-Mushtarakah lada A†fal ¨Anah’, alTurath al-Sha¨bi IV, 199–204 ¨Athamnah, Khalil. 1987. ‘al-Jinn Jiran la Narahum, al-Karmil ’. (Haifa) al-Bakri, Îazim. 1972. Dirasat fi al-Alfa al-¨Ammiyyah al-MawÒiliyyah. (Baghdad) Baneth, D.Z. 1950. Alexander Marx Jubilee Volume. (Newark) Blanc, Haim. 1964. Communal Dialects in Baghdad. (Cambridge) Al-Çalabi, Dawud. 1935. al-Athar al-Aramiyyah fi Lughat al-MawÒil al-¨Ammiyyah. (Mosul) —— 1960. Kalimat Farisiyyah Musta¨malah fi ¨Ammiyyat al-MawÒil. (Baghdad) al-Dabbagh, ¨Abd al-Khaliq. 1956. Mu¨jam Amthal al-Mawsil al-¨Ammiyyah I. (Mosul) Dammus, Îalim. 1923. Qamus al-¨Awamm. (Damacus) al-Daywachi, Sa¨id. 1966. ‘Aghani al-¨Id fi al-MuÒil’, al-Turath al-Sha¨bi, (Baghdad), I, 20–2 al-Dulayshi, ¨Abd al-La†if. 1968. al-Al¨ab al-Sha¨biyyah fi al-BaÒrah. (Baghdad) Fattal, Salim. 2003. Bai-sim†a}ot Baghdad (Heb., ‘In the Alleys of Baghdad’). (Jerusalem) FraiÌah, Anis. 1988. Asma} al-Ashhur wa}l-A¨dad wa}l-Ayyam. (Lebanon) al-Îajjiyyah, {Aziz Jasim. 1967. Baghdadiyyat I. (Baghdad) —— 1968. Baghdadiyyat II. (Baghdad) —— 1973. Baghdadiyyat III. (Baghdad) —— 1981. Baghdadiyyat IV. (Baghdad) —— 1986. Baghdadiyyat V. (Baghdad) —— 1991. Baghdadiyyat VI. (Baghdad) —— 1999. Baghdadiyyat VII. (Baghdad) Al-Îanafi, Jalal al-Din. 1962. al-Ayman al-Baghdadiyyah I. (Baghdad) —— 1964. al-Ayman al-Baghdadiyyah II. (Baghdad) 185

For a variant see Îasan 1988, III: 189. 233

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

—— 1964. Mu¨jam al-Alfa al-Kuwaytiyyah. (Baghdad) —— 1978. Mu¨jam al-Lughah al-¨Ammiyyah al-Baghdadiyyah, I. (Baghdad) —— 1982. Mu¨jam al-Lughah al-¨Ammiyyah al-Baghdadiyyah, II. (Baghdad) Îasan, Îusayn ¨Abbas. 1966. ‘Îawla Ughniyat Sidi Sidi’, al-Turath al-Sha¨bi V, 66 —— 1988. ‘Lu¨ab wa-Aghani al-A†fal’, al-Turath al-Sha¨bi III. (Baghdad) Al-Jadir, Walid. 1989. al-Azya} al-Sha¨biyyah fi al-¨Iraq. (Baghdad) Al-Karmili, Anastas. 1972. al-Musa¨id I. (Baghdad) —— 2003. Diwan al-Tiftat. (Beirut) Khayya†, Ibrahim. 1986. Majmu¨at al-Amthal al-Baghdadiyyah I. (Baghdad) Kojaman, Y. 2001. The Maqam Music Tradition of Iraq. (London) Leick, Gwendolyn. 1991. A Dictionary of Ancient Near Eastern Mythology. (New York) Lindsay, Jones (ed.). 2004. Encyclopedia of Religion2, Vols. I, VI, IX, XI. (New York) McCarthy, R.J. and E. Raffouli. 1964. Spoken Arabic of Baghdad II. (Baghdad) Al-Ma¨dadi, ¨Abdul al-La†if. ‘al-MilÌ fi al-Fuluklur al-¨Iraqi’, al-Turath al-Sha¨bi. (Baghdad), 68–72 Al-Maghribi, Salwa. 1996. Aghani al-Banat al-Sha¨biyyah bayna al-FuÒÌa wal¨Ammiyyah. (Kuwait) Al-MallaÌ, MaÌmud. 1928. ‘Nukat wa-Ghara}ib Lughawiyyah’, Lughat al-¨Arab V, year 6 (Baghdad), 349–53 Mansour, Jacob. 1965. Hagaddah shail Pesah (Judeo-Arabic). (Jerusalem) —— 1991. The Jewish Baghdadi Dialect. (Jerusalem) Masliyah, Sadok. 1996. ‘Four Turkish Suffixes in Iraqi Arabic: -Li, -Lik, -Siz and –Ci’, JSS 41/2, 91–8 —— 1998, ‘Abu and Umm in Iraqi Arabic’, JSS 43/1, 113–29 Al-Musawi, Shukriyyah. 1965. ‘Min Aghani al-A†fal fi al-Furat’, al-Turath al-Sha¨bi, (Baghdad), year 2, 21 Qadduri, Îusayn, Lu¨ab wa-Aghani al-A†fal al-Sha¨biyyah fi al-Qi†r al-¨Iraqi, Baghdad, I; 1975 II; 1984 III; 1988 Sa¨d al-Din, KaÂim. 1966. ‘al-™uyur fi al-Fuluklur al-¨Iraqi’, al-Turath al-Sha¨bi II. (Baghdad), 58–64 —— 1979. al-Îikayat al-Sha¨biyyah al-¨Iraqiyyah. (Baghdad) —— 1998 ‘Aghani al-A†fal al-Sha{biyyah fi al-¨Iraq’, al-Turath al-Sha¨bi, (Baghdad) Vol. 1, 4–38 Al-Samarra}i, Ibrahim. 1968. al-Tawzi¨ al-Lughawi al-Jughrafi fi al-¨Iraq. (Baghdad) —— 1975. ‘Ahazij al-A†fal fi Samarra}’, al-Turath al-Sha¨bi VIII/IX. (Baghdad) Al-Samarra}i, Yunus. 1965. al-Al¨ab al-Sha¨biyyah li-∑ibyan Samarra} I, (Baghdad), 18–24 Al-∑arraf, AÌmad Îamid. 1935. ‘al-Ayyam fi al-Mu¨taqadat’, Lughat al-¨Arab, VIII, year 5 (Baghdad), 466–71 —— Lughat al-¨Arab, year 6, 31–2 al-Shalji, ¨Abbud. 1982. Mawsu¨at al-Kinayat al-¨Ammiyyah I. (Beirut) Shawqi, ¨Abd al-Îakim. Madkhal li-Dirasat al-Fuluklur wa}l-AÒa†ir Shawqi, ¨Abd al-Îami∂. 1978. Madkhal li-Dirasat al-AÒa†ir al-¨Arabiyyah Scher, Addai. 1980. Mu{jam al-Alfa al-Farisiyah al-Mu¨arrabah. (Beirut) ShuÌan, AÌmad. 1984. al-Amthal al-Furatiyyah. (Damascus) Stevens, E.S. 1931. Folk-Tales of Iraq. (London) Thinyan, {Abd al-La†if. 2001. ∑afaÌat min Qamus al-¨Awamm fi Dar al-Salam. (Baghdad) Al-Toma, Salih. 1969. The Problem of Diglossia in Arabic. (Cambridge) 234

THE FOLK SONGS OF IRAQI CHILDREN

Al-™u¨mah, Salman. 1976. ‘NuÒuÒ Ghina¨iyyah lada A†fal Karbala}’, al-Turath al-Sha¨bi, II–III. (Baghdad), 201–8 Al-¨Ubaydi, Azhar. 1989. al-MuÒul Ayyam Zaman. (Mosul) Al-Wahhab, ¨Aziz. 1975. ‘Khiyanat al-¨Uhud’, al-Turath al-Sha¨bi. (Baghdad) Woodhead, D.R. and Wayne Beene. 1967. A Dictionary of Iraqi Arabic, ArabicEnglish. (Washington) Al-Zubaydi, Zayn al-Din. 1994. MukhtaÒar ∑aÌiÌ al-Bukhari, MuÌammad MuÌsin Khan (ed.). (Riyadh)

235

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC1 JAMES DICKINS UNIVERSITY OF SALFORD

Abstract On the basis of notions developed in respect of attribution in Dickins (2009, which readers are recommended to read before looking at this paper in detail), I address basic sentence structure in Sudanese Arabic. I argue that a central feature of Sudanese Arabic is the bipartite predicand-predicate (mubtada}-xabar) structure, pointing out that this has some tantalisingly unexpected features. I also consider monopartite sentences in Sudanese Arabic, arguing for a more inclusive view of what constitutes a non-elliptical sentence than is commonly accepted. I finally look briefly at bipartite sentences with ‘scrambled’ word order. 1

I thank Janet Watson for reading a draft of this paper and making very useful suggestions. All shortcomings are my own responsibility. I also thank the Leverhulme Trust for granting me a Research Award giving me relief from teaching and administration during the academic years 2002–4 in order to pursue work on a dictionary and grammar of Sudanese Arabic. This award has contributed to the production of this paper. For present purposes, Sudanese Arabic can be taken to have the following consonant phonemes (cf. Dickins 2007: 24): /b/ voiced, bilabial, stop; /m/ bilabial, nasal; /w/ bilabial, glide; /f/ voiceless, bilabial, fricative; /d/ voiced, apico-dental, stop; /t/ voiceless, apico-dental, stop; /z/ voiced, apico-dental, fricative; /s/ voiceless, apicodental, fricative; /∂/ voiced, emphatic, apico-alveolar, stop; /†/ voiceless, emphatic, apico-alveolar, stop; /Â/ voiced, emphatic, apico-alveolar, fricative; /Ò/ voiceless, emphatic, apico-alveolar, fricative; /r/ (plain), apico-alveolar, trill; /®/ emphatic, apico-alveolar; trill; /l/ (plain), apico-alveolar, lateral; /¬/ emphatic, apico-alveolar, lateral; /n/ apico-alveolar, nasal; /j/ voiced, dorso-prepalatal, stop; /c/ voiceless, dorso-prepalatal, stop (marginal phoneme); /s/ voiceless, dorso-prepalatal, fricative; /n/ dorso-prepalatal, nasal (marginal phoneme); /y/ dorso-palatal, glide; /g/ voiced, post-dorso-velar, stop; /k/ voiceless, post-dorso-velar, stop; /g/ voiced, post-dorso-postvelar, fricative; /x/ voiceless, post-dorso-post-velar, fricative; /¨/ voiced, pharyngeal, fricative; /Ì/ voiceless, pharyngeal, fricative; /’/ voiced, glottal, fricative (sometimes described as glottal stop); /h/ voiceless, glottal, fricative. For present purposes, Sudanese Arabic can be taken to have the following vowel phonemes (cf. Dickins 2007: 25): /a/ open, unrounded, short vowel; /i/ front, close, unrounded, short vowel; /u/ back, close, rounded, short vowel; /a/ open, unrounded, long vowel; /i/ front, close, unrounded, long vowel; /u/ back, close, 237

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

The theoretical analysis provided in this paper is based — somewhat informally — on the linguistic theory of axiomatic functionalism initially developed by J.W.F. Mulder and S.G.J. Hervey (e.g. Mulder 1968, 1989; Mulder and Hervey 1972, 1980; Hervey 1979, 1982), and subsequently extended on the basis of proposals put forward by Michael Lamb in Dickins (1998). In an attempt to keep the main body of the paper as generally comprehensible as possible, I have confined technical comments relating to axiomatic functionalism to footnotes.2

1. General Background In this article, I shall use the term ‘Sudanese Arabic’ as shorthand for Central Urban Sudanese (Dickins 2007; elsewhere termed Khartoum Arabic (Dickins 2006)), that is the dialect standardly spoken by longterm native Arabic-speaking residents of Greater Khartoum (Khartoum, Khartoum North, and Omdurman), and in other urban areas of central Sudan, roughly to the towns of Atbara in the north, Sennar on the Blue Nile, and Kosti on the White Nile. For details of the transcription system, see Dickins (2007). In this paper, I use a subscript to indicate a vowel which is deleted in liaison ‘readings’ of the material presented. The Sudanese examples for this article have been taken from three types of sources: 1. Examples constructed by myself. These are marked with a (C) after them, or sometimes an entire group of examples is noted as having been constructed before they are given.3 rounded, short vowel; /e/ front, mid, unrounded, long vowel; /o/ back, mid, rounded, long vowel (see, however, Dickins 2007 for a critique of this account and an alternative analysis). 2 In fact, the syntactic analysis in this paper is much more like that of Mulder and Hervey than that implied — whether in lexotatics or delotactics — in Dickins (1998). In Dickins (1998), syntax (roughly as normally understood) or delotactics is an analysis involving content (semantic elements) only, whereas in Mulder and Hervey, syntactic analysis involves elements which have both form and content. In Dickins (1998), I have argued that Mulder and Hervey’s standard version of axiomatic functionalism is coherently subsumed under the extended version of the theory proposed there (e.g. Dickins 1998: 250–1). Accordingly, the theoretical models of standard axiomatic functionalism are fully interpretable in terms of models within extended axiomatic functionalism. In extended axiomatic-functionalist terms, Mulder and Hervey’s syntax is an analysis of relations at the allosemic level (what might be termed allosemotactics). 3 Some of the constructed examples are either elicited from Elrayah Abdelgadir or produced by him without prompting on my part. Elrayah Abdelgadir acted as consultant in 2005 and 2007 for an Arabic/English Dictionary of Sudanese Arabic which I am working on. 238

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

2. Material which I tape-recorded in 1985 and 1986, either from Omdurman Radio, or spontaneous conversations between Sudanese friends; or material which I wrote down from spontaneous speech. All these examples are marked with an (R) after them. 3. Material taken from a number of radio series recorded for me by Omdurman Radio in 1986. These are marked with the name of the series after them.

The definite article in Sudanese Arabic has the following allomorphs: After a consonant alad-, at-, az-, etc.

– before all non-apical and non-dorsal consonants: /b/, /m/, /w/, /f/, /y/, /g/, /k/, /x/, /g/, /¨/, /Ì/, /}/, and /h/. – before apical and dorsal consonants: /d/, /t/, /z/, /s/, /∂/, /†/, /Â/, /Ò/, /r/, /®/, /l /, /¬/, /n/, /j/, /s/, and the marginal /c / and /n/.

After a vowel

ld-, t-, z-, etc.

– before all non-apical and non-dorsal consonants – before apical and dorsal consonants

In this article, I have used subscript forms to indicate vowels which ‘disappear’ through so-called re-syllabification in liaison with preceding or following words: thus, fihim ‘he understood’, in which the syllables are /fi/ and /him/ (with stress on the first syllable /fi/), but fihim al-kalam ‘he understood the statement/discussion’ (in which the first two syllables are /fih/ and /mal/). I have not used subscript forms with following pronouns — thus fihm-u ‘he understood it (m.sg.)’ (not fihim-u); also fihmu ‘they understood’ (same pronunciation as fihm-u ‘he understood it (m.sg.)’. I have also not used subscripts with the article al-. Thus fihmu l-kalam ‘they understood the statement/ discussion’ (not fihmu al-kalam). We can establish the following provisional word and phrase categories for Sudanese Arabic: Word category noun adjective verb adverb

Phrase category nominal phrase adjectival phrase verb phrase adverbial

(NomP) (AdjP) (VerbP) (AdvP)

For current purposes, I shall treat a phrase as any element consisting of more than one word (not counting the clitic al- as a word). Where the element consists of only one word, I will refer to it simply as a 239

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

noun, adjective, verb, or adverb. Where a noun (etc.) is preceded by al-, I shall refer to this at this point in the paper as a definite noun (etc.). We can also establish the notion of a bipartite clause, consisting of a predicand (which, for the moment, we can characterize as consisting of a noun or nominal phrase) and a predicate (which may be a noun, nominal phrase, adjective, adjectival phrase, verb, verb phrase, adverb, or adverbial.4 2. Definiteness, Indefiniteness and Basic Sentence Structure I have argued in Dickins (2009; Section 10) that the definite particle is the head of definite phrases in Sudanese Arabic. There I pointed out that the distribution of definite phrases (i.e. the syntactic slots/ positions/places in which they can occur) is roughly ‘nominal’, i.e. it is similar to that of simple indefinite nouns. The distribution of indefinite phrases, by contrast, depends on whether the phrase is nominal, adjectival, verbal, etc. In this paper, I will look at the implications of this situation for basic sentence structure in Sudanese Arabic. Consider the following (examples constructed by myself ): 2.1 Noun+other element 2.1.1 Noun+Noun definite+definite ?al-walad at-tarzi ‘the boy’s the tailor’

definite+indefinite al-walad tarzi ‘the boy’s a tailor’

indefinite+indefinite *walad tarzi ‘a boy’s a tailor’

tarzi al-walad ‘the boy’s a tailor’ (‘it’s a tailor that the boy is’) 4

The terms ‘predicand’ and ‘predicate’ are used in Bohas, Guillaume and Kouloghli (1990: 43), where they are employed as the translations of the traditional Arabic grammatical terms mubtada’ and xabar. They are subsequently used by Watson (1993). In respect of Classical (and Standard) Arabic, the term ‘predicand’ in particular allows the term ‘subject’ to be employed as a translation of the traditional Arabic grammatical term fa¨il (i.e. the subject of the so-called verbal sentence). Although I do not believe that Sudanese Arabic makes a properly syntactic distinction between nominal and verbal sentences (cf. Section 4), I have used the term ‘predicand’ in this paper to avoid the bizarre-sounding description of the ‘non-predicate’ element of an Arabic bipartite clause as the ‘subject’ of this clause, even where this predicate is clearly non-verbal. Thus in ar-rajil fi-l-bet ‘the man’s in the house’, for example, where the predicate fi-l-bet ‘in the house’ is clearly non-verbal, I want to avoid describing the ar-rajil element as the subject. 240

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

?at-tarzi al-walad ‘the tailor’s the boy’

at-tarzi walad ‘the tailor’s a boy’

*tarzi walad ‘a tailor’s a boy’

walad at-tarzi ‘the tailor’s a boy’ (it’s a boy that the tailor is’)

2.1.2 Noun+Adjective definite+definite ?al-walad az-za¨lan ‘the boy’s the angry one’

definite+indefinite al-walad za¨lan ‘the boy’s angry’

indefinite+indefinite *walad za¨lan ‘a boy’s an angry one’

za¨lan al-walad ‘the boy’s angry’ (‘it’s angry that the boy is’) az-za¨lan al-walad the angry one’s the boy

az-za¨lan walad ‘the angry one’s a boy’

*za¨lan walad ‘an angry one’s a boy’

definite+indefinite al-walad hina ‘the boy’s here’

indefinite+indefinite *walad hina ‘a boy’s here’

2.1.3 Noun+Adverbial definite+definite ?al-walad al-hina ‘the boy’s the one who’s here’

hina l-walad ‘the boy’s here’ (‘it’s here that the boy is’) al-hina al-walad ‘the one who’s here is the boy’

al-hina walad ‘the one who’s here is a boy’

*hina walad ‘a boy’s here’

?walad al-hina ‘a boy is the one who’s here’ (‘the one who’s here is a boy’)

2.1.4 Noun+ Verb/Verb phrase definite+definite ?al-walad az-zi¨il ‘the boy’s the one who got angry’

definite+indefinite al-walad zi¨il ‘the boy got angry’ zi¨i l al-walad ‘the boy got angry’ 241

indefinite+indefinite *walad zi¨il ‘a boy got angry’

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

az-zi¨il al-walad ‘the one who got angry’s the boy’

az-zi¨il walad *zi¨il walad ‘the one who got angry’s a boy’ ‘one who got angry’s a boy’/ ‘a boy got angry’ ?walad az-zi¨il ‘the one who got angry’s a boy’

2.1.5 Noun+bipartite clause definite+definite ?al-walad al-bet-u garib ‘the boy is the one whose house is near’

definite+indefinite al-walad bet-u garib ‘the boy’s house is near’ (more lit: ‘the boy his house near’)

indefinite+indefinite *walad bet-u garib ‘a boy’s house is near’ (more lit: ‘a boy his house near’)

bet-u garib al-walad ‘the boy’s house is near’ al-bet-u garib al-walad al-bet-u garib walad *bet-u garib walad ‘the one who’s house is near is ‘the one who’s house is near is ‘his house is near, a boy’ the boy’ a boy’ ?walad al-bet-u garib ‘the one who’s house is near is a boy’

2.2 Adjective + other element 2.2.1 Adjective+adjective definite+definite definite+indefinite ?al-¨ajib az-za¨lan al-¨ajib za¨lan ‘the strange one’s the angry one’ ‘the strange one’s angry’

indefinite+indefinite *ajib za¨lan ‘a strange one’s angry’

za¨lan al-¨ajib ‘the strange one’s angry’ (‘it’s angry that the strange one is’) ?az-za¨lan al-¨ajib ‘the angry one’s the strange one’

az-za¨lan ¨ajib ‘the angry one’s strange’ ¨ajib az-za¨lan ‘the angry one’s strange’ (‘it’s strange that the angry one is’)

242

*za¨lan ¨ajib ‘an angry one is strange’

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

2.2.2 Adjective+noun: see 2.1.2 above 2.2.3 Adjective+Adverbial definite+definite ?al-¨ajib al-hina the strange one’s the one who’s here’

definite+indefinite al-¨ajib hina ‘the strange one’s here’

indefinite+indefinite *¨ajib hina ‘a strange one’s here’

hina al-¨ajib ‘the strange one’s here’ (‘it’s here that the strange one is’) ?al-hina al-¨ajib ‘the one who’s here is the strange one’

al-hina ¨ajib ‘the one who’s here is strange’

*hina ¨ajib ‘here’s a strange one’

?¨ajib al-hina (‘the one who’s here is strange’)

2.2.4 Adjective+Verb/Verb phrase definite+definite definite+indefinite ?al-¨ajib az-zi¨il al-¨ajib zi¨il ‘the strange one’s the one who ‘the strange one got angry’ got angry’

indefinite+indefinite *ajib zi¨il ‘a strange one got angry’

zi¨il al-¨ajib ‘the strange one got angry’ ?az-zi¨il al-¨ajib ‘the one who got angry is the strange one’

al-zi¨il ¨ajib ‘the one who got angry is strange’

*zi¨il ¨ajib ‘an angry one is strange’

?¨ajib az-zi¨il ‘the one who got angry is strange’

2.2.5 Adjective+bipartite clause definite+definite ?al-¨ajib al-bet-u garib ‘the strange one is the one whose house is near’

definite+indefinite al-¨ajib bet-u garib ‘the strange one’s house is near’ (more lit: the strange one his house is near’) 243

indefinite+indefinite *¨ajib bet-u garib ‘a strange one’s house is near’

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

bet-u garib al-¨ajib ‘the strange one’s house is near’ ?al-bet-u garib al-¨ajib al-bet-u garib ¨ajib *bet-u garib ¨ajib ‘the one who’s house is near is ‘the one who’s house is near is ‘his house is near, a strange the strange one’ strange’ one’ (‘one whose house is near is a strange one’) ?¨ajib al-bet-u garib ‘the one who’s house is near is strange’

2.3 Adverbial+other element 2.3.1 Adverbial+noun: see 2.1.3 above 2.3.2 Adverbial+Adjective: see 2.2.3 above 2.3.3 Adverbial+Adverbial definite+definite ?al-ba¨da-na al-hina ‘the one after us is the one who’s here’

definite+indefinite al-ba¨da-na hina ‘the one after us is here’

indefinite+indefinite *ba¨da-na hina ‘one after us is here’

hina al-ba¨da-na ‘the one after us is here’ (‘it’s here that the one after us is’) ?al-hina al-ba¨da-na ‘the one who’s here is the one after us’

al-hina ba¨da-na *hina ba¨da-na ‘the one who’s here is after us’ ‘a one who’s here is after us’ ?ba¨da-na al-hina ‘the one who’s here is after us’

2.3.4 Adverbial+Verb/Verb phrase definite+definite ?al-ba¨da-na az-zi¨il ‘the one after us is the one who got angry’

definite+indefinite al-ba¨da-na zi¨il ‘the one after us got angry’ zi}i l al-ba¨da-na ‘the one after us got angry’ 244

indefinite+indefinite *ba¨da-na zi¨il ‘after us got angry’

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

?az-zi¨il al-ba¨da-na ‘the one who got angry is the one after us’

al-zi¨il ba¨da-na *zi¨il ba¨da-na ‘the one who got angry is after ‘one who got angry’s after us’ us’ ?ba¨da-na az-zi¨il ‘the one who got angry is after us’

2.3.5 Adverbial+bipartite clause definite+definite ?al-ba¨da-na al-bet-u garib ‘the one after us is the one whose house is near’

definite+indefinite al-ba¨da-na bet-u garib ‘the one after us, his house is near’

indefinite+indefinite *ba¨da-na bet-u garib ‘one after us his house is near’ (more lit: ‘after us his house is near’)

bet-u garib al-ba¨da-na ‘the one after us, his house is near’ al-bet-u garib al-ba¨da-na al-bet-u garib ba¨da-na *bet-u garib ba¨da-na ‘the one who’s house is near is ‘the one who’s house is near is ‘his house is near, one after us’ the one after us’ after us’ ?ba¨da-na al-bet-u garib ‘the one who’s house is near is after us’

2.4 Verb/Verb phrase+other element 2.4.1 Verb/Verb phrase+Noun: see 2.1.5 2.4.2 Verb/Verb phrase+Adjective: see 2.2.5 2.4.3 Verb/Verb phrase+Adverbial: see 2.3.5 2.4.4 Verb/Verb phrase+Verb/Verb phrase definite+definite ?al-baka z-zi¨il ‘the one who cried is the one who got angry’

definite+indefinite al-baka zi¨il ‘the one who cried got angry’

indefinite+indefinite *baka zi¨il ‘one who cried got angry’

zi¨i l al-baka ‘the one who cried got angry’ ?az-zi¨il al-baka ‘the one who got angry is the one who cried’

az-zi{l baka ‘the one who got angry cried’ 245

*zi¨il baka ‘one who got angry is one who cried’

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

?baka z-zi¨il ‘the one who got angry cried’

2.4.5 Verb/Verb phrase+bipartite clause definite+definite ?al-baka l-bet-u garib ‘the one who cried is the one whose house is near’

definite+indefinite al-baka bet-u garib ‘the one who cried’s house is near’

indefinite+indefinite ?baka bet-u garib ‘one who cried’s house is near’

bet-u garib al-baka ‘the one who cried his house is near’ ?al-bet-u garib al-baka al-bet-u garib baka ‘the one who’s house is near is ‘the one who’s house is near the one who cried’ cried’ baka l-bet-u garib ‘the one who’s house is near cried’

*bet-u garib baka ‘his house is near, one who cried’

2.5 Bipartite clause+other element 2.5.1 Bipartite clause+Noun: see 2.1.4 2.5.2 Bipartite clause+Adjective: see 2.2.4 2.5.3 Bipartite clause+Adverbial: see 2.3.4 2.5.4 Bipartite clause+Verb/Verb phrase: see 2.4.5 2.5.5 Bipartite clause+bipartite clause definite+definite ?aÒ-ÒaÌb-u ma¨a-na l-bet-u garib ‘the one whose friend is with us is the one whose house is near’

definite+indefinite aÒ-ÒaÌb-u ma¨a-na bet-u garib ‘the one whose friend is with us, his house is near’

indefinite+indefinite *ÒaÌb-u ma¨a-na bet-u garib ‘one whose friend is with us, his house is near’

?bet-u garib aÒ-ÒaÌb-u ma¨a-na ‘the one whose friend is with us, his house is near’ ?al-bet-u garib aÒ-ÒaÌb-u ma¨a-na al-bet-u garib ÒaÌb-u ma¨a-na *bet-u garib ÒaÌb-u ma¨a-na ‘the one who’s house is near is ‘the one who’s house is near is ‘his house is near, one whose the one who’s friend is with us’ one who’s friend is with us’ friend is with us’ ÒaÌb-u ma¨a-na l-bet-u garib ‘the one who’s house is near is one whose friend is with us’ 246

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

2.6 Discussion of material in sections 2.1–2.5.5 Although the material in sections 2.1–2.5.5 is set out using the word classes and related phrase classes established in Section 2, the information reinforces the analysis given in Dickins (2009, Section 10) that the head of a phrase which begins with a definite particle is the definite particle itself — regardless of the word class or phrase class of what follows it (noun, adjective, adverbial, verb, bipartite clause, etc.). This is particularly obvious in the middle column where the two elements of the matrix bipartite clause are definite and indefinite. All combinations of definite and indefinite in which a definite phrase precedes an indefinite phrase are acceptable. It is normally acceptable for the indefinite element to precede the definite element in definite-indefinite bipartite clauses (bipartite clauses comprising a definite and an indefinite element). In this case a strong main stress almost always falls on the initial indefinite element. In terms of thematic structure (as opposed to syntactic structure), such an initial indefinite element is the rheme and carries a strong emotional force. A rheme-theme sentence ordering of this kind is sometimes referred to as the ‘pathetic’ ordering (Firbas 1974: 117). Sometimes, however, indefinite-definite word order in definite-indefinite bipartite clauses seems problematic, especially where the definite element involves an adverb, verb, or further bipartite clause following the al- (e.g. walad al-hina ‘the one who’s here is a boy’, walad az-zi¨il ‘the one who got angry is a boy’, walad al-bet-u garib ‘the one whose house is near is a boy’. It is not clear to me whether this is grammatical matter (i.e. whether some or all of the forms of this type are to be regarded as ungrammatical), or a matter of stylistic preference (some forms are avoided because they seem inelegant), or something else. Although a form like tarzi l-walad is in principle ambiguous between a genitive structure, ‘the tailor of the boy / the boy’s tailor’ and a definite-indefinite bipartite clause having an indefinite-definite word order, the intonational forms of these two structures are so different that they cannot in practice be confused. Tarzi l-walad ‘the tailor of the boy’ always forms part or whole of a single intonation unit, while tarzi l-walad ‘the boy’s a tailor’ involves two intonation units, tarzi ‘a tailor’ and (a)l-walad ‘the boy’. Definite-definite bipartite structures seem to be acceptable in some cases. However, where the first definite element comprises al- + noun and the second comprises al-+ adjective, as in al-walad az-za¨lan supposedly meaning ‘the boy is the angry one’, they are avoided, and are perhaps ungrammatical. The motivating factor here is presumably the 247

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

intonationally similar attributive usage, e.g. al-walad az-za¨lan ‘the angry boy’. In definite-definite bipartite clauses, the initial definite phrase always seems to be thematic. The following are examples from my data of definite-definite combinations: al-ba†is da l-bitkun fi-hu l-gadam, wa-n-na¨al bikun fi l-ar∂

‘the batis [old word for the inside sole of a shoe] is the bit in which the foot is/should be, and the undersole is/ should be on the ground’ (Îiraf sa¨biyya, 1986)

al-dolab al-biliff wara

‘the dolab [part of a waterwheel] is that which turns behind’ (R)

In fact, definite-definite sentences in which one or neither of the elements contains the definite particle al- are relatively common. Examples are: da hu or hu da az-zol da ÒaÌb-i↑5

‘that’s him’ (R) ‘that man’s my friend’ (C)

All the putative indefinite-indefinite bipartite structures are starred in 2.1–2.5.5 as ungrammatical. In fact, indefinite-indefinite clauses do exist in Sudanese Arabic. The most common type is illustrated by the following: 1. gamat nar/Ìariga

‘a fire broke out’ (C)

Example 1 consists of an indefinite verb followed by an indefinite noun (subject/predicand), the latter taking strong rhematic stress. This can be compared to English ‘A fire broke out’ in which the rhematic sentence stress also falls on ‘fire’, rather than ‘broke out’ which, as the last lexical element in the utterance, is where sentence stress typically falls in English. Where an indefinite subject of an indefinite verb is unspecified (that is does not have a following adjective or other elements further defining it), indefinite-indefinite sentences in Sudanese Arabic always take the word order Verb-Subject. Where an indefinite subject is 5

Strictly speaking, forms with pronoun suffixes in Sudanese Arabic may be either definite or indefinite. Thus in di mara jarat-na (R) ‘she’s a woman who’s a neighbour of ours’ (lit: ‘she’s a woman our neighbour’), jarat-na ‘our neighbour’ agrees with the indefinite mara ‘a woman’, indicating that jarat-na is itself indefinite. It is also possible, however, to say al-mara jarat-na (C) ‘the woman who’s our neighbour’ in which jarat-na agrees with the definite al-mara indicating that jarat-na is also definite. 248

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

further specified, and apparently where the verb is also further specified, it is possible to have Subject-Verb. Thus: Ìarayig zayy di bitgum †awwali ‘fires like that break out all the time’ (C)

as well as: bitgum †awwali Ìarayig zayy di ‘fires like that break out all the time’ (C)

In both these cases the verb phrase bitgum †awwali carries main sentence stress and is treated as rhematic, while Ìarayig zayy di is thematic. The same thematic structure applies to the following: ÌaÒalat Ìaja

‘something happened’ (C)

It is not clear from my data whether verb-like adjectives (e.g. active participles) can occur, as verbs do, in indefinite-indefinite bipartite clauses. Another, though marginal, indefinite-indefinite bipartite clausetype consists of a noun and an adjective, where the adjective answers (or can be thought of as answering) the question kef ‘how’. Thus: a. say kef? b. say ma ba††al.

‘how would tea be?’ (R) ‘tea wouldn’t be bad.’ (R)

Similar forms occur without a preceding question: say ma ba††al, mus kida?

‘Tea wouldn’t be bad / a bad idea, don’t you think?’ (R)

Where the indefinite noun is further specified, e.g. by a phrase with zayy ‘like’, indefinite-indefinite bipartites with nouns are much more normal: kalam zayy da ma kiwayyis

‘things [spoken about] like that are not nice’ (R)

With the existential adverb fi ‘there is’, bipartite sentences in which the other element is an indefinite noun are common: fi muskila?

‘Is there a problem?’ (C)

With ¨ind ‘on’ used for general possession, like English ‘have’, and ma¨a ‘with’, used to give the sense ‘have [on oneself]’, indefinite-indefinite bipartites are similarly quite common: ma¨a-k sajayir?

‘have you (m.sg.) got any cigarettes on you?’ (R) 249

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

ma¨a-y↑ nafaren talata min axwan-na as-subban

‘I’ve got/had two people from among our young friends [lit: from our youth brothers]’ (Ar-riwayat as-safawiyya li-†uwwar 1924, 1974)

¨ind-u girus katira ¨ind-i↑ falaja

‘he’s got a lot of money’ (R) ‘I got a gap between my front teeth’ (R) ‘I’ve got a friend of mine…’ (R) ‘we’ve got a lot to talk about’ (R)

¨ind-i↑ Òadig le-y↑… ¨inda-na Ìadis katir

Other adverbial-noun indefinite-indefinite bipartites are occasionally also found: giddam-ak moya

‘there’s water in front of you (m.sg.)’ (R)

To recapitulate and amplify the argument in this section, although there are restrictions on the combination of definite and indefinite elements in bipartite clauses, it is definiteness and indefiniteness which provides the most general parameters for describing the distribution (possibilities of occurrence) of elements in such clauses, rather than traditional categories, such as noun, nominal phrase, adjective, adjectival phrase, verb, verb phrase, etc. As seen in Dickins (2009; Section 10), definiteness similarly largely determines distribution in the case of objects of verbs and prepositions: a verb phrase or prepositional object has to be definite (e.g. ma¨a az-za¨lan ‘with the angry one’, but not *ma¨a za{lan ‘with an angry one’). The only exception is where there object is a noun (together with its dependent phrase, if there is one), in which case the object may be indefinite (ma¨a rajil ‘with a man’, as well as ma¨a r-rajil ‘with the man’). Taken together, this evidence strongly supports the view that phrases involving initial al- are to be analysed as definite phrases with an al- head. Previously in this section, I have considered issues of thematic structure (theme and rheme). I have assumed that thematic structure is distinct from syntactic structure. It is also the case that issues of the definiteness and indefiniteness of the constituent elements of bipartite clause structure (identified previously in this paper as predicand and predicate (cf. also Dickins 2009; Section 10), are not a relevant part of the syntactic structure of the bipartite clause itself. That is to say, the fact that one constituent element of a bipartite is definite, for example, and the other one is indefinite, is not in itself relevant to identifying which element is to be regarded as the predicand and which as the predicate, any more than the definiteness of indefiniteness of ‘a cat’ 250

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

and ‘the dog’ are relevant to identifying which is the subject and which the object in ‘a cat bit the dog’ (or ‘the cat bit a dog’). If definiteness and indefiniteness — which as argued involve different phrase-types in Sudanese Arabic — are not relevant to predicand-predicate analysis, it follows that neither are elements which give rise to different phrase-types: the most obvious of these elements are, of course, word-classes, of which I have — on a fairly ad hoc basis — identified the following for Sudanese Arabic: noun, adjective, adverb (and adverbial), and verb. Finally, word order is also not relevant to the identification of syntactic structure. The fact that an element comes first in an utterance, for example, is not by itself sufficient for us to conclude that that element is the subject, or the predicand, etc. If we then factor out, in analysing what is the predicand and what is the predicate in Sudanese Arabic, questions of i. theme and rheme, ii. definiteness, iii. word-class (and by extension phrase-class), and iv. word order, what do we have left in determining what is the predicand in a bipartite predicand-predicate clause, and what is the predicate? The answer, I suspect, is nothing. That is to say, structurally we can say of a bipartite clause that it has two major elements; let us call these A and B rather than predicand and predicate (for reasons which will become immediately obvious). However, in order to identify which of A and B is the predicand and which the predicate, we have to invoke non-structural considerations (or at least considerations which are only structural at smaller levels of analysis, e.g. of the constituent phrases). Once we have factored out such things as theme and rheme, definiteness, word/phrase-class more generally, and word order, all that we are left with in a putative predicandpredicate analysis is two elements, either of which we could deem to be the predicand or predicate. I will not attempt to go further into theoretical analysis of what is involved in the main body of this paper, since this would require much more explicit adherence to the particulars of a linguistic theory (axiomatic functionalism) than is reasonable in a paper of this kind. Suffice it to say, that we can think of bipartite clauses in Sudanese Arabic as being equative in a fundamental — i.e. true — syntactic sense: such clauses are analogous to a mathematical statement of the type X = Y. As is well known, there is no difference in mathematics between X = Y and Y = X. In the same way, there is, I believe, no properly syntactic distinction between a predicand and a predicate: once we have identified one of the constituents of a bipartite clause as the predicand we can identify the other as the predicate — or vice 251

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

versa, if we prefer. The crucial thing about such a structure is the presence of two elements in an equative relationship not how we label them (just as the crucial thing in the case of X = Y / Y = X in a mathematical context is the presence of the two elements, X and Y, in an equative relationship, not the order in which we write these two elements down). In this regard, we may note the following possibilities in Standard Arabic: 2. ma¨ruf-un anna-ka rajul-un ‘it is known that you (m.sg.) are a genkarim erous man’ (lit: ‘known [is] that-you man generous’) 3. min al-ma¨ruf-i anna-ka rajul-un karim

‘it is known that you (m.sg.) are a generous man’ (lit: ‘from the known [is] that-you man generous’)

4. al-ma¨ruf-u anna-ka rajul-un karim

‘what is known is that you (m.sg.) are a generous man’ (lit: ‘the known [is] that-you man generous’)

Intuitively we are inclined to say, because of word order and use of the same words almost throughout, that there is no difference in sentence structure between 2, 3 and 4 — and I believe that this intuitive view is correct. Traditional Arabic grammar, however, requires every bipartite sentence to have a separately identifiable predicand and predicate. Accordingly, it utilizes a set of criteria to determine what is the predicand and what the predicate in particular cases. Most importantly, a distinction is made not only between definiteness and indefiniteness, but also between degrees of ‘specificity’ (taxÒiÒ). Specificity is a wider notion than definiteness, encompassing both definite and indefinite nominals. A specificity hierarchy from most to least specified can be established, roughly as follows: pronoun, proper noun, demonstrative, noun/nominal with the definite article, any of the previous as the annexed element in a construct (genitive), indefinite annexion phrase, indefinite noun phrase involving an attributive adjective, bare indefinite noun or adjective (Watson 1993: 19–20; cf. also Wright 1971, 2: 260–4, Abdul-Raof 2001: 114–15; Badawi, Carter and Gully 2004: 307–22). In analysing nominal sentences — i.e. sentences which are made up of a predicand (mubtada}) and a predicate (xabar) — traditional Arabic grammar identifies the predicand (mubtada}) as the more specified element and the predicate (xabar) as the less specified one. Where both elements are equally specified, the predicand precedes the predicate. 252

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

In 2 ma¨ruf-un anna-ka rajul-un karim ‘it is known that you are a generous man’ (lit: ‘known [is] that-you man generous’), ma¨ruf-un ‘known’ is a bare indefinite and therefore maximally unspecified, and anna-ka rajul-un karim ‘that you are a generous man’ is the equivalent of a definite noun; the complementizer anna- ‘nominalizes’ clauses, functioning as the clausal equivalent of the definite article al- (cf. English ‘the fact that you are a generous man’). On the basis that the more specified element is to be analysed as the predicand (mubtada} ) and the less specified one as the predicate (xabar), the predicand in ma¨ruf-un anna-ka rajul-un karim is thus anna-ka rajulun karim ‘that you are a generous man’ and the predicate (xabar) is ma¨ruf-un ‘known’. Similarly, in 3, min al- ma¨ruf-i anna-ka rajul-un karim ‘it is known that you are a generous man’ (lit: ‘from the known [is] that-you man generous’) min al-ma¨ruf-i ‘from the known’ is traditionally analysed as the predicate, and anna-ka rajul-un karim ‘that you are a generous man’ as the predicand. Min al-ma¨ruf-i ‘from the known’ is to be analysed as indefinite and therefore fairly unspecified (its definite correspondent being alla∂i min al-ma¨ruf-i ‘that which is known’ (more lit: ‘the from the known’), while anna-ka rajul-un karim ‘that you are a generous man’, as already discussed, is definite. Consider now 4 al-ma¨ruf-u anna-ka rajul-un karim ‘what is known is that you are a generous man’ (lit: ‘the known [is] that-you man generous’). Here, the structure in 2 and 3 (predicate preceding predicand) is — remarkably — reversed. In 4, al-ma¨ruf-u ‘the known [thing]’ is the predicand while anna-ka rajul-un karim ‘that you are a generous man’ is the predicate. In 4, al-ma¨ruf-u ‘the known [thing]’ and anna-ka rajul-un karim ‘that you are a generous man’ are to be taken as equally specified: al-ma¨ruf-u has the definite article, while anna-ka rajul-un karim has (is introduced by) the complementizer anna-, which, as argued above, is equivalent to the definite article. Given that where two elements in a nominal sentence are equally specified, the element which comes first is the predicand and the element which comes second is the predicate, in 4 the predicand is al-ma¨ruf-u ‘the known [thing]’, while the predicate is anna-ka rajul-un karim ‘that you are a generous man’. This kind of approach makes it possible to ‘operationalize’ Arabic grammar: it allows us to determine what is and is not the predicand and predicate in all cases. As I have suggested, however, I do not think it provides a genuinely structural account of what is going on. The notion of equativity is worth amplifying somewhat here. It is clear from the tables in sections 2.1–2.5.5 that bipartite sentences 253

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

involving, for instance, a noun and another noun, or a noun and an adjective are equative: al-walad tarzi al-walad za¨lan (minn-ak)

‘the boy is a tailor’ (C) ‘the boy is angry (with you [m.sg.])’ (C)

Similarly: al-walad fi-l-bet

‘the boy is in the house’ (C)

It is also clear from previous discussion that the relationship between tarzi ‘a tailor’ and at-tarzi ‘the tailor’ is one of indefiniteness vs. definiteness. Similarly, the relationship between za¨lan (minn-ak) ‘angry (with you [m.sg.])’ and az-za¨lan (minn-ak) ‘the one who is angry (with you [m.sg.]) / the angry-[one]-(with you [m.sg.])’ is also one of indefiniteness vs. definiteness. Accordingly, just as the indefinite tarzi without a preceding al- means ‘a tailor’ and the definite at-tarzi means ‘the tailor’, so the indefinite za¨lan can be thought of meaning ‘an angry [one]’ while the definite az-za¨lan means ‘the angry [one]’. By extension the indefinite fi-l-bet can be thought of meaning ‘a inthe-house-[one] / a [one] who is in the house’, while the indefinite al-fi-l-bet means ‘the in-the-house-[one] / the [one] who is in the house’. Similarly, the indefinite zi¨il (minn-ak) can be thought of as meaning ‘a got-angry-(with-you) [one]’ while the definite az-zi¨il (minn-ak) means ‘the got-angry-(with-you) [one] / the [one] who got angry with you’. Finally, the indefinite Òahb-u fi-l-bet can be thought of as meaning ‘a [one] his/whose friend is in the house / a his-friendis-in-the-house [one]’, while the definite aÒ-Òahb-u fi-l-bet means ‘the [one] his/whose friend is in the house / the his-friend-is-in-the-house [one]’. Given all this, consider the following (all of which are constructed examples): al-walad tarzi al-walad za¨lan (minn-ak) al-walad fi-l-bet al-walad zi¨il (minn-ak) al-walad Òahb-u fi-l-bet

‘the boy is a tailor’ ‘the boy is an angry(-with-you [m.sg.]) [one]’ ‘the boy is an in-the-house [one]’ ‘the boy is a got-angry(-with-you [m.sg.]) [one]’ ‘the boy is a his-friend-[is]-in-thehouse [one]’ or better: ‘the boy is a-his-friend is an-in-thehouse [one]’ 254

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

That is to say, there is no difference — in one sense at least — in Sudanese Arabic between the equivalent of ‘the boy is one who got angry’ and ‘the boy got angry’. While the distinction between equatives and non-equatives in English is very clear, in Sudanese Arabic this distinction is, in syntactic terms at least, non-existent. 3. Monopartite Sentences In addition to bipartite clauses, Sudanese also has monopartite clauses. These are most obviously represented by clauses which consist of a verb phrase, such as: 5. masu (as-sug)

‘they went/have gone (to the market)’ (C)

That a verb phrase of this type constitutes a full sentence seems uncontroversial, and conforms to both traditional Arabic grammar and modern Western analyses of both Standard Arabic and the dialects. This analysis can, however, happily be extended to participles, such as the following active participle usage. Thus: 6. masin (as-sug)

‘they/you (pl.)/we are going (to the market)’ (C)

In fact the form masin, on its own, or the corresponding singulars masi (m.sg.) or masya (f.sg.) are standard ways of saying that one is leaving or, with a question intonation, of asking a person or people if they are leaving, (e.g. at the end of a visit to one’s house). There is thus very good reason communicatively for regarding not only verb phrases but also corresponding ‘participle phrases’ as complete nonelliptical sentences. Thus, ‘she’s in pain’ can be expressed by the single word (f.sg. active participle) mit}allima. Support for the view that ‘participle phrases’ constitute full sentences is provided by the use of such phrases in complex sentences. Thus: 7. najib ¨ali u-nasaggil-u baskatib al-mina li}inn-u muÌtajin le-baskatib

‘We’ll bring Ali and employ him as the chief clerk of the port, because “needing” [(m.pl.) i.e. “we need”] a chief clerk’ (Ar-riwayat as-safawiyya li-†uwwar1924, 1974)

8. di gafla l-o∂a ¨ale-ha u-xayfa ‘She’s closed the room on/against ta¨mal fi nafís-a Ìaja her(self ), and fearing [(f.sg.) i.e. “I fear”] that she will do something to herself ’ (Xalt-i↑ ∑afiyya, 1986) 255

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

In example 7 the subordinate structure beginning li}inn-u ‘because’ (with a dummy 3.m.sg. pronoun suffix — u), contains the monopartite clause muÌtajin le-baskatib. The active participle muÌtajin ‘needing (m.pl.)’ has the same ‘we’ subject-referent as the main clause verbs najib ‘we bring’ and nasaggil ‘we employ’. Apart from an a priori theoretical commitment (which I do not have) I can see no reason to believe that the monopartite muÌtajin le-baskatib ‘needing a chief clerk’ is elliptical here, e.g. for the bipartite niÌna muÌtajin le-baskatib ‘we [are] needing a chief clerk’. Example 8 is even more interesting than 7. Here the active participle in the first coordinated clause gafla (f.sg.) mirrors the active participle in the second coordinated clause (after u- ‘and’) xayfa (also f.sg.). However, the referent is different. In the first clause, the person being referred to is the unfortunate Su}ad (Su¨ad), who has locked herself in her room after being told by her father that she cannot marry the man she loves. In the second clause, xayfa refers to the gallant Aunt Safiyya (Xalt-i↑ ∑afiyya of the series title), who has come to rescue Su}ad from her predicament.6 There seems no good reason to confine monopartite sentences to those whose head is a verb or participle. Many verbs in Sudanese do not have a standard active participle form, but do have a fa¨lan form.7 Thus the following both seem to be reasonable non-elliptical sentences in Sudanese Arabic: 9. zi¨il (minn-ak) 10. za¨lan (minn-ak)

‘he got angry (with you [m.sg.])’ (C) ‘he is angry (with you [m.sg.])’ (C)

6

Some idiomatic phrases — including those which involve a participle — only occur without a predicand. An example is bayta ma¨a[-k] literally ‘overnighting with [you (m.sg.)]’, meaning idiomatically ‘[you] have a hangover’. In this idiomatic phrase, the active participle bayta only ever occurs in the f.sg. form. It is not possible to also have a predicand hi ‘it (f.sg.)’ (thus *hi bayta ma¨a-k) in this idiomatic sense. Other examples involving a f.sg. predicate in which a predicand cannot occur are, with the active participle, farga ma¨a-w ‘he’s mad’ (lit: ‘making a difference with him’) and, with a verb, ma bitafrig ma¨a-y↑ ‘it doesn’t make any difference to me’, fakkat minn-u ‘he went mad’ (lit: ‘it [f.sg.] left him’). Other impersonal usages in which it is not possible to have a predicand include forms involving the 3. m.sg. imperfect yahimm, as in ma yahmma-ni↑ bi-n-nas del ‘I’m not concerned about these/those people’ (lit: ‘[it] not-concerns-me with these/those-people’). 7 Almost all verbs from which fa¨lan forms are derived are intransitive; the transitive gibil, whose derivative gablan is discussed in Dickins (2009; Section 9), is an exception. Almost all fa¨lan forms are derived from verbs which have fi¨il perfect, and many fa¨lan forms refer to emotional or physical states experienced by people, e.g. farÌan ‘joyful’, ta¨ban ‘exhausted’, na¨san ‘drowsy’, bardan ‘cold [as an experienced physical sensation]’; thus ana bardan ‘I’m [feeling] cold’ — cf. barid ‘[objectively] cold’, e.g. as-say da barid ‘that tea’s cold’. 256

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

In the same light consider the following: 11. galu ta¨ban jiddan jiddan

‘they said that he was very very tired’ (R) (more lit: ‘they said very very tired’)

Here the fa¨lan form ta¨ban is in a subordinate clause, and has a different referent (m.sg.) from the referent (subject) of the main verb galu ‘they said’. In fact, not only active participles and fa¨lan adjectives, but also any adjective/adjective phrase, noun/noun phrase, adverb/adverbial, etc. seems to be able to function as a monopartite sentence in Sudanese Arabic. Thus, standard ways of saying ‘where are you going’ are wen? ‘where?’ and ¨ale wen? ‘to/towards where?’, as well as masi (m.sg.)/ masya (f.sg.)/masin pl.) wen?. The standard question if someone knocks on one’s door is min-u↑ ‘who?’. The word muskila is frequently used on its own where in English it would be more natural to say, ‘That’s a problem’. In the same light, consider the following: fikra. intu tag¨udu tit¨assu. ana afattis dawa.

‘An idea [i.e. I have an idea]. You (m./com.pl.) sit and eat supper. I’ll look for some medicine’. (R)

ma ta¨mal kida — ¨eb.

‘Don’t do that. It’s wrong.’ (said to small child) (R)

a. fi? b. fi

‘Is he there?’ ‘Yes.’ (R)

fi di ma¨a-kum

‘We agree with you (m./com.pl.) on this.’ (R) (lit: ‘on this, with you’ [m./com. pl.])

ana gariba?! ma xalt-ak ya walad-i↑

‘Am I a stranger?! You see/But [unstressed ma] I’m your (m.sg.) aunt my boy.’ (Xalt-i↑ ∑afiyya 1986)

English arguably makes a distinction between presentative usages and presumably elliptical non-presentatives. An example of a presentative usage is ‘cow’ as said by a small child looking out of a train window every time she sees a cow. A elliptical non-presentative occurs where the child is asked ‘What’s that?’ and she replies ‘A cow’. In cases where there is a non-correspondence between the putative referent of the presentative utterance we are inclined to say that the person is wrong — or ‘that’s wrong’ — and less inclined to say that what the person has said is untrue. In the case of elliptical non-presentatives, the claim of the untruth of the utterance — ‘that’s not true’ (etc.) — seems more acceptable. 257

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

Sudanese Arabic certainly has elliptical utterances: ganamaya ‘a sheep’ as a response to sufti sin-u↑ ‘What did you (f.sg.) see?’ is elliptical. However, I do not believe that ganamaya ‘a sheep’ in response to da sin-u↑ ‘What’s that?’ is properly speaking elliptical. The only difference between a presentative usage ganamaya ‘a sheep’ in Sudanese Arabic, and ganamaya ‘a sheep’ as a response to da sin-u↑ ‘What’s that?’ seems to be that the latter involves presupposition of the existence of the entity being considered (the sheep): it is not presented ‘out of the blue’. This is essentially a question of the thematic (theme-rheme) organisation of the utterance (or, better, the real-world psychological facts to which theme and rheme can be related). I have already argued (Section 2.6) that bipartite predicand-predicate structures have a strange syntactic structure: once issues such as theme and rheme are abstracted away, what one is left with is not so much two distinct syntactic positions (predicand and predicate), but what looks more like two equativelyrelated ‘slots’ in one syntactic position. (As noted earlier, I will not try to pursue this issue further here, since it would require a profound consideration of the fundamentals of linguistic theory.) If this analysis is at all plausible, it will be seen that having one ‘slot’ in this position — a monopartite sentence — is not very different from having two.8 8

It may be that Arabic equative (‘predicand-predicate’) structures are an example of what Mulder terms ‘coordination’. His use of this term has little, if any, connection with more standard uses of ‘coordination’ in linguistics to describe the functioning of ‘and’ and related forms. Rather, what Mulder means by ‘coordination’ is a relationship of bilateral functional independency between two elements in syntax such that neither one of the two elements functionally implies the other (cf. Mulder 1989: 288–93; 445–6; also Dickins 1998: 72). Note that the distinction which Mulder makes between functional and occurrence dependency is particularly important in understanding what he means by functional dependency). I have argued in sections 2.6 and 3 that syntactically ‘predicand’ and ‘predicate’ do not imply one another; these are not, in fact, properly speaking two distinct syntactic positions (‘slots’). I have also suggested in Section 3 that Arabic monopartite sentences are to be analysed as cases in which a single element occupies the one position which, in bipartite sentences, is occupied by two elements (‘predicand’ and ‘predicate’). In addition to subordination and coordination in syntax, Mulder recognizes also what he terms interordination – that is a situation in which both elements functionally imply one another. The structures which Mulder gives as examples of both coordination and itnterordination (e.g. Mulder 1989: 290) all seem to me extremely problematic. I will not pursue this issue in detail here. However, I believe that the issue of ‘ordination’ (subordination, coordination, and interordination) in axiomatic functionalism needs to be looked at again. It may be that the notions of 258

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

4. ‘Scrambled’ Bipartite Clauses The most straightforward ‘linearisation’ (realisation) of grammatical structures is such that all elements of one grammatical structure occur together. However, exceptions to such straightforward linearisation are well known: in the English ‘That man I know’, the verb phrase constituent ‘know that man’ is realized discontinuously (for reasons of thematic focus). Sudanese Arabic exhibits numerous cases of such ‘scrambling’. Here I will consider V-S-O/C word orders — i.e. verbsubject-object word order with respect to those verbs which take a standard object, and the corresponding verb-subject-complement word order for verbs of ‘being’, ‘becoming’, ‘continuing to be’ which take what is traditionally referred to as a subject-complement. V-S-O/C structures are occasionally found with verbs which take a standard object, as follows (with the V, S, and O/C elements marked after the relevant item): maset (V) inta (S) dungula (O)? sufta (V) i nta (S) az-zol da (O), mus kida? axadta (V) ana (S) xams†asar yom (O) fi ÒaÌra↑ l-¨atmur jit (V) umbariÌ ana (S) s-sa¨a sab¨a hina (O)

‘did you (m.sg.) go to Dongola?’ (R) ‘You (m.sg.) saw that man, didn’t you?’ (R) ‘I spent fifteen days in the AlAtmour Desert’ (R) ‘I came yesterday at seven-o-clock here’ (R)

The following example has a prepositional object, rather than a nominal object jit (V) ana (S) †awwali fi l-makan al-¨amm bita¨-na (O)

‘I came immediately to our general place’ (R)

In all of these cases, the subject is pronominal, and is very communicatively ‘light’, while the verb is either the 1.sg. or 2.m.sg. perfect. In theme-rheme terms, it would appear that in these utterances the subject pronoun constitutes a ‘minimal’ theme (perhaps an ‘afterthought’ theme), whose purpose is mainly to remind the reader who the subject is, and perhaps more specifically to differentiate between 1.sg. and 2.m.sg., which have the same form in the perfect tense. Syntactically, the most sensible analysis seems to be to regard these examples as scrambled bipartite predicand-predicate structures with a coordination and interordination are not separately necessary — or distinct — from that of ‘syntheme’ (see Dickins 2009; footnote 13). In this case, Arabic equative/ bipartite/predicand-predicate structures can be regarded as synthemes, just as it may be possible to regard al — and a following clause together as a syntheme. 259

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

discontinuous predicate (verb phrase) constituent. Thus in maset (V) inta (S) dungula (O)? ‘did you go to Dongola?’, for example, the predicate constituent maset dungula ‘went to Dongola’ is interrupted realisationally by the predicand inta ‘you’. With those verbs which are traditionally analysed as taking a complement rather than an object (verbs of ‘being’, ‘becoming’, ‘continuing to be’, etc.) V-S-O/C word order is much more common. Examples are: kan (V) ism-u (S) muÌammad (C) takun (V) hi (S) Òagayra fi Ìajmaha (C) fi kullu man†iga fi fannan bikun (V) hu (S) mahir jiddan (C)

‘his name was Mohammed’ (R) ‘she must have been small in size’ (R)

fi itnen u-xamsin kanat (V) asar al-Ìarb al-¨alamiyya (S) lissa¨ mawjuda (C) fi l-man†iga di

‘in [19]52 the marks of the [Second] World War were still present in that region’ (R)

ba¨d ma ¨amal kida, biga (V) hu zat-u (S) ga¨id sakit bi-la xidma (C)

‘after he did that, he got to the stage where [lit: “became”] doing nothing, without anything to do’(Mafahim, 1986)

biga (V) le-hu aj-jari be kir¨e-hu (S) asra¨ (C) ya jama¨a

‘Running [on his legs] became quicker for him, my friends [lit: “oh, group”]’ (i.e. quicker than going by horse) (Dukkan wadd al-baÒir, 1986)

‘in every region there is a singer who is very talented’ (R)

Fairly frequently, the verb in V-S-C structures of this kind fails to agree, particularly where this verb is kan ‘to be’: [an-nas del] umbariÌ kan (V) niÌna (S) ma¨a-hum (C) bi-l-lel

‘those people] yesterday we were with them at night’ (R)

Examples such as this last one suggests that kan is on its way to becoming grammaticalized — as a past tense marker — rather than a verb proper in Sudanese Arabic. However, this process still has a long way to go, and it would appear that with complement verbs such as kan, as with more standard transitive verbs, the best syntactic analysis of V-S-C forms remains that they are ‘scrambled’ predicand-predicate clauses.9 9 In my discussion here I have ignored the interesting phenomenon of complements which are verb phrases or themselves bipartite clauses. An example involving a verb-phrase complement is: zaman kan (V) nas-na (S) bi-talbas jilud (O) bass (Îiraf sa¨biyya) ‘in the past our people used to wear leather [shoes] only’. Here, the complement of the verb kan ‘to be’ is the verb-phrase bi-talbas jilud, itself consisting of a verb bi-talbas ‘they wear’ and an object jilud ‘leather(s)’.

260

BASIC SENTENCE STRUCTURE IN SUDANESE ARABIC

5. Conclusion and Prospects On the basis that definiteness and indefiniteness yield fundamentally different syntactic categories (Dickins 2009), I have considered in this paper basic sentence structure in Sudanese Arabic. I have argued that Sudanese Arabic has two basic types of sentence structure: an essentially equative bipartite (‘predicand-predicate’) structure and a monopartite (‘predicate only’) structure. I believe that many of the analyses presented here apply not only to Sudanese Arabic, but also to other dialects and to Standard Arabic. In particular, I believe that sentence structure in both Standard Arabic and Arabic dialects generally can be at least partially analysed in terms of syntactically equative bipartite, plus monopartite sentence types. Address for correspondence: J.Dickinsesalford.ac.uk. REFERENCES Abdul-Raof, H., 2001. ‘On the subject in Arabic’, Journal of Semitic Studies. 46, 1:97–120 Badawi, E., M.G. Carter, and A. Gully, 2004. Modern Written Arabic: a Comprehensive Grammar. (London and New York) Bohas, J., J.-P.Guillaume and D.E. Kouloughli, 1990. The Arabic Linguistic Tradition. (London) Danes, F. (ed.). 1974. Papers on Functional Sentence Perspective. (Prague) Dickins, J. 1998. Extended Axiomatic Linguistics. (Berlin and New York) —— 2006. ‘Khartoum Arabic’, in Encyclopaedia of Arabic Language and Linguistics (vol. 2) (Leiden), 559–71 —— 2007. Sudanese Arabic: Phonematics and Syllable Structure. (Wiesbaden) —— 2009. ‘Relative clauses in Sudanese Arabic’. Journal of Semitic Studies 54, 2:535–71 Dukkan wadd al-baÒir.1986. Omdurman Radio series (drama) Firbas, J. 1974. ‘Some aspects of the Czechoslovak approach to problems of functional sentence perspective’, in F. Danes (ed.), Papers on Functional Sentence Perspective. (Prague) Hervey, S.G.J. 1979. Axiomatic Semantics. (Edinburgh) —— 1982. Semiotic Perspectives. (London) Îiraf sa¨biyya 1986. Omdurman Radio series on traditional crafts Mafahim 1986. Omdurman Radio series (drama) Mulder, J.W.F. 1968. Sets and Relations in Phonology. (Oxford) —— 1989. Foundations of Axiomatic Linguistics. (Berlin) Mulder, J.W.F. and Hervey, S.G.J. 1972. Theory of the Linguistic Sign. (The Hague) —— 1980. The Strategy of Linguistics. (Edinburgh) Ar-riwayat as-safawiyya li-†uwwar 1924 [‘The Oral Accounts of the 1924 Revolutionaries’]. 1974. (Khartoum) Watson, J.C.E. 1993. A Syntax of ∑an¨ani Arabic. (Wiesbaden) Wright W. 1971. A Grammar of the Arabic Language (2 vols. re-published as single vol.). (Cambridge) Xalt-i↑ ∑afiyya. 1986. Omdurman Radio series (drama) 261

REVIEWS RAINER VOIGT (ed.), From Beyond the Mediterranean: Akten des 7. Internationalen Semitohamitistenkongresses (VII. ISHaK), Berlin 13, bis 15, September 2004 (Semitica et Semitohamitica Berolinensia 5). Shaker Verlag, Aachen 2007. Pp. 572. Price: /48.80 paperback. ISBN: 978-3-8322-6340-9. The International Hamito-Semitic Congress first met in 1969 and since then has met seven more times, in intervals of four to ten years, most recently in the autumn of 2008. Proceedings have been published for the first five meetings; only for the sixth (Moscow 1994) is there no companion publication. This volume is the proceedings of the seventh meeting, held in Berlin in 2004. The thirty-two articles in this volume are grouped under four headings: Comparative Semito-Hamitic (7), Cushitic (8), Semitic (13), and Egyptian-Berber (4). Four articles are in German, one is in Italian, and the rest are in English. Included as a preface is the German text of R. Voigt’s opening address to the congress participants. Given the venue of this review, my own limited proficiency, and limited space, I will confine my comments to just some of the articles in the Semito-Hamitic and Semitic categories. First, a brief word about Afroasiatic (i.e., Semito-Hamitic) studies in general. At this point in time, when much remains to be done on the reconstruction of the individual branches, Afroasiatic studies are a hazardous venture. Just as one cannot reconstruct Indo-European by comparing modern English, Hindi and Romanian, one cannot reliably reconstruct Afroasiatic phonology or morphology by comparing Hausa, Beja and Tuareg. It is true that Semitic and Egyptian are attested in ancient times (and thus are probably the two branches that can be compared most reliably), and it is true that some good work has been done in the reconstruction of individual branches like Chadic, Cushitic and Berber. However, given that there are so many Afroasiatic languages for which we do not even have reliable data (especially within Chadic, Cushitic and Omotic), it seems to me that one must proceed very cautiously, and very sceptically, when attempting comparison at the Afroasiatic level. One cannot simply perform mass lexical comparison of the languages (ancient or modern), as some Afroasiatic scholars have done in the past. Returning to the volume under review, I will begin with the article entitled ‘Chadic and Semitohamitic’, by H. Jungraithmayr. This article is essentially a reiteration of the fact that Chadic must be considered part of Afroasiatic; though today this is widely accepted, it was not so until the mid-twentieth century. Jungraithmayr gives several examples of morphological and lexical correspondences, including the interesting, but speculative suggestion that the Akkadian subordinate marker -u (which corresponds to the West Semitic indicative -u) is cognate with a Chadic subjunctive marker -u or -o. V. Blazek writes about ‘Semitic Prepositions and their Afroasiatic Cognates’. This is an ambitious topic, on which one could write volumes. The article is useful as a review of some of the proposed etymologies for the Semitic prepositions, though the author relies on just a few sources. Given that most of the common Semitic prepositions consist of just one or two consonants, finding an etymology is often difficult or even impossible; the chances of finding reliable cognates within Afroasiatic are very slim. Many of Blazek’s suggestions for cognates are seemingly random, 263

REVIEWS

for example, his suggestion (admittedly preceded by a question mark) that Semitic *}il(ay) ‘to’ is cognate with Rendille (East Cushitic) íl ‘land’. Egyptian, given its ancient attestation, is the most likely place to find cognates for Semitic prepositions. Strangely, Blazek quickly dismisses Egyptian (j)r as a cognate for Semitic *}ilay. Overall, this article is a good example of how Afroasiatic comparison is often just pure speculation. C. Ehret’s article ‘Applying the Comparative Method in Afroasiatic (Afrasan, Afrasisch)’ is of no value to the serious linguist. Ehret continues to propose a system of biliteral roots for Afroasiatic, and a system of affixes that extended these biliteral roots to triliteral ones. So, for example, Ehret reconstructs an Afroasiatic root *lt ‘to hit repeatedly’, extended by an ‘iterative’ suffix -Ì to *ltÌ ‘throw pebbles in one’s face’, by an ‘intensive’ suffix -z to *ltz ‘beat with the fist’, and by an ‘extendative’ suffix -m to ltm ‘to beat’. Further discussion of Ehret’s method is unnecessary. The article by A. Militarev is entitled ‘Toward a Complete Etymology-based Hundred Wordlist of Semitic: Items 1–34 (First Third)’. This article simply lists Semitic cognates for thirty-four words, based on Swadesh’s hundred-word list. The goal of the author is to use this cognate list to apply the glottochronological method to the Semitic family, though these cognate lists can, of course, also be used in more productive ways. The articles that appear under the ‘Semitic’ heading in this volume are, overall, of greater value. S. Baldi writes an article entitled ‘Arabic Loans in Gur Languages’, which is based on the author’s Dictionnaire des emprunts arabes dans les langues d’Afrique de l’Ouest et en Swahili. This dictionary appeared in 2008, and not in 2005, as indicated in the article’s bibliography. The Gur languages, also sometimes referred to as Voltaic languages, number upwards of a hundred (Baldi has data from thirty-nine), and are spoken in a number of West African countries. Arabic loans are prevalent, thanks to the spread of Islam, though many of the loans were transmitted indirectly, often via Hausa. The loans include a good number of verbs, as well as the expected large number of nouns; this fact, along with some very interesting phonetic adaptations, make study of these words especially worthwhile. G. Hudson’s contribution, ‘North and South Ethiopian Semitic’, is a re-evaluation of the supposedly innovative features that distinguish South Ethiopian, as outlined by Hetzron in 1972. Some of Hudson’s suggestions will be controversial, in particular the suggestion (long espoused by D. Cohen) that the gemination of the G imperfect (i.e., y¢qatt¢l ) is not a proto-Semitic feature, but Hudson’s discussion is stimulating. Alessandro Mengozzi offers an article entitled ‘Verba Primae Infirmae Neoaramaice’, which, despite its title, is written in English. Neo-Aramaic studies has had a boom in the last few decades, with the appearance of a surprising number of excellent descriptive grammars. Comparative and historical work on Neo-Aramaic dialects is less well represented, though there have been a few very good studies on dialect comparison and historical grammar. This article by Mengozzi puts the available data on Neo-Aramaic to excellent use, presenting a very enlightening comparative historical study of Neo-Aramaic verbs with the initial radicals y and } (< }aleph or ¨ayin). In his article ‘Amharic Dialects Revisited’ (title misspelled in the table of contents), Z. Leyew treats a topic which is largely ignored in general works on Semitic and Ethiopian linguistics. Amharic is not a uniform language, but is subject to regional variation in the realms of phonology, morphology and lexicon. Leyew outlines some of the features that characterize the Gondar, Wollo, Gojjam and Shoa dialects, and 264

REVIEWS

even provides a number of isogloss maps. This is a fascinating article, and one which highlights an area for fruitful research. P. Zemánek treats one of the most popular topics of Semitic morphology in his article ‘On the Definite Article in Semitic’. Unlike most other comparative studies of the definite article, this one does not attempt to trace the etymologies of the various Semitic articles (this includes my own work on the topic). Instead, Zemánek focuses on the ‘waves of appearance’ of the articles. Not much new is offered here, though the approach is interesting. Despite a few unfortunate inclusions, the volume overall contains some very valuable pieces. An enormous amount of work needs to been done in the comparative study of Afroasiatic languages, but it is good to see that attempts are being made. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp042 AARON D. RUBIN PENNSYLVANIA STATE UNIVERSITY

ELIZABETH FROOD, Biographical Texts from Ramesside Egypt (Society of Biblical Literature Writings from the Ancient World 26). Society of Biblical Literature, Atlanta 2007. Pp. xviii + 301. Price: $24.95 paperback. ISBN: 978-1-58983-210-7. (Auto)Biographien sind eine der ältesten und prominentesten Textsorten der altägyptischen Kultur. Besonders die Gräber des Alten Reichs, der 1. Zwischenzeit und der frühen 18. Dynastie enthalten biographische Texte, auf denen ein großer Teil unserer Kenntnis dieser Epochen beruht. Die Biographien der Ramessidenzeit (19.–20. Dynastie, c. 1300–1100 v. Chr.) sind in der Regel nicht mehr so informativ, zumindest was Vorgänge der politischen Geschichte angeht. Das hängt damit zusammen, dass sich Grabdekorationen und funeräre Texte nach der 18. Dynastie (etwa ab 1300 v. Chr.) vorwiegend mit der Welt der Götter und Toten beschäftigen; das Leben im Diesseits kommt sehr viel seltener zur Sprache. Dementsprechend sind die Biographien der Ramesidenzeit bisher in der wissenschaftlichen Literatur weniger beachtet und nie im Zusammenhang behandelt worden. Diese Lücke wird nun durch die Arbeit von E. Frood geschlossen. In der Hauptsache handelt es sich um eine Sammlung von Übersetzungen (fast) aller ramessidischen Inschriften biographischen Inhalts, gegliedert nach den Berufen ihrer Besitzer: Priester, Künstler, Verwaltung, Militär, Vizekönige von Nubien und Handwerker aus Deir el-Medina; bei dieser letzten Gruppe werden die für dieses Genre an sich atypischen „Bekenntnisbiographien“ zusammengestellt. Insgesamt sind 66 Texte bzw. Denkmäler von 50 verschiedenen Personen ausgewählt und übersetzt worden. Bei der Auswahl der Texte ist man bei der Textsorte „Biographie“ in einer besonderen Lage: Biographien (der Ramessidenzeit wie der anderen Epochen) kommen in der Regel nicht als selbständige Texte vor, sondern eingebettet, als Teiltexte einer größeren Einheit; oft besteht der biographische Abschnitt sogar nur aus wenigen Sätzen oder Beiworten. Auch in dieser Sammlung sind daher in den meisten Fällen nur bestimmte Passagen der übersetzten Texte „biographisch“ im eigentlichen Sinne. Das bedeutet aber auch, dass „Vollständigkeit“ bei einer solchen Übersetzungssammlung kaum möglich und sinnvoll ist, dazu müßte man jeden Text aufnehmen, der auch nur ein einziges biographisches Beiwort hat. Dementsprechend ist auch diese Sammlung nicht „vollständig“, es sind keineswegs alle in dieser Zeit bezeugten biographischen Epitheta oder Sätze aufgenommen worden, aber alle wesentlichen Inschriften sind erfaßt. Tatsächlich hat die Autorin sogar einige Texte einbezogen, die eigentlich noch in die 18. Dynastie gehören (Nr. 20 und 23), und 265

REVIEWS

weitere, die gar nicht biographisch sind (Nr.l: Bericht in der 3. Person; Nr. 15; 42; 44), aber „alternative strategies for the presentation of biographical events“ (p. 20) zeigen sollen. Die Zusammenstellung macht auch deutlich, dass die ramessidischen Biographien weniger traditionsverhaftet sind als ihre Vorgänger und Nachfolger: Textträger (z.B. öfter Tempelwände), Inhalte, Adressaten (z.B. der König in Nr. 25) und formale Gestalt weichen in dieser Zeit nicht selten von den überlieferten Mustern ab, haben aber offenbar nicht prägend gewirkt; die Biographien der 3. Zwischenzeit und der Spätzeit orientieren sich wieder stärker an den vorramessidischen Inschriften. Den Übersetzungen vorangestellt ist eine ausführliche Einleitung (pp. 1–31). Sie behandelt die charakteristischen Eigenschaften altägyptischer Biographien im allgemeinen (pp. 1–8), die Vorgänger der ramessidischen Biographien (pp. 8–11), den politischen und kulturellen Hintergrund der 19. und 20. Dynastie (pp. 12–19) und schließlich die übersetzten Texte selbst: ihre Auswahl, die Kontexte, in denen sie vorkommen, ihre Form und Sprache, ihren religiösen Aspekt, die Rolle des Königs und des durch die Biographie charakterisierten Menschen selbst sowie die Übersetzungstechnik. In dieser Einleitung werden auch einige unkonventionelle Gedanken vorgebracht, so etwa die (kaum sehr naheliegende) Vorstellung, ägyptische Biographien könnten während der Begräbniszeremonien rezitiert worden sein (p. 8). Auch die Ausführungen zum Gebrauch der Sprachstufen und -register in der Ramessidenzeit (pp. 23–4) sind nicht ganz überzeugend. Eine vermeintliche zeitliche Entwicklung (in der 19. Dynastie noch eher Mittelägyptisch, in der 20. Neuägyptisch, p. 23) ist jedenfalls nicht der wesentliche Punkt, denn die Biographien der anschließenden 3. Zwischenzeit sind alle (spät)mittelägyptisch verfaßt. Wichtiger für den unterschiedlichen Sprachgebrauch sind Textsorte, Themen und Kommunikationssituation. Die Übersetzungen sind durchweg gut und zuverlässig. Da die weitaus meisten Texte in K.A Kitchens Sammlung von „Ramesside Inscriptions“ enthalten sind, ist es auch ohne besondere Mühe möglich, jeweils den ägyptischen Text heranzuziehen. In den Anmerkungen werden gelegentlich philologische Details und besondere Schwierigkeiten erörtert; überwiegend beschränken sie sich aber auf inhaltliche Erläuterungen, die vor allem an Fachfremde gerichtet sind. Die unpraktische Trennung von Haupttext, Anmerkungen (pp. 233–55) und Quellenangaben (pp. 257– 61) ist in dieser Serie üblich und kann nicht der Autorin angelastet werden. Insgesamt gibt dieses Buch einen wohlgelungenen Überblick über die Ausprägungen, die diese altererbte ägyptische Textart in der Ramessidenzeit angenommen hat. Es wird sowohl dem Fachfremden von Nutzen sein, für den es eine verläßliche Sammlung von Übersetzungen bereitstellt und damit ein tieferes Verständnis der 19. und 20. Dynastie ermöglicht, als auch für den Ägyptologen, der sich rasch über die (Auto)Biographien dieser Zeit und ihre Besonderheiten informieren möchte. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp044 KARL JANSEN-WINKELN FREIE UNIVERSITÄT BERLIN

WILLIAM M. SCHNIEDEWIND and JOEL H. HUNT, A Primer on Ugaritic: Language, Culture and Literature. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 2007. Pp. xv + 226. Price £22.99 paperback. ISBN: 978-0-521-70493-9. In 1992, the late J.-L. Cunchillos wrote a Manual de estudios ugaríticos (Madrid), a small handbook on Ugaritic. In just over a hundred pages, chapter IV of that work deals with the script and language of Ugaritic, overlapping the book under review here, which makes no mention of it. And while the Primer refers to J. Tropper’s 266

REVIEWS

monumental Ugaritische Grammatik (Münster 2000) it is unaware of his Ugaritisch. Kurzgefasste Grammatik mit Übungstexte und Glossar (Münster 2002), which is a concise reference grammar with exercises and a glossary. The authors consider D. Sivan’s Grammar of the Ugaritic Language (Leiden 1997) to be ‘the standard reference grammar in English’ (p. 210), even though it has been criticized, not least for its poor bibliography.1 The Primer starts with an overview of Ugarit: its location and discovery, its history, daily life, religion and texts, and there are three pages on ‘Ugarit and Biblical Studies’. The approach in the rest of the book is inductive. Chapter 2, ‘School Texts’, is an introduction to the language and its alphabet. The following chapters deal in turn with the letters and the administrative, legal and literary texts. Here, worked examples in alphabetic cuneiform and transcription are followed by texts also in cuneiform and transcription, set as exercises. The core of the book is a ‘Grammatical Precis’ covering orthography, phonology, pronouns, nouns and adjectives, numbers, the verb and particles. Then come a glossary, bibliography and finally an index of topics and Ugaritic words. While there are some explanatory notes for the examples, the exercises are given as blocks of unsegmented text and look a little daunting. There are still many uncertainties in Ugaritic, but students will find the lack of decision unsettling, for example, the hesitant comments on the root Ìt} (pp. 56–7). Also, more explanations could have been given, for instance, the notes to the last lines of the letter KTU 2.13 (p. 82) are incomplete and a student struggling with the form lqt should have been told that probably it is a scribal mistake for lqÌt, as generally recognized2. In addition, some remarks are completely obsolete, such as the comparison between Ug. ngb and the biblical ‘Negeb’ (p. 131)3 which has long been discredited. The following mistakes have been noted, mostly typographical: p. xiii: ‘cunéiforms’ for ‘cunéiformes’; p. xiii (and p. 211): ‘Handbook for Ugaritic Studies’ for ‘Handbook of Ugaritic Studies’; p. 14 n. 8: ‘divinizes’ for ‘divinisés’; p. 17: Ug. gmr means ‘tyro, trainee’ not ‘village’; p. 29: ‘Winfred Watson’ for ‘Wilfred Watson’; p. 39: ‘gutteral’ for ‘guttural’; p. 42 (and p. 74): ‘amqu†’ for ‘amqut’; p. 43 n. 4: ‘the Ugaritic’ for ‘Ugaritic’; p. 82, heading: space needed between ‘KTU ’ and ‘2.13’; p. 97: insert ‘RS’ before ‘17.238’; p. 116: ‘sibu, “witnesses”’ for ‘Akk. sibu, “witnesses”’ (see AHw, p. 1229a); p. 130: ‘consecretion’ for ‘consecration’; ‘Hititte’ for ‘Hittite’; p. 157: ‘that that’ for ‘that’; p. 161: ‘Stong’ for ‘Strong’; p. 162: ‘ya(}a)lu’ for ‘(}a)yalu’; p. 163 under pnt: ‘cp. Akk. libbu’ has been repeated from the previous line; ‘“wizards”’ for ‘“wizard”’; p. 164: ‘form these’ for ‘form of these’; p. 170: ‘nhsm’ for ‘nÌsm’; p. 181 n. 3: ‘Munster’ for ‘Münster’; p. 121: ‘w}a†nth’ for ‘w†nth’; p. 184a: ‘Akk. iltnutu’ for ‘Akk. iltenutu’; p. 186a: ‘tranquilty’ for ‘tranquility’; p. 190a: ‘hlm’ for ‘Ìlm’ (‘dream’, written correctly on p. 191b); p. 199b: ‘cp. Akk.’ is repeated; p. 203b: ‘collaspe’ for ‘collapse’; p. 205b: ‘raÌaszu’ for ‘raÌaÒu’ and ‘distance’ for ‘distant’ (under RÎQ); p. 207a: Akk. silÌatu does not exist; p. 212: ‘a’ for ‘à’; p. 213: ‘Légends’ for ‘Légendes’; p. 215: ‘Instituto’ for ‘Istituto’ and ‘nordo’ for ‘nord’; p. 217: ‘Amarnah’ for ‘Amarna’; p. 219: ‘[email protected] ’ for ‘[email protected]’; p. 219 (and p. 221): ‘Departmento’ for ‘Departamento’; p. 224a: ‘mlkny’ should be in italics; p. 225a: ‘ttpl ’ should not be 1

See J. Tropper’s critical review in AfO 44/45 (1997/98), 429–38. Conventionally written lq<Ì>t to indicate such an omission. 3 Incidentally, Ug. ngb means ‘victualling’ (cf. Akk. nagbu, ‘stored’) or if derived from Ug. gbb, it means either ‘gathered’ or ‘equipped’. 2

267

REVIEWS

in bold and the page references should be 123, 126, 129; p. 225b: ‘yrh’ for ‘yrÌ’. The map on p. 6 (Figure 1.2) is very blurred. P.C. Craigie, Ugarit and the Old Testament, should be on p. 220, not p. 211.4 The list of major journals publishing Ugaritic studies (p. 220) should have included at least Aula Orientalis, Semitica and Studi epigrafici e linguistici sul Vicino Oriente antico. It is incorrect to say that ‘modern dictionaries … follow the order of the Hebrew alphabet plus additions’ (p. 38).5 In fact, the three most recent dictionaries of Ugaritic6 adopt the sequence of the modern European alphabet in modified form. In the ‘Glossary’ (pp. 182–209), the use of capitals to indicate roots follows Sivan and is an excellent idea. No genders are given for nouns and some homographs are not listed separately, e.g. mhr, ‘warrior’ / ‘dowry’ and p, ‘mouth’ / ‘and’ / ‘here’. The following comments largely concern mistakes and are listed under the Ugaritic entries. Ug. }ibr: correct Akk. abiru to ab(a)ru; Ug. }GR also has cognates in Heb. and Aram.; Ug. }az: correct ‘KTU 3.1’ to ‘KTU 4.205:6’; Ug. }all is not related to Akk. allanu but is a loan from Hurrian alalu, ‘garment’7; Ug. }ilqÒm remains unexplained but cannot correspond to Akk. algamisu since that is equivalent to Ug. }algb†; Ug. }imr: the Akk. should be immeru since the form emmeru is Assyrian; Ug. }an, ‘I’ may correspond to OB ana (CDA, p. 16) but not to Akk. anaku; Ug. atn, ‘she-ass’ is the singular (not atnt)8; Ug. bnwt means ‘creature’ not ‘creations’; Ug. gds only occurs as a PN (KTU 4.7:9); Ug. Ìtt means ‘silver’ (correctly on p. 130) not ‘gold’ and is a loan from Hattian *Ìattus-; Ug. ™BÎ, ‘to slaughter’ should be ™BÎ; Ug. ™W/YÎ, ‘to plaster’ should be ™W/YÎ; Ug. k̆ is incorrectly written ‘kÌt’; Ug. m}izrt, ‘garment’ cannot correspond to Akk. isru; Ug. pgt means ‘girl’ not ‘daughter’ (also p. 18); Ug. mtrÌt should be listed after mtq, not after m†n; Ug. sÌt, ‘slaughterer’ should be s̆ and the Hebrew cognate is s̆ not sÌt; Ug. †}i†, ‘mud’, is cognate with Arab. †a}t not Heb. †t, which is equivalent to Ug. †t, another word for ‘mud’. Unfortunately, in spite of the evident enthusiasm of its authors for teaching Ugaritic, this Primer has too many mistakes and omissions to be used by beginners. A thoroughly revised edition is required. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp045 WILFRED G.E. WATSON NORTHUMBERLAND

4

Omitted bibliography: G. del Olmo Lete, Mitos y leyendas de Canaan según la tradición de Ugarit. Textos, versión y estudio (Madrid 1981) from the translations of Ugaritic texts (section 9.5); E.J. Pentiuc, West Semitic Vocabulary in the Akkadian Texts from Emar (Cambridge Mass. 2001) from the Emar section (9.8.4); R. O’Callaghan, Aram Naharaim (Rome 1948) from the Amorite section (9.8.5); N. Wyatt, Myths of Power (Münster 1996) from section 9.12 and surprisingly, J. Hoftijzer and K. Jongeling, Dictionary of the North-West Semitic Inscriptions, 2 vols (Leiden 1995). 5 On p. 149 there is a similar statement but it refers to the sequence in the Ugaritic alphabet. 6 G. del Olmo Lete and J. Sanmartín, Diccionario de la lengua ugarítica, 2 vols (Sabadell 1996, 2000), my revised translation of it as G. del Olmo Lete and J. Sanmartín, A Dictionary of the Ugaritic Language in the Alphabetic Tradition, 2 vols (Leiden 20031, 20042) and J. Tropper, Kleines Wörterbuch des Ugaritischen (Wiesbaden 2008). 7 See Watson, SEL 6, 1989, p. 52 n. 33; AuOr 8, 1990, pp. 139–40. 8 It should be added to the list of feminine nouns unmarked for gender given on p. 48 n. 8. 268

REVIEWS

JAMES W. WATTS, Ritual and Rhetoric in Leviticus: From Sacrifice to Scripture. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 2007. Pp. xviii + 257. Price: £50.00 hardback. ISBN: 978-0-521-87193-8. This work consists of nine linked essays, three of which have appeared previously as articles. It falls broadly speaking into two unequal parts, roughly indicated by the title and subtitle respectively. The first six chapters build up a case for reading Leviticus 1–16 (principally 1–5 and 8–10) as text, and thereby as rhetoric, understood in the classical sense as persuasive speech, rather than attempting to interpret as ritual the rituals they prescribe or describe. The last three address broader issues arising out of this discussion: the effects of priestly rule in second temple Judaism; ‘sacrifice’ as a rhetorical term, and its confusions, in modern discussion; and the origins of scriptural authority. The argument of the first part of the book may be summarized as follows. Leviticus is not performed ritual, but a text about ritual, and an understanding of the aims and effects of texts, that is, a theory of rhetoric, is more appropriate for its interpretation than theories about ritual. P does not usually give any interpretation of the rituals it prescribes, and interpretations of ours risk imposing alien ideas on the text. Watts applies this insight to Leviticus 1–7, and within that passage specifically to the priority of the ¨olâh and to Chapters 4–5; and to Chapters 8–10. His results are in one sense obvious; they are important in that they have heretofore been neglected. His first and most basic conclusion is that the text of chapters 1–7 (and by implication the rest of the book also) aims not only to direct priests and people to perform their offerings in particular ways, but, by naming the speaker with increasing frequency as YHWH, to assert its own authority over their ritual practice. The effect is to shift the locus of authority over ritual from the priesthood to the Torah. In the last chapter he argues that the nucleus of scriptural authority must be this authority of the Torah over ritual, since ancient texts are commonly appealed to in antiquity in this field rather than in any other. Within this text, the ¨olâh is given priority to emphasize the ideal of selfless devotion, disguising the interest of the priests in their perquisites from the cult. Other aspects of the text, however, tend to enforce the authority and perquisites of the priesthood. Watts convincingly argues that it cannot be by coincidence that the terms Ìa††a}t and }asam, identical with words for ‘sin’ and ‘guilt’, are chosen for the (probably innovated) atoning offerings, and that the currently fashionable translations fail to register this. He argues that the play on these emotionally freighted words is adopted in order to convey the urgency of submitting to this ritual demand, which aimed to increase priestly revenues. Moreover, the way in which the verb kipper is used reinforces priestly privilege: only the priest is the subject of this verb in ritual directions, and his ‘atoning’ leads to YHWH’s forgiveness. Watts does not note that these offerings are said to be for ‘unwitting’ sins. Could it be that this functioned to create a sense of guilt in victims of illness or misfortune, and thereby to contribute even further to the use of these provisions? Perhaps Watts’s most controversial argument concerns Leviticus 10. While chapters 8–9 clearly convey that the Aaronid priests are fully authorized through their initiation by Moses in accordance with divine commands, Watts argues, contrary to most views, that the following chapter backs this up, in that, being constantly placed in danger, their survival shows that they are competent and that mistakes like that of Nadab and Abihu are rare. The themes of the last three chapters follow naturally. Watts argues that the general effect of priestly rule was beneficial, and that the way in which the hierocracy 269

REVIEWS

has been judged by moderns has been distorted by prejudice. The argument of the all too brief last chapter has already been referred to. Most striking is his argument concerning the use of ‘sacrifice’ in modern discourse, which he argues confuses themes drawn from ritual texts concerning animal sacrifice and from narratives usually involving human sacrifice. The argument is too complex to summarize here, but it is worth saying that Watts does not take fully into account the evidence he cites himself that human and animal sacrifice could be interchangeable in ritual (most obviously at Carthage). Watts argues with vigour and persuasively, and most of his points are well taken. Sometimes the argument is overpressed; and the idea that the object of the rhetoric of Leviticus is to elevate its own authority is odd. For authority is normally appealed to, not for its own sake, but to support what the speaker is saying. It cannot be the ultimate object of the argument. Nevertheless, Watts would be justified in expecting the discussion of ritual texts in the Torah to take a very different turn as a result of his work. The work reads easily, despite not infrequent misspellings and other errors. The most painful of these for the Hebraist is the invention of minÌôt (twice) as the plural of minÌâh in place of the regular, though not directly attested, menaÌôt. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp046 WALTER J. HOUSTON UNIVERSITY OF MANCHESTER

CHRISTOPHE NIHAN, From Priestly Torah to Pentateuch (Forschungen zum Alten Testament, 2 Reihe, 25). Mohr Siebeck, Tübingen 2007. Pp. xviii + 697. Price: /99.00. ISBN: 978-3-16-149257-0. In an extensive survey of scholarship pursuing a longstanding but narrowly conceived literary-historical approach to biblical material, Nihan’s contribution falls well within this approach. The task he sets himself is ambitious: ‘to reassess the difficult question of the formation history of the book of Leviticus, in relationship to the composition of the Torah as a whole and to the history of the early Second Temple period, during which this book was written’ (p. 608). Unfortunately, Nihan’s reassessment is modest. He also claims that, despite appearances, Leviticus was not composed as a coherent narrative at a certain historical moment but incorporates a very considerable number of additions over time. Almost all of the additions he identifies are detectable by exercising sensitivity to language and syntax. This kind of sensitivity, however, differs from scholar to scholar, produces many variations of the same kind of parsing of text, and results in a bewildering array of editorial additions. One of Nihan’s conclusions is characteristic: ‘Later [after Lev 1–3 has used an alleged earlier document], Lev 1–3 was included into P’s narrative by means of Lev 8–9, building an inclusion with Ex 25–29, as well as by various additional redactional devices, such as the envelope created by the motif of Moses’ admission into the sanctuary in Ex 40:35 and Lev 9:23’ (p. 610). The final form of Leviticus is confidently dated to the Second Temple period and, for Nihan, constitutes a window into the life and institutions of the state of Yehud (Judaea after the return from exile). The increasingly common use of the term Yehud reflects the hopeful view that at long last we can trust the historical reliability of biblical material. But Montesquieu’s gripe over two hundred years ago about those who construct histories still applies: ‘They don’t make a system after reading history, they begin with the system and then search for proofs. And there are so many facts over a long history, so many different ways of thinking about it, its origins are ordinarily so obscure, that one always finds materials to validate all sorts of opinions’ (Thoughts, no. 190). 270

REVIEWS

If we want insight into rules in Leviticus, according to Nihan, we have to consider similar rules in law codes that supposedly predated Leviticus (Decalogue, Covenant Code and Deuteronomic Code). Consider the succession of rules in Lev. 19:11–12 (claimed to belong to a separate Holiness Code [H], itself added to the Priestly Code of Leviticus 1–15): theft, false dealing, lying, swearing falsely by Yahweh’s name and profaning God’s name. The Leviticus rule about theft ‘completes the prohibition in Ex 20:15; Deut 5:19 with two others concerning deception of a fellow Israelite … not found in the other codes. V. 12 takes up Ex 20:7; Deut 5:11, but restates it emphasizing the specific aspect of the prohibition on swearing a false oath … in Yahweh’s name … and adds a different rationale: the fear of desecrating Yahweh’s [text has God’s] name. This rationale betrays a characteristic feature of H which introduces for the first time in the Torah the notion that not only Yahweh but also his [text has God’s] name … are holy …’ (p. 473). Nihan pursues the form of literary analysis associated with Graf-Wellhausen, dividing the Pentateuch into different sources and assuming that these sources are real and reflect historical development. But it is possible to pursue less complicated means for understanding the text. As in mathematics where the simpler solution is the more convincing one, once persuaded it is impossible to go back to the convoluted approach. Thus in Lev. 19:11–12, why not assume that the lawgiver, familiar with other parts of the biblical corpus, set down the rules’ disparate subject matter in response to a disturbing event in the life of the nation’s founding father, JacobIsrael? In order to steal Esau’s birthright, Jacob deals falsely by deceiving blind Isaac when bringing him a meat dish. Jacob lies about his identity when, claiming to be Esau, he audaciously swears a false oath stating that Yahweh his God — as in Lev. 19:12 both names are used in Gen. 27:20 — granted him success in obtaining the meat. We have then in the narrative the sequence: theft, false dealing, lying, attributing a false claim to Yahweh and thereby desecrating God’s name. Instead of comprehending the cluster of rules as a product of a bewildering process of redaction involving different and even hypothetical documents and time periods, we can, instead, view the medley as formulated in reaction to Jacob cheating Esau. Not only do particulars in the episode carry over into details in the rules, a more natural and certainly more engaging process of composition emerges. It is said of the Qur}an that its interpretation has remained the monopoly of specialists whose exegesis derives less from the text than from successive commentaries on it. Mutatis mutandis it is true of a major strand of biblical scholarship, of which Nihan’s work is another example. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp047

CALUM CARMICHAEL CORNELL UNIVERSITY

JILL MIDDLEMAS, The Templeless Age: An Introduction to the History, Literature and Theology of the ‘Exile’. Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, Kentucky 2007. Pp. x+174. Price: $13.99 paperback. ISBN: 978-0-664-23130-9. The quotation marks around the word exile point to a central proposal of this volume: not all the biblical voices known from this period were actually in exile, away from the land. Whether in their several exiles or among the majority that stayed in the land, what all the writers had in common was the absence of the temple. The new nomenclature leads Middlemas to posit a precise number of years to this period, 587–515 BCE, and the extra time allotted at the end of the period enables her to include the words of Haggai, Zechariah 1–8, and the Holiness Code in this templeless age. 271

REVIEWS

The point about the naming of the age is well taken although it may be hard to get the biblical guild to rid itself of the word exile. In addition, the proposed term is not without its own difficulties. As Middlemas admits, the term itself is awkward, and I would add that it leaves the words of Ezekiel prior to 587 in a strange limbo: he still had a temple. In the first chapter the author also admits that there was possibly a sanctuary at Bethel during this period, and we know that the Jewish mercenaries at Elephantine had a temple already when Cambyses invaded Egypt. So they too were not without a temple in the templeless age. Finally, it is only a templeless age, as was the period before Solomon and the era after 70 CE. The book owes its origins to a series of lectures the author gave for the Theology Faculty at Oxford, based in part on her dissertation, The Troubles of Templeless Judah (Oxford 2005). Middlemas competently surveys the history of the period in her first chapter, addressing its uncertainties and responding intelligently to the latest exegetical and archaeological arguments. Subsequent chapters discuss Lamentation, in Lamentations, Isa. 63:7–64:11, and the Psalter; Memory, as recounted in the Deuteronomistic History; judgment and hope, in Jeremiah and Ezekiel 1–39; Prophetic Visions of Divine Reversal, in Second Isaiah and Ezekiel 40–8; and Commitment to Covenant, in Haggai, Zechariah, and the Holiness Code. Middlemas writes with grace and clarity and is obviously well acquainted with current exegetical debates. Footnotes are mercifully few and most references to secondary literature are contained in parentheses within the text. Nineteen pages of bibliography, broken down into appropriate categories, are included at the end before scripture and subject indexes. After surveying the contents of the laments, Middlemas notes their three levels of response to suffering: the expression of grief, an explanation for the suffering and consideration of future possibilities, including hope in the miracle of divine intervention and restoration. In her discussion of the Deuteronomistic History, she recounts the proposals of Cross, the Göttingen school and O’Brien, but comes to no clear decision among them and finds a discernible organization in the final form of the text. She uncovers more hope in this document than Noth did, and surveys the proposals about this hope by von Rad, Wolff and Gerbrandt. She speaks of Yahweh’s ability to intercede in human affairs, p. 63, a rare solecism as she apparently meant intervene. Middlemas finds both judgment and hope in Jeremiah and Ezekiel 1–39. Her discussion of hope in Jeremiah is much too brief in my judgment (e. g., on 23:5–6 [one sentence] and on the new covenant [twelve lines]). There is no mention of Jeremiah’s second letter to the exiles in 51:59–64, and we are told near the end of this unit on Jeremiah that the recipient of the salvific promises is narrowed in the book to a select portion of the community that inherits the words of the prophet and interprets them anew, although without grounding this conclusion in a particular passage. A number of points are missed in Ezekiel: the scroll Ezekiel eats is indeed full of lamentation, mourning and woe, but it is also as sweet as honey; she asserts that the punishment of the exiles had been accomplished by their deportation, but Yahweh also sorts out the bad sheep from the good in the new Exodus in chapter 20. Much of what she writes on Second Isaiah is quite helpful, but her review of recent literary critical discussions, including the idea that chapters 49–55 were probably written in Palestine and her apparent endorsement of the two editions of Second Isaiah proposed by Albertz, are later ignored in her exegetical survey as she works 272

REVIEWS

from the final form of the text. Ezekiel 40–8 is treated in two and a half pages that deal only with the temple and its regulations. She does not discuss at all the apportionment of the land, with its egalitarian overtones or the stream coming from the temple, that implies that everything, including the Dead Sea, can be transformed by Yahweh’s renewed presence. The discussion of Haggai and Zechariah 1–8 uncovers a broader message in the templeless age than can be gathered from strictly exilic voices although her claim that Haggai single-handedly inspired the rebuilding of the temple seems overstated. She decides not to include a discussion of the priestly materials from the Pentateuch in the templeless age since many scholars consider them later, but debates about the age of the Holiness Code are just as divided and uncertain. Did the Holiness Code really encourage the reconstruction of the temple in Jerusalem, as she asserts? The criticisms and questions raised in this review are stated within an overall high admiration for the author’s comprehensive recasting of the messages offered by various biblical writers in this templeless age. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp048 RALPH W. KLEIN LUTHERAN SCHOOL OF THEOLOGY AT CHICAGO

ARCHIE T. WRIGHT, The Origin of Evil Spirits (WUNT 2 Reihe 198). Mohr Siebeck, Tübingen 2005. Pp. xvi + 260. Price: /49.00. ISBN: 3-16-148656-0. Subtitled ‘The Reception of Genesis 6.1–4 in Early Jewish Literature’, this revised University of Durham thesis argues that the story of the descent of the ‘divine children’ in Gen. 6:1–4 was interpreted by the author(s) of the third-century BCE Enochic Book of the Watchers as an account of the origin of sin and suffering, through the legacy of evil spirits operating as autonomous or semi-autonomous malevolent beings. The Enochic author(s) exploited the ‘non-specificity’ of Gen. 6:1–4 to create an anthropology and demonology that came to dominate late Second Temple Judaism. The doctrine was developed in the Qumran scrolls with their prayers for protection against these spirits and their leader, who exploit an innate human ‘evil inclination’ to assail even the most virtuous of humans. Help against these is also invoked from a corresponding army of good spirits (with their own leader), generating a cosmic and ethical dualism. Philo of Alexandria, however, represents a rejection of this interpretation of the biblical text by explaining the giants of Genesis 6 as metaphors for human pleasures and vices and locating the origin of human sin within the individual. Wright suggests that this wide difference indicates the variety within Second Temple Judaism. Yet both Judaism and Christianity have continued to confuse the two explanations of evil — as angelic and as human — by insisting on human responsibility but retaining ‘Satan’ both as a tempter of individuals and as a cosmic force, each exonerating God from the charge of having created evil. This study therefore grapples with a highly important issue. The book contains a useful, if rather programmatic account of the history of research on the Book of the Watchers. But Milik’s view that Gen. 6:1–4 is dependent on the Enoch story and not vice-versa is merely noted (p. 30), not discussed. Consequently, the following chapter, ‘Strategies for Interpreting Genesis 6.1–4’ continues to treat the biblical passage as the source of the Enochic doctrine. The characterizations of the divine beings in the biblical story — bene elohim, nephilim, gibborim — are discussed in detail, but further peculiarities of the biblical story, such as the lack of connection to the Flood and the lack of any narrative context are ignored. But if the story is an invention of the biblical author, what is its point — and why so ‘non-specific’? If it is not invented, then the Enochic version could derive from the same source. 273

REVIEWS

The assumption that the Genesis account is the source for 1 Enoch represents a scholarly consensus — but one built by scholars unfamiliar with or uninterested in biblical criticism, for whom, indeed, the biblical text was already fixed by the third century. But not only does the short, enigmatic episode of Gen. 6:1–4 imply a fuller story, but the P version of the Flood and the Noachic covenant imply a preceding corruption of the earth and the problem of bloodshed, from which the earth was cleansed through water. Yet P has no story of angelic descent, no explanation for the Flood. The Yahwist, however, to which the language of Gen. 6:1–4 belongs, does not connect it with the Flood nor describe the angels as wicked. For this author the evil angel has become a creature made by Yahweh (Gen. 3:1: }sr {sh yhwh }lhym = ¨Asa¨el). It is Cain, not the giants, who sheds blood on the earth and whose descendants invent arts and technology. Wright also dismisses the possible connection of the Enoch story to the Day of Atonement ritual (Leviticus 16). Yet where does the ritual come from, and what does it mean, except that human sin reverts to its origin, buried in the wilderness? The very issues that Wright finds separating Enoch from Philo — angelic versus human responsibility for human sin — also separate the Genesis sources, while the Priestly writer probably shared Enoch’s view about the sin and the Flood. So the beginning of the entire question of the origin of evil lies not in Gen. 6:1–4, but somewhere else. And consequently, Wright’s thesis is fundamentally shaky. For while a personification of evil in the form of a transcendent being (Belial/Mastema/Satan/ Azazel/Melchiresha) no doubt underwent vigorous development in the late Second Temple period, the figure itself also drew upon Leviathan (Isaiah, Psalms, Job), the Satan (Job, Zechariah) and Helal ben Shachar (= Lucifer; Isaiah). The issue of evil spirits cannot be explained without analysing a wider set of issues. Autonomous evil spirits were well-entrenched as minor deities everywhere outside Judah before the third century. Why not in Judaism? And what about the development of angelology? Perhaps the Bible does not tell us everything about the religion of Judah? Despite problems with the overall concept, this is a useful and in places wellargued book. The analysis of the Book of the Watchers traditions is thorough and I tend to agree with Wright’s explanation for its purpose, although more attention to astronomical/astrological issues in both 1 Enoch and the Qumran scrolls might have been helpful. Likewise the discussion of the Qumran material itself offers an interesting perspective. I would in fact recommend this book, not because of the answers it gives, but the questions it raises. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp049 PHILIP R. DAVIES UNIVERSITY OF SHEFFIELD

KAY PRAG, Excavations by K. M. Kenyon in Jerusalem 1961–1967: Volume V. Discoveries in Hellenistic to Ottoman Jerusalem (Levant Supplementary Series 7). Council for British Research in the Levant and Oxbow Books, Oxford 2008. Pp. xvii + 500 + 32 pl. Price: £75.00 hardback. ISBN: 978-1-84217-304-6. Recently there has been an intensification of archaeological activity by many important scholars seeking to understand the transformations of Byzantine and Islamic Jerusalem. While this reflects a general interest in Islamic archaeology, research into the ‘late periods’ of Jerusalem is not new. Forty years ago, Dame Kathleen Kenyon’s excavations from 1961–7 were seminal and broke new ground in our understanding of Early Islamic and Ottoman Jerusalem. Sadly, Kenyon did not survive the final publication of her material. However, Kay Prag’s careful and meticulous publication of the Kenyon excavations adds significantly to our understanding of this city in the Late Byzantine, Early Islamic and Ottoman periods. 274

REVIEWS

One of the greatest challenges in a volume of this nature is to separate Prag’s analysis from Kenyon’s excavations, avoiding any ambiguity while enriching the contributions of both archaeologists. Fortunately this is admirably done. While always presenting Kenyon’s rationales and interpretations, Prag plays the sceptic, reaching her own conclusions as tempered by forty years of newer work in Jerusalem. For the most part, both Prag and Kenyon’s conclusions agree. Despite the publication of many unconnected areas south of the city, Prag organizes the volume in a logical chronological and geographical narrative, reporting on those areas that best inform on the Byzantine extent (Sites V, E, D, and B), the Umayyad (and ¨Abbasid) urban core (Sites G and J), and the Ottoman fortifications (Sites S.I, III– VI). The ability to make sense of late period contexts in the deposition of a continuously occupied city is daunting and often frustrating, particularly when many of the excavation areas are small and have disturbed contexts. While it is evident that Prag patiently and systematically worked through every phase of every area, she fully discusses only the most well-stratified, discrete and informative contexts, strengthening her conclusions and sparing the reader from long unfiltered details. Kenyon excavated small deep trenches at Sites V, E, D, and B in order to obtain the earliest date of occupation for the southeastern area of Jerusalem, an example of her pioneering hypothesis-driven and stratigraphic excavation style. For all areas, Prag independently reaches similar conclusions to Kenyon: there was no occupation from the Iron Age II period. Rather, these areas show Roman (first century CE) building activity and primarily Byzantine to Early Islamic occupation. Further, Kenyon and Prag agree that the earliest part of the southern city wall in Site B, excavated by F. Bliss and A. Dickie from 1894–7, should not be attributed to the Hasmonean period (140–37 BCE), contrary to what was originally (and still is1) assumed. Prag argues convincingly from several key stratified assemblages that the wall did not predate the first century CE and was associated with the wall construction of Herod Agrippa (37–41 CE), while the second line was part of the fifth century Eudocian city walls that went out of use in the Early Islamic period. A topographic map of Bliss and Dickie’s excavations would have greatly enhanced Prag’s evaluation of their interpretations. The Byzantine/Early Islamic transition in Jerusalem shows no signs of destruction or even disruption, but rather continuity (at least in production) and transformation. Based largely on J. Magness’s typologies, Prag identifies a discrete group of fine and courseware ceramics dating to the late seventh/early eighth century transition and the eighth–tenth centuries in Site D.II. In J. Hayes’s fine report at the end of the volume, he found no Late Roman finewares later than 570 CE. This may further indicate shifts to Mediterranean trade networks and/or changes in styles or trends of material culture during this period. The volume’s main contribution is for the Early Islamic and Ottoman city of Jerusalem. Sites G and J revealed the now well-known, newly founded Umayyad palatial building, Building II, as part of a complex of six buildings built around the southwest corner of the Temple Mount. Prag emphasizes that before these excavations, nothing was known about these structures or Umayyad archaeology in general. Kenyon identified the structure as early Umayyad and thought that the building was initially Roman-Byzantine. Prag revises the interpretation into contemporary dialogue, not only correcting the heights, phases, and condition of all of the contexts, 1 As in the current Israel Antiquities Authority excavations. Yehiel Zelinger, ‘The Southern Fortifications of Jerusalem during the Hasmonean and Byzantine Periods’, paper presented at ASOR 2008.

275

REVIEWS

but drawing attention to the problem of the construction date in the papyrus sources, reassessing B. Mazar and M. Ben-Dov’s 1968–70 excavations of the structure and drawing comparisons with the many Umayyad buildings excavated in the last thirty years. Through this synthesis, Prag argues two main points: 1) that the building was initially part of a longer-planned construction for the area from 680–715 CE, and 2) that it continued beyond the 749 earthquake. Prag makes a strong case against Ben-Dov, asserting that the building was not abandoned before the end of the Umayyad period. However, the ¨Abbasid continuity is still tenuous. As her main argument, she cites significant assemblages of glazed wares appearing in the ground floor drains connecting to the upper storey as suggesting that the building was intact and used at least until the ninth century, if not later. Following a phase of partial robbing of the Umayyad floor, new floors appeared at higher levels and there was only minor rebuilding of wall fragments in Phase 4b. The changes seem minor and they were not differentiated from the Umayyad phase in excavation; Prag questions how closely dated they are to the original building and whether they were just patches to fix broken areas. This would make more sense for a short-lived building. If the building had a longer use, one would expect more substantial repartitioning, which did not occur. Ben-Dov described them as minor partitions of the Umayyad building with some ¨Abbasid period changes. It is problematic that all of these fragments belonged to a single phase of reuse because the masonry is varied and none of the fragments are physically connected with each other. Yet, the material culture includes mixed assemblages mainly from the eighth to tenth centuries. Further, all of these wall and threshold fragments are in alignment with each other, and probably slightly different in orientation from the original plan. Unfortunately, the published plan shows all the secondary fragments separately (Prag, fig. 127). A plan showing them in relation to the earlier Umayyad architecture would have been very useful in ascertaining where (and why) certain changes were made and if they form a coherent rebuilding phase, perhaps following the 749 earthquake, which seems not to have had any major impact on the building. Accepting Prag’s re-dating of the structure re-establishes the ¨Abbasid contribution to Jerusalem which previous scholars have written out, though this is beginning to be redressed by other scholars.2 As for the function, Prag remains cautious and less assertive, though perhaps unnecessarily. The building’s function as a dar al-imara or governor’s residence has strong evidence.3 First, the building’s entrances on three sides are not unusual and seen at the dar al-imara at ¨Anjar on the N, E, and W sides. Such a building was not necessarily a closed palatial residence. Second, the location of the dar al-imara on the qibla side of the main al-AqÒa mosque and connected to it has numerous parallels elsewhere such as at ¨Anjar, Kufa and Damascus and has been convincingly

2 See J. Magness, ‘Early Islamic Urbanism and Building Activity in Jerusalem and at Hammath Gader’, in J. Haldon (ed.), Money, exchange and the economy in the first century of Islam (Aldershot 2009) who argues for an ¨Abbasid (and Fa†imid) occupation of Building II. Excavations in the Giv’ati parking lot by the Israeli Antiquities Authority recently revealed an Umayyad-¨Abbasid building just south of Site J that might provide clearer evidence for this continuity, D. Ben Ami and Y. Tchekhanovetz, ‘Jerusalem, Giv’ati Parking Lot’, Hadashot Arkheologiyot 120 (2008). 3 Attributed first by M. Rosen-Ayalon. For discussion, see The Early Islamic Monuments of al-Haram al-Sharif (Qedem 28, Jerusalem 1989).

276

REVIEWS

argued as part of a planned urban template.4 Lastly, Walid I, following his father ¨Abd al-Malik’s building program in Jerusalem, was also responsible for continuing work on the dar al-imara (al-Kha∂ra}) in Damascus.5 A long, substantial chapter on the Ottoman city from Site S (I, III–VI) provides completely new evidence on the archaeology of Jerusalem from the sixteenth–nineteenth centuries. Contrary to Kenyon’s goal of finding the second-century city walls of Aelia Capitolina, Prag firmly refutes the existence of either a Roman city wall or a wall of the Xth Legion camp, as hypothesized by E. Mazar. However, the excavations allowed Kenyon and Prag to understand the Ottoman city wall. Prag’s chief contribution is perhaps not the wall itself, but the ceramic analysis of previously unpublished Ottoman pottery that Kenyon saved. This assemblage, along with the Damascus Gate and Armenian Garden material, starts to fill in our knowledge of Ottoman Palestine. Prag divides the material into two main phases: late sixteenth century, and late seventeenth to nineteenth centuries. Pipes, which have long been the only Ottoman artifact published, are clearly important in this differentiation and are analysed in depth by St. John Simpson at the end of the volume. Further, Prag presents a good summary of the enigmatic ‘grenade’ or sphero-conical vessel. She concludes that they were essentially tinderboxes, ‘powderhorn’ type containers that held a wick material used by Ottoman armies and in domestic contexts. This debated function is convincing but raises further unresolved questions. Were these grenades distinctly Ottoman or borrowed from some earlier tradition? Many grenades have been dated to the tenth century and later. Why and how would a military artifact be used domestically? Along with the report for Sites G and J, the Islamic ceramic reports are important contributions to the field in terms of new material, clarity and outlining of typologies (including a drain pipe typology), and the incorporation of a staggering amount of parallels including many smaller, lesser-known excavations. A map of all the parallel sites mentioned would have been useful to situate these. The ceramic descriptions are long and perhaps better served in a chart form, but nevertheless provide a good roadmap into the local and wider networks of Jerusalem ceramics in the Early and Late Islamic periods. The chief problem for the discussion on the Ottoman defence wall echoes aforementioned criticisms: the lack of plans referencing Prag’s arguments, which hinders the reader from understanding these complicated areas. In particular, it is difficult to understand the system of ditches and forewalls associated with the wall as they are not on any whole plan and at times introduced prematurely before the evidence is presented in the final interpretations. One plan of Jerusalem is necessary with all of the projected walls, ditches and forewalls of the various phases and the conjectured walls of B. Mazar and G. Wightman to understand the argument for Site S. A plan of the other Umayyad buildings (V and VI) excavated by B. Mazar would also be important to the understanding of how it interrelated with S.III, as part of the walls of this trench were attributed to this building. In S.IV, the fourth/fifth century ‘Peristyle’ house complex excavated by Mazar ties into Phase 8 but no plan is given. Nevertheless, Prag adroitly assesses the historical descriptions of Ottoman Jerusalem and is able to show that the wall, built 1537–40, likely had a forewall and a series of ditches which over time were filled and the area used as an open space for markets or industry. 4 D. Whitcomb, ‘Islam and the Socio-Cultural Transition of Palestine – Early Islamic Period (638–1099 C.E.)’ in T.E. Levy (ed.), The Archaeology of Society in the Holy Land (London 1995), 488–501. 5 See B. Flood, The Great Mosque of Damascus: Studies on the Makings of an Umayyad Visual Culture (Boston 2001), 147–58, 187–8.

277

REVIEWS

Prag’s control over the republication project is visible throughout the volume. The layout of each phase, its associated contexts, architecture, ceramics and registered finds is clear and the numerous photographs from the excavations are easy to follow and well integrated. This is no small feat for an excavation report of nearly 380 pages consisting of reconstructions of often disturbed material excavated over forty years ago. A good introduction and periodic summaries, though at times repetitive, are beneficial and help guide the reader through Kenyon’s excavations and understand Kenyon’s own assessments. Throughout the volume, Prag always considers how her discussions and detailed arguments can be made even clearer. The volume is a fitting testament to the archaeological legacy of Kenyon and is a major contribution to our understanding of Byzantine, Early Islamic and Ottoman Jerusalem. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp050 A. ASA EGER RESEARCH CENTER FOR ANATOLIAN CIVILIZATIONS KOÇ UNIVERSITY

PETER E. PORMANN (ed.), Rufus of Ephesus: On Melancholy (Sapere 12). Mohr Siebeck, Tübingen 2008. Pp. xv + 332 + 7 illustrations. Price: / 29.00 paperback. ISBN: 978-3-16-149759-9. Peter Pormann, the editor of this gem and its main contributor, is a relatively young scholar. He trained in classics and Islamic studies and is one of the few pupils of the great Manfred Ullmann. Among the upcoming generation of academics Pormann is, by inclination and ability, in my opinion the most likely candidate to bear Ullmann’s torch, less so perhaps as a lexicographer but certainly as a medical historian. It is therefore no surprise to hear that Pormann, by his own account (p. x), was inspired to compile the present volume by various pieces of work which Ullmann had done on the subject over a period of two decades, notably the latter’s seminal article ‘Die arabische Überlieferung der Schriften des Rufus von Ephesos’ (published in 1994). In the mid 1990s Pormann began to collect the Greek, Arabic and Latin fragments relating to Rufus’s book On Melancholy, years later (in 2006) he organised a topical workshop at the Warburg Institute, engaging a number of experts, and proceeded to put together the excellent collection which is introduced here. Melancholy, a term derived from the Greek words for ‘black bile’ (which was thought to cause this condition), has occupied physicians and philosophers from Antiquity through the Middle Ages and the Renaissance down to the present times. As a medical concept, ‘melancholy’ is difficult to grasp, since it was used to describe a wide range of mental (and subsequently physical) disorders, covering the whole spectrum between what is now called depression and various manifestations of downright madness; yet the ancients also believed that melancholy lay at the roots of genius, great achievement and exceptional creativity. In line with humoral pathology, Galen (d. 216–17 CE) divided the condition into three types: ‘hypochondriac’ (i.e. originating in the epigastric region), ‘encephalic’ (i.e. affecting primarily the brain), and ‘general’ (i.e. pervading the whole body). Melancholy, though describing a mental disorder, was generally considered to have physiological causes, which in turn were classified into two kinds: ‘innate’ and ‘acquired’. The man who wrote the single most influential work ever on the subject was a somewhat elusive Greek physician by the name of Rufus of Ephesus (fl. c. 100 CE). Virtually nothing is known about his life, and most of his numerous medical writings (102 according to one count) have only survived in the form of Greek, Latin, Syriac or Arabic extracts in varying degrees of textual authenticity. Such is also the case of his masterpiece 278

REVIEWS

On Melancholy, which enjoyed equally great popularity in the Greco-Arab East as in the Latin West; it dealt mainly with the ‘hypochondriac’ type, presumably because Rufus believed that the other two types could be inferred from it. This treatise, however, is strangely lost both in the Greek original and in its medieval Arabic translation. A possible explanation for this loss, according to some scholars, may be seen in the fact that Rufus’s treatise was exploited and adopted so well by the dominating figure of Galen that it eventually ceased to be copied — Rufus, like many a medical man from Antiquity, disappeared in Galen’s shadow precisely because the latter considered him so valuable a source for the promotion of his own medico-philosophical ideas. Rufus’s treatise, though, must have continued to be copied at least until the early Middle Ages, or else the Arabs could not have translated it. Equally unclear is why the Arabic translation, too, which by the way may or may not have gone through a Syriac intermediate, does not seem to have survived even in a single copy. As matters stand, the only way to partly ‘reconstruct’ this important text is to collect all those Greek, Arabic and Latin fragments which relate to it, and this is exactly Pormann’s starting point. The book is divided in two main parts. The first part, which makes up more than a third of the whole volume (pp. 3–110), is the work of Pormann and consists of a neatly presented collection of Greek, Arabic and Latin fragments relating to Rufus’s On Melancholy. The 78 fragments, which in the case of Arabic sometimes had to be constituted on the basis of manuscripts rather than printed editions, are numbered consecutively and arranged topically, with a clear and unpretentious English translation en regard, preceded by a thorough introduction giving a brief medico-historical background as well as a few interesting source-critical observations, and followed by a very detailed commentary providing contexts, parallel passages, cross-references and various philological remarks. The majority of fragments is Arabic (eleven sources), then Greek (four sources), and finally Latin (one source); the Arabic fragments roughly account for 70% of the material, Greek for about 25%, and Latin for about 5%. Three minor suggestions: p. 33, frag. 10, l. 2 read ‘distension’ (instead of ‘spasm’); p. 57, frag. 47, l. 4 read ‘and by avoiding hot water’ (instead of ‘while warm water calms it’); p. 63, frag. 63, l. 4f. read ‘that the natural heat be revived through this wine’ (instead of ‘that this stimulating wine revives the natural heat’). The second part consists of seven rather heterogeneous but thoroughly enjoyable ‘Essays’, written by a number of colleagues from different walks of life whom Pormann managed to engage in this project. Simon Swain ‘Social Stress and Political Pressure: On Melancholy in Context’ (pp. 113–38) looks at Rufus’s work with a wider historical lens, setting it against the intellectual trends prevailing in the GrecoRoman world during the first and second centuries CE, and conducts an investigation into the term ‘melancholy’ as used by contemporary non-medical writers, while three of Rufus’s famous ‘case histories’ serve to illustrate certain socio-political and cultural patterns of behaviour at the time. Vivian Nutton ‘Rufus of Ephesus in the Medical Context of his Time’ (pp. 139–58) provides sections on the medical milieu of Rufus’s home town Ephesus, the anatomical tradition of Alexandria (where he may have studied), Hippocratism, the four medico-philosophical sects (empiricists, methodists, dogmatics, ‘pneumatists’), and the medical marketplace. Philip van der Eijk’s ‘Rufus’ On Melancholy and its Philosophical Background’ (pp. 159–78) focuses on the medico-philosophical traditions underlying Rufus’s conceptualization of melancholy as a mind-body disease, showing his implicit debt to Aristotelian theories, typologies of melancholy, diagnosis and understanding of the condi279

REVIEWS

tion, and Galen’s implicit debt, in turn, to Rufus. Peter Pormann ‘Melancholy in the Medieval World: the Christian, Jewish, and Muslim Traditions’ (pp. 179–96) emphasizes the importance of Rufus’s work throughout the Middle Ages, providing examples to illustrate the history of melancholy as an intellectual concept (largely owing to the latter) among Christians, Jews and Muslims alike. Peter-Klaus Schuster and Jörg Völlnagel ‘Dürer and Rufus: Melencolia I in the Medical Tradition’ (pp. 197–219) embark on an art-historical study of Albrecht Dürer’s famous etching known as Melencolia I (created in 1514), showing eloquently how Rufus’s notions of melancholy persisted through the centuries to influence humanist circles in Central Europe, and including a long section on the interpretative history of Dürer’s copperplate. Peter Toohey ‘Rufus of Ephesus and the Tradition of the Melancholy Thinker’ (pp. 221–43) investigates on the one hand the Aristotelian tradition, which links melancholy with genius and the bipolarity of manic-depressive illness, and on the other hand the ‘Rufus tradition’, which links melancholy with overmuch thinking, scholarship and depression, illustrating these traditions by a variety of (occasionally far-fetched) examples from Renaissance art and philosophy to modern European literature. Thomas Rütten ‘Rufus’ Legacy in the Psychopathological Literature of the (Early) Modern Period’ (pp. 245–62) examines in great detail the ‘hypochondriac’ type of melancholy and the (not always acknowledged) influence of Rufus’s ideas in the history of psychiatry, including notably a section on Robert Burton’s The Anatomy of Melancholy (published in 1621). The volume concludes with three ‘Appendices’ (pp. 265–96), largely philological in nature (two short ones by Pormann, a longer one by van der Eijk and Pormann); an extensive ‘Bibliography’ (pp. 297–310) of quoted literature; a ‘General Index’ (pp. 313–24) of names and terms, partly analytical; and lastly a very useful ‘Source Index’ (pp. 325–31) of cited classical texts. For those involved in the history of Greek or Arabic medicine and philosophy this book will no doubt become an indispensable tool, especially insofar as Pormann’s collection of fragments is concerned; yet the book also offers a variety of stimulating and original thoughts to those who approach the subject matter from a different angle. Considering the tricky and extremely well-mastered challenges of typesetting, the book is very reasonably priced (there is also a cloth edition at /59.00). Pormann, who pulled all this off, can only be congratulated. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp051

OLIVER KAHL UNIVERSITY OF MANCHESTER

P.S.F. VAN KEULEN and W.TH. VAN PEURSEN (eds), Corpus Linguistics and Textual History: A Computer-Assisted Interdisciplinary Approach to the Peshitta (Studia Semitica Neerlandica Volume 48). Van Gorcum, Assen 2006. Pp. 367. Price: /98.50. ISBN: 90-232-4194-0. The volume under review represents the synergism of two important Dutch research projects, namely the Peshitta Institute Leiden (PIL) and the Werkgroep Informatica Vrije Universiteit (WIVU), with the input of other internationally acclaimed scholars. Anyone wishing to stay abreast of modern research into the Old Testament Peshitta or Syriac language must read this collection of essays, critique essays, and response essays to the critique essays. The volume largely comprises contributions to the Computer-Assisted Linguistic Analysis of the Peshitta (CALAP) seminar of 2003, a joint project of PIL and WIVU. The scholarly community owes a debt of gratitude to the Netherlands Organization for Scientific Research (NWO) for funding CALAP. The volume divides into two 280

REVIEWS

parts, Part One: Papers Presented at the CALAP Seminar, focusing on questions of method and theory, and Part Two: 1 Kgs 2:1–9, a section that highlights the application of the methods used by CALAP to an actual text. The editors have organized the material well and provided indices of passages cited and of modern authors referenced. Konrad D. Jenner and Wido van Peursen from PIL and Eep Talstra from WIVU open the volume with two joint essays on how the separate projects can work together productively. WIVU brings its expertise on computer analysis of the Hebrew Bible, while PIL its specialization on the text of the Peshitta. In their first essay, they grapple with the question of defining a language system and the issue of determining the textual basis for describing that language system. In their second essay, they address the problem of transferring research questions into linguistic data types and analytical tools. Within CALAP, they adapted the programs used to analyse Biblical Hebrew developed by WIVU to the Syriac Old Testament. In their essay on the basic parameters of computer-assisted linguistic analysis on word level, Hendrik Jan Bosman and Constantijn J. Sikkel discuss the role of human intervention in correcting the computer analysis. Pier G. Borbone and A. Dean Forbes interact with their presentation in separate critique essays, to both of which Bosman and Sikkel offer a response. Janet W. Dyk offers an interesting article on data preparation, in which she discusses how the data is treated both on the word level and the phrase level and what methods can be applied in answering research questions such as phrase structure and verbal valency. Geoffrey Khan critiques her essay. Researchers in Syriac language and comparative Semitics will appreciate the survey article of Wido van Peursen on the tripartite nominal clause in Syriac, in which he lays out the opposing views of the syntactic function of the enclitic personal pronoun in Syriac offered by G. Khan (a copula), G. Goldenberg (a pronoun), and T. Muraoka (an emphatic particle). He finds that the definitions of ‘subject’ and ‘predicate’ are important in engaging the differing views. In the opinion of van Peursen, Muraoka uses the terms grammatically, while Goldenberg uses them psychologically or pragmatically. Van Peursen believes that the terms ‘topic’ and ‘comment’ are better descriptives of what Goldenberg intends. Van Peursen also engages the research of Jan Joosten. Goldenberg, Joosten, and Muraoka offer separate comments on the essay of van Peursen, with van Peursen responding in a single contribution. This set of essays alone, containing a spirited and engaging interchange of conflicting ideas, is worth the price of the book and should be incorporated into comparative Semitic courses and courses on Syriac grammar. Percy S.F. van Keulen discusses the relevance of the study of the targum to research into the Peshitta Old Testament. He focuses on Targum Jonathan to the Prophets in its relation to the Peshitta of Kings. Students of textual criticism and translation strategy will enjoy this essay, along with the sober and penetrating response essays of Bas ter Haar Romeny and Donald M. Walter. The general researcher should be aware that the issue of targum and Peshitta in the Prophets is far different than the same question with regard to the Law or the Writings due to multiplicity of targums to the Law and significant time difference between the composition of the targums and the Peshitta with regard to the Writings. Targum Proverbs, by way of reminder, may owe its origin to the Peshitta of Proverbs. Part Two focuses on the application of the methods discussed in Part One to a specific text, namely 1 Kgs 2:1–9. Van Keulen discusses textual features of the passage, providing a detailed, running list of formal differences between the Peshitta and the Hebrew. It would have been helpful it he had summarized the data and 281

REVIEWS

drawn conclusions from it. Bosman and Sikkel apply word level analysis to the text, illustrating some of the points made in their earlier essay in Part One. In her essay on structured syntactic hierarchy, Dyk discusses signals for divisions within the text, the use of verb tenses to indicate the main thrust as over against background, the use of verb tenses in independent versus dependent clauses, and compares and contrasts Hebrew and Syriac as languages. In a separate essay, she treats lexical correspondence and translation equivalents in the Syriac and Hebrew with a view to building an electronic concordance that can access and sort such information. Van Peursen analyses the nominal clauses in the text, relating to the earlier discussion where relevant. Van Keulen treats the exegetical and text-historical issues arising in the Peshitta by comparison to the Hebrew MT. He also discusses the knotty problem of the so-called BTR (Basic Textus Receptus) and the divergent textual tradition represented by MS 9a1. In a final essay, van Peursen draws together the results of the interdisciplinary study of 1 Kgs 2:1–9. Among other matters, van Peursen discusses cases where one scholar coming from one discipline looks for a linguistic solution for the divergence of the Syriac from the Hebrew, while another scholar coming from a different discipline proposes translation technique or exegesis as the explanation for that divergence. In some cases, the two approaches are in fact complementary. In sum, every research library should acquire a copy of this important volume for its collection. Teachers of Syriac, Comparative Semitics, and Textual Criticism should incorporate selected sections into their courses. The present reviewer applauds these initial results of cooperation and looks forward to further studies being produced by the syngergism of PIL and WIVU under the umbrella of CALAP. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp052 JEROME A. LUND TEMPLE BAPTIST COLLEGE

CHRISTA MÜLLER-KESSLER, Die Zauberschalentexte in der Hilprecht-Sammlung, Jena und weitere Nippur-Texte anderer Sammlungen. Harrassowitz Verlag, Wiesbaden 2005. Pp. xii + 257. Price: /68.00. ISBN: 978-3-447-05059-3.1 The book reviewed here represents an important contribution to the study of the Aramaic magic corpus, a field that has developed considerably over the last ten years. A wave of new discoveries and publications has enriched our knowledge of these distinctive documents, which bear witness to the languages and religious practices of Jews, Mandaeans, Christians and Pagans in late antiquity in Babylonia. The present volume is the first of three long-awaited books by Dr Müller-Kessler, who has already established herself as one of the most active and prolific researchers in this field. Before considering the merits of this work, I wish to emphasize a fact that is known to all researchers involved in the publication and study of these ancient documents: editing incantation bowls is no easy task. A brief glimpse at the photographs published in this volume suffices to show that the process of deciphering these texts is an involved one. Even the texts written in the Jewish square script, which generally tends to be less cursive and ligatured than its Mandaic and Estrangelo Syriac counterparts, present difficulties in differentiating between different letters or 1 The reviewer would like to thank several people for permission to cite from their unpublished transcriptions of magic bowls: Prof. Shaul Shaked for the Martin Schøyen Collection (MS), Dr James Nathan Ford for bowls in a private collection (JNF), and Dr Dan Levene for the Dehays collection (SD) and the Vorderasiatisches Museum (VA).

282

REVIEWS

combinations of letters. Evidence for this may be found in the numerous places in this book wherein the author has justifiably corrected readings previously suggested by some of the leading epigraphers. The rough writing surface, concentric shape of the text, and poor state of preservation add to the challenges that the decipherer encounters. Dr Müller-Kessler (henceforth MK) has not baulked at this task, and has endeavoured to publish a wide selection of texts, even when the bowl on which the text was written is incomplete or severely damaged. In this she has surpassed all her predecessors, who have published only wholly or almost-wholly preserved bowls. Inevitably, further discoveries will allow for more complete publication of these texts. This review will focus primarily on a central methodological issue on which the reviewer finds himself in disagreement with the editor of these texts. While the present reviewer holds that every epigraphic source comprises an individual textual witness that must be presented as much as possible without change and judged upon its own merits, MK’s editions are characterized by numerous ‘corrections’ she introduces into the text; in fact, there is barely a text presented here without MK’s proposed ‘improvements’. Some of these emendations are linguistic in nature, others textual. To the present reviewer, many seem superfluous, as I hope to demonstrate by the following examples. I have transcribed the examples in the Jewish script into Hebrew characters. The curly brackets {‫ }א‬are employed by MK to denote her proposed editorial deletions, while angled brackets <‫ >א‬denote her proposed additions. Text 1 line 2. There is certainly no need to emend the canonical text of Deut. 6:7: ‫ ובלכתך בדרך‬to read <‫ובלכתך בדרכ>ך‬. Text 3 line 1. MK reads: ‫ביתה }אי{ ואיסקופתיה דאדק בר מחלפתא ו}ל{>ד<ממי אינתה‬ ‘das Haus und die Türschwelle des Adaq bar MaÌlapta und seiner Frau Mamay’. However, the expression ‫ ולממי‬is hardly an error, since it recurs in a similar context in lines 4–5 of this bowl (correctly read and left unemended by MK): ‫לביתה‬ ‫‘ ולאיסקופתה דאדק בר מחלפתא ולממי אינתה‬dem Haus und der Türschwelle des Adaq bar MaÌlapta und seiner Frau Mamay’. As Hopkins has demonstrated in this journal, the use of the lamed preposition as genitival constructs is rare in Eastern Aramaic but sufficiently attested to be regarded as a living phenomenon. Hopkins suggested that it was a vernacular form that only occasionally found expression in the literary dialects.2 This important attestation in the magic corpus lends further support to Hopkins’ contention. An additional example is found in MS 2053/126:6 (unpublished): ‫‘ ולכל אינשי בתיהון דמאכוסרו בר מדוך ולנרסוי בת אדרוי אינתתיה‬and the people of the household of Makhusro son of Madukh and of Narsoi daughter of Adaroi, his wife’. Text 3a line 1. MK reads ‫חתים ומחתם בית}ת{ה ואיסקופת}ת{ה >ד<דודי בת אחת‬ ‘Versiegelt and fest versiegelt ist das Haus und die Türschwelle der Duday bat AÌat’. The repeated taws are surprising, but in both cases the photograph reveals that the scribe immediately refilled his pen before writing the second taw. It may be suggested that the second taw is thus effectively a correction of the poorly written first taw, which is not erased in accordance with the common scribal practice at the 2 S. Hopkins, ‘On the Construction Smeh l-Gaßra “The Name of the Man” in Aramaic’, JSS 42 (1997), 23–32.

283

REVIEWS

time.3 However, since the spelling ‫ ואיסקופתתה‬recurs in line 4, it is possible that it reflects an unattested dialectal biform or a hypercorrection. We may note that twice in this text, the scribe writes ‫‘ אינתה‬his wife’ for expected ‫אינתתה‬, presumably reflecting a pronunciation }inteh, perhaps resulting from haplology. In addition, MK emends the name ‫ דודי‬here to ‫>ד<דודי‬, but in line 4 she leaves the form unemended in an equivalent context: ‫לביתה ולאיסקופת}ת{ה דודי‬. In both cases, the unemended text ‫ איסקופתתה דודי‬can be interpreted as an example of the genitive construction ‫ ביתיה מלכא‬similarly discussed by Hopkins.4 The construction is attested elsewhere in the Babylonian Aramaic magic texts: ‫על שמיה מארוי בר‬ ‫‘ באתאי‬In the name of Maroi bar Bathai’ (AMB 7:1–2), and thus need not be emended. Text 4a. line 7. ‫‘ ואנא מישתבענא לכון במ>י< שמדד }מדד{ בשעולו מים‬und ich beschwöre euch bei demjenigen, der das Wasser mit seiner hohlen Hand mißt’. MK emends the post-biblical Hebrew spelling ‫מש‬- ‘the one who’ to ‫מי ש‬-, even though the spelling found in the bowl is quite widely attested and has been noted in the scholarly literature.5 Text 5 lines 1–3. MK reads ‫‘ הדין צילמה דרוח>א וד<לוטתא ודמחיתא בישתא‬Dies ist das Abbild der (bösen) Ruh Fluches und der bösen Plage’. However, without emendation, the expression ‫ הדין צילמה דרוח לוטתא‬may be understood quite reasonably as ‘This is the image of the spirit of the Curse-Spirit’. Text 6 line 4. ‫‘ קל פגרי רעש >ו<קל פגרי רגש‬the sound of my body crying out6 the sound of my body trembling’ would make sense without the conjunctive waw, and does not need to be emended according to the parallels. Text 8a line 9. <> ‘seid entwurzelt’. MK emends this Syriac text from . However, given the common weakening of the pharyngeals in the Syriac bowls, this emendation is unnecessary.7 This is particularly so in the present case, since the same word is written without the ¨ayin in all three previously published parallel bowl-texts (Moriggi 4:7, 5:8; 32:8). Text 9 line 6. MK reads ‫צי>ב<אות‬. However, without emendation the text may be read ‫צואות‬, showing the rare but attested interchange of waw and beth. Text 11 line 1. ‫‘ דהלין בר שרקוי וניונדוך אינתתיה בת כפני וזדוי בר}י{ה‬des Halen bar Sarqoy und seiner Frau Newandux(t) bat Kapnay und ihres Sohnes Zadoy’. There is no evidence that Zadoy is referred to specifically as Newandux(t)’s son, and accordingly the emendation is not necessary. In fact, it is not possible to determine 3 ‘False starts’ and corrected forms that remain unerased have been discussed in my article ‘On Some Non-Standard Spellings in the Aramaic Magic Bowls and their Linguistic Significance’, JSS 52 (2007), 245–77. Additional examples are now attested in the magic corpus. See M. Morgenstern, ‘Mandaic and Jewish Babylonian Aramaic — Some Points of Contact’, Aram Periodical (Forthcoming). 4 Hopkins, ibid, p. 25. 5 J.N. Epstein, Introduction to the Mishnaic Text3 (Jerusalem 2000), 1218 (Hebrew), originally published in 1948 but now fully indexed; M. Bar-Asher, ‘A Preliminary Study of Mishnaic Hebrew as Reflected in Codex Vatican 32 of Sifre-Bemidbar’, Te¨uda 3 (Tel Aviv 1983), 141 (Hebrew). 6 I do not know the source of MK’s translation ‘reagierte darauf’. 7 Numerous examples are listed in M. Moriggi, La lingua delle coppe magiche siriache (Quaderni di Semitistica 21, Florence 2004), 119.

284

REVIEWS

with certainty to whom the possessive pronoun -‫ יה‬refers, since while it is it historically the masculine form, in Jewish Babylonian Aramaic it may be used equally of masculine or feminine antecedents.8 In other words, the unemended pronoun can theoretically refer to either Halen (masculine) or Newandux(t) (feminine). The spelling of the pronoun in line 5, ‫ולזדוי ברה‬, is equally ambiguous, since it may be read breh or brah; compare the defective spelling ‫‘ ביתה‬his house’ (Text 3 line 1) which parallels the spelling ‫ ביתיה‬in the same text (line 4). Text 11 line 4. By emending the name ‫ פחלדד‬to read ‫פלחדד‬, MK has avoided dealing with the interesting misplacement of the Ìet. We may suggest that this nonstandard spelling arises because the Ìet was not actually pronounced by the scribe, who therefore did not know exactly where to place it within the word.9 Text 11d line 3. ‫‘ ערטיל שליח>י<תין‬Ihr seid nackt ausgezogen’. The text is simply written in scriptio defectiva, which is not uncommon and does not need emending. Compare in this volume text 15 line 1: ‫‘ צית>י<תון‬ihr hört’, and further: ‫אסירתון‬ ‫‘ וחתמיתון בההיא עיזקתא דשלמה מלכה‬You are bound and sealed by that seal of King Solomon’ (JNF 10:7–8). Text 12 line 1. [‫‘ אל>א<יסור בגדנא מלכ>י<הון דש]ידי‬Zur indung: Bagdana, König er S[edas]’. While ‫ אלאיסור‬is sometimes found in the bowl texts, ‫אליסור‬ is similarly well attested (e.g. SD 47; MS 1928/47:8). The traditional interpretation of ‫ אליסור‬as a name ‘Elisur’ is preferable, and the reading should certainly not be emended on the basis of MK’s interpretation.10 MK herself leaves the reading ‫אליסור‬ unemended in the parallel text published in this volume as 12a (line 1). In the latter text, she similarly does not emend the grammatically correct form ‫מלכהון‬. In Jewish Babylonian Aramaic, the form ‫ מלכהון‬is grammatically interchangeable with ‫ ;מלכיהון‬there is no orthographic distinction between ‘their king’ and ‘their kings’. If MK meant to correct this text to the ‘standard-literarisch-babylonischaramäisch’ form, then she would have to translate here ‘Könige er S[edas]’. Text 12 line 5. [‫‘ קדחי ופוקי ועירוקי וגלח>י< מן ביני ]רישיכי‬Brich aus und gehe hinaus und fliehe und rasiere die Haare [deines Kopfes]’. The correct reading of the word emended by MK is surely ‫‘ וגלה‬be exiled’, a f.s. imperative of the root gly. For the use of the root gly with reference to the expulsion of a demon, compare 8 For ‫יה‬- used as 3 f.s. possessive pronoun, see S. Friedman, ‘Three Studies in Babylonian Aramaic Grammar’ Tarbiz 43 (1974), 64–9 (Hebrew); M. Morgenstern, Jewish Babylonian Aramaic in Geonic Responsa; Studies in Phonology, Verb Morphology, Pronouns and Style (Ph.D. Thesis, The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 2002, Hebrew), p. 89 (possessive pronoun), pp. 108–9 (object pronouns). For examples drawn specifically from the magic bowl texts, see H. Juusola, Linguistic Peculiarities in the Aramaic Magic Bowl Texts (Studia Orientalia 86, Helsinki 1999), 89–92 (possessive pronoun). 9 The parallel phenomenon is found in Hebrew texts from Qumran. See E.Y. Kutscher, The Language and Linguistic Background of the Isaiah Scroll (1Q Isa a) (Leiden 1974), 508; on the addition of non-historical pharyngeals as evidence for their loss in pronunciation in Jewish Babylonian Aramaic, see J. Blau, On Pseudo-Corrections in Some Semitic Languages (Jerusalem 1970), 51; Y. Kara, Babylonian Aramaic in the Yemenite Manuscripts of the Talmud (Jerusalem 1983, Hebrew), 67; and especially D. Boyarin, Review of Kara, Yemenite Manuscripts, Leshonenu 51 (1987), 253–4. 10 See J.N. Ford, Review of J.B. Segal, Catalogue of the Aramaic and Mandaic Incantation Bowls in the British Museum, Jerusalem Studies in Arabic and Islam 26 (2002), 254, and literature cited therein.

285

REVIEWS

the Mandaic magic bowl BM91780:10, wherein it parallels the root npq much like in the present text.11 In the present text, the verb does not bear the yod since in ‘standard-literarisch-babylonisch-aramäisch’ the III-yod f.s. imperative singular pattern is ‫ ְק ַטא‬or ‫ק ָטא‬. ְ 12 The following text should probably read [‫‘ מן בתי]הון‬from [their] houses’.13 Text 13 line 5. For ‫‘ ומחיא וטרפא דר>ד<ק]י[ ודרדקתא‬und die männlich[en] und weiblichen Kleinkinder schlägt und zerschlägt’ read ‫ומחיא וטרפא דדקי ודרדקתא‬. The final yod of ‫ דדקי‬is clearly visible in the photograph, while ‫ דדקי‬may be taken as a phonetic spelling for the common ‘standard-literarisch-babylonisch-aramäisch’ form ‫‘ דעדקין‬young ones’.14 The text may be read without hypothetical emendations. Text 18 lines 1–2. ‫>כי ביה< יהוה צב]אות צו[ר עולמ>י<ם‬. There is no reason to think that the citation from Isa. 26:4 must include the first two words. My own preference would be not to emend the spelling of ‫עולמ>י<ם‬, since we do not know what reading lay before the scribe. Furthermore, post-biblical texts contain many citations of Hebrew verses that do not follow the orthography of the Massoretic Text. Text 23 line 3. ‫‘ לוט>ת<יה‬ihre Flüche’. This should probably be taken as a singular noun showing loss of the shewa and progressive assimilation (*-†¢†eh > *††eh > ††eh). Compare the uncorrected spelling ‫ אינתה‬in text 3 line 1 discussed above. Another example showing this assimilation is probably ‫‘ לוטא‬a curse’ found in Gordon H (line 1), a bowl-text which similarly contains the non-standard form ‫‘ דאיתא‬of a woman’.15 Text 38a lines 2–3. wqryt} ∂-ptykry} zykry} w¨str}t} nwqb}t} ‘und die Verfluchung der männlichen Patikars and <der> weiblichen Göttinnen der Zauberei’. Similarly line 4: mn p}gr}ywn ∂-d}nys wr¨w}y wdwm} bny} mhlpt} ‘aus den Körpern des Danis und <des> Raway und <der> Duma, der Kinder der Mahlapta’; and line 5: wqnynw ∂-d}nys wdwmh wrw}y. Müller-Kessler has emended all three examples on the assumption that the single genitive particle ∂- cannot govern more than one noun. However, Nöldeke already recorded an example that indicates that this is not the case in Classical Mandaic, admittedly without the proleptic suffix: ‘d} ∂-kyw}n wrwh} wmsyh} b}†l} wswb} syby}y’ ‘die Hand Saturn’s, und der Rûhâ und des nichtigen Christus and der 7 Planeten’.16 Investigation of the magic corpus in 11 See the edition of this text in J.N. Ford, ‘Another Look at the Mandaic Incantation Bowl BM 91715’, JANES 29 (2002), 43–4. 12 See G. Dalman, Grammatik des jüdisch-palästinischen Aramäisch (Leipzig 1905), 339, 348. 13 Even if we were to adopt MK’s reading of ‫ גלח‬and accept that this verb does not belong to the III-yod class, Juusola, Linguistic Peculiarities, p. 193, has already listed examples demonstrating the co-existence of the historical and phonetic forms side by side, such as Gordon G:11–12: ‫‘ כען שיקלי גיטכי וקבילי מומתיכי ויפרח ויקדח פוקי מן ביתיה‬now take your divorce deed and accept your adjuration and fly and flee and go out of her house’. It is perhaps significant that the two words in this example that demonstrate the loss of the final -i vowel are from III-Ìet roots. It is possible that the final Ìet was not actually pronounced, and that they effectively conjugated like the III-yod f.s. imperatives. 14 J. Levy, Chaldäisches Wörterbuch über die Targumim, Erster Band (Leipzig 1867), 183 s.v. ‫דעדק‬. 15 C. Gordon ‘Aramaic and Mandaic Magic Bowls’, ArOr 9 (1937), 86. Cf. the spellings lg’t for * lg’†t ‘you took’ and l’tyn for < *l’†tyn discussed in Ford, JANES 29 (2002), 35 and n. 12. 16 Th. Nöldeke, Mandäische Grammatik (Halle an der Saale 1875), 327.

286

REVIEWS

Mandaic and Jewish Babylonian Aramaic suggests that while this syntactic use of the genitive ∂- to govern more than one noun is rare, it is occasionally attested, more frequently in the texts in the Jewish script. In Mandaic I have found the following examples: ‘l pwm}ywn ∂-bny} }n}s} ∂-gwbry w[n]sy’ ‘on the mouths of people, of men and women’ (MS 1928/42:7), and perhaps bswm}yhwn ∂-hlyn ml}ky} w¨str}t’ ‘in the names of these angels and goddesses’ (MS 2054/123:27) and }bhwn d-kwlhwn shyry} wdywy} wrwhy} whwmry} wlyly}t} wrwh}t} bys}t} w†wlny}t} rwrb}t} ∂-t}byl ‘the father of all the sahras, dews, spirits, pebble-spirits, liliths, evil spirits, and mighty shadow-spirits of the world’ (MS 1928/52:27–9), though in the latter two examples the words linked by a simple conjunction are in apposition with the pronouns hlyn ‘these’ and kwlhwn ‘all of them’. The construction X-hwn d-Y w-Z ‘their X of Y and Z’ is more frequent in the bowls in the Jewish script: ‫לביתיהון‬ ‫‘ דאחי ונני בני גושנזדוך‬to the house of Ahay and Nanay sons of Gushnazdukh’ (MS 1929/2:2). ‫‘ תא עליהון דשידי ודיוי‬come upon the seds and dews (MS 1929/1:6); ‫בישמיהון דאביאל ובתואל ונתואל ואליהוז ותלינות ותלתות יה קרבית ומטואל ומטאל‬ ‫‘ ועניאל ועשאל וצוריאל ואריאל ודנאל וניאל‬In the name of Abi}el, Batu}el etc’ (MS 1927/ 13:6–8). The infrequency of this construction may suggest that it was a vulgarism that was generally avoided in the written language. Text 40b line 10. mn zymt} d-rys}ywn w}lm} †wpry} ∂-lgr}ywn mn †wpry} ∂-lgry}ywn w}lm} zymt} ∂-rys}ywn ‘vom Kopfhaar bis zu ihren Zehennägeln, von ihren Zehennägeln bis zu ihrem Kopfhaar’. MK has emended both instances of the use of the preposition }lm} ‘until’ without a following lamed to conform to a supposed ‘norm’. It is true that in classical Mandaic, }lm} is often followed by a lamed when it precedes a noun. However, in the magic corpus, there are several attestations of }lm} before a noun without the lamed, including the parallel text written by the same scribe, AO 14.963.17 I have identified two more examples in the unpublished texts from the Martin Schøyen collection: (1) mn swmy} w}lm} }rq} ‘from the heavens unto the earth’ (MS 1928/53:14); (2)}lm} lywm} ywm dyn} w}lm} syt} s}yy} pwrq}n} }lm} lgmwry} swmy} w}rq} ‘until the day of judgment, until the hour, the hours of deliverance, until heaven and earth are perfected’ (MS 2054/35:14–15).18 From the combined evidence of these examples it becomes apparent that the use of }lm} before a noun without a following prepositional lamed is a rare but attested alternative to the standard construction }lm} l-. Notes on readings Text 15 line 1. ‫‘ כל עררין ואיסרין‬Alle … und magischen Bande’. Read ‫כל נידרין‬ ‘All oaths’. Text 15 line 2. ‫ואם לא הוו בשמרה דאלהא דישמיה ובשמתה דכל מלכיה ובשמתה דרבי‬ ‫‘ אחא בר רבי חניאה ובשמתה דכל ישראל‬Und wenn sie nicht mit der Beachtung des Gottes des Himmels und mit dem Bann aller Könige und mit dem Bann des Rabbi AÌa bar Rabbi Îania und mit dem Bann ganz Israels’. The context requires the reading ‫‘ בשמתה‬mit dem Bann’ rather than ‫‘ בשמרה‬mit der Beachtung’ and the 17 The text was published by H. Pognon, ‘Une incantation contre les génies malfaisants, en mandaïte’, Mémories de la Societé de linguistique de Paris 8 (1892), 193–234. The identity of the two scribes was determined by Müller-Kessler herself. 18 This expression is also found in the Ginza Rba. For the references to the Ginza texts, see E.S. Drower and R. Macuch, A Mandaic Dictionary (Oxford 1963), 441 s.v. saiia.

287

REVIEWS

photograph reveals that this is indeed the correct reading; the lower ‘leg’ of the taw is faded but can clearly be discerned. Text 17. Since, as MK states, ‘Wegen seines fragmentarischen Zustands ist der Text schwer verständlich’, it seems strange to recommend emendations. It would be better to present the readings that may be gleaned from the surviving letters, and to hope that a future parallel will be discovered that will enable its better reconstruction. Text 18 line 1. ‫‘ למלך עלמוה‬für den König der Welt’. Read ‫‘ למלך עלמיה‬for the king of all ages’. Text 23 line 3. ]‫[ פך אטמית קרנך קרני‬... ‘ich verschloß/bezwang dein Horn. Mein Horn…’. Perhaps read ‫א[פך אפי מות קרנך קרני‬... ‘Your face is the face of death. Your horns are the horns of …’. Text 38 lines 8–9. ¨syr hyl}ykyn ∂-kwlhyn ‘gebunden ist eure ganze Kraft’. For kwlhyn read kwlkyn. Text 39 lines 6–7. bgbr} d-}lyp }lyp h}wy} byt }yn} wr[bw]NnO rbw}n hwy} byt gbyn} ‘beim Gabra, die, die jeweils zu Tausenden in der Augenhöhle existieren, and die, die je[weils] zu Myriaden in der Augenbraue existieren’. Prefer the readings }ynÌ and gbynÌ and translate ‘by the Man who has thousands upon thousands between his eyes and myriads upon myriads between his eyebrows’. Mandaic byt here has the meaning of ‘between’.19 Appendix Text 2A line 4. wl{y}}}yly} b}yt} wnpqy} ¨sqwptÌ ‘und die Eingänge des Hauses and die Ausgänge (und) die Türschwelle’. For b}yt} read b}ytÌ and translate ‘and for those who enter his house and those who leave his threshold’. Both }yly} and npqy} are participles. If this line is understood in this way, there is no need to emend the following text, which Müller-Kessler reads wmn zyrÌ wmn b¨zrh ^d-^bm}t} umn {d}}ylÌ umn n}pqÌ and translates ‘und seinem Samen and seinen Nachkommen im Lande und seinem Eingang and seinem Ausgang’. Without emendation, the text can be simply translated ‘from his seed and his progeny that is in the town, and from (he) who enters it and from those who leave it’. Notes on commentary Text 2a line 1. It is unlikely that there is a connection between the expression ‫פוחח‬ ‫‘ פורס על שמע‬A bare-limbed person may say the blessings over the shema’ and the text of this bowl. Text 4 line 9. ‫‘ בנין דאית להון ודהון להון‬die Kinder (/Söhne), die [sie] haben and haben werden’. Contra MK, the form ‫ הון‬is not ‘ein Perfekt mit futurischer Bedeutung’; rather, it is a masculine/common plural participle, exactly according to the grammar of the ‘standard-literarisch-babylonisch-aramäisch’ (‫)הוַ ן‬ ָ in which MK determines that this text is composed.20 The use of the participle to express the indicative future is common in Jewish Babylonian Aramaic, as noted by Schlesinger.21 19

Drower-Macuch, Dictionary, 64 s.v. bit 3. See Dalman, Grammatik, 340, 350. 21 M. Schlesinger, Satzlehre der aramäischen Sprache des babylonischen Talmuds (Leipzig: Asia Major, 1928), 40–1, §27. 20

288

REVIEWS

Text 5 line. 5. There is no reason to read ‫ שים‬instead of ‫שום‬. Where the scribes differentiate between the waw and yod, the material readings favour the waw, and this is the Babylonian Aramaic form. Text 5 line 8, n. 10. MK rejects the reading ‫‘ ו}שו{ אישתא וערייתא‬fever and chills’ in BM 139524 in favour of ‫ושואישתא ועריומא‬, which she translates ‘und Verwirrung and Betörung’. Elsewhere (JSS 52 [2007], 254) I have suggested that the correct reading is ‫וש ואישתא‬, and that the letters ‫ וש‬represent a false start in which the }aleph was omitted because it was elided in pronunciation. The correct reading of the second word appears to be ‫ ערויתא‬rather than ‫ערייתא‬. ‫ אישתא וערויתא‬is a word-pair found in many bowls: AMB 27:6: ‫מן אישתא ומן‬ ‫ ;ערויתא‬MS 1927/21:10: ‫ ואישתא וערויתא‬JNF 98:1: ‫ ;אישתה ומן ערויתא‬VA 2423:8: ‫ ואישתא עוירויתא‬JNF 141: 2–3: ‫ ;מן אישתא ומן ערויתא‬JNF 142:4: ‫;ואישתה וערויתה‬ MS 2053/57:6: ‫ ;מן מיחוש ואישתא ומן ערויתא‬MS 2053/59:3 ‫ ;ואישתא וערויאתא‬and MS 1927/21:10: ‫ואישתא וערויתא‬. The reading ‫ ואישתא וערויתא‬is further supported by Classical Syriac wherein the identical phrase appears,22 and by the Neo-Aramaic dialect of Koy Sanjak, in which arwetha usala means ‘an illness causing a high fever and cold shivers’ (H. Muzafi, oral communication). By contrast, neither ‫שואישתא‬ nor ‫ עריומא‬is attested in Aramaic. Text 11b line 6. ‘Die in Morag 1988, 253 gelisteten jemenitischen Varianten mit -ty können durchaus später redigierte Formen sein, da mit den Geonim eine Rennaissance des SLBA-Dialekts einsetzte’. The distribution of the 1 c.s. -ty morpheme on III-yod verbs in the Yemenite reading tradition of the Talmud has nothing to do with a renaissance of SLBA amongst the Geonim; it rather reflects the textual transmission of the Talmud in later European sources up to and including its almost final redaction in the printed editions of the European renaissance. Although such forms are occasionally attested in Geonic texts, in Geonic citations of the Talmud, the 1 c.s. morpheme remains the Talmudic form -ay, as in ‫‘ בעיי‬I asked/sought’ (b. Sabb. 35a, cited in GK V 41:3; b.B.Bat. 67a, cited in Hark 171:12; b.B.Bat. 51a, cited in HPS 162:20]); ‫‘ אתאי‬I came’ (b. Sebu. 48b, cited in Hark 110:30).23 The examples showing the -ti morpheme are almost exclusively drawn from legal formularies or declarations, both of which are composed in an archaizing idiom: ‫‘ איצטביתי‬I have consented’ (Hark 1:1, formulary); ‫‘ אתניתי‬I have stipulated’ (Hark 1:11, formulary); ‫‘ אקניתי‬I have transferred possession’ (Hark 101:32, 102:1; legal declaration).24 Furthermore, it is incorrect to say that SLBA, as MK labels the language of Targums Onkelos and Jonathan to the Prophets, served as a model for the Geonic idiom, from which it differs extensively.25

See R. Payne-Smith, Thesaurus Syriacus (Oxford 1879–1901), 2977 s.v.   . The sources: GK — B.M. Lewin (ed.), Ginze Kedem, 6 vols, (Haifa: published by the author, 1922–44); Hark — A. Harkavy, Studien und Mittheilungen aus der Kaiserlichen Oeffentlichen Bibliothek zu St. Petersburg: Vierter Theil, Responsen der Geonim (zumeist aus dem X–XI. Jahrhundert (Berlin 1887); HPS — Sefer Halachot Pesuqot by Rav Jehudai Gaon, Codex Sassoon 263 (Jerusalem 1971); cited by page and line number of facsimile edition. 24 The different idiom of the legal formularies has been noted by M. Sokoloff, ‘The Aramaic Verbs in Halachot Pesuqot’, Leshonenu 35 (1971), 235–42. The existence of a distinct idiom for court declarations (‫ )לשון טענות‬was first pointed out by Friedman, ‘Three Studies’, 64. 25 I have discussed this in detail in my study Jewish Babylonian Aramaic in Geonic Responsa; see particularly p. 11, §5.4. 22

23

289

REVIEWS

Text 32 line 3. MK writes ‘Diese Pluralendung bedarf einer separaten Studie, da -wt} als Morphem im Zentral-Südbabylonisch-Aramäischen bisher nicht erkannt wurde’. However, the plural ending -wata in Jewish Babylonian Aramaic has already been discussed by Epstein, who cited examples of both feminine nouns such as ‫‘ מתוותא‬towns’ (b. Gi†. 7a) and masculine nouns such as ‫‘ חתנוותא‬sons-in-law’ (b. Sabb. 23b).26 Text 33a line 3. It is not clear how the use of ‘der syrisch fremden Demonstrativpronomina’  and  ‘this’ ‘weist vermutlich auf eine zugrundeliegende mandäische Vorlage hin’. These texts are not written in Classical Syriac, and frequently employ grammatical forms that differ from it but are not necessarily derived from Mandaic. Compare, for example, the use of  in Moriggi 6:5, which is certainly not of Mandaic origin, since it is replete with Jewish and Christian motifs. It is also not correct to say ‘Auch die Schreibung mit Ì deutet den mandäischen Hintergrund an, da nur in diesem Dialekt etymologisches /h/ graphisch als Ì erscheint’. In fact, the phonological merger of historical *h and *Ì into a single phoneme (apparently realized as /h/) appears to characterize all the central and southern Mesopotamian Aramaic dialects, and consequently graphic interchanges of this kind are quite common. The magic bowls in Syriac script show numerous examples of these interchanges in general, which, contrary to what MK here suggests, go in both directions, i.e. both  for historical *Ì and  for historical (and in my opinion synchronic) *h.27 The Aramaic magic bowls written in the Jewish script often employ a single grapheme to represent historical *h and *Ì, while the scribes of the Talmudic manuscripts generally tended to employ the ‫ ח‬grapheme only for historical *Ì, though some exceptions are found.28 Mandaic preserves only one grapheme for the merged phoneme, and that is based upon the historical sign for *Ì, even though it is realized as /h/. The historical grapheme for h is preserved only in word-final position as a marker for the 3 m.s. pronominal suffix. Since this magic bowl, written in the Manichaean script, shows only sporadic use of the  sign for historical h, it cannot be regarded as following the orthographic norms of Mandaic, and its orthography cannot be adduced as evidence for a Mandaic Vorlage. Conclusion The magic bowl texts provide us inter alia with an unparalleled primary source for Eastern Aramaic as written by native speakers. The modern editor of these ancient texts must be wary of imposing his or her own preconceptions onto these valued sources. It is likely that the forms of Aramaic spoken in Sassanian Babylonia were more varied than our written records indicate, and that in the absence of a clear literary standard, the degree of interplay between the written and spoken languages varied. Accordingly, the editor of such a corpus should not seek to impose a unity where there is none, or to force the texts to accord with any particular dialect or 26 J.N. Epstein, A Grammar of Babylonian Aramaic (Jerusalem, Tel Aviv 1960, Hebrew), 120–1. 27 Moriggi, La lingua, 116–18. 28 Some examples of ‫ ח‬for historical *h are cited in M. Morgenstern, ‘Jewish Babylonian Aramaic and Mandaic: Some Points of Contact’, Aram Periodical (forthcoming).

290

REVIEWS

Urtext. We must let the ancient texts be our guide to the language and not force them to conform to our own preconceived assumptions. In spite of the above reservations, we are all indebted to Müller-Kessler for her valuable contribution to the reading of these difficult texts. She has laid the groundwork for all future research on them. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp053

MATTHEW MORGENSTERN UNIVERSITY OF HAIFA

AVI SAGI, The Open Canon: On the Meaning of Halakhic Discourse (The Robert and Arlene Kogod Library of Judaic Studies). Continuum, London 2007. Pp. 240. Price: £16.99 paperback. ISBN: 978-0-82649-670-6. Toward the end of The Open Canon: On the Meaning of Halakhic Discourse, Avi Sagi describes the book as ‘an attempt to trace the contours of halakhic culture as seen by those who live and work within it … meant to listen to the consciousness of the halakhists’ (p. 212). The book does so, at least initially, by examining the reception history of the Talmudic dictum ‘these and these are the words of the living God’ (BT Eruvin 13b and BT Gittin 6b), reportedly enunciated by a heavenly voice in response to an ongoing halakhic dispute between the Schools of Hillel and Shammai. The assertion that both sides of a dispute count as ‘words of the living God’ raises a host of questions regarding the truth claims of halakhic positions, the nature of rabbinic dispute, and so provides a natural entrée to the issues Sagi, who teaches in a philosophy department, wishes to explore. The book provides a fascinating overview of halakhic — or, more accurately, meta-halakhic — positions, and anyone interested in the diversity of views among traditional Jewish jurists will find rich material here. Indeed, Sagi has rendered a service to the scholarly community by collecting this rich array of texts. Sagi, aims to provide a taxonomy of meta-halakhic positions. The first three chapters are devoted to three overarching views concerning the nature of halakhic truth — monistic, pluralistic, and harmonistic — and Sagi explores the way each deals with the issues raised by the saying ‘these and these are the words of the living God’. A monistic position that asserts the existence of but one true position, would have to grapple with the heavenly voice’s willingness to recognize both Hillel’s and Shammai’s ruling as true; a pluralist thinker would need to establish limits for halakhic legitimacy, lest any and all positions be treated as equally legitimate. The questions are fascinating and the material rich. However, I found the book problematic in a number of ways. The first of these is admittedly unfair since it has more to do with my own sensibilities than any shortcoming on the author’s part, but since many of the readers of this journal probably share these sensibilities, I will voice my discomfort on the following point: the book is radically ahistorical; it trucks in disembodied, contextless ideas, concatenated because they express the same position. The discussion of the monist position, for example, begins with Joseph Caro, a sixteenth-century (floruit) mystic and scholar in Safed, then proceeds to discuss the views, in order, of sages from eighteenth century Jerusalem and Italy, sixteenth century Poland, nineteenth–twentieth century Belarus, thirteenth century Italy, eleventh century France, twentieth century Tel Aviv, nineteenth century Poland, eighteenth century Lithuania, twelfth century France and sixteenth century Prague. While I recognize the methodological variety in different areas of the humanities, I found it frustrating to be introduced to 291

REVIEWS

such a chronological and geographic range (and in such a short span: the entire chapter consists of thirteen pages) without some discussion of the context in which these views were formulated. The absence of context is particularly marked when the sources cited suggest some historical dynamic. For example, the view that ‘halakhic rulings are human creations’ (p. 80) is introduced with citations from three twentieth century orthodox thinkers, two of whom lived in the U.S. (Rabbis Hutner and Feirstein). I doubt this is coincidence, but the point is not pursued. More deeply, I cannot help but wonder if we are still free to assume the existence of a superhistorical notion of truth that is operative in the writings of Talmud commentators in twelfth century France and twentieth century Tel Aviv — and this assumption is a sine qua non for the typological approach of The Open Canon. Another point of criticism is internal to execution of the book. The advantage of typological analysis is, arguably, that it allows the author to divert his or her energies to conceptual analysis. But in this regard too The Open Canon is problematic. The number of primary sources adduced, one and often more on almost every page, precludes close, analytic readings. Moreover, for most of the book Sagi makes only occasional references to contemporary legal and philosophical thinkers, even when the philosophical context of a particular thinker’s thought is relatively well-established (as with the Kantian setting of Solovetchik’s halakhic thought). Only the last two chapters — on halakhic values and the nature of dispute — explicitly address the theoretical questions that have been implicit since the very outset. This is a pity since the analysis is frequently enlightening, especially the discussion of models of halakhic authority and the different axiological approaches to dispute. But the most serious issue to my mind is Sagi’s vacillation between descriptive and prescriptive analysis. As the quote that opens this review indicates, Sagi states explicitly that he wants to ‘listen to the consciousness of the halakhists’. The position he carves out is avowedly internal, and the book’s ‘critical tone was thus accordingly subdued’ (p. 212). That is, of course, a legitimate scholarly approach, but it is unclear whether Sagi in fact sees his work in purely descriptive terms. The title of the book suggests that halakhic discourse is somehow open, and in a number of places Sagi suggests this is the case, e.g., when he states that ‘Torah study is pluralistic by definition’ (p. 15), or that ‘the rabbis perceived halakhic discourse as a process of constant confrontation between contesting views’ (p. 188), i.e., that dispute as such is constitutive of halakhic debates. But while the book demonstrates conclusively that there is a wide range of opinions within traditional Jewish sources (a descriptive claim), it does not show that this variety was embraced by ‘the rabbis’ (only by some rabbis). What, then, is ‘the meaning of halakhic discourse’ referred to in the title of the book? Is it the open, pluralistic views Sagi presents, or perhaps the monist approach is preferable? The Open Canon suggests it is the former, but to argue for this position the book would have to abandon its internal descriptive orientation and adopt an external, critical one. Of course, one is always free to apply the same Talmudic dictum to the views presented in the book and say ‘these and these are the words of the living God’. But for those who do not want to adopt a rabbinic approach, The Open Canon offers a great deal of fascinating historical material but only preliminary analysis. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp054

AZZAN YADIN RUTGERS UNIVERSITY

292

REVIEWS

SHMUEL SAFRAI ‫ז״ל‬, ZEEV SAFRAI, JOSHUA SCHWARTZ and PETER J. TOMSON (eds), The Literature of the Sages, Second Part: Midrash and Targum, Liturgy, Poetry, Mysticism, Contracts, Inscriptions, Ancient Science and the Languages of Rabbinic Literature (Compendia Rerum Iudaicarum ad Novum Testamentum, Section Two: The Literature of the Jewish People in the Period of the Second Temple and the Talmud, 3a). Royal Van Gorcum, Assen and Augsburg Fortress Press, Minneapolis 2006, Pp. xvii + 794. Price: /85.00. ISBN: 978-90-232-4222-2 (Royal Van Gorcum); 0-8006-0606-X (Fortress Press). Roughly twenty years separate the bulky volume 2, under review, from its predecessor, that appeared in 1987. The new book is quite useful indeed. An internal table of contents opens each chapter. There are four multi-chapter sections: ‘Midrash and Targum’ (pp. 1–278), ‘Liturgy, Poetry, Mysticism’ (pp. 279–420), ‘Contracts, Inscriptions, Ancient Science’ (pp. 421–564), ‘The Languages of Rabbinic Literature’ (pp. 565–640). Section One, ‘Midrash and Targum’, comprises Menahem I. Kahana’s ch. 1, ‘The Halakhic Midrashim’ (pp. 3–105), Marc Hirshman’s ch. 2, ‘Aggadic Midrash’ (pp. 107–32), Myron B. Lerner’s ch. 3, ‘The Works of Aggadic Midrash and the Esther Midrashim’ (pp. 133–229), Chaim Milikowsky’s ch. 4 ‘Seder Olam’ (pp. 231–7) with an appendix by Zeev Safrai, ‘The Scroll of Antiochos and the Scroll of Fasts’ (pp. 238–41), and then Zeev Safrai’s ch. 5, ‘The Targums as Part of Rabbinic Literature’ (pp. 243–78). Of chs 1 and 3, the editors claim that they ‘are almost book-length and represent outstanding original contributions to Talmudics which will probably remain reference studies for a good many years to come’ (p. xv). Indeed. ‘They are especially important regarding textual history and literary criticism, the sine qua non for any use of this material for any purposes of a historical nature’ (p. xv). The chapters on Midrash are written from a philological viewpoint. Kahana’s ‘The Halakhic Midrashim’ starts by introducing their collections, then explains the term ‘halakhic midrash’. The literary nature of such texts is then explained (with examples in copious footnotes). The development of exegetical methods is discussed (pp. 13–17), and an introduction follows to the exegetical methodological differences between the schools of R. Yishmael and of R. Akiva (pp. 17–27). Kahana believes that ‘[a] study of the names of dominant sages mentioned in the Halakhic Midrashim will likely yield important information about the date and sources of each individual document’ (p. 29). Manners of redaction are pointed out; e.g., ‘at times we discern a slanted way of editing, with the redactors presenting the views of sages from the other school in a partial and fragmentary manner in order to tip the scales in favor of their own conception. This tendency was not noted by earlier scholars’ (p. 36), and examples ‘from each of the two schools’ (p. 36) are given. The redactors were ‘no neutral editors’ (p. 38), but ‘belonged to the schools themselves’ (pp. 38–9), as shown by their methods, terminology, ordering principle, and possibly ‘tendentious adaptations of midrashim from the other school’ (p. 39). Kahana acknowledges (fn. 161) that by claiming that the redactors had such affiliations, he is in agreement with Hoffmann, Epstein, and others, and in disagreement with Albeck. Almost thirty lines in the same fn. 161 are devoted to refuting Porton’s (1970, vol. 4) own refutation of Epstein and Hoffmann (G.G. Porton, The Traditions of Rabbi Ishmael. 4 vols. [Leiden1965–70]). On pp. 40–52, Kahana is concerned with the content of the halakhic midrashim: early halakha, aggada, polemic with sectarians, attitude to non-Jews. On pp. 52–60, he considers in turn the relation to other kinds of works: Aramaic and other translations, Mishna and Tosefta, and both Talmudim. He then turns to the time and place of redaction (60–4), to Epstein’s, 293

REVIEWS

Albeck’s, and Lieberman’s opinions on this, and to the discovery in the Golan of the inscription: ‘This is the beit midrash of Rabbi Eliezer ha-Kappar’ (p. 63). A section on ‘History of Research and Future Challenges’ (pp. 64–8) concludes Part I of Kahana’s important treatise, and is followed (p. 68) by his Part II: ‘Description of the Collections’ one by one, namely, ‘Mekhilta de-Rabbi Yishmael’, ‘Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimon ben Yohai’ — extant in the Middle Ages, but ‘subsequently lost, and then partially recovered by modern scholars’ (p. 72) sometimes erroneously (pp. 73–4) —, as well as ‘Sifra’, ‘Sifrei Numbers’, ‘Sifrei Deuteronomy’, ‘Mekhilta Deuteronomy’ and ‘Sifrei Zuta Deuteronomy’. Marc Hirshman’s shortish, yet valuable introduction to the aggadic midrash is sandwiched between the two chapters in the book that are themselves each booklength treatments: Kahana’s and Lerner’s. Hirshman defines the relevant concepts, then turns to techniques and phenomenta in the aggadic midrash considered as creative exegesis. He then turns to the social setting, and to the popularity of the genre. I find it problematic that notwithstanding the two chapters on the aggadic midrash, there is nothing in the book by way of a discussion of the folktale studies approach to the domain. Especially because of the intercultural concerns of the Compendia series, it would have been crucial to adopt also that viewpoint. In order to argue for this, I am discussing the matter in a separate article. Like Kahana’s, Myron Lerner’s almost book-length and likewise superb chapter is subdivided into two parts. In Lerner’s chapter, these are ‘State of the Art: The Study of Midrashic Literature’ (pp. 134–76), and ‘A Sample: Midrashim to the Scroll of Esther’ (pp. 176–229). The standard corpus is introduced (p. 139). A section on the Tannaic period begins by acknowledging its being ‘commonly accepted that the Aggadic Midrashim are a product of the Amoraic period’ (p. 140); yet, already ‘Tannaic sages engaged in aggadic exegesis’ (p. 140), but ‘the Amoraic period in the Land of Israel witnessed the appearance of numerous talmudic authorities who seemingly chose aggadic interpretation as their almost exclusive field of activity’ (p. 144). Lerner ‘Circulation of Aggadic material in Written Form’ (pp. 144–5) and ‘The Embryonic Stage of the Extant Aggadic Midrashim (250–400)’ (pp. 145–7) is followed with ‘Dating the Extant Midrashim’ (pp. 147–55), itself subdivided into a subsection about the importance of parallel passages, then ‘The Earliest Midrashim (400–600)’ ‘The Interim Period (600–700)’, ‘Later Midrashic Works (700–900)’, and ‘On European Soil: The Close of the Midrashic Endeavour (1000–1200)’. The next section is ‘In the Wake of the Editing Process’. Part II, reflecting Lerner’s own scholarly focus, concentrates, by way of a sample, on the midrashim to the Scroll of Esther. The next theme is texts on history and the yearly cycle. Chaim Milikowsky ch. 4 (pp. 231–7) discusses Seder Olam, ‘an exegetically-based chronography focussing on the biblical period, which is attributed to the second century Tannaic sage, R. Yose’ (p. 231). Some peculiar syntax, vocabulary and idiomatics ‘have important ramifications…for the question of the formation of Seder Olam’ (p. 233). ‘Evidently, R. Yose’s role was one of a transmitter and glossator’ (p. 235). Twice in the Babylonian Talmud, at Yevamot 82b and Nidda 46b, ‘the third century Palestinian Amora R. Yohanan is cited as saying: ‘Who taught Seder Olam? R. Yose.’ Since internal criteria, as well as the analysis of the parallel passages in other rabbinic texts, support the hypothesis that Seder Olam is a Tannaic work, there is nothing concerning the text we know as Seder Olam which would conflict with R. Yohanan’s statement’ (p. 235). A critical edition by Milikowsky of Seder Olam is mentioned as being in press (p. 236). Zeev Safrai’s appendix to Milikowsky’s chapter deals with the Scroll 294

REVIEWS

of Antiochos, and the Scroll of Fasts, which itself ‘probably originated in popular circles who fostered the cult of saints without the support of the sages and, perhaps, against their wishes’ (p. 241). Zeev Safrai’s ch. 5, on the Targums (pp. 243–78), discusses more fully Targum Yonatan on the Prophets, the Targum on Psalms and on Job, the Targum on Proverbs, and the Targum on Canticles. The chapter concludes with a section on the following problem: ‘Since there are three Targums on the Tora and additional targumic fragments, it might reasonably be asked what the relationship between these various documents was’ (p. 277). Section Two in the book deals with liturgy, poetry, or mysticism. It comprises six chapters: Joseph Tabory’s ch. 6, ‘Prayers and Berakhot’, i.e., benedictions, and ch. 7, ‘The Passover Haggada’, then Vered Noam’s ch. 8, ‘Megillat Taanit — The Scroll of Fasts’ (not to be mistaken for the obscure Scroll of Fasts discussed earlier by Safrai), Ezra Fleischer’s ch. 9, ‘Piyut’ on hymnography, Joseph Yahalom’s ch. 10, ‘“Syriac for Dirges, Hebrew for Speech” — Ancient Jewish Poetry in Aramaic and Hebrew’, and finally Michael D. Swartz’s ch. 11, ‘Mystical Texts’. Vered Noam’s ch. 8 (pp. 339–62) is concerned with the semi-historical Megillat Taanit. Vered Noam is the only woman author in this book. Ezra Fleischer authoring the ch. 9 on hymnography made me long for such extensive treatment on his part, as the chapters by Kahana and Lerner. Yet, ch. 9 only takes pp. 363–74. It comprises the sections ‘Pre-Paytanic Poetry’, ‘The Rise of Piyyut’, ‘Genres and Contents’, ‘Patterns and Structural Ornaments’, ‘Language and Style’, and ‘The Early Paytanim’. Joseph Yahalom’s ch. 10 (pp. 375–91) includes poetic exemplification throughout. All of the verse that appears in the examples is in Hebrew, except an early, in-line example of Aramaic dirge (p. 377). Jewish Palestinian Aramaic poetry is rather the subject of Yahalom and Sokoloff (J. Yahalom and M. Sokoloff [eds], Jewish Palestinian Aramaic Poetry from Late Antiquity [in Hebrew; Shirat Bnei Ma¨arava: Shirim Arammiyyim shel Yehudei Eretz Yisrael ba-Tqufa ha-Bizantit. Jerusalem 1999]). Yahalom’s chapter is mainly concerned with poetry in the domain of grief and mourning, which also includes public fasts, but there is a section (pp. 384–6) on admonitions. Michael Swartz, in ch. 11 (pp. 393–420), ‘shows the power of mystical esoteric texts describing visionary experiences and magic ritual. He discusses seminal works or genre including Merkava literature, Hekhalot literature and Sefer Yetsira’ (p. xv). The chapter by Swartz concludes Section Two in the book, whereas Section Three’s own last chapter is Yuval Harari’s ch. 17, ‘The Sages and the Occult’. Section Three in the volume comprises chs 12 to 17. Among these, the first one is Mordechai A. Friedman’s clear and useful ‘Contracts: Rabbinic Literature and Ancient Jewish Documents’ (pp. 423–60). Jonathan J. Price and Haggai Misgav authored ch. 13, ‘Jewish Inscriptions and Their Use’ (pp. 461–83). ‘Despite 150 years of scholarship on Jewish epigraphy, no firm criteria have been developed — or are likely to be developed — to distinguish Jewish inscriptions form others’ (p. 461), yet tentative indicators are listed. Samuel S. Kottek’s ch. 14 (pp. 485–96) is on ‘Medical Interest in Ancient Rabbinic Literature’. ‘Geography and Cosmography in Talmudic Literature’, which is ch. 15 (pp. 497–508), is by Zeev Safrai. It is on geographical conceptions in early rabbinic literature, not on the referents of specific toponyms. Hence the difference with respect to A. Neubauer’s Géographie du Talmud (Paris 1868). Likewise, Ben Zion Eshel’s gazetteer, published by the Magnes Press in 1979, of Jewish settlements in Babylonia in talmudic times was not cited, and is missing from the consolidated 295

REVIEWS

bibliography of Safrai et al. (Ben Zion Eshel, ‫ישובי היהודים בבבל בתקופת התלמוד׃‬ ‫ — אונומסטיקון תלמודי‬Jewish Settlements in Babylonia during Talmudic Times [Jerusalem1979]). It must be said that Reeg’s lexicon (Gottfried Reeg, Die Ortsnamen Israels nach der rabbinischen Literatur [Wiesbaden1989]) of place-names found in the early rabbinic literature does appear in the consolidated bibliography. Yet, looking up ‘Reeg’ in the index only yields one occurrence on p. 403, citing a thematically altogether different kind of book by the same author (it is cited in Michael Swartz’ chapter ‘Mystical Texts’). Curiously, I was unable to find the citation of Reeg in Safrai’s chapter on geography. Chapter 16, by Abraham Ofir Shemesh, is titled ‘Biology in Rabbinic Literature: Fact and Folklore’ (pp. 509–19). I have substantive things to say about the ancient science chapters in the volume, so I devote a separate article to that discussion. Shemesh’s first subsection is ‘Wild Man-Like Creatures (‫’)אדני שדה‬, and his proposed identification of the adnei- (or adni-) ha-sade with the orang-utan from the Malay archipelago is, in my opinion, ill-conceived, and arguably based on the use made, of ‘orang-utan’, by R. Israel Lipschütz (1782–1860) in Tif }eret Yisra}el (Hanover 1830), at Kil}ayim, ad loc. At that time the term also denoted the African apes, and in particular, the chimpanzee. Besides, the chapter does not mention the crucial connection to the homo agrestis of the medieval Western tradition (known in English lore as the ‘wildman’ or ‘woodwose’. Shemesh himself (personal communication, July 2008) is quite open to my suggestions concerning this. At any rate, the subject is difficult, and in other respects, his chapter is certainly valuable. Section Three in the book is concluded by an important chapter on the occult, by Yuval Harari (pp. 521–64). Section Four in the book, ‘The Languages of rabbinic Literature’, comprises three chapters. Moshe Bar-Asher’s ch. 18 is ‘Mishnaic Hebrew: An Introductory Survey’ (pp. 567–95). Yohanan Breuer is the author of ch. 19, ‘The Aramaic of the Talmudic period’ (pp. 597–625). This chapter, too, is a handy yet articulate introduction. The last chapter in the book is Daniel Sperber’s ch. 20, ‘Rabbinic Knowledge of Greek’ (pp. 627–40). There is partial overlap between topics discussed in the book under review and another book also of 2006, The Late Roman–Rabbinic Period, edited by Steven Katz, Vol. 4 of The Cambridge History of Judaism (Cambridge 2006). Its focus is on history, and it also deals with sociology and with material culture (e.g., art and architecture), yet there is a partial overlap, even with the same author for the same subject. But in Katz’s volume, the history of ideas rather than of texts is to be found. Unfortunately, the volume is not free from typos, or at any rate, spelling errors. I found about thirty of them. Moreover, Churgin’s Targum Ketuvim, cited by Zeev Safrai on p. 275, does not appear in the bibliography: it appears among neither the primary, nor the secondary sources. The entry should be: ‘Churgin, P.M., Targum Ketuvim. New York: Horeb Press, ([1944] 1945)’. Pinkhos M. Churgin was born in Pahost, in the Czarist empire, in 1894, and died in New York in 1957. From 1929, he was professor of Jewish history and literature at Yeshiva University. In Lerner’s chapter, the name of the nineteenth-century editor of editions of the Midrashim still popular with the broad public appears as ‘R. Hanokh Zundel’ on p. 178, but as ‘Rav Henokh Zundel’ on p. 148. At the end of the index of personal names, on p. 772, s.v. ‘Zundel, H.’ (of course it is followed with ‘Zunz, L.’), there is reference only to the occurrence on p. 236 (which is in the ‘Bibliography’ section of Milikowsky’s short chapter on Seder Olam); not even the important occurrence on p. 148 is mentioned in that index entry. 296

REVIEWS

It is not easy to look up a subject, as there is no subject index. The indices take pp. 711–72, and at over sixty pages it would be unfair to blame them for inadequacy. They are subdivided into indices of the sources, and indices of personal names. These two subdivisions are further subdivided; e.g., within the index of personal names, there are a section on biblical names, a section for the period of the Second Temple, Tannaim and Amoraim, a section for the period of the Geonim, Rishonim, and Aharonim, and a section for the modern period. Still, a subject index would have been very useful, and its lack is a shortcoming. In important respects, the book is up to the daunting challenge that the series set for it. Yet admittedly, two different thresholds were set. Kahana’s and Lerner’s excellent chapters are like short books on their own, they have lasting merit, and finding such achievements near the beginning, decidedly wets this reader’s appetite for the other topics to be up to the same standard. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp055

EPHRAIM NISSAN GOLDSMITHS COLLEGE

TIMOTHY EDWARDS, Exegesis in The Targum of The Psalms: The Old, the New, and the Rewritten (Gorgias Dissertations 28 Biblical Studies 1). Gorgias Press, Piscataway, NJ 2007. Pp. xviii + 288. Price: $102.00 hardback. ISBN: 978-159333-432-1. This study is based upon a selection of 15 psalms, the criteria for selecting them being that they should come from all the books of the Psalter, and that they should include a historical grouping of psalms (i.e. recognised or portrayed as a distinct group in antiquity), psalms with significance in Christian exegesis and psalms with exegetical expansions. The psalms chosen are Pss 1, 2, 45, 68, 80, 118 and 137, and as a historical grouping Pss 24, 48, 82, 94, 81, 93 and 92, on the basis that (except 81, 82) they are said in m. Tamid 7:4 and the superscriptions in the LXX to have been sung in the Temple on successive weekdays. Five manuscripts are used, representing all three of the ‘families’ into which previous studies have divided the textual tradition. The Aramaic text for each of the psalms is reproduced from MS Wroc¥aw 1106, followed by an apparatus listing the main variants and the author’s own English translation. Of course, a work that deals with only fifteen psalms has some limitations in its scope, but with a book the size of the Psalter it would be unrealistic to expect complete coverage in the kind of detail afforded by Edwards. The selection made here consists of psalms with a good variety of treatments by the targumist, though it is not clear to me of what significance the historical grouping is in this connection The book begins by considering how the Targum of Psalms (Tg.Ps.) relates to other early Bible translations, and finds that Tg.Ps. was essentially independent. Similarity in translation or interpretation can often be put down either to the Hebrew text itself or to similarity in exegetical technique which produced similar results in different versions. Only one likely case of dependence on an earlier translation (Aquila) is indicated, and very little evidence is found to support the view that Tg.Ps. often shares the same Vorlage with the LXX and Peshitta. The relationship with targumim to other parts of the Hebrew Bible is then discussed. Several traditions shared with the targumim to the Torah and the Prophets are pointed out, though surprisingly enough none with the targumim to the Hagiographa, including the Targum of Job. Edwards believes that Tg.Ps. assumes a knowledge of broader targum tradition among its readers, since without this some of its interpretations would be difficult to follow. An examination of the relationship between Tg.Ps. and 297

REVIEWS

rabbinic literature shows numerous parallels, but also highlights the creativity of the Targum within that tradition. Edwards maintains that Tg.Ps. developed in a way that cannot be explained by a slavish dependence on midrash, and he questions the assumption that targum is a second rate form of literature that simply restates what has been said in midrash. The targumist is thoroughly at home with the world of midrash, but is also a creative scholar, both willing and able to adopt and adapt existing traditions when this is required by context in his translation. Where Tg.Ps. displays unique traditions, these are explained as due to the creativity of the author rather than dependence on unattested midrashim. A comparison of Tg.Ps. with MidrashTehillim suggests that there is no reason to assume any specific relationship between the two, other than their being based on the same book of the Bible. Finally, Tg.Ps. is compared with the New Testament and early Christian exegesis in two respects. Firstly, there is the question of whether Tg.Ps. can be used in NT research for evidence of contemporary exegesis. Matters discussed are the relationship of Tg.Ps. 68:19 to Eph. 4:8, Tg.Ps. 118 and the use in the use of Ps. 118:22ff. in the NT in connection with the rejection of Jesus, and the basis for using Tg.Ps. 80:16 in relation to Son of Man traditions; and it is concluded that none of these passages of Tg.Ps. are relevant for NT research. Secondly, the question of whether Tg.Ps. shows any evidence of reaction to early Christian interpretations of the psalms is discussed with regard to its treatment of Psalms 2, 45 and 110, and it is allowed that on occasion the Targum can be shown to be counteracting Christian interpretations of these psalms. As far as date is concerned, Edwards observes that the earliest datable tradition comes from dependence on Aquila, and can thus be dated to the early second century, but that the majority of exegetical traditions found in Tg.Ps. are close to Amoraic traditions, which would suggest that a date before the fifth century for the ‘original’ Tg.Ps. is very unlikely. The author believes that there was an ‘original’ Tg.Ps. that has been added to during its long redactional history, rather than there having been more than one Targum to the Psalms. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp056 DAVID M. STEC UNIVERSITY OF SHEFFIELD

MARIANO GÓMEZ ARANDA, Dos Comentarios de Abraham ibn Ezra al Libro de Ester: Edición crítica, traducción y estudio introductorio (Literatura Hispano-Hebrea 9). Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas Instituto de Filología, Madrid 2007. Pp. cxxvii + 193 + *70. ISBN: 978-84-00-08563-6. Abraham ibn Ezra (b. 1089), the eminent Andalusian Jewish polymath, wrote two different Hebrew commentaries on the book of Esther, as he did for a number of other biblical books. His first Esther commentary was written in Rome sometime between 1140 and 1142; the second was written sometime between 1153 and 1156, probably in Rouen. The first commentary appeared in the Second Rabbinic Bible (Venice, 1524–5) and continues to be printed in Rabbinic Bibles (Miqra}ot Gedolot). In contrast, the second commentary was first published only in 1850 by J. Zedner (London) and does not appear in any Rabbinic Bibles. It is thus the first commentary that is most often consulted and cited. The second commentary is more than half again as long as the first. However, the second commentary is not simply an updated version of the first, but rather should be considered a separate work, as was shown in a careful study by B. Walfish (JQR 79 [1989], 323–43). It even seems that Ibn Ezra wrote the second without being able to consult the first; in fact, the unavailability of his earlier works was probably a major reason for his composing the second commentary on Esther and other biblical books. 298

REVIEWS

Never before has a critical edition of either Esther commentary been undertaken, and so it is very welcome that the author has produced this volume, which includes critical editions and annotated translations of both. The critical edition is especially needed for the second commentary, since the text is generally harder to find, and since the edition of Zedner is based mainly on a single manuscript. The author begins his ‘introductory study’ (pp. xxvii–cxii) with a brief history of the two commentaries, discussing the time and place of their composition and their previous publication. He continues with a lengthy comparative study in which he demonstrates the ways in which the two commentaries differ in content. Some of the topics covered are: differences in the use of language, differences in Ibn Ezra’s treatment of certain topics (such as the absence of the divine name in Esther and the etymologies of proper names), and the differing use of Rabbinic material. It is a very interesting study, and one which also serves to highlight the approach of Ibn Ezra to biblical commentary in general. This is a nice companion to the study of Walfish mentioned above, which compares the two commentaries in a more methodical way. The introductory study also contains a discussion of the manuscripts consulted for this critical edition (nine for the first commentary and six for the second). Also listed are about a dozen other relevant manuscripts that were not employed, for a variety of reasons explained by the author. Concluding the introductory study is a handy bibliography of primary and secondary sources relating to the works of Abraham ibn Ezra. Following the introductory study is an index of all biblical passages cited in the introductory study, in the two commentaries (with reference to both the Hebrew texts and Spanish translations), and in the author’s footnotes to the two translations. The Spanish translations appear consecutively (pp. 3–193) and are followed by the Hebrew texts and critical notes (pp. *5–*70). The Hebrew is printed in a goodsized font, biblical text appears in boldface, and chapter and verse numbers are marked. All of these features, coupled with the relatively clear Hebrew style of Ibn Ezra himself, make for easy reading of the commentaries. Biblical citations from outside the book of Esther are labelled with chapter and verse numbers as well, which I presume is a helpful addition of the editor. The Spanish translations are also presented in a very clear manner, well spaced, with chapter and verse numbers plainly indicated. The added footnotes not only help to clarify Ibn Ezra’s text, but also make reference to other works of Ibn Ezra and other medieval grammarians and commentators. The commentaries of a medieval Jew on a minor biblical book may seem like obscure reading matter, but, in fact, these texts are more than simply comments on the Esther story. That is to say, these texts are not just for those looking for an interpretation of particular passages in the book of Esther. On reading the commentaries, one gains insight on grammatical matters, theological issues, and Ibn Ezra’s understanding of history. In comparing the two commentaries, the reader can also witness how Ibn Ezra continued to evolve as a scholar. Just to give a simple example, consider his comments on the phrase u-b¢-bo}ah lipnê ham-melek (Esth. 9:25), which could be translated either ‘upon her coming to the king’ or ‘upon its coming to the king’, since it is not clear who or what the pronominal subject is referring to. In the first commentary, Ibn Ezra interprets this as, ‘when Esther came to the king’. But in the second commentary, he says, ‘there are some who say [this means] “when Esther came to plead for her people” … but b¢-bo}ah could also mean “when the decree 299

REVIEWS

[to kill the Jews] came to the king” … and this [latter opinion] is correct in my eyes.’ So we see that Ibn Ezra remained open to new interpretations and had no problem changing his mind. This is the third critical edition of Ibn Ezra’s commentaries published by Mariano Gómez Aranda. Ecclesiastes was published in 1994, and Job in 2004. It is hoped that more critical editions of Ibn Ezra’s work will follow. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp057 AARON D. RUBIN PENNSYLVANIA STATE UNIVERSITY

DVORA BREGMAN, The Golden Way: The Hebrew Sonnet during the Renaissance and the Baroque (Medieval and Renaissance Text and Studies 304). Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, Arizona 2006. Pp. 298. Price: $45.00/ £37.00. ISBN: 978-0-86698-348-8. Dvora Bregman (Ben Gurion University of the Negev) wrote her earlier study Shevilé Zahav and the accompanying anthology Seror Zahav in 1995. The study deals with the history of the Hebrew sonnet, which manifested itself mainly in Italy but subsequently also in the rest of Europe and the Ottoman Empire, and was even written by Sephardic poets in Amsterdam and Holland. In The Golden Way, Bregman deals with the history of the Hebrew sonnet from its first appearance in Italy around 1300. One can ask oneself why Bregman chose the sonnet as a subject rather than the whole of Hebrew Italian poetry and its Hebrew European and Mediterranean offspring, and why she restricted herself to just one form of poetry. Why not deal with other forms of poetry, such as terza rima, sestina or ottava rima? Why not deal with Hebrew ballades and monorhymed or otherwise structured poetry? The Hebrew sonnets by Immanuel da Roma (1261–1320) and others should not be treated without dealing with the earlier Hebrew poetic tradition that derived from the Arabic.1 The Arabic-based metres are correctly mentioned in Dov Yarden’s edition of Immanuel’s Mahberot. However, in her article on the sonnets by Immanuel, Jacqueline Genot-Bismuth was aware only of the Italian background of the sonnet that has stressed syllables. We know from his Italian poetry that Immanuel belonged to the same generation as Dante Alighieri (1266–1321). In both the rhymed prose texts and his poetry we find, for instance, his adherence to the philosophical discourse that is called dolce stil novo (the last word without diphthongization, rather than the other Italian variant nuovo). We see for instance in his work the reflection of the expression prima cagione (a mixture of prima causa and prima ratio), which was coined by Dante to indicate God or First Cause, or in Immanuel’s words ha 1 Articles on this subject: Arie Schippers, ‘The Work of Samuel Archivolti (1515–1611) in the Light of the Classical Traditions and Cinquecento Italian literature’, in Helmantica Vol. 51 no. 154 (2000), 121–38; idem, ‘Les troubadours et la tradition poétique hébraïque en Italie et en Provence; les cas de Abraham ha-Bedarshi & Immanuel ha-Romi’; in Antonius H. Touber (ed.), Le Rayonnement des troubadours; Colloque de l’AIEO Amsterdam (Amsterdam October 1995) (Internationale Forschungen zur Allgemeinen und Vergleichenden Literaturwissenschaft, Amsterdam 1998), 133–42; Carlos Del Valle Rodriguez, El Divan poético de Dunash ben Labrat (Madrid 1988); idem, Carlos del Valle Rodriguez, Historia de la Gramática hebrea en España, Volumen X: La gramática hebrea de Ibn Danán en la versión árabe y hebrea (al-Darûri y ha-Kelal). (Gramática Hebrea X, Madrid 2004); Jacqueline Genot-Bismuth, ‘La révolution prosodique d’Immanuel de Rome’ in Sasson Somekh (ed.), Studies in Medieval Arabic and Hebrew Poetics (Israel Oriental Studies XI, Leiden 1991), 161–86. See also the many articles by Angel Saenz Badillos on the subject.

300

REVIEWS

sibah ha rishonah. We also find philosophical terms in one of his satirical sonnets; for instance, when the poet speaks about creative intelligence in a poem about an ugly daughter of Gershom. The interest in poetic forms, rhymes and metres in the course of the history of Hebrew poetry lies in the adoption of forms and metres from the Gentiles; according to the words of Ps. 106 [107]: 35 ‘And they mingled themselves among the peoples.’ At the beginning of this Arab metrical tradition stood Dunash ibn Labrat (920–90), Hebrew Andalusian poet and grammarian, who took over the metres from Arabic poetry. The Arabs consider metrics a part of grammar, so in most cases we find metrical observations in Hebrew grammars, even in later periods — for example, in the case of Sa¨adya ibn Dannân (Granada, 1440–1505) or the Italian grammarian Samuel Archivolti (1515–1611). In Archivolti’s grammar Arugat ha-Bosem (‘Fragrant Flower Bed’) we see how Archivolti still uses traditional terms such as yated (Arabic watid) for the sequence v- (long followed by short syllable), which forms the stable part of every foot of the metre. One of Archivolti’s remarkable examples is a monorhyme six-liner, which can be represented as a wheel because he speaks of the wheel of fortune. It can be read perpetually, like some ¨ayn poems in Arabic (referring to the rhyme letter as well as the meaning of ¨ayn as a word for ‘eye’) that describe the eye of the beloved. ‘Concretes’ like this were found earlier in both Arabic and Hebrew poetry (for instance, poems in the form of trees). Archivolti explains the metres of his poems by using the terms ‘peg’ (yated, Arabic watid) and ‘movements’ (tenu¨ot, Arabic harakât), with the merubba¨ (Arab. murabba¨ = aabC/ ddeC) rhyme in a satirical poem à la Cecco Angiolieri (1260–1312), but the further terminology of metres — such as arokh for the Arabic tawîl metre (‘long’), a term used by Sa¨adya ibn Dannân — is absent from his work. Although Archivolti presents an example of a sonnet and an example of an ottava rima in the very same chapter, he does not mention the names of these two Italian genres. And even the stress that is required on the penultimate syllable according to the rules of Italian is respected. In The Golden Way, Bregman occupies herself with this interesting field, namely Hebrew and Arabic poetics, which fused with additional rules that originated from the Italian and Provençal tradition, and which also had its impact on Dutch Sephardic poets, such as Solomon d’Oliveyra. After a general introduction, she discusses in Part I (‘The Ancient Hebrew Sonnet’) the forming of the corpus of Hebrew sonnets at the same time as the emergence of the Italian sonnet (1), the earliest Hebrew sonnets (2), the author of the first Hebrew sonnet (3), and (Chapter II) the general structure and rhyme scheme. Starting (1) with the question why the sonnet is unique compared with other strophic forms in Italian literature, she explains that in the sonnet the transition from the octave (the first eight lines) to the sestet (the last six lines) is a ‘crisis’ in the ‘music’ of the poem: The musical pattern of the sonnet verse-form is unique. Static forms, such as those used in the mono-rhymed classic Spanish Hebrew poem, and repeating forms of various kinds, such as the strophes used in liturgical Hebrew poetry (…), all lack the inner tension and sharp contrasts of the sonnet.

She also discusses (2) the development of the classical model of the Italian sonnet, which evolved from the Sicilian sonnet that consists of fourteen lines of equal length. The closed octave (ABBA ABBA) was invented during the course of experiments, thus giving the sonnet all that it needed to attain the classic form. Petrarch (1304–74) was not the first to create the classic sonnet, although he did purify the form of its superfluities. For the Hebrew sonnet, it is very important to deal with 301

REVIEWS

the model of Immanuel of Rome (3). In view of the slow development of the Italian sonnet, the Hebrew sonnets of Immanuel of Rome come as an impressive surprise: every one of his sonnets has fourteen lines in a single metre, and the great majority are rhymed ABBA ABBA CDE CDE. Without doubt, this is the classic model of the sonnet in Hebrew guise, and was published as early as 1328. Petrarch began writing his Canzoniere in 1336 and did not finish editing it until 1374. In establishing the classic sonnet, Immanuel thus preceded Petrarch by more than forty years. … This poet, who so brilliantly composed Hebrew poetry in the traditions of medieval Spain, was able to liberate himself from the old, if not sacred conventions of this rich tradition to penetrate the very heart of Italian poetry, and to precede the Italians themselves in establishing the classic model of the most common and basic form in their poetry.

The classic model of the sonnet required Immanuel to refrain from using the various options, however inviting they might be (p. 4). Bregman then explains (p. 5) that Petrarch cannot have been the inspiration for Immanuel, as they lived in different times and even in different places (for many years, Petrarch lived outside Italy, in Avignon). Having eliminated these possibilities, the only way to explain the fascinating similarity between Immanuel and Petrarch is to suggest that both poets shared an Italian source of inspiration: it appears that this source can be none other than Dante Alighieri. Bregman sees Dante also as the author of Il Fiore — the Italian version of the famous allegory of love, Le Roman de la Rose, which was composed during the thirteenth century by two French poets: Guillaume de Lorris (who began the poem) and Jean de Meun (who completed it). Immanuel wrote his Mahberet Ha-Tofet ve-ha-¨Eden (‘Hell and Heaven’) in the wake of Dante’s Divine Comedy. Dante’s influence on his work is apparent in several places in the Mahberot, and especially in the sonnets. Then in the IIIrd chapter she deals with metre, the phonetic syllable, the syllabic models, the quantative models, and internal rhythm, and symmetrical alternating stress. The IVth chapter about the rhyme follows: homogeneous rhyme, stressed rhyme, rich rhyme, alternating rhymes, rhymed biblical phrases. Then we have the Vth chapter about structures of syntax and rhetoric: syntax, syntactic symmetry, rhetorical patterns. The VIth chapter is about developing the subject: a bipartite structure, straggling sestes, affinity to the Italian sonnet, context-dependent development. Important are of course theme, attitude and mood in the sonnet (VII): the thematic approach, the love sonnet, love as sin, social implications, religious rebuke, complaint, panegyric, boasting, criticism, and debate, and gluttony. The Italian sonnet greatly expanded its range of subjects, approaches, and attitudes: the Sicilians devoted the sonnet mostly to the subject of love, and the Tuscan poets cultivated a number of new themes: religious and philosophical thought, ethics (largely allegorical), social issues, politics, and others. Guittone d’Arezzo greatly contributed to the diversity of the prosody, and was also instrumental in expanding the sonnets’ range of themes. The poets of the dolce stil novo saw poetry as something sublime, deserving of only the most exalted subjects. Dante in his essay De Vulgari Eloquentia limited these subjects to three: arms, love, and virtue. Dante and his circle wrote poetry largely on the subject of love, though they broadened its significance in various ways: the ‘realistici’, on the other hand — Cecco Angiolieri, Rustico di Filippo, and others — demonstrated a broader approach. The first trend created an ‘exalted’ sonnet — limited in subject matter, Platonic, religious, serious and refined — while 302

REVIEWS

the latter created a ‘low’ sonnet varied in subject matter, realistic, vulgar, filled with humour and a kind of street-smart cynicism. This, then, was the situation in which Immanuel found himself when it came time to choose his own poetic path. Against this background, Immanuel’s sonnets deal with every subject, high and low: love, religious rebuke, complaint, praise, ridicule and boasts. In this he is reminiscent of the “realistici”, who adopted a popular approach to their poetry. And indeed, in more than a few sonnets Immanuel does adopt stylistic traits characteristic of this trend, without avoiding however the usages of the dolce stil novo. Dvora Bregman tries to find an answer as to whether his Italianized sonnets were accepted by the Jewish community, in view of the kind of subject matter. Part II (VIII) of The Golden Way starts with the flowering of the Italian sonnet, beginning with (1) the poetry of Petrarch, (2) the poetry after Petrarch (i.e. Petrarchism: its major traits; early Petrarchism; and Petrarchism in the sixteenth century with the subtitles ‘Not Only Love’ and ‘Not Only Petrarch’), and (3) baroque poetry (with the concept of meraviglia; ‘creating amazement’). The revival of the Hebrew sonnet (IX) took place when the decline of the sonnet after Immanuel of Rome was followed by the Renewal — which consisted of the continuing participation in Italian culture of the Hebrew sonnet and the revival of Immanuel’s poetics — by the poets who renewed the Hebrew Sonnet, such as Joseph Sarfati,2 who translated from Spanish the theatre play Calisto y Melibea, whose protagonist was the prostitute Celestina. In this connection, also the work of Samuel Archivolti is mentioned. Bregman devoted an earlier article to his poems in Italia 7 (1988), and is especially interested in his sonnet 59, which was published in Bregman’s Sror Zehubim (Jerusalem 1981) and describes the music of the spheres.3 Bregman then widens the circle, indicating that there are also many sonnets in the East, for example in Saloniki and Constantinople. Although Bregman mentions some 80 sonnets from the sixteenth century, other sonnets were written. About the expansion of the corpus of sonnets, Bregman writes that this was also linked to the flowering of poetry in Italy. In his anthology of Hebrew Italian poetry (Berlin 1934), Schirmann includes the work of more than twenty-five poets who were active during the seventeenth century, but there were many others. Four important poets stand out as the major, highly prolific and well-known sonneteers of that century: Leone da Modena, Moses Zacuto, Jacob Frances and Immanuel Frances. There are short sub-chapters devoted to minor poets (Isaac Levi and Abraham Graziano) and to the Hebrew sonnet in Holland. In Holland there was a broad spectrum of personalities: Menasseh ben Israel, Isaac Aboab and Solomon Oliveyra, who was a prolific poet and the author of Ayyelet Ahavim (‘Gazelle of love’) (Amsterdam 1665). Oliveyra included some poetry in his rhyme dictionary Sharshot Gavlut (Exod. 28:22; ‘Wreathen chains of pure gold’) (Amsterdam 1665). Chapter X is devoted to general structure and rhyme scheme. Bregman first deals (1) with the classical model, for example the acceptance of the model, its adherence to the closed octave ABBA ABBA, and its restraint in structuring the sestet towards the two-rhyme model CDC DCD. Bregman quotes Samuel Archivolti, who in 1602 2 I prefer to spell this name Sarfati with S rather than Tz, as was done by the translator of this book. Even Zarfati would have been preferable to Tzarfati, as Tz is a modern invention that does not do justice to the historical pronunciation of Sadé. 3 Also translated and dealt with in my article on Archivolti.

303

REVIEWS

introduced the first Hebrew sonnet to appear in critical theory (in his grammar Arugat ha-Bosem; ‘Perfumed Garden’), with the pun on mishqal (which means both ‘weight’ and ‘metre’) and zahav (‘gold’), which has the numerical value of fourteen. Second, Bregman deals (2) with expansion and change and discusses the sonetto caudato (‘with a tail’), for example a sestet rhymed CDE CDE, with first coda EFF, then FGG, and so on, which had already been employed in humorous and burlesque poetry by Cino da Pistoia, Antonio Pucci, Burchiello and Berni (21 codas!). The first Hebrew example is by Leone Modena (1571–1648). The rest of the chapter comprises sub-chapters, such as ‘Expanding the Octave’ (writing a sonetto doppio, Sp. Sonetos dobles) and unusual rhyme schemes; it ends with the sub-chapter ‘Question of the Sonnet’s Boundaries’. De Barrio’s Spanish forms were imitated by Jacob Sasportas, a poet from the Amsterdam school. Hebrew forms appeared in, for example, the four sonnets written for Joseph Penso: ‘Such defiance of conventions, complicated structures, and grandiose symmetries all combine to create a real meraviglia in the best of Baroque style’ (p. 128). Bregman then (XI) deals with metre (p. 136) and the acceptance of the quantitative-syllabic system (p. 136), and discusses the old and the new within this system, and even investigates signs of a different path in metrics (p. 147). She also discusses rhyme (XII; p. 150), including stressed rhyme (p. 150) and ornate rhyme (p. 155). In the subsequent chapters, other formal, linguistic and thematic features are discussed and illustrated with many examples: structures of syntax and rhetoric, old as well as new (XIII; p. 166); how the subject is developed (XIV; p. 174), with both new and old models; subjects, approaches and attitudes (XV; p. 200), including love sonnets, wedding poems, encomiastic, occasional and various poems, friendship sonnets, polemics, prayer, ethics, religious thought, laments, meditations, complaint, mockery, laughter and many others. Also sonnet sequences (XVI) are dealt with: coronas and such like as well as the sonnet sequences in Yesod ¨Olam by Moses Zacuto. The concluding remarks are devoted to the development of the Hebrew sonnet in history (XVII), and continuity and change especially in view of the tradition and change in the sonnets of Immanuel of Rome and the tradition and innovation in the Hebrew sonnet of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The book ends with an appendix comprising a table of quantitative syllabic metres (p. 289), a bibliography (p. 293) and an index (p. 305). I congratulate the author on the English version of her thorough, rich and solid book. May her readership increase, so that also Italianists, Anglicists and so on take an interest in Hebrew Italian literature and integrate the Hebrew sonnet into their history of the European sonnet! doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp058

ARIE SCHIPPERS AMSTERDAM

LEORA BATNITZKY, Leo Strauss and Emmanuel Levinas: Philosophy and the Politics of Revelation. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 2006. Pp. xxii + 280. Price: £48.00 hardback. ISBN: 978-0-86156-4. This is a difficult book, but it repays study. The two philosophers have rarely been compared, but they have much in common. They were contemporaries, responding to the same events, notably the Holocaust, and were nurtured on the same combination of Western philosophy, Jewish tradition and philosophy, and twentieth-century phenomenology and existentialism: both studied with Husserl and Heidegger, and were highly influenced by Rosenzweig. They were also both Jewish philosophers, 304

REVIEWS

drawing on that specific tradition and differing from philosophers who happened to be Jewish; but Jewish philosophers concerned most of the time with philosophy in general rather than with how philosophy relates to Jewish practice in particular. In this context, Leora Batnitzky discusses their views of the philosophical task as such, of religious revelation and of politics. But it is their view of politics that looms largest, and about which she has the most interesting and startling (but plausible) things to say. Essentially, she makes two claims: that Levinas got politics wrong, and that Strauss, properly understood, got it right. Levinas, on her view, tried to do two impossible things: to free politics from any metaphysical or religious presuppositions, and to reduce it to personal ethics. For Levinas, both ethics and politics are based on one’s recognition of one’s absolute responsibility towards other people, or ‘the Other’. This, one might say, may well illuminate personal relationships, but does not illuminate relationships between groups, or relationships based on negotiation and ‘trading’ (my word), or relationships based on justice rather than commitment, or (in particular) relationships legitimately requiring force and coercion. It also ignores the fact that all existing codes of law and ethics are bound up with assumptions about human nature and destiny which are often religious and always go beyond the empirical. In contrast, Strauss recognises fully the role of religious principles in systems of law. Jewish law, for example, can been seen as coherent only if one recognises the underlying theological assumptions; and this is true even if one accepts that it is essentially about action rather than belief. But Leora Batnitzky argues that this does not mean that he is the dogmatic conservative that both his followers and his opponents have too often taken him to be. She argues, in effect, that he holds, first, that all political positions are based on metaphysical and often religious assumptions; and secondly, that there is in this area truth and falsity. If he stopped there, he might indeed be a dogmatist. But he also holds that it is the business of philosophy to be sceptical about all these assumptions, not because there is no absolute truth but because we do not ourselves know it with absolute certainty. Hence we should acknowledge that our own presuppositions are not absolutely certain; we should be ready to talk to people who have different presuppositions; and we should support liberal democracy, not because we can prove that it is the right system, but because we cannot show with certainty (or even likelihood?) that we have any justification for withholding basic rights from any person. And so Strauss’s thought turns out to lead not to dogmatic conservatism but to sceptical liberalism! Similarly, Strauss’s method of exegesis, with its concern with what a writer did not say, is not a search for esoteric doctrines, but simply a recognition that there may be many reasons for a person to hint at what they really think rather than to say it plainly, and one needs to be alert to the clues that this is happening. So for Leora Batnitzky the relevance of Strauss is that he takes the philosophical task to be that of showing the ways systems of thought hang together (especially, for a Jewish philosopher, Jewish thought), unearthing presuppositions, showing that they are not necessarily certain, and nevertheless continuing the dialogue and the search for truth. Politically, this uncertainty should, as Mill argued, lead us to maintain individual freedom and especially freedom of speech. If Batnitzky is right (she does not herself mention Mill), Strauss would accept this, while perhaps feeling that he would personally prefer a more ordered and authoritarian society, but that his personal preferences are not to the point. Hence the importance of Strauss, rather than Levinas, politically as well as philosophically. 305

REVIEWS

It remains to say that the above is a very free paraphrase of what seems to me to be the most important ideas in this book. I hope my interpretation of the author’s intentions is correct. I must also emphasize that the review has been limited to these main points. There is a richness of detail in this book and a multitude of suggestive ideas to which I have not done justice, but which are well worth reading. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp059 A.H. LESSER UNIVERSITY OF MANCHESTER

KHALEEL MOHAMMED and ANDREW RIPPIN (eds), Coming to terms with the Qur}an. A volume in honor of Professor Issa Boullata. Islamic Publications International, McGill University, North Haledon, NJ 2008. Pp. xxiii + 358. Price: $29.95 paperback. ISBN: 978-1-889999-47-0. The trend seems to be toward a second festschrift. In 2000, Kamal Abdel-Malek and Wael Hallaq edited a book Modernity and Postmodernity in Arabic Literature. Essays in Honor of Professor Issa J. Boullata (Montreal). This book celebrated the scholar of classical and modern Arabic literature at McGill University in Montreal, the oldest Canadian university, on his seventieth anniversary. The volume here under review honours Issa Boullata, Professor of the Institute of Islamic Studies, on his seventy-fifth birthday (February 25, 2004). It concentrates on his second important field of research, the study of the Qur}an, its aesthetic dimensions, and its exegesis. The Institute of Islamic Studies was founded by Wilfred Cantwell Smith in 1952 and has been famous for its broad interdisciplinary approach and its liberal and non-confrontational way of dealing with inter-religious problems. The reviewer of such a festschrift regularly faces a dilemma of subjectivity — what to include and what to leave out. I have decided to give the reader of this review an overall if uneven idea of what to expect, but I found myself unable to go deeper in discussing the very broad spectrum of the many issues raised. Eltigani Abdulqadir Hamid, ‘The Concept of Reform in the Qur}an’ (pp. 3–32) attempts in a somewhat hortational way to identify a common Quranic concept underlying words such as ÒaliÌ, iÒlaÌ, muÒliÌ, etc. Khaleel Mohammed, ‘The Identity of the Qur}an’s Ahl al-dhikr’ (pp. 33–45) attacks mediaeval and modern interpretations of the term ahl al-dhikr, which occurs twice in the Qur}an. He quotes NaÒir al-Din al-Albani (d. 1999), who as a staunch salafi is convinced that the term means ‘the ahl al-qur}an and the ahl al-Ìadith … those who know the authentic from the unauthentic … and other principles of fiqh and Ìadith}, i.e., people such as al-Albani himself; MuÌammad al-Tijani (b. 1943), a Sunni scholar who converted to Shiism, on the other hand, is quoted as claiming with equal firmness that ‘the term refers to the Prophet’s family’. Khaleel Mohammed argues plausibly that the Quranic term originally refers to the Jewish mazkirim, ‘the recorders of the past’. While this may not yet be an ‘unassailable truth’ (p. 38), his following wry statement is worth pondering: ‘It is unlikely that the findings of this research … will counteract any of the modern (mis)interpretations of ahl al-dhikr. Yet, they raise a question that could promote research as well as the irenic philosophy of scholars like Issa Boullata: how many more terms of the Qur}an have metamorphosed over the passage of time?’ (p. 43). Andrew Rippin’s contribution ‘Metaphor and the Authority of the Qur}an’ (pp. 47–62) examines the words for ‘blind, blindness’ in the Quranic text and unravels their metaphorical connotations. He concludes: ‘we must understand the Qur}an as part of the Middle Eastern religious 306

REVIEWS

imagination, a text within the midrashic genre coming from the 7th century’ (p. 48). Seth Ward in ‘The Qur}an, Chosen People and Holy Land’ (pp. 63–76) ends his overview of Banu Isra}il and Yahud in the Qur}an by contextualizing the more hostile pronouncements on the Jews and states: ‘The Qur}an cannot be seen only as a book read by extremists to justify extremism, but also as a scripture which can be used by Muslims who fight against a political interpretation of Islam that stresses armed struggle, and who reject terror and hatred as un-Islamic’ (p. 72). Rizwi Faizer in her ‘The Dome of the Rock and the Qur}an’ (pp. 77–106), boldly proposes on the basis of the inscriptions in the Dome of the Rock that ‘the early Muslims might well have been sectarian Christians’ (p. 99). She emphasizes the religious and political ambitions of ¨Abdalmalik in building the Dome and even calls — somewhat anachronistically, I would say — the caliph an ‘Arab Muslim nationalist’ (p. 90). Asma Afsaruddin offers in her article ‘Sunni-Shii Dialectics and the Qur}an’ (pp. 107–24) a fairly traditional description of what Q 9:40 (ayat al-ghar) means for the Sunni view of Abu Bakr’s ‘superiority’ (af∂aliyya) to ¨Ali, whereas a well-known Îadith-tradition establishes ¨Ali’s superiority in the Shiite context. Carl Sharif El-Tobgui, ‘The Hermeneutics of Fakhr al-Din al-Razi’ (pp. 125–58) more describes than analyses the often discussed muÌkam-mutashabih problem of Q 3:7 according to al-Razi’s commentary MafatiÌ al-ghayb. Equally descriptive is Qamar-ul Huda’s article on mystical exegesis ‘Qur}an and Îadith in the School of Al-Suhrawardi’ (pp. 159–76). Roxanne D. Marcotte, ‘The Qur}an in Egypt I: Bint al-Sha†i} on Women’s Emancipation’ (pp. 179–208) gives us a sympathetic, yet critical and careful analysis of the pros and cons of the exegetical work of Egypt’s First Lady of tafsir (d. 1998). Soraya Mahdi Hajjaji-Jarrah, ‘The Qur}an in Egypt II: Sayyid Qu†b on Inimitability’ (pp. 209–26) contrasts two different attitudes of Sayyid Qu†b (d. 1966). His initial purely literary interest in commenting on the Qur}an (in major books such as al-TaÒwir al-fanni and Mashahid al-qiyama) is replaced after his conversion to religious extremism by a completely different attitude, which led him to condemn purely literary approaches and to advocate militant Islamic activism instead — mainly in his commentary Fi Âill al-qur}an. Yusuf Rahman, ‘The Qur}an in Egypt III: NaÒr Abu Zayd’s Literary Approach’ (pp. 227–65) gives us a penetrating analysis of Abu Zayd’s main exegetical theses, based on a commendably rich bibliographical basis. What I missed was a deeper analysis of the reaction of Muslim scholars to Abu Zayd’s hypotheses. Sahiron Syamsuddin, ‘The Qur}an in Syria: MuÌammad ShaÌrur’s Inner-Qur}anic Method’ (pp. 267–83), equally well-researched, describes ShaÌrur’s approach, showing himself mildly critical of ShaÌrur’s (lack of) method. Sheila McDonough, ‘The Qur}an in India I: Iqbal and Gandhi on the Qur}an’ (pp. 285– 319) compares Mohammed Iqbal’s and Mahatma Gandhi’s messages. Gandhi, after his experience in his anti-apartheid work in South Africa before World War I, often quoted the Qur}an and considered Islam equally important as Hinduism in the struggle against colonialism and racism. Alan M. Guenther, ‘The Qur}an in India II: Tablighi Jama¨at and the Qur}an’ (pp. 321–38) shows us that the founders of Tablighi Jama¨at follow a very traditional reception of the Qur}an, even accepting the use of suras in amulets. All in all, this volume is a welcome contribution to our knowledge of how differently the Quranic text was and is read. It is ecumenical in spirit and pluralistic in its methodology. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp060

STEFAN WILD UNIVERSITY OF BONN

307

REVIEWS

JOHN A. MORROW (ed.), Arabic, Islam and the Allah Lexicon: How Language Shapes our Conception of God. Edwin Mellen Press, Lewiston, NY 2006. Pp. 340. Price: $119.95 hardback. ISBN: 978-0-7734-5726-3. This collection of essays on ‘Allah’, the Arabic word for God, is an attempt to gather reflections on the principal name used for ‘God’ from a selection of Islamic sources that range from the Qur}an to its everyday usage by contemporary speakers of Arabic. Three authors collaborated in this venture: John A. Morrow, the editor, Barbara Castleton, author of two chapters and Luis Alberto Vittor, co-author of one chapter. The book comprises a general introduction, five chapters, more than two dozen statistical tables and an index. Bibliographies are added separately to each chapter. In a rather odd fashion, the editor has added his own explanatory comments as endnotes to each chapter. Actual source citations and other textual references are not presented in academic footnote format but are sporadically interspersed in brackets within the text of the individual articles. Often, unfortunately, these are truncated references, providing simply the name of an author without further specification. The acknowledgements enumerate a long list of scholars and individuals who gave some aid to this project. Methodologically, the book is a hodgepodge, eclectically and idiosyncratically combining phenomenological and sociolinguistic approaches with assorted historical-critical and philosophical reflections. The combination creates a disordered mix of data, facts, conjectures and insights that are difficult to relate to one another. In the introduction, the editor defines the purpose of the book as an effort ‘to study the frequency and function of the Allah Lexicon in the Arabic language’ (p. l). The pseudo-technical phrase, ‘the Allah Lexicon’, however, is never defined; rather it turns out to mean nothing more than the lexical frequency of the word ‘Allah’ in a great variety of texts, contexts and discourses. The first chapter, ‘The Omnipresence of Allah in the Arabic Language’, by John A. Morrow (pp. 7–70), compares the ‘omnipresence’ of the word ‘Allah’ in the Arabic language with the frequency of the word for God in a large number of languages chosen arbitrarily from a variety of language families. The chapter concludes with the oddly theological statement that ‘Arabic is truly the language of Islam, the language of the Qur}an and the language of Allah’ (p. 46). The second chapter, ‘Frequency and Function of Religiously-Based Expressions’, by Barbara Castleton (pp. 71–113), examines the pervasiveness of phrases and words that include a reference to Allah in daily life and everyday speech. The third chapter, ‘The Origin of the Allah Lexicon’, by John A. Morrow (pp. 115–85), highlights certain instances of the word ‘Allah’ in Qur}an and Sunna and also mentions its occurrence in pre-Islamic expressions. It then makes the leap into its colloquial usage and the linguistic challenges posed by modernization. The fourth chapter, ‘Transfer of Essential Phrases into Second Language Use’, by Barbara Castleton (pp. 187–241), examines the passage of the word ‘Allah’ into the bilingual Arabic-English speaking environment and its various consequences. The fifth chapter, ‘The Most Beautiful Names: The Philosophical Foundation of the Allah Lexicon’, co-authored by John A. Morrow and Luis Alberto Vittor (243–80), provides a puzzling potpourri that combines reflections on the etymological origin of the word ‘Allah’ with a survey of the ninety-nine most beautiful names of God in Islamic theology and aspects of the ‘complete human being’ idea in Islamic esotericism and mysticism. This final chapter touches on many themes pertinent to the conceptualization of God in Islam but it moves from topic to topic without a consistent flow of argumentation. Furthermore, it raises particular topics in such composite form that it is difficult to perceive the actual sources from which 308

REVIEWS

specific claims are derived. The inadequacy of this way of argumentation is not redeemed by the multitude of Arabic book titles and Muslim author names that are dropped cumulatively into the editor’s endnotes for a scholarly effect (pp. 273–80). The subtitle of this essay collection promises an answer to the question ‘How Language Shapes Our Conception of God’ but it does not deliver on the promise. Instead, what we find is the forced marriage of two approaches, one sociolinguistic and the other phenomenological, both focused on the Arabic word ‘Allah’ in the written sources of Islam and the oral discourse of Muslims, but no genuine synthesis between them. Nor, beyond a few insightful comments, do we find a genuine historical-critical analysis of the subject. The specialist in Semitic Studies will look in vain for significant new discoveries in these essays and the generalist in Religious Studies will be hard pressed to discern a comprehensive understanding of how the concept of Allah functions in the religion of Islam. The book does, however, draw attention to the centrality of the idea of God in Islam and recognizes that there are multiple perspectives from which this idea can be analysed. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp061

GERHARD BOWERING YALE UNIVERSITY

309

SHORT NOTICES PEKKA LINDQVIST, Sin at Sinai: Early Judaism Encounters: Exodus 32 (Studies in Rewritten Bible 2). Åbo Akademi University and Eisenbrauns, Winona Lake 2008. Pp. 391. Price: $49.95. ISBN: 978-952-12-2020-3. The book offers an illuminating exploration of how the ‘golden calf’ — the archetypal story of Israel’s rebellion — was remoulded in early Jewish literature up to the sixth century CE. In-depth textual and literary analysis is accompanied by broader considerations of historical and social factors that might have stimulated certain attitudes towards the text. The author unfolds his investigation gradually, building up the anticipation. The first two chapters are dedicated to methodological questions and discussion of the main studies on the topic. Lindqvist’s own work focuses on the interpretations that attempt to mitigate the gravity of the ‘sin at Sinai’. He thereby complements significantly Mandelbaum’s (1990) inquiry into non-apologetic exegesis in tannaitic literature. In addition, he revises the view upheld by Marmostein (1935) and Smolar and Aberbach (1990), for whom polemic with Christianity was a raison d’être of Jewish apologetics, and highlights the ‘inner-Judaic catechetical need’. Chapter 3 provides an overview of the broader literary and cultural context, including biblical exposition of the episode, early Christian interpretation and allegations of Jewish zoolatry in the works of some Gentile authors. The main bulk of the argument rests in chapter 4, where the author closely analyses a considerable number of texts spanning the Septuagint, Targumim, Jewish Hellenistic works, midrashim and rabbinic writings of the Talmudic era. The author singles out two main foci of apology: vindication of Israel and — even more prominent — vindication of Aaron. Furthermore he identifies different apologetic strategies, some of them more conspicuous than others, for example, omitting details and modifying the account (e.g., Philo and Josephus); inserting additional details (e.g., Targum Pseudo-Jonathan); avoiding translation of certain words or passages (e.g., Targum Neofiti), which seems to be in line with the mishnaic ruling concerning the ‘forbidden targumim’. According to Lindqvist, such a ban on translating and synagogal reciting certain biblical texts might have been motivated by the desire to avoid public shaming of the people of Israel. The most elaborate apology is found in amoraic midrashim, which were produced in the post-Constantinian era and might therefore have been influenced by Christian polemic. Finally, Lindqvist looks into the intriguing connection between the drama at Sinai and Ezekiel’s merkavah vision, intimated already in the Hebrew Bible itself (e.g., Ps. 68:18) and further explored in the mystical Hekhalot literature as well as in rabbinic midrashim. Interesting similarities between interpretations attested in Genizah fragments and in the Quran are discussed. Lindqvist’s is an intelligent and thought-provoking study, which crosses the boundaries between the disciplines by raising questions of how the treatment of a text reflects formation of religious self-identify and the ways in which collective memory works. It could have been further enriched by consideration of additional secondary literature on the subject, for example, Christine Hayes on the relationship of Exodus 32 and Deuteronomy 9–10 (2004), Rachel Elior on merkavah mysticism 311

SHORT NOTICES

(1990, 2004) and James Rhodes on the Epistle of Barnabas (2004). From the aesthetic point of view, the book suffers from occasional flaws in design and layout, such as the last word of a section jumping to the next page (p. 121) or the text of a quotation running on to the margin (pp. 209–11). These minor critical points notwithstanding, it is a stimulating and worthwhile contribution to the field. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp043

MILA GINSBURSKAYA CAMBRIDGE

BERNARD M. LEVINSON, “The Right Chorale”: Studies in Biblical Law and Interpretation (FAT 54). Mohr Siebeck, Tübingen 2008. Pp. xxiii + 432. Price: /99.00. ISBN: 978-3-16-149382-9. The reader may initially share the author’s surprise at being asked comparatively early in his career to compile a volume of collected essays. But surprise will soon turn to understanding, and admiration of the mature gifts displayed in each of these twelve studies: breadth of knowledge, depth of erudition, elegance of style, and above all authority of argument. They were originally published at various dates between 1990 and 2006, but each has been thoroughly reworked and updated for this edition, with much additional literature cited. The title, which is that of the first article, is taken from a poem by Wallace Stevens. The volume has a clear theme. All the studies relate to biblical law, most of them being directly concerned with the interpretation of Deuteronomy or the Covenant Code, and the majority are concerned with the bearing of diachronic study on interpretation. The twelve essays are distributed in equal numbers between three parts. The first four show ‘why biblical law matters’. The first chapter sets the agenda for the whole book: in controversy with M. Sternberg Levinson argues first, using the Flood story as an example, that diachronic study is necessary simply to make sense of the text, and secondly that the biblical revelation cannot be reduced to narrative: law is important to the Bible as literature. The second deals with the Eden narrative, and argues that there is no fall in the story, because it presupposes agency and autonomy in humans from the start, the qualities which are required for life under law. The third is a brief study of the Sinai covenant as the basis of Israel’s nationhood; and chapter four studies Deuteronomy 16–18 as the sketch of a proposed transformation of national life in which all its institutions would be subordinated to the Torah. Levinson argues that this makes it a model for modern constitutions based on the separation of powers. Here one might object that the passage does not have the effect of a constitution. The president of the United States is given defined functions by the Constitution; the Deuteronomic king has none. Part 2 consists of close studies of legal passages. Chapter 5 is a grammatical study of Ex. 21.2. The ‘Hebrew slave’ need not already be one: ‫ עבד עברי‬is the ‘effected object’. The other three chapters study Deuteronomy 13 in the light of textual criticism and Assyriology, specifically the succession treaty of Esarhaddon. The MT is correct against the LXX and other witnesses in Deut. 13.7a in referring only to ‘your mother’s son’ and not also the father’s (chapter 6). ‫ כסה‬in v. 9 means not ‘conceal’ but ‘condone’ (chapter 7). In v. 10, the text, uniquely, requires the addressee to kill the person counselling apostasy out of hand, rather than, as has often been argued and as the versions have attempted to make clear, delivering him or her to due process of law (chapter 8). However, while this is well argued, Levinson fails to offer an interpretation of v. 10abb, ‘your hand shall be against him first to put him to death (‫)להמיתו‬, and the hand of all the people afterwards’. 312

SHORT NOTICES

Part 3 consists of controversial essays refuting the opinions of four contemporaries on the legal corpora and re-asserting the standard critical view. Against R. Westbrook, the evidence for revision and interpolation in the legal corpora is clear. C.M. Carmichael’s hermeneutics is a closed system which allows no way of proving or disproving his assertions, and makes Deuteronomy unintelligible. Against J.G. McConville, Deuteronomy’s Passover law does revise earlier tradition. J. Van Seters’s dating of the Covenant code in the exile subsequent to Deuteronomy does not survive a careful examination of its altar law (Exod. 20:24). The collection as a whole triumphantly vindicates the significance of biblical law, the essential function of diachronic analysis (source and redaction criticism, and historical contextualization) in interpretation, and, especially in the last section, the established positions of the critical tradition in the succession of Wellhausen. The footnotes and bibliography are a superb resource for the study of biblical law. And the publishers have produced a beautiful volume worthily complementing a fine text. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp062 WALTER J. HOUSTON UNIVERSITY OF MANCHESTER

JAMES T. SPARKS, The Chronicler’s Genealogies: Towards an Understanding of 1 Chronicles 1–9 (Society of Biblical Literature Academia Biblica 28). Society of Biblical Literature, Atlanta 2008. Pp. xi + 385. Price: $47.95. ISBN: 978-158983-365-4. The genealogies of 1 Chronicles 1–9 have been the subject of two significant German language monographs in the past generation (Magnar Kartveit’s Motive und Schichten der Landtheologie in 1 Chronik 1–9 in 1989, and Manfred Oeming’s Das wahre Israel: die “genealogische Vorhalle” 1 Chronik 1–9 in 1990), as well as receiving renewed attention in the more recent commentaries. Sparks’ work is probably the lengthiest and most detailed discussion to date in English of this topic. It follows the trend of focusing primarily on the theological or ideological significance of the genealogies, as this may be discerned from their literary structure. At the same time, considerable attention is given to text-critical questions, along with an interesting (if somewhat speculative) discussion in chapter 11 on the Chronicler’s use of Genesis. Sparks notes that 1 Chronicles 1–9 has often been viewed (at least in earlier twentieth-century scholarship) as the work of a later redactor or redactors, who produced an introduction to the book that lacked internal consistency, purpose or plan, and had little, if any, relation to the narrative proper. In contrast to these older critical judgments, Sparks argues that these chapters constitute an ordered, carefully structured, and unified whole. 1 Chronicles 1–9 is analysed as a large-scale chiasm, with its central section (1 Chr. 6:48–53) focusing upon the authorised cultic officials performing their duties in the designated place. Each of the supporting levels of the chiasm is said to build up to this climax by declaring the inability of the kings of Israel and Judah (the Davidic kings just as much as Saul) to maintain the people in the safe possession of their land. Instead, the genealogies record Judah’s exile because of the unfaithfulness (ma¨al) of the people and their leaders. The genealogies also declare the way out of exile. Brief narrative notes (e.g., on Jabez in 4:10) indicate that humility and prayer guarantee prosperity and the possession of the land, while mourning over unfaithfulness (Ephraim in 7:20–9) will similarly ensure the restoration of material blessings. Lying at the centre of the whole presentation is the sacrificial cultus of the Jerusalem temple, as the means of atonement for ma¨al. The 313

SHORT NOTICES

centrality of the Levitical orders and the rites of atonement was already recognised by William Johnstone in his commentary (1997), an insight that Sparks seeks to amplify by his literary analysis. The chiastic arrangement of these chapters indicates that a fully maintained and supported cultus must be at the centre of the lives of a people restored from exile, to secure forgiveness and assure the safe possession of the land. This work was originally submitted as a doctoral dissertation to Murdoch University, Western Australia, in 2007, and reflects both the strengths and strictures of that genre. A pruning of the discussion for publication would have allowed the author’s own arguments to stand out in greater relief. That said, the relentless pursuit of an argument can lead to over-interpretation of some parts and the misreading of others. Closer engagement with Kartveit’s and Oeming’s works would have given a broader appreciation of the range of themes in these chapters. The author’s argument that 1 Chronicles 1 is intended to show ‘life lived in exile … life without Yahweh’ (p. 331) as the chiastic counterpoise to ch. 9 did not convince me (Thomas Willi’s 1991 commentary is helpful here). Similarly, the claim that the genealogies declared the failure and irrelevance of the Davidic dynasty for the Chronicler’s age is belied by the central significance of the Davidic covenant in the narrative proper. The genealogies and the narrative must stand together in interpretation. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp063 BRIAN E. KELLY CANTERBURY

FIONA C. BLACK, The Recycled Bible: Autobiography, Culture, and the Space Between (Semeia Studies 51). Society of Biblical Literature, Atlanta 2006. Pp. vii + 218. Price: $29.92 paperback. ISBN: 1-58983-146-2. This volume brings together two trends that assumed great prominence in the late twentieth century in biblical studies, cultural studies and the role of the reader in exegesis, the latter leading, among other things, to autobiographical and pseudoautobiographical interpretation. These essays explore the ‘space in between’ these arenas of culture and the self. There are biblical precedents, of course: the device of pseudonymity (Psalms, Proverbs, Song of Songs, Qoheleth Daniel) creates a deliberate rift between a projected self and the text’s own cultural context, and this conflict can be traced through reception histories in which the texts are ‘recycled’ both culturally and autobiographically. The essays themselves attempt to bridge the gap in various ways. Deborah Krause, discussing hypertext commentary on the Pastorals chooses a text that ‘recycles’ Paul through (pseudo-)autobiography. She also wants to see them as examples of ‘technological innovations’ analogous to the World Wide Web, where individual locations conceal an open and almost endless network of other sites, themes, or power structures. Black (invoking Winterson) plays with the deceits of the pseudo-autobiographies of the protagonists in the Song of Songs. Andrew Wilson on the figure of Mary and Hugh Pyper on children’s bible stories and James Smith on the demonic intertwine their own self-histories with facets of modern culture. Others conceal the self more but make intriguing links between bible and culture: Tina Pippin on John 6 and vampires, Roland Boer on He-Brew and Ela Nutu on The Matrix (using Baudrillard). In two concluding responses, Erin Runions suggests that autobiography is resistant to social control, and that escape from both the social panopticon and from the self is possible, while Geroge Aichele ponders the fate of both canon and self in a ‘post-canonical’ world. Text, culture and reader inevitably 314

SHORT NOTICES

deconstruct each other to the point where, it seems, the only serious activity is play. Some biblical and early postbiblical authors, however — not to mention the rabbis now and then — appear to have understood this quite well. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp064 PHILIP R. DAVIES UNIVERSITY OF SHEFFIELD

ANDREW D. GROSS, Continuity and Innovation in the Aramaic Legal Tradition (Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 128). Brill, Leiden 2008. Pp. xii + 236. Price: /89.00/US$142.00. ISBN: 978-90-04-15284-7. The publication of Brooklyn Museum Aramaic Papyri by E. Kraeling in 1953, an archive of Aramaic contracts from Elephantine, prompted a substantial interest in the structures and formularies of Aramaic legal documents by such scholars as R. Yaron, J. Rabinowitz, and Y. Muffs, comparing them with both subsequent Jewish Aramaic materials as well as with contemporary and earlier Mesopotamian contracts. Since then, new studies by such as H. Szubin and R. Westbrook, new and improved editions, by B. Porten and A. Yardeni, and, most importantly, new publications of major Aramaic corpora — notable among them the Wadi ed-Daliyeh Samaria papyri and Aramaic and Nabatean documents from the Dead Sea Caves from both the first and second centuries CE — have made renewed and revised overviews of these structures and formularies necessary. The volume under review, a revision of a 2005 dissertation at New York University, constitutes a major contribution to such studies for a specific type of contract: sale contracts, or, as termed by the author, ‘deeds of conveyance’. After an introductory chapter, the three major chapters of the work are devoted to the three major functional clauses in such documents respectively: ‘the acknowledgment of receipt clause’, ‘the investiture clause’, and ‘the warranty clause’. For each sub-type of each clause, Gross reviews and compares the terminology found in each major document collection from a careful philological point of view, and compares the terminology and formularies with material from as early as mid-second millennium BCE cuneiform (both core and peripheral) to as late as Hai Gaon’s (d. 1038 CE) manual of Jewish Babylonian Aramaic documents. Relevant parallels are also occasionally adduced from Palmyrene and Nabatean (Mada’in Salih) tomb inscriptions and the Syriac slave sale from Dura-Europus. Among the important terms philologically discussed, some of them only attested in the newly published materials, are ‫שפי‬, ‫פצל‬, ‫שחרץ‬, ‫זרף‬, and ‫שליט‬. Despite a few cases of infelicitous language, the scholarship of this welcome volume is sound and comprehensive, covering an impressive and vast range of materials. It should serve as an important reference in its field for a long time to come. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp065 STEPHEN A. KAUFMAN HEBREW UNION COLLEGE JEWISH INSTITUTE OF RELIGION, USA

GIANCARLO TOLONI, La sofferenza del giusto: Giobbe e Tobia a confronto (Studi biblici 159). Paideia Editrice, Brescia, 2009. Pp. 123. Price: /14.30 paperback. ISBN: 978-88-394-0759-7. The author, who is associated with universities in both Naples and Madrid, has already published a monograph on the text of Tobit. This short study is based on the idea that the same popular Egyptian or Babylonian archetypical legend about the righteous man who is tested and then reinstated lies behind the portrayal of the 315

SHORT NOTICES

trials and tribulations of Job and the unfortunate afflictions of Tobit. For Toloni, the former are resolved through the juxtaposition of Job and God and the latter through Tobit’s solidarity with his kin. The correspondences between Tobit and Job have long been recognized — indeed as Toloni acknowledges (p. 46) at Tob. 2:11 the Vulgate has a substantial plus comparing Tobit with Job — but the question remains whether they are substantial enough to support Toloni’s thesis. In addition to the theme of the suffering of the righteous Toloni notes commonalities such as wealth, family life, angelology, images of God, and, in part because he understands Job 3:23 to be the hermeneutical key to the book, he is especially intrigued by the theme of blindness in both books, whether actual (Tobit) or metaphorical (Job); he also highlights similarities in dramatic literary structure between the two works, working with Tobit as comedy and Job as tragedy, and he stresses that both works share the typology of the test, the use of evil spirits, prayer, and requests for death. Lexically there is not much to be said, even though we now have the Aramaic and Hebrew fragments of Tobit from Qumran. More than a quarter of this little book (pp. 74–96) is an appendix, an analysis of Ps. 54:5 (MT) that is only tangentially linked to the rest of the book in terms of its having something to do with those who inflict suffering. Verdict: enjoyable, because Job and Tobit are fascinating texts in terms of the issues and themes that Toloni highlights, but ultimately his overall thesis is unconvincing. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp066 GEORGE J. BROOKE UNIVERSITY OF MANCHESTER

MARK J. BODA, DANIEL K. FALK and RODNEY A. WERLINE (eds), Seeking the Favor of God. Volume 1: The Origins of Penitential Prayer in Second Temple Judaism (SBL Early Judaism and Its Literature 21). Society of Biblical Literature, Atlanta, 2006. Pp. xvii + 249. Price: $39.95 paperback. ISBN: 978-1-58983261-9; Volume 3: The Impact of Penitential Prayer beyond Second Temple Judaism (SBL Early Judaism and Its Literature 23). Society of Biblical Literature, Atlanta, 2008. Pp. xiii + 306. Price: $39.95 paperback. ISBN: 978-1-58983389-0. These are the opening and closing volumes in a very well planned trilogy that considers in turn origins, development and impact. In the first volume R.A. Werline offers an opening definition: ‘Penitential prayer is a direct address to God in which an individual, group, or an individual on behalf of a group confesses sins and petitions for forgiveness as an act of repentance’ (p. xv). S.E. Balentine sets recent work on biblical penitential prayer within a longer history of scholarship showing on the way how the discourse has moved from form criticism to tradition history and from Germany to North America. M.J. Boda considers the ideological origins of penitential prayer in the sixth-century liturgical transformation of Deuteronomic, priestly and prophetic traditions. D. Rom-Shiloni carries that further, arguing that ‘orthodox’ penitential prayers polemicize against ‘non-orthodox’ communal laments. Six scholars investigate particular texts, often from a particular methodological, literary or theological point of view: J.C. Hogewood (Leviticus 16 and Ezra 9–10 as priestly speech-acts), R.J. Bautch (lament in trito-Isaiah), W. Morrow (divine righteousness in early penitential prayers), K.M. Hayes (Jeremiah and Joel), J. Gärtner (guilt in Isa. 63:7–64:11), and M.W. Duggan (Ezra 9:6–15). M.J. Boda offers some reflections on form criticism in transition. S.E. Balentine contributes a reflective afterword drawing out the principal themes of the volume. The third volume in the series looks 316

SHORT NOTICES

at the Nachleben of penitential prayer in Judaism and Christianity. For Judaism there are essays on rabbinic Judaism (R.S. Sarason), on the early history of the Tahanunim (R. Langer), on the Amidah (R. Kimelman; S.C. Reif), on early synagogue poetry (L. Lieber), and on Kabbalah (L. Fine); for Christianity there are studies on New Testament theology (R.A. Werline), on the absence of penitence in early Christian prayer (P. Bradshaw), on the Didache (C. Claussen), on the East Syrian rite of penance (B.D. Spinks), and on Byzantine Christianity (R.R. Phenix and C.B. Horn). In his afterword R.S. Sarason comments on the constant recontextualization of penitential elements, rather than whole prayers, in post-scriptural texts and contexts and highlights the several similarities as well as the more obvious differences between Jewish and Christian appropriations of the traditions of penitence. Both books have comprehensive bibliographies and indexes, enhancing their value as landmark volumes that the next generation of scholarship will have to refer to. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp067 GEORGE J. BROOKE UNIVERSITY OF MANCHESTER

MELVIN K. H. PETERS (ed.), XIII Congress of the International Organization for Septuagint and Cognate Studies: Ljubljana, 2007 (SBL Septuagint and Cognate Studies 55). Society of Biblical Literature, Atlanta 2008. Pp. xi + 365. Price: $45.95 paperback. ISBN: 978-1-58983-395-1. Twenty-five papers are printed in the alphabetical order of their contributors but can be grouped roughly as follows. Three papers, by C. Boyd-Taylor, N. de Lange, and J.G. Krivoruchko, are part of the Cambridge project on the Greek Bible in Byzantine Judaism (see now the set of papers that they have jointly edited: Jewish Reception of Greek Bible Versions: Studies in Their Use in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages, Mohr Siebeck, Tübingen 2009). The relationships between the LXX and Greek writers are addressed by E.G. Dafni (Euripides), K. Hauspie (Theodoret of Cyrus on Ezekiel), and J.M. Scott (Letter of Aristeas). The recensions are represented in the essays by S. Kreuzer and R.T. McLay who each write about the Lucianic Text and Kaige; T.M. Law considers 3 Kingdoms in Symmachus. Translation theory features in J. Cook’s investigation of semantics and the provenance of translated units, in C. Dogniez’s analysis of the disappearance of the theme of water in various parts of the LXX, and in R. Sollamo’s consideration of translation universals. The remaining papers cover particular texts: A. van der Kooij on ‘ebed in LXX Pentateuch; P. Hugo on the temple in 2 Samuel (MT and LXX); R.J.V. Hiebert and N.N. Dykstra on LXX textual criticism and the computer, with 4 Maccabees as a test case; J. Joosten on the influence of LXX Pentateuch on LXX Psalms; P.J. Gentry on LXX Ecclesiastes; R. Ceulemans on LXX Canticles in the Catenae; J.-M. Auwers on LXX Cant. 2:17; M. Cimosa and G. Bonney on Job’s replies to his friends in LXX Job; D. De Crom on translation equivalence in the prologue to ‘Greek Ben Sirach’ (sic); M.N. van der Meer on LXX Isa. 37:25; C. Amphoux and A. Sernadour on LXX Jeremiah in Codex Vaticanus; G. Walser on translating LXX Jeremiah; and E. Kellenberger on oral tradition behind the variants in Daniel. M.K.H. Peters provides a brief editorial introduction in which he points out rightly that the near completion of various translation projects in English, French and German seems to be stimulating an ongoing interest in the LXX. There are no indexes. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp068 GEORGE J. BROOKE UNIVERSITY OF MANCHESTER

317

SHORT NOTICES

SIDNIE WHITE CRAWFORD, Rewriting Scripture in Second Temple Times (Studies in the Dead Sea Scrolls and Related Literature). William B. Eerdmans, Grand Rapids 2008. Pp. xii + 160. Price: $16.00 paperback. ISBN: 978-0-8028-4740-9. This book is one of the first monographs to be devoted to those Second Temple Jewish writings that rework the Pentateuch. Well-written, informative and up-to-date, it is a welcome introduction to the corpus of ancient texts commonly designated as ‘Rewritten Bible’. The book has eight chapters. The first introduces the reader to the complex issue of defining ‘Rewritten Bible’ or, as Crawford labels it, ‘Rewritten Scripture’. She effectively summarizes the prevalent views on the subject and presents her own fairly broad definition. The second chapter focuses on the proto-Samaritan biblical manuscripts from Qumran. These texts, best represented by 4QpaleoExodm and 4QNumb, reveal a harmonistic tendency, solving perceived difficulties by utilizing other biblical passages. They lie at one end of the spectrum of works featuring what the author calls ‘the creative work of the scribes’ (p. 37). Chapter three addresses a group of Qumran texts once considered as non-biblical compositions, but now widely recognized to be scripturally authoritative. These scrolls, named ‘Reworked Pentateuch’ (4Q158, 4Q364, 4Q365, 4Q366 and 4Q367), exemplify a larger degree of scribal intervention than the proto-Samaritan texts, featuring not only harmonizations with parallel biblical accounts, but also extra-biblical additions. Chapter four is devoted to the book of Jubilees. The author notes that in comparison with the aforementioned works Jubilees stands even further from the biblical text underlying it, being a new composition with its own purpose. She briefly discusses various techniques employed by Jubilees in its rewriting of Genesis and Exodus, following the main themes of chronology, law and ethics, the elevation of Israel’s ancestors, the Levitical priestly line and eschatology. Chapter five deals with the Temple Scroll. Concise introductory remarks are followed by a detailed analysis of the paraphrase of Deuteronomy 12–26 in columns LI–LXVI; this discussion presents the reader with an example of the reworking of legal sections of the Pentateuch. In Chapter six Crawford turns to the Genesis Apocryphon, effectively illustrating the exegetical methods used by its author while rewriting the biblical stories of Noah and Abraham. Chapter seven considers 4Q252, the Commentary on Genesis A, focusing on columns I–IV, 3, which employ techniques familiar from other ‘Rewritten Bible’ texts. Since another section of this scroll is written in citation plus comment style (pesher), Crawford suggests that it ‘signals a transition period’, when ‘the exegetical technique of rewriting Scripture is fading’ and the ‘citation plus commentary’ form of exegesis takes over (p. 142). In the concluding chapter the author proposes that all the spectrum of texts discussed above, both biblical ones and those paraphrasing the Bible, Hebrew and Aramaic, sectarian and non-sectarian, belong with what she calls a ‘priestly-Levitical/Essene exegetical tradition’. Regrettably, this intriguing suggestion is presented rather briefly and therefore fails to convince. Nevertheless, this should not detract from the value of this book, which will undoubtedly encourage further research into the fascinating world of Second Temple texts that rework the Hebrew Bible. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp069

ARIEL FELDMAN UNIVERSITY OF MANCHESTER

LORENZO DITOMASSO, The Dead Sea New Jerusalem Text: Contents and Contexts (Texts and Studies in Ancient Judaism 110). Mohr Siebeck, Tübingen 2005. Pp. xv + 228. Price: /79.00. ISBN: 3-16-148799-0. This study originated as a McMaster University Dissertation and falls into three chapters prefaced by an Introduction. The latter introduces the text and the history 318

SHORT NOTICES

of scholarship of the seven manuscripts of the Aramaic New Jerusalem (NJ) text from Qumran Caves 1, 2, 4, 5, and 11. Chapter 1 presents an edition of 4Q554, 4Q554a, and 4Q555 accompanied by translations, textual notes and plates. This will now be studied alongside Emile Puech’s editio princeps of the Cave 4 manuscripts (‘554– 554a–555. 4QJérusalem Nouvellea-c ar’, in E. Puech, Qumrân Grotte 4. XXVII. Textes araméens deuxième partie [DJD 37], Oxford 2009, pp. 91–152). Chapter 2 comprises a translation of all the major fragments of NJ and addresses issues of ancient city planning, genre (an apocalypse). DiTomasso concludes that the eschatological city described is not heavenly. Chapter 3 explores the relationship of NJ to the Temple Scroll and Reworked Pentateuch but also to a number of more recently published Cave 4 compositions. The chapter concludes by evaluating the text’s provenance (a pre-sectarian priestly milieu) and date (early second century BCE). In trying to account for the palaeographical dates of the manuscripts (50 BCE – 50 CE) DiTomasso offers a number of suggestions including the possibility that interest in NJ was revived in response to Herod’s building projects (p. 194). It is important to keep in mind, however, that a very large proportion of the non-biblical texts from Qumran were copied in the Herodian period, and the evidence of NJ is part of a larger pattern here. In sum, DiTomasso’s monograph makes a substantial scholarly contribution to the study of the text and interpretation of this important work. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp070

CHARLOTTE HEMPEL UNIVERSITY OF BIRMINGHAM

ANTTI LAATO and JACQUES VAN RUITEN (eds), Rewritten Bible Reconsidered: Proceedings of the Conference in Karkku, Finland, August 24–26 2006 (Studies in Rewritten Bible 1). Åbo Akademi University, Turku; Eisenbrauns, Winona Lake, 2008. Pp. iv + 287. Price: $49.00 paperback. ISBN: 978-952-12-2019-7. The very diverse essays in this first volume of a new series are arranged under four headings. The first is a methodological study by E. Koskenniemi and P. Lindqvist which argues for the label ‘Rewritten Bible’ to be used not of a particular genre, but as an umbrella term for the many afterlives of biblical material. But is such an umbrella of any use? It makes the term little different from ‘use of scripture’ which is in fact what most of the essays in the other three parts of the volume are concerned with — they certainly do little to clarify what Rewritten Bible is, though most are interesting in themselves. There are four studies of Jewish traditions. J. van Ruiten continues his work on Jubilees by expounding how its author handles the depiction of Moses and his parents in Exod. 1:22–2:10: he discerns how Jubilees is sometimes close to its scriptural source and at other times introduces new material. This is Rewritten Bible in a strict generic sense: the sequence of Exodus is followed paraphrastically throughout. M. Becker does not consider the use of particular scriptural pericopae, but reviews the overall mosaic use and adjustment of scriptural tradition in 4 Ezra. Using Psalm 145 as a starting point L. Bormann reflects on some of the characteristics of God in a variety of texts; this is little more than musings about the subsequent use of certain items of vocabulary that happen to be found in Psalm 145. E. Koskenniemi considers Gen. 19:1–29 as providing a pattern of spiritual emigration in early Jewish and New Testament interpretation; this is motif analysis. Five essays look at the use of the Old Testament in early Christian sources: B. Kowalski considers Psalms 22 and 69 in the Gospel of John, M. Jauhiainen comments on the use of prophecy in Revelation, V. Auvinen studies Psalm 22 in early Christian literature, A. Laato reflects on Justin Martyr’s use of Isaiah 53, and T. Nisula reads Augustine’s use of Lot. In the fourth section M. Tamcke considers 319

SHORT NOTICES

how Giwargis Warda hymnically retells the book of Jonah and J. Hämeen-Anttila describes Jesus’ teachings in Islamic tradition. We can ask for greater methodological clarity in subsequent volumes in the series — and indexes, please. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp071 GEORGE J. BROOKE UNIVERSITY OF MANCHESTER

DAVID T. RUNIA and GREGORY E. STERLING (eds), The Studia Philonica Annual: Studies in Hellenistic Judaism Volume XX.2008. Society of Biblical Literature, Atlanta 2008. Pp. viii + 258. Price: $42.95 paperback. ISBN: 978-1-58983-399-6. This volume of the Annual contains four articles, a special section on De Abrahamo, the customary Philo bibliography section (annotated for 2005), a collection of long reviews on relevant volumes, and some news and notes. B.L. Mack considers Philo’s highly structured argumentation in De Sacrificiis in which Gen. 4:2–4a is decoded as moments in the soul’s quest for the knowledge of God in which the self is offered to God and reciprocally acknowledged as a gift from God. J.M. Scott continues his work on Dionysus through a study of De Vita Contemplativa in which he shows that the practices of the Therapeutae are comparable with the highest form of the Dionysiac mysteries. I.L.E. Ramelli discusses in detail the extensive legacy of Philo’s philosophical allegories of scripture in Gregory of Nyssa, especially as mediated through the writings of Origen. C. O’Regan sets out Hegel’s retrieval of Philo, even if it was only largely indirect rather than based on an extensive first-hand knowledge of Philo’s writings. G.E. Sterling introduces the two studies on De Abrahamo: the first by D.T. Runia on its place in Philo’s oeuvre, with Abraham illustrating excellent character and action, in terms of both piety and humanity, as one who performed the law; and the second by J.R. Royse on its text, with detailed comments both on the Armenian version and also on the biblical quotations in the treatise. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp072 GEORGE J. BROOKE UNIVERSITY OF MANCHESTER

FRANCES FLANNERY, COLLEEN SHANTZ and RODNEY A. WERLINE (eds), Experientia, Volume 1: Inquiry into Religious Experience in Early Judaism and Early Christianity (SBL Symposium Series 40). Society of Biblical Literature, Atlanta, 2008. Pp. ix + 261. Price: $32.95 paperback. ISBN: 978-1-58983-368-5. This is the first volume of papers to derive from the SBL consultation on religious experience in early Judaism and early Christianity which seeks to ‘take seriously the articulation (whether explicit or indirect) of ancient authors’ experiences of the divine’ (p. 1). The group is highly sensitised to the hazards of what it is attempting and strives to keep texts in their cultural and historical contexts, to operate with broad yet clear definitions, especially of mysticism, to acknowledge that experience does not have to be a-rational, and to look afresh at myth, symbol, and ritual. Four essays in Part 1 reflect on the embodiment of experience: F. Flannery comments on Bell, Turner and Bordieu in a methodological introduction; A. Segal considers the angelic alter-ego in Paul’s ascent experience as an apocalyptic resurrection body, an anticipation of transformative martyrdom; R. Horsley reads demonic possession as an expression of imperial oppression; and R. Werline considers Markan narrative reflections of the religious experience of early Christian apotropaic prayer. Four essays in Part 2 explore how experience can be derived from texts: S.M. Wasserstrom considers textuality itself; C. Deutsch rereads the text work of Philo and Clement as their contemplation of the divine; R. Griffith-Jones insightfully proposes that to read the mystagogic Gospel of John receptively as its author intended 320

SHORT NOTICES

was to experience new life; C. Fletcher-Louis argues that the apocalypses are the classic texts that attest the popular piety of temple-centered Jewish practice and belief. Five essays in Part 3 engage with religious experience in Paul: T. Engberg-Pedersen, B.J.L. Peerbolte, J.B.F. Miller, C. Shantz and R.A. Ramsaran all take seriously Paul’s experiences as real events, with Shantz seeing correspondence between sufferings and ecstasy. Overall it seems that these biblical scholars are trying to articulate, sometimes very successfully, matters that are as old as the hills but which have been studiously avoided for a couple of generations. Also of considerable use for those wanting to reflect on the issues raised in these essays is the extensive overall bibliography. Sadly, for readers of this journal, the one word in the whole book that is printed in Hebrew characters (p. 27) is misspelled: hmsblym for hmsklym (Dan. 12:3). doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp073 GEORGE J. BROOKE UNIVERSITY OF MANCHESTER

BART D. EHRMAN, Whose Word is It? The Story Behind Who Changed the New Testament and Why. London and New York, Continuum, 2008. Pp. x + 242. Price: £12.99 paperback. ISBN: 978-1-8470-6314-4. This book is about ancient manuscripts of the New Testament and the differences found in them. It is a guide to the textual criticism of the New Testament for a non-academic audience. Written in a lively style, it considers the beginnings of Christian scripture as a distinctive religious phenomenon in antiquity, issues of literacy in the ancient world, the vagaries of scribal practices, and the impossibility of ever knowing the original text; John 7:53–8:12 and the end of the Gospel of Mark are used to highlight the problems. There are then chapters on the texts of the New Testament that introduce some of the 5,700 Greek manuscripts now known and some of their variant readings, on the story of the development of textual criticism from the work of Mill to Westcott and Hort, on the principles of textual criticism for establishing through rational eclecticism the oldest attainable form of a text, on theologically motivated alterations of the text (anti-adoptionist, anti-docetic, anti-separationist readings), and on the influence of social factors on the text, such as debates about the role of women or the place of Jews or how scribes coped with pagan misconceptions of Christianity. The deliberately provocative emphasis throughout is on scribal changes and the differences between manuscripts. A list of websites for further resources and a brief overview of the main characteristics of the principal editions of the Greek New Testament now available would enhance this worthwhile resource for students and others wanting to take things further. Is the manuscript illustrated on p. 176 really papyrus? doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp074 GEORGE J. BROOKE UNIVERSITY OF MANCHESTER

JULIUS HEINRICH PETERMANN, The Great Treasure or Great Book, commonly called “The Book of Adam”, the Mandaeans’ work of Highest Authority (Gorgias Mandaean Studies 2). Gorgias Press, Piscataway, NJ 2008. Price: $349.00 (3 volumes). ISBN: 978-1-59333-525-0. The Ginza Rba remains one of the most unjustly neglected texts of antiquity. As its name implies, it is a true treasure house of the Gnostic thought of Babylonia in the Sassanian and early Arabic period, and one of the few early works to have been preserved in their original Aramaic form. However, since its original publication in 1867, the scarcity of Petermann’s critical edition of the text has proved a challenge for many interested in the field of Mandaic studies. Such students of Mandaean 321

SHORT NOTICES

thought who have mastered the language have generally had to remain content with photostats of this standard edition, which even on its first and only previous printrun was reproduced on the basis of hand-written lithographic plates in a mere hundred copies, of which only seventy-five were made available for sale. In spite of its rarity, Petermann’s edition has long provided the basis of all scholarly work on this text, and provides the standard pagination by which the Ginza is cited. We thus owe a great debt to the Gorgias Mandean Studies series, and to its general editors, Dr Jorunn Buckley and Dr Charles Häberl, for making this seminal work readily available to the scholarly world for perhaps the first time ever. In three handsome volumes, the publishers have reproduced the three parts of Petermann’s work: the two ‘sides’ of the Ginza and the critical apparatus that accompany them. The reprint is accompanied by a brief introduction by Häberl, wherein he outlines the history of scholarship on the text and provides a short description of the contents of its various chapters. In addition, Häberl has translated Petermann’s Latin introduction into English. The reproduction of the edition is generally clear, and even the small and crammed script of the colophons can be read with relative ease. It is therefore particularly regrettable that a few technical errors mar the quality of the reproduction. For reasons that are unclear, the order of pages 210–14 of the Ginza Yamina has become confused, such that p. 214 of the original addition has been printed after p. 210 (without a page number), while p. 211 of the original edition has been printed after p. 213 but bearing the number 214! Since all the pages are correctly numbered in the original, it is hard to understand how such a mistake could have taken place. Moreover, the right-hand edge of the text of the Ginza Smala pp. 22–3 has not been reproduced, and the reader has to guess what the first letter or two of the line might have been. It is to be sincerely hoped that the publishers will emend these errors in a future edition, and in the meantime will distribute the book with an insert that provides the necessary corrections. In brief, the user would be wise not to throw away his or her old photocopy of the Petermann edition upon purchasing this pricey reprint. Another regret is that while reprinting this work, the opportunity might have been taken to provide some line numbers for the pages (perhaps at intervals of ten), thus easing the burden of those citing the text or hunting citations presented in the scholarly literature, and perhaps running headers which would have accorded with the section division numbering provided in Häberl’s introduction (which is itself based upon the divisions within the text and in Lidzbarski’s translation thereof). It is interesting that one of the users of the edition from which this reproduction was photocopied already felt the need to add line numbers at certain points in the work. Nonetheless, it cannot be doubted that the renewed availability of this text, in a distribution that surpasses that of its original publication, will provide a great boon to research into Mandaic literature and language for another generation. In particular, it is certain to encourage renewed interest into this fascinating work. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp075

MATTHEW MORGENSTERN UNIVERSITY OF HAIFA

BENJAMIN RICHLER, Hebrew Manuscripts in the Vatican Library Catalogue (Studi E Testi 438). Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Città del Vaticano 2008. Pp. xxv + 678 + 28*. ISBN: 978-88-210-6823-8. The publication of this catalogue of Hebrew manuscripts in the Vatican Library is a landmark occasion for the field of Hebrew codicology and palaeography. After publishing a similar catalogue for the Biblioteca Palatina in Parma (2001), Malachi 322

SHORT NOTICES

Beit-Arié and Benjamin Richler have again joined forces to produce this wonderful and long-awaited catalogue. The catalogue replaces the Latin catalogues of Assemani (1756), Sacerdote (1893) and Cassuto (1956). Unfortunately, Cassuto was only able to finish descriptions of Vaticani ebraici 1–115, which are, however, remarkably accurate and thorough. The present catalogue describes more than 600 items of the Vaticani ebraici collection, as well as the other well-known Vatican collections, such as the Borgiani, Neofiti and Urbinati ebraici. Many of these manuscripts consist of several codicological units, all of which have been separately described to the highest standards. A little warning in advance for those who want to purchase the catalogue: the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana have published it in an old-fashioned manner, which means that each group of pages has to be cut open, often on three sides, before their precious contents can be revealed. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp076

RENATE SMITHUIS UNIVERSITY OF MANCHESTER

SETH S. SANDERS (ed.), Margins of Writing, Origins of Cultures (Oriental Institute Seminars 2). The Oriental Institute, Chicago. Pp. xi + 300. Price: $24.95. ISBN: 1-885923-39-2. This book results from a seminar held at the University of Chicago’s Oriental Institute in 2005. The expertise of the fourteen participants, including both philologists and theorists, was concentrated on diverse areas and periods in the ancient Near East but ranged also as far as Egypt, India and China. The general aim was to brainstorm the nature of the various influences and functions of literacy within human societies. The book opens with an introductory chapter by the editor in which he explains that the organisers of the seminar set the ball rolling by encouraging the philologists to talk to the theorists ‘about how their material matters’ (p. 3) and this has indeed lead to some original thinking about the actual function of individual documents or groups of documents in the areas covered. Sanders is candid about the difficulties inherent in marrying theory to philological fact, quoting the Sinologist and Indologist contributor John Kelly’s joking suggestion that ‘one title that might sum up the problem of social theory for the study of pre-modern’ societies is ‘Why is this stuff so useless?’ Although the book is comprised of academic articles — not transcripts of what was said — it is set out in the manner of the conference itself with three panels and a final round table. The three panels, of which the work of each is represented by four articles, are on the topics ‘Institutions’, ‘Publics’ and the ‘Cosmopolitan and Vernacular’. The fourth paper in each panel is a ‘response’ for that session. What is important about this volume is not only the range and depth of its scholarship but the manner in which different opinions and approaches are laid out, but also the presentation of the scholarly mediation between them. The book provides a wealth of material and will be particularly useful for postgraduate students working their way into a particular field of enquiry. The Oriental Institute has now organised and published four seminars in this series, the three others being: OIS 1, Changing Social Identity with the Spread of Islam: Archaeological Perspectives, ed. Donald Whitcombe (2004); OIS 3, Performing Death: Social Analyses of Funerary Traditions in the Ancient Near East and Mediterranean, ed. Nicola Lanery (2007); OIS 4, Religion and Power: Divine Kingship in the Ancient World and Beyond, ed. Nicole Brisch (2008). It is to be hoped that other topics will be covered in the future by this Series in an equally broad, provocative and seminal manner as the volume here under review. doi: 10.1093/jss/fgp077

ALASDAIR LIVINGSTONE UNIVERSITY OF BIRMINGHAM

323

92897_JOSS_2010/1_Cv

08-03-2010

11:22

Pagina 2

SUBSCRIPTIONS A subscription to Journal of Semitic Studies comprises 2 issues. Prices include postage by surface mail, or for subscribers in the USA and Canada by airfreight, or in India, Japan, Australia and New Zealand, by Air Speeded Post. Airmail rates are available on request. Annual Subscription Rate (Volume LIII, 2 issues, 2008) Institutional Print edition and site-wide online access: £166//249/US$315 Print edition only: £152//228/US$289 Site-wide online access only: £138//207/US$262 Personal Print edition and individual online access: £54//81/US$103 Please note: £ Sterling rates apply in UK, / rates apply in Europe, US$ elsewhere There may be other subscription rates available, for a complete listing please visit www.jss.oupjournals.org/ subinfo. Full prepayment, in the correct currency, is required for all orders. Orders are regarded as firm and payments are not refundable. Subscriptions are accepted and entered on a complete volume basis. Claims cannot be considered more than FOUR months after publication or date of order, whichever is later. All subscriptions in Canada are subject to GST. Subscriptions in the EU may be subject to European VAT. If registered, please supply details to avoid unnecessary charges. For subscriptions that include online versions, a proportion of the subscription price may be subject to UK VAT. Personal rate subscriptions are only available if payment is made by personal cheque or credit card and delivery is to a private address. The current year and two previous years’ issues are available from Oxford University Press. Previous volumes can be obtained from the Periodicals Service Company, 11 Main Street, Germantown, NY 12526, USA. Email: [email protected]. Tel: +1 (518) 537 4700. Fax: +1 (518) 537 5899. For further information, please contact: Journals Customer Service Department, Oxford University Press, Great Clarendon Street, Oxford OX2 6DP, UK. Email: [email protected]. Tel (and answerphone outside normal working hours): +44 (0)1865 353907. Fax: + 44 (0)1865 353485. In the US, please contact: Journals Customer Service Department, Oxford University Press, 2001 Evans Road, Cary, NC 27513, USA. Email: [email protected]. Tel (and answerphone outside normal working hours): 800 852 7323 (toll-free in USA/Canada). Fax: 919 677 1714. In Japan, please contact: Journals Customer Services, Oxford University Press, 1-1-17-5F, Mukogaoka, Bunkyo-ku, Tokyo, 113-0023, Japan. Email: [email protected]. Tel: (03) 3813 1461. Fax: (03) 3818 1522. Methods of payment. (i) Cheque (payable to Oxford University Press, to Oxford University Press, Cashiers Office, Great Clarendon Street, Oxford OX2 6DP, UK) in GB£ Sterling (drawn on a UK bank), US$ Dollars (drawn on a US bank), or EU/ Euros. (ii) Bank transfer to Barclays Bank Plc, Oxford Group Office, Oxford (bank sort code 20-65-18) (UK), overseas only Swift code BARC GB 22 (GB£ Sterling to account no. 70299332, IBAN GB89BARC20651870299332; US$ Dollars to account no. 66014600, IBAN GB27BARC 20651866014600; EU/ Euros to account no. 78923655, IBAN GB16BARC20651878923655). (iii) Credit card (Mastercard, Visa, Switch or American Express). Journal of Semitic Studies is published two times a year in April and October by Oxford University Press, Oxford, UK. Annual subscription price is £166//249/US$315. Journal of Semitic Studies is distributed by Mercury International, 365 Blair Road, Avenel, NJ 07001, USA. Periodicals postage paid at Rahway, NJ and at additional entry points. US Postmaster: send address changes to Journal of Semitic Studies (ISSN 0022-4480), c/o Mercury International, 365 Blair Road, Avenel, NJ 07001, USA. PERMISSIONS For information on how to request permissions to reproduce articles/information from this journal, please visit www.oxfordjournals.org/permissions. ADVERTISING Inquiries about advertising should be sent to Helen Pearson, Oxford Journals Advertising, PO Box 347, Abingdon OX14 1GJ, UK. Email: [email protected]. Tel: +44 (0)1235 201904; Fax: +44 (0)8704 296864. DISCLAIMER Statements of fact and opinion in the articles in Journal of Semitic Studies are those of the respective authors and contributors and not of Journal of Semitic Studies or Oxford University Press. Neither Oxford University Press nor Journal of Semitic Studies make any representation, express or implied, in respect of the accuracy of the material in this journal and cannot accept any legal responsibility or liability for any errors or omissions that may be made. The reader should make his/her own evaluation as to the appropriateness or otherwise of any experimental technique described. © The University of Manchester 2008 All rights reserved; no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written permission of the Publishers, or a licence permitting restricted copying issued in the UK by the Copyright Licensing Agency Ltd, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London W1P 9HE, or in the USA by the Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Danvers, MA 01923. Typeset by Drukkerij Peeters, Herent, Belgium Printed by Bell & Bain Ltd, Glasgow, UK

INFORMATION FOR AUTHORS Contributions, books for review, and other editorial communications should be addressed to: The Editors Journal of Semitic Studies Middle Eastern Studies School of Languages, Linguistics and Cultures University of Manchester Manchester M13 9PL UK Article Length Editorial policy is normally to favour shorter articles, i.e. no longer than 10,000 words. Typescript layout Articles and reviews should be typed on one side of the paper (A4 or 8.5 x 11 inches) with double spacing and generous margins on one side of the paper only. Authors of articles should submit TWO COPIES, and disk, if available. Non-Roman script is to be written as clearly as possible and used as sparingly as possible. Notes should be numbered consecutively, double spaced and placed at the end. The Editors will not accept for publication any typescripts which do not conform to these standards. For detailed instructions please see the style sheet. Abstracts Authors of articles are required to provide an abstract, which should be a single paragraph, not exceeding 150 words. Submission We will also normally require the final revised version to be supplied in hard copy and electronically. Whilst we can accept most wordprocessor formats the preferred option is Word. The files should be submitted in the wordprocessor's native format and as an RTF (Rich Text Format). Illustrations Electronic submission of illustrations. We can accept 3.5-inch floppy disks, CDROMs and email attachments. High-quality print-outs of all figures are still essential, as they will be scanned for reproduction in the event of problems with the electronic files. Figures must be saved as high-resolution TIF files (at least 300 pixels per inch for photographs, and 1200 pixels per inch for black and white line drawings). Offprints and Proofs Authors of articles will receive one copy of the issue containing their article and twenty-five offprints of their article free of charge. Alteration on the proofs, other than the correction of printer's errors, may be disallowed. Copyright and Permissions Manuscripts submitted will be expected to contain original work and should not have been published in abridged or other form elsewhere. It is a condition of publication in the Journal that authors grant an exclusive licence to The University of Manchester. Any requests from third parties to reproduce articles are handled on behalf of the journal by Oxford University Press. This will also allow the article to be as widely disseminated as possible and will protect the rights of the author and OUP. In granting an exclusive licence, authors may use their own material in other publications provided that the journal is acknowledged as the original authority for publication, and Oxford University Press is notified in writing and in advance.

92897_JOSS_2010/1_Cv

08-03-2010

11:22

Pagina 1

EDWARD LIPINSKI

1

ROBERT S. KAWASHIMA

‘“Orphaned” Converted Tense Forms in Classical Biblical Hebrew Prose’

11

BAHAA AMER AL-JUBOURI

‘Nouvelles inscriptions araméennes du temple de Nannay à Hatra’

SPRING 2010

‘Le Gérondif en Phénicien’

ISSN 0022-4480 (PRINT) ISSN 1477-8556 (ONLINE)

37

GERRIT BOS

53

AARON D. RUBIN

‘The Development of the Amharic Definite Article and an Indonesian Parallel’

103

ABDULRAHMAN S. AL SALIMI

‘Identifying the (Iba∂i/Omani) Siyar’

115

‘Rhythm and Beat: Re-evaluating Arabic Prosody in the Light of Mahri Oral Poetry’

163

SADOK MASLIYAH

‘The Folk Songs of Iraqi Children: Part One’

183

JAMES DICKINS

‘Basic Sentence Structure in Sudanese Arabic’ REVIEWS SHORT NOTICES

237 263 311

Semitic Studies

SAM LIEBHABER

JOURNAL OF

‘Medical Terminology in the Hebrew Tradition: Shem Tov Ben Isaac, Sefer ha-Shimmush, Book 30’

JOURNAL OF

Semitic Studies VOLUME LV. NO. 1 SPRING 2010

VOLUME LV. NO. 1