The Banisher of Madness: An Interpretation of Language as the Vessel of All Truths Sacred and Profane in the Teachings of Ibn al-Sarrāj of Baghdad 9781463241636

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The Banisher of Madness

Islamic History and Thought

18 Series Editor Series Editorial Board

Peter Adamson Beatrice Gründler Beatrice Gruendler Ahmad Ahmad Khan Khan

Jack Tannous Isabel Toral-Niehoff Manolis Manolis Ulbricht Ulbricht

Jack Tannous

Advisory Editorial Board Islamic History and Thought provides a platform for scholarly research on any geographic areaUlbricht within the expansive Islamic Manolis Binyamin Abrahamov Konrad world, stretching from the Mediterranean to Hirschler China, and dated to Asadthe Q.eve Ahmed Howard-Johnston any period from of Islam untilJames the early modern era. This Jan Just Witkam Mehmetcan Akpinar Maher Jarrar(Arabic, Persian, series contains original monographs, translations Syriac, Greek, and Latin) and edited volumes. Abdulhadi Alajmi Marcus Milwright Mohammad-Ali Amir-Moezzi Harry Munt Arezou Azad Gabriel Said Reynolds Massimo Campanini Massimo Campanini Walid A. Saleh Agostino Series Editorial Board: Godefroid de Callataÿ Jens Scheiner Maria Conterno Delfina Serrano Peter AdamsonFarhad Daftary Farhad Daftary Georges Tamer Beatrice Gruendler Wael Hallaq Ahmad Khan

Jack Tannous Islamic History and Thought provides a platform for scholarly research Isabel Toral-Niehoff on any geographic area within the expansive Islamic world, stretching from the Mediterranean to China, and dated to any Manolis Ulbricht period from the eve of Islam until the early modern era. This series contains original monographs, translations (Arabic, Persian, Syriac, Jan Justand Witkam Greek, Latin) and edited volumes.

The Banisher of Madness

An Interpretation of Language as the Vessel of All Truths Sacred and Profane in the Teachings of Ibn al-Sarrāj of Baghdad

Dunja Rašić

gp 2021

Gorgias Press LLC, 954 River Road, Piscataway, NJ, 08854, USA www.gorgiaspress.com 2021 Copyright © by Gorgias Press LLC

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. 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, scanning or otherwise without the prior written permission of Gorgias Press LLC. ‫ܐ‬

1

2021

ISBN 978-1-4632-4162-9

ISSN 2643-6906

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A Cataloging-in-Publication Record is available from the Library of Congress. Printed in the United States of America

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Acknowledgments .......................................................................... vii Transcription and Transliteration System ....................................... ix Symbols and Abbreviations ............................................................. xi Figures, Graphs and Tables ............................................................ xiii Figures ................................................................................... xiii Graphs .................................................................................... xv Tables .................................................................................... xvi Chapter 1. The Mirror and the Wisdom: Ibn al-Sarrāj and the PreModern Arabic Language Ideologies ......................................... 1 1.1. Physiognomy of the Age: Frameworks of Culture and Identity ............................................................................. 8 1.2. The City of Peace and the Heralds of Destruction ............ 20 1.3. Setting the Stage: Ibn al-Sarrāj and the Peripatetic School of Baghdad...................................................................... 27 1.4. Ibn al-Sarrāj and His Times: The Portrait of a Grammarian and the Portrait of an Empire .......................................... 40 1.5. The Writings of Ibn al-Sarrāj: a Description of Sources .... 62 MS Rabat #326........................................................................ 64 MS Qarawiyyin #1774 ............................................................. 66 MS Tehran #3990 ................................................................... 66 MS London #2808 .................................................................. 68 MS Istanbul #1077 .................................................................. 70 Collection 100/q ...................................................................... 71 MS #21028–2 ........................................................................... 74 MS Ankara 547/3 ..................................................................... 75

v

vi

THE BANISHER OF MADNESS

Chapter 2. The Interpretation of Silence: Greek Elements in the Foundations of Arabic Grammar ........................................... 87 2.1. Language Corruption and its Sources ............................ 108 2.2. Mending the corruption: the notion of maʿnā and the Foundations of Arabic Grammar ................................... 115 2.3. Ibn Sarrāj, the Banisher of Madness ............................... 127 Chapter 3. The Language of God and the Speech of Men: Ibn AlSarrāj and the Wisdom (Re)acquired ..................................... 157 Chapter 4. The Legacy We Leave Behind: The Banisher of Madness and the Founder of Foundations ............................................. 171 4.1. The Precious Rosary ........................................................ 174 4.2. The Outcome: The Legacy We Leave Behind ................. 195 Appendix 1. The Quoted Excerpts from the Grammar Treatises of Ibn al-Sarrāj............................................................................ 201 Appendix 2. His Was the Greatest Poetry among the Grammarians: The Surviving Verses of Ibn al-Sarrāj ..................................... 207 Bibliography ................................................................................. 209 Primary Sources .................................................................... 209 Secondary Literature ............................................................. 220 Index .............................................................................................. 241

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I would like to express my heartfelt thanks to my family – we were always a team. My work on this project would not have been possible without the love and support of my husband and parents during the long hours of my research. The research for the doctoral thesis on which this book is based on was also made possible by the generous support from the Berlin Graduate School Muslim Cultures and Societies and the International College of Liberal Arts (iCLA) at Yamanashi Gakuin University. I am especially indebted to Beatrice Gründler for the countless hours of tedious work on the technical parts of my dissertation. Everyone who knows Prof. Gründler’s work is well aware of her special talent and skill as a translator and these have played an ivaluable role in this project. Having received the first draft of my thesis, Prof. Gründler reviewed every line and word of all four chapters and edited all translations with me twice, in the course of which she made countless inspiring suggestions. For her patience and attention to detail, I cannot thank her enough. I also owe my gratitude to my second supervisor, Prof. Lukas Mühlethaler, for the invaluable insights on the notion of maʿnā – and to the Prof. Michael Lacktorin, for the comfortable working space he arranged for me at the iCLA. Due to his help and support, it was here that the first draft of my book came to be completed. I am very grateful to Adam Walker for introducing this project to Gorgias Press, my publisher, and Đorđe Bengin, for many happy hours spent drinking coffee and reading poetry. Many other individuals, among them teachers, friends, and colleagues, have contributed to this study either indirectly, through their teaching, or directly, through suggestions and criticisms on the book itself. Anton, Nikola, Heuna – thanks for everything! vii

TRANSCRIPTION AND TRANSLITERATION SYSTEM Name

Orthographic symbol

Transliteration system

Phonemic transcription

Ā

ā/‘

b

b

tā̛

‫ا‬ ‫ب‬ ‫ت‬

t

t

thā̛

‫ث‬

th

t

jīm

j

j

hā̛

‫ج‬ ‫ح‬

ḥ

ḥ

khā̛

‫خ‬

kh

x

dāl

d

d

d

d

r

r

z

z

sīn

‫د‬ ‫ذ‬ ‫ر‬ ‫ز‬ ‫س‬

s

s

šīn

‫ش‬

sh

š

ṣād

‫ص‬

ṣ

ṣ

ḍād

‫ض‬

ḍ

ḍ

‫ط‬ ‫ظ‬ ‫ع‬

ṭ

ṭ

ẓ

ẓ

ʿ

ʿ

̛ālif bā̛

dāl rā̛ zāy

tā̛ ẓā̛ ‘ayn

ix

x

THE BANISHER OF MADNESS ğayn fā̛ qāf kāf lām mīm nūn hā̛ wāw yā̛

‫غ‬ ‫ف‬ ‫ق‬ ‫ك‬ ‫ف‬ ‫م‬ ‫ن‬ ‫ھـ‬ ‫و‬ ‫ي‬

gh

ğ

f

f

q

q

k

k

l

l

m

m

n

n

h

h

w

w

y

y

SYMBOLS AND ABBREVIATIONS MS Istanbul #1077

Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 1077 A.H. Istanbul, Süleymaniye Library #1077

MS London #2808

Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 651. A.H. London, British Museum #2808

MS Rabat #100/1

al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q

MS Rabat #100/6

Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q

MS Rabat #326

Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326

MS Tehran #3990

Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 619 A.H. Tehran, Majlis #3990

MS Qarawiyyin #1774

Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. N/A. Fez, Madrasa Qarawiyyin #1774

(…)

ellipted element

ff.

folio

pl.

plural

ar.

Arabic

xi

FIGURES, GRAPHS AND TABLES FIGURES Fig. 1

The students of Aristotle Source: Ibn Bukhtishu. Kitāb Naʿt al-Hayawān. 1220. A.D; London, the British Museum Or.2784, ff.96.

Fig. 2

The students of Aristotle Source: al-Mubashir. Kitāb Mukhtar al-Ḥikam waMaḥāsin al-Kalim. XIII century A.D. Istanbul, Topkapi Palace Museum MS Ahmed III 3206, ff. n/a

Fig. 3

Baghdad, the City of the Peace The location of the former Qaṭīʿat al-Naṣara quarter is depicted on the bottom left. Source: Matrakçi. Bayān al-Manāzil al-Sefer. 1533. A.D; Istanbul, Topkapi Palace Museum T5964, ff.47–48.

Fig. 4

Majlis al-Munāzara. Plucked beards were apparently a common repercussion. Source: Shams al-Dīn ‘Aḥmad ‘Aflākī. Tarjuma-i Thawāqib-i manāqib, 1590 A.D., New York, The Morgan Library and Museum MS M.466, ff.34

Fig. 6

The title page of MS Rabat #326. Source: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.1.

xiii

xiv Fig. 7

THE BANISHER OF MADNESS The title page of the Tehran edition of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw Source: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, 619 A.H; Tehran, Majlis #3990, ff.1.

Fig. 8

The title page of MS London #2808. Source: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 651. A.H, London, British Museum #2808, ff.1.

Fig. 9

The title page of MS Istanbul #1077. Source: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 1077 A.H. Istanbul. Süleymaniye Library #1077, ff.1.

Fig. 10

The title page of the collection 100/q. Source: Collection 100/q. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco, ff.1.

Fig. 11

The concluding lines and colophon of MS Rabat #100/1 Source: Ibn al-Sarrāj. al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff. 68/39.

Fig. 12

Kitāb al-‘Ishtiqāq. MS #21028–2. Source: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Ishtiqāq, 565. A.H, Medina. University Library Umm Al-Qura #21028–2, ff.1.

Fig. 13

The title page of MS Ankara 547/3 Source: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Risāla fī al-Naqṭ. 581. A.H. Ankara. Esm’āil Ṣa’eb Library, #547/3, ff.1.

Fig. 14

The concluding lines and colophon of MS Ankara 547/3. Source: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Risāla fī al-Naqṭ. 581. A.H. Ankara. Esm‘āil Ṣa‘eb Library, #547/3, ff.29.

Fig. 15

The pre-Islamic settlements of Bedouin Arabs and the available data on the early Bedouin vernaculars

FIGURES, GRAPHS AND TABLES

xv

Source: Versteegh, Kees. The Arabic Language. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1997. Fig. 16

MS Istanbul #1077. An example of the chapter structure: bāb and sharḥ Source: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 1077 A.H. Istanbul. Süleymaniye Library #1077, ff.88.

GRAPHS Graph. 1

The ʿAbbāsid logicians and the school of Baghdad

Graph. 2

The Academic Lineage of Ibn al-Sarrāj

Graph. 3

One hundred and forty chapters of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī alNaḥw in five manuscripts

Graph. 4

Arab vernaculars in the works of Ibn al-Sarrāj N.B. Graph 4 is based on the eight surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj: Kitāb al-Qalam, Kitāb al-ʿArūḍ, Kitāb alKhaṭṭ, Kitāb al-‘Ishtiqāq, Kitāb al-Qurrā’, al-Mūjaz fī alNaḥw, Risāla fī al-Naqṭ and the Rabat manuscript of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. All unspecified examples that Ibn al-Sarrāj refers to as “the Arabic language”, “language of the people”, “language of the People of the Book”, “language of the tribes” and “our language” were listed under the category “The Arabic language: unidentified”.

Graph. 5.

The main elements of speech in Classical Arabic1 N.B. Ibn al-Sarrāj’s perception of the structure of Classical Arabic was reconstructed according to the data presented in: Ibn al-Sarrāj, Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, 619 A.H; Tehran, Majlis #3990, ff.1–6.

Graph. 6

The Wisdom of Arabs: the source and manifestations1 N.B. The visual representation of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s criteria has been reconstructed according to: Ibn al-Sarrāj, Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ, 352 A.H; Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/6, #100/6, ff.2/43–3/43; Ibn alSarrāj. al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National

xvi

THE BANISHER OF MADNESS Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff.9/39; and Ibn al-Sarrāj, Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw vol.1, 59–63, 74, 340, 366, 428–429.

T ABLES Table 1

The works of Ibn Sarrāj N.B. The provided list of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s works has been reconstructed in accordance with the records of Yāqūt, al-Zubaydī, Ibn Khallikān, al-Qifṭī and Ibn Nadīm. See: Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-‘Udabā’ vol.18, 200; al-Zubaydī, Ṭabaqāt al-Naḥwīyīn, 122, Ibn Khallikhān, Wafayāt al‘Aʿyān vol.3, 462, al-Qifṭī, ‘Inbāh al-Ruwāh vol.3, 295; and Ibn Nadīm Kitāb al-Fihrist vol.1, 62.

Table 2

One hundred and forty chapters of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī alNaḥw in five manuscripts

Table 3

Greek equivalents of the Arabic grammar terms according to K. Versteegh Source: Versteegh, Kees. Greek elements in Arabic linguistic thinking. Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1977.

The Wisdom has alighted upon three things. The HAND of the Chinese, the MIND of the Frank and the TONGUE of the Arab. — an Irish proverb1

1 Yeats ed., The

Treasury of Irish Fairy and Folktales, 3.

xvii

CHAPTER 1. THE MIRROR AND THE WISDOM: IBN AL-SARRĀJ AND THE PRE-MODERN ARABIC LANGUAGE IDEOLOGIES “Definition of language is always, implicitly or explicitly, a definition of human beings in the world”. —R. Williams1

Thriving belief in a sacred language as God’s greatest gift to mankind was traced by Fromkin and Rodman five millennia into the past; throughout the cultural traditions of Ancient Egypt, Babylon and India (Fromkin and Rodman 1974: 54). As the language “whose musical and aesthetical qualities move its listeners, creating the feeling of spirituality, nostalgia and community”, Classical Arabic2 was celebrated

1 Williams, Marxism and Literature, 21.

Standardized in the 8th century A.D., Classical Arabic (al-ʿarabiyya) was perceived by the ‘Abbāsid grammarians as the only correct form of the Arabic language. According to Wolfdietrich Fischer, “Western scholars call it [i.e. al-ʿarabiyya] Classical Arabic to differentiate it from the Arabic vernaculars of the neo-Arabic type. It is the language in which the Arabic texts of pre-Islamic and early Islamic times were handed down, first of all the Qurʾān and pre-Islamic and early Islamic poetry, but also the historical and legal traditions of that time. In the process of describing Classical Arabic, the Arab grammarians standardized the language, and in this standardized form it became the educated and official language of Islamic civilization and later on, the written standard language of the Arabic-speaking world. From that time to the present, Classical Arabic has remained outwardly almost unchanged”. See: “Classical Arabic”, in: Encyclopedia of Arabic

2

1

2

THE BANISHER OF MADNESS

by Niloofar Haeri as a maker of tradition – with the power to “socialize people into rituals of Islam, affirm their identity as Muslims and connect them to the realm of purity, morality and God” (Haeri 2003: 43). Despite the poetic note of Haeri’s writings, the quoted assertion cannot be deemed as innovative. As early as the 10th century A.D., the ʿAbbāsid grammarians have lauded the power of language to elucidate confounding moments of our everyday lives and establish bonds between the people.3 On the authority of al-Zajjāj (d. 923) and his master al-Mubarrad (d. 898), grammarians have established the link of equation between the human strivings for the beauty and perfection of speech with a search for the divine language favoured by the All-merciful.4 Embodied in the teachings of grammarians, religious scholars and historiographers alike, the feeling of awe and allure for the language and its laws emerges as one of the genuine ruling concepts of the ʿAbbāsid culture. Like his teachers and successors, ‘Abū Bakr Muhammad b. Sahl Ibn al-Sarrāj (d. 929) honoured the divinely established supremacy of Classical Arabic. Rebellious, wilful and innovative, his quill was nonetheless also led by the belief that the correct use of speech brings a subject back to its essences.5 The grammarian by the name of ‘Abū Bakr Muḥammad b. al-Sarī said: verily, by the term grammar (naḥw) I mean that the speaker, when you teach him the speech of Arabs [follows the way the Arabs speak]. This science is based on minute analyses the Ancients have conducted on the speech of Arabs ‘till they attained the way of speaking of the ancient speakers – and due to minute analyses of their speech, it is now known that that the subject [of a sentence] stands in nominative and its object in accusative and how in their speech the second radicals yā and wāw behave in the past tense forms of verbs like qāma and bā’. The laws of grammarians are of two kinds and the first of them (ʿilla) is illustrated in the speech of Arabs – like in all of our Language and Linguistics, Managing Editors Online Edition: Lutz Edzard, Rudolf de Jong. Consulted online on 19 June 2019. 3 al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ Kitāb Sibawayh vol.2, 216. 4 See: al-Zajjājī, ‘Īḍāḥ, 91–95; and Ibn Jinnī, al-Khaṣā‘is vol.4, 462. 5 Similar tendencies have been notably traced in the several Indo-European languages in: Pêcheux, Language, Semantics and Ideology. Stating the obvious, 24.

1. THE MIRROR AND THE WISDOM

3

examples: “Every subject stands in nominative”! However, the second one is called the Law of Laws (ʿilla al-ʿilla) – as if one was to inquire of the reason why the subject is [to be put] in nominative and its object in accusative and why are the second radicals yā and wāw to be snubbed in favour of ‘alif [in the past tense forms of qāma and bā’]. We cannot obtain this knowledge by speaking like the Arabs speak – but rather, from their language, its wisdom is to be extracted in the form of the principles that outline it. By the means of this Wisdom, the supremacy of the [Arabic] language over other languages was established. Allah the Almighty provides for this Wisdom by safeguarding it and he made its excellence undisputed. As this was intended only as a short summary, in this book I intend to honour the universally applicable Law of the speech of Arabs and its principles. Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, 619 A.H; Tehran, Majlis #3990, ff.1.

Detached from social and cultural context, words tend to live a life of their own. As the lower class of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s hierarchy of grammar laws, the term ʿilla has been commonly associated with terms like ‘iʿtilāl (reason), maʿlūl (caused) and, rather poetically, with a rope that binds tent poles to a peg in the ground.6 Writing in the late 10th century, Ibn Jinnī (d. 1002) drew a comparison between ʿilla and the socalled argument ad infinitum that was commonly used in religious debates (Ibn Jinnī 1952: 48–95). In the attempt to establish a universally applicable definition of ʿilla, Edward Lane sought to identify it as “the general cause for linguistic argumentation” and an “accident that befalls an object and causes its state or condition to be altered”.7 Due to The etymology of the term ʿilla has been commonly traced to the Greek term aition (αίτία) and the Syriac eltā as “sickness” and/or “defect” – however, this interpretation remains the subject of controversies up until today. For the conflicting interpretations of ʿilla as a disease and defect see: Jokisch, Islamic Imperial Law, 410; Kennedy-Day, Books of Definition in Islamic Philosophy, 68–69; Endress, The Language of Demonstration: Translating Science and the Formation of Terminology in Arabic Philosophy and Science, 232; Lidell and Scot, An intermediate Greek-English lexicon, 44; and Guillalme, La ‘cause’ des gramairiens, 29–35. 7 Lane, Arabic-English lexicon vol.5, 2124. 6

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THE BANISHER OF MADNESS

his aspirations for universality, Lane’s laconic definition cannot be applied to the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj. On the one hand, the introductory chapter of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw testifies of his tendency to identify ʿilla with the codified rules and regulations of Arabic grammar – as they were established by the ʿAbbāsid grammarians between the mid-8th and the early 10th century. At the same time however, the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj cherished ʿilla laws as records of the outstanding features of Classical Arabic. By the mid-9th century, the mastery of grammar laws came to be perceived as the uppermost prerequisite of all intellectual and artistic undertakings.8 Perfect of beauty, Classical Arabic has been revered by the grammarians as the foundation pillar of a Muslim ‘umma9 and the ultimate gift of the Almighty to mankind. By the will of the Almighty, horses, mules, donkeys and other beasts were exempt from the joys of life. Concurrently, their souls were forever cut off from the wisdom manifested in the laws of grammar.10 As a neutral and colourless term, Wisdom (ḥikma) appears to be “almost foreign with the Islamic intellectual tradition”, wrote Franz Rosenthal in regards to the diverging perceptions of Knowledge (ʿilm) in medieval Islam (Rosenthal 1970: 36–37). Usually translated as “the rationalistic philosophy”,11 the term ḥikma has been occasionally used throughout the Middle East to refer to the Greek philosophy in

8 See: al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ Kitāb Sibawayh vol.1, 70; al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ Kitāb Sibawayh vol.2, 222–223; Ms. Ẓāhirīya, Majmūʿ #40, 307 and Bayhaqī, Shu’ab #2/275. 9 Natural character disposition (shiyam ṭabīʿiyya), sociocultural constitution (khuluq ṭabīʿiyya) and common language (lisān) were singled out by alMasʿudi (d. 869) as the foundation pillars of a Muslim ‘umma. For the detailed overview of the three pillars of the ‘umma in the works of al-Masʿudi and the 10th century ʿAbbāsid culture see: Khalidi, Islamic Historiography: The Histories of Masʿudi, 89–90. 10 al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ Kitāb Sibawayh vol.1, 70. “There are only two types of living beings’, wrote the 14th century lexicographer Ibn Manẓūr (d. 1312) on the Arabic language and its laws. ‘Those who possess this gift and those who don’t”. Ibn Manẓūr, Lisān al-ʿArab vol.1, 3419. 11 Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 94.

1. THE MIRROR AND THE WISDOM

5

general.12 Nevertheless, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s notion of ḥikma was probably closer to al-ʿAynī’s perception of wisdom as familiarity with things by the means of their essence. 13 As he believed that the proper knowledge of outer manifestations, form and composition of an object represents the prerequisite of every successful analysis of object’s structural qualities, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s search for the supreme Wisdom was heavily dependent on one of its principal manifestation: the rules and regulations of Arabic grammar.14 In addition to his magnum opus Kitāb al‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj predominantly share his life-long aspiration to present Classical Arabic as the mirror, medium and proportion of the Wisdom that shapes it. Ibn al-Sarrāj believed that this Wisdom emerges as familiarity with the language, human heart and the divine presence that gives birth to both. As the shaping force behind the structural qualities, rhythm and beauty of Classical Arabic, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s Wisdom was concurrently regarded as a reflection of the virtue of a soul. Firm of belief in the supremacy of Classical Arabic, Ibn al-Sarrāj identified the collective character of Arabs with the grammatical patterns and properties of their language. By However, it is important to take into account that ḥikma wasn’t universally identified as the rationalistic and/or Greek philosophy. According to Bennison, this term was originally used in the Qur’an to signify various complements to the scripture – only to be associated with the rationalistic philosophy in the second and the third century of the Islamic era. Bennison, The Great Caliphs. The Golden Age of the ʿAbbasid Empire, 160. Bennison’s hypothesis was furthermore supported by Hossein Nasr. He believed that medieval scholars perceived ḥikma as the “wisdom which has its ultimate source in the Revelations given to the ancient prophets” and the wedding of rational knowledge with illumination and gnosis. Nasr, Islamic Coslomogical Doctrines, 15, 33. Assuming that Bennison’s and Nasr’s hypothesis is correct, al-Tawḥīdī’s records on al-Sirāfī’s debate with Mattā b. Yūnus indicate that the term ḥikma came to be identified with Greek philosophy as early as the 10th century A.D. See: alTawḥīdī, Kitāb al-‘Imtāʾ wal-Muʿānasa, 96–127. 13 al-ʿAynī, ʿUmdat al-Qārī vol.1, 247. In a similar fashion, al-Tawḥīdī maintained that whereas knowledge (ʿilm) is to be perceived as judging things by the means of a rational mind, Wisdom (ḥikma) represents familiarity with things by the means of their essence. al-Tawḥīdī, al-Muqtasaba, 362. However, Ibn Taymiyya deemed that the true ʿilm is to be identified with the sunna and the Qur’an. Ibn Taymiyya, Majmūʿa al-Rasāʿil al-Kubrā vol.1, 238. 14 Ibn al-Sarrāj, Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, 619 A.H; Tehran, Majlis #3990, ff.1–2. 12

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the mercy of the Almighty, Classical Arabic was believed to be exalted above all other languages – thus exalting the souls of Arabs among the souls of mankind. Ibn al-Sarrāj’s desire to establish the language as the mirror of souls was the most effectively summarized in his treatise Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ. In its introductory chapter, Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ thus proclaims Ibn al-Sarrāj’s intention to compose “the book that reveals the speech in the same way as the speech reveals what is in the soul”.15 Like his teacher al-Mubarrad, Ibn al-Sarrāj believed that familiarity with soul equals familiarity with the Divine – to the point where he refers to those who were ignorant of the laws of grammar as infidels (kāfirūn).16 Notwithstanding the fact that the prominence of grammarians in the ʿAbbāsid society was heavily criticized by al-Jāḥiẓ,17 in the mid-9th century Classical Arabic was still lauded as the crumbling bridge between the Man and his Creator. Several decades later, the prized status of language in the ʿAbbāsid culture was about to face its first serious challengers. With the growing influence of the GraecoArabic translation movement, by the 10th century A.D. the influx of Hellenistic sciences will put to test the traditionally-assumed authority of ʿAbbāsid grammarians to analyse intelligible realm and the nature of a human soul. On the basis of al-Tawḥīdī’s records of the court debates between the ʿAbbāsid grammarians and logicians, works of science and popular culture still tend to identify the nature of their rivalry as the conflict between Christianity and Islam, East and West. The present study puts this assumption to test through the analysis of 1) how was the case for grammarians versus logicians advocated in the teachings of Ibn al-Sarrāj and 2) how were Ibn al-Sarrāj’s notions of language challenged by the 15 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ, 352 A.H; Rabat, National Library of the King-

dom of Morocco #100/6, ff.1/43. See: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff.22/43; and al-Mubarrad, Kitāb al-Muqtaḍab vol.4, 441. As a matter of fact, ʿAbbāsid scholars believed that “the Qur’an has four aspects: (1) exegesis, which is known to scholars, (2) the Arabic language, which is known to Arabs, (3) the knowledge of allowed and forbidden things which people cannot afford themselves to ignore and (4) the [proper] interpretation, which is known only to the God Almighty”. See: Muqātil, Tafsīr alQur’ān, vol.1, 26–7; and al-Thaʿālibī, Fiqh al-Lugha wa-Sirr al-ʿArabiyya, 2–3. 17 Pellat, Life and works of Jāḥiẓ, 113–114. 16

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circle of eminent logicians who were gathered around his friend and rival al-Fārābī (d. 950). In addition to the main theoretical points of difference between the teachings of the 10th century grammarians and logicians, the present study pinpoints Ibn al-Sarrāj’s role in the conflict and identifies the main causes that have led to it. One of the chief traits that qualifies Ibn al-Sarrāj to serve as a representative of grammarians is his fame. By late 10th century A.D., he was already lauded as the leading grammarian of his time, the greatest poet among the grammarians and the virtuous scholar whose life exemplified the science and culture of Arabs.18 In addition, his notion of wisdom stands as one of the main embodiments of the intellectual pretensions of ʿAbbāsid grammarians to analyze the nature of the soul and cognitive processes behind the speech. In order to come to terms with the nature and properties of the supreme Wisdom, the present study was primarily based on the thirteen surviving manuscripts of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s works; six of which were never analysed before. In addition, the opening chapter of the present study draws from the works of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s students, rivals and the writings of ʿAbbāsid historiographers to compose the first detailed biography of Ibn al-Sarrāj ever to be penned in a modern western language. For in spite of his fame, Ibn al-Sarrāj remains a shadowy figure in the history of Arabic grammar until today. The contradictory reports concerning Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teachings and his alleged affiliations with the feuding cultural and religious groups began to surface as early as the mid-10th century. Throughout the centuries, he was associated with the Mu’tazila scholars, logicians, Ḥanbalīs, supporters of the anti-Shuʿūbiyya socio-political movement and the feuding grammarians of Basra and Kufa. Each of these assumptions is addressed separately in the first and second chapter of the present study. In addition, the second chapter of the present study challenges the long-standing surmise that Ibn al-Sarrāj concealed his philosophical studies and pursued them under the guise of various scientific disciplines that had a somewhat better standing in the ʿAbbāsid society (i.e. religious studies, lexicography and grammar). With regards to the first and second chapter of the present study, its third

See: al-Qifṭi. ‘Inbāh al-Ruwāh vol.3, 145; al-Tawḥīdī, Kitāb al-‘Imtāʾ, 343; al-Zubaydī, Ṭabaqāt al-Naḥwīyīn wa al-Lughawīyīn, 112; and Ibn Khallikān, Wafayāt al-‘Aʿyān wa-‘Anbāʾ al-Zamān vol.3, 462. 18

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chapter deals with practical methods to obtain the wisdom and its manifestations in the souls and vernaculars of Arabs. Ultimately, the concluding chapter of the present study covers 1) the impact of Ibn alSarrāj’s teachings on the Arabic grammar tradition and 2) maps the historical factors that have generated the need for wisdom that was set to heal the soul of its afflictions and secure the peace and prosperity in this world and the hereafter. Through the analysis of the Wisdom of Arabs and the key factors that have shaped and determined its development, the present study strives towards offering an innovative perspective on language, group identities and the social and power relations in the Arab world.

1.1. PHYSIOGNOMY OF THE AGE: FRAMEWORKS OF CULTURE AND IDENTITY

“We are the ʿarab people. When we report, we predate and postdate, we add and subtract at will – but we don’t mean to lie!” — Hudayfa b. al-Yaʿmān19

In the 13th century A.D., pure bloodlines were celebrated by Yāqūt (d. 1229) as the foundation of social hierarchy. Stripped of the pride and glory of his notable ancestors, an outcast in search for a living would be forced by the society to take part in the lowest type of assignments; his social standings thus being debased further and further. In the lack of lineage to take pride in, a place of living and language fluency of an individual were deemed to be irrelevant (Yāqūt 1999: 391). Seven centuries later, the authority of Yāqūt’s report was challenged by Joel Carmichael’s bold claim that “since the Arab tribes of the peninsula were bound together by nothing else, the stellar role in their formation of a nation must be ascribed to their language” (Carmichael 1969: 8). As such, both observations can be deemed as exaggerations – for the early ʿarab was most likely a concept imbued with ethnic, cultural, religious and linguistic notions alike. Three main obstacles to establishing a universally applicable definition of the term ʿarab were identified by Retsö as (1) an abundance of research material of dubious trustworthiness, (2) unclear etymology and (3) the dynamic evolution of this term from the 19 Quoted according to: Hawting, The

Idea of Idolatry and the Emergence of the Islam: From Polemics to History, 3.

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earliest times up until today (Retsö 2006: 126). Faced with the same obstacles, Ibn al-Sarrāj appears as troubled by the elusive nature of the ʿarab as Retsö has been in the early 20th century. In the attempt to come to terms with the medieval perception of what it means to be an Arab, Lane will point out that the root of the term ʿarab is semantically related to the notions of (1) plain, clear speech, devoid of corruption and barbarousness, (2) disgust with foul and obscene language and (3) the neighing of a horse of the pure Arab blood (Lane 1968: 1991–1992). Forcibly united by the term ʿarab and its meaning, language, blood and religion emerge as the main foundations of selfhood in the world of ʿAbbāsid Caliphs. Conflicting influences of the three foundation stones of the medieval group identities subsequently found their most famous victim in the renowned 8th century poet Bashār b. Burd (d. 784): When I entered the presence of [the caliph] al-Mahdi, I was asked the following: “Among whom do you count yourself, Bashār?” I said: “My language and my robe are Arabic (ʿarabī), but my ancestry is that of a foreigner (ʿajamī).” (al-Iṣfahānī 1927: 138)

The question of Arab ancestry emerges as a major point of dispute among the scholars of the late 8th and the early 10th century. In the lack of a universal consensus, the term ʿarab was used by al-Tawḥīdī (d. 923) as an antonym for the men of Byzantine, Hindi and Persian blood (al-Tawḥīdī 2014: 69). In his search for an ethnic Arab, Retsö’s analyses of the pre-Islamic textual evidence indicate that the perception of Arabs in the cultural traditions of Assyrians, Romans, Greeks and Nabateans was not limited to the inhabitants of the Arabian Peninsula. Only as of the late 7th century, scholars began to identify the ʿarab with the early Islamic fighters: muhājirūn, ‘anṣār and their sedentary allies of Yemen, Mecca and Medina (Retsö 2006: 127). One hundred years later, Baghdadi jurist ‘Abū Yūsuf (d. 798) unsuccessfully attempted to widen the notion of ʿarab so that it could include Christians and Jews as well.20 In spite of the tendencies of the Islamic normative tradition to celebrate inhabitants of the Arabia as the sole See: Hodgson, The Venture of Islam. Conscience and History in a World Civilization vol.1, 62–63; and Goldziher, Muslim Studies vol.1, 199. 20

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true Arabs (al-ʿarab al-ʿāriba),21 by the mid-10th century there was still no consensus of professional grammarians regarding the validity of the traditionally assumed ancestry of Arabs through the prophet ‘Ismāʿīl, son of ‘Ibrāhīm by his second wife Hājar: It is known that [the prophet] Hūd was an Arab but it appears from the writings of Siwawayh, when he put him together with Nūh and Lot, with them being foreigners, that he considered him to be a foreigner [as well]. People disagree on such matters. There are those who say that Arabs are descendants of ‘Ismāʿīl and that those who were born before, like Hūd and ‘Ād, aren’t of Arab [blood]. Others disagree… (al-Sirāfī 2008: 6)

As opposed to the term ʿarab, the term ʿajam has been used to signify the poor mastery of Classical Arabic and a confessor of Christianity alike. Although relatively rare in comparison, the notion of ʿajam as Christian was illustrated in the works of the 11th century historian Ibn Ḥayyān al-Qurṭubī (d. 1075). According to Ibn Ḥayyān, every prisoner of war who has been captured by Hāshim b. al-ʿAzīz would be eventually presented with the following question: “muslim ‘anta ‘am ʿajam”? If he would declare himself as an ʿajam, the prisoner would be killed on spot. Those who would claim to be Muslims would be forced by Ibn alʿAzīz to recite one surah after another before being executed as an ʿajam upon making a first mistake.22 In all of its fame and cruelty, Ibn Ḥayyān’s anecdote can be regarded as an isolated incident owing to the tendency of medieval scholars to limit the notion of ʿajam to a person who is unable to speak Classical Arabic properly – “allaḏī lā yubayyinu al-kalām min al-ʿarab wal-ʿajam, allaḏī lā yufṣiḥu”.23 In his study on the ʿajam in the pre-Islamic tradition, Hazem Nuseibeh maintained that this term was originally used to establish the distinction between Arabs and non-Arabs on the basis of a language. For according to Nuseibeh, the pre-Islamic perception of the ʿajam as an inept speaker of Classical 21 Buhkari, Ṣahīh vol. 4, 323.

al-Qurṭubi, Ṣilat Tārīkh al-Ṭabarī, 110. See also: Gallego, The Impact of Arabic Diglossia on Muslim, Jews and Christians of Al-Andalus vol. 1, 360. 23 See: Ibn Manẓūr, Lisān vol. 1, 2825–2826, 3419; and al-Suyūṭī, Muẓhir vol.1, 270. 22

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Arabic has been preserved in the Qur’an as well (Nuseibeh 1956: 12). In his analysis of the Qur’anic notions of ʿajam, Bernard Lewis points out that although surahs reveal a “consciousness of difference” between the ʿarab and the ʿajam, they contain no hints of racial and colour prejudices upon differentiating between the two (Lewis 1971: 6). For in spite of the fact that Classical Arabic has been celebrated by the Qur’an as the language “devoid of crookedness” (ghayra dhī ‘iwajin), the surahs were less kind to the ʿarab people of the desert who were neglecting their Prophet and warfare duties.24 The indifference of the Qur’an towards the notions of race and colour was attributed by Suliman Bashear to the prevailing desire to promote the genuine equality among the Muslims of various ethnic, social and linguistic backgrounds (Bashear 1997: 1). However, of equal importance for the present study will be the fact that the Qur’an established its surahs as an ideal of the unmatched beauty and power of language;25 whose diction, rhythm and cadences continue to inspire the Muslim and non-Muslim scholars alike. One of the earliest hints that the ethnic ʿarab has precedence over the ʿajam owing to the nurturing qualities of Classical Arabic has been ascribed to the Persian jurist ʿAmr b. Dinār (d. 743) and/or ‘Abū al-Ḥasan ʿAlī al-Madaʿ inī (d. 839).26 Declared as the rightful preoccupation of Arabs and Arabs alone, in the late 9th century Classical Arabic was put to test by its recent, burdening elevation to the official language of the ʿAbbāsid tax-register (dīwān) and state bureaucracy. Following the collapse of the Sassanid Empire and the series of successful military campaigns against the Byzantine Empire and the Visigoths of Spain, by the early 8th century caliphs of the ‘Umayyad dynasty (661–750) have struggled to consolidate the realm that was stretching out from the Indian sub-continent in the east to the Iberian Peninsula in the west. The military triumphs of the Rāshidūn and the ‘Umayyad caliphs have been commonly identified as the triumph of Classical Arabic in spite of the fact that the first language that came to dominate their administration halls wasn’t Arabic but Greek. The subsequent introduction of Classical Arabic to the administration system of conquered provinces under the caliph ʿAbd al-Malik

24 See: Qur’an, 41:44, 12: 19, 16:103; 26:198, 41:44, 39:28; 26:198–199 and 16:103. 25 See: Qur’an: 2:23–24; 10:38; 11:13–14 and 17:88. 26 al-Tūfī, al-Ṣaʿaqa al-Ghaḍabiyya fī al-Radd ʿalā Munkiri al-ʿArabiyya, 243–251.

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(646–705) had a profound influence on its linguistic properties.27 Up until today, the historical background of ʿAbd al-Malik’s arabization movement remains unknown. What is known are the consequences. One hundred years following the administrative reform of ʿAbd al-Malik, Classical Arabic was the indisputable language of religion, culture and administration of the ʿAbbāsid Empire. By this time however, Bedouin Arabs were already reduced to minority in most provinces under the rule of ʿAbbāsid Caliphs.28 From the linguistic perspective, it was the Arabian Islam that triumphed in the mid-7th and early 8th century. However, in the light of the dwindling social prestige of tribal affiliations that was followed by the ever-growing discrepancies between the standard language and vernaculars of the conquered provinces, the triumph of Classical Arabic was a bitter one. By the mid-14th century, Classical Arabic, the language of the Qur’an, was already a written language that required time and effort to be mastered… Just like any other foreign language (Ibn Khaldūn 1967: 557–559). In the light of the growing anti-Shuʿūbiyya sentiments in the late 8th century A.D., the widespread antagonism towards the sedentary aristocracy and “Greek” scribes who were working in the administrative system of the ʿAbbāsid Empire have been commonly identified as the roots of the newly established prestige of Classical Arabic that was about to give birth to Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teachings on the Wisdom of Arabs.29 Writing in the mid-9th century, al-Jāḥiẓ (d. 868) and Ibn Qutayba (d. 889) present us with the typical portrait of an ignorant scribe as the sworn enemy of Islam and Arabs:

For the detailed overview of the evolution of Classical Arabic in the wake of the early Arab conquests see: Versteegh, The Arabic Language, 4; Hitti, History of the Arabs from the Earliest Times to the Present, 217; and Egger, A History of the Muslim World to 1405: The Making of a Civilization, 85. 28 See: Ahmed, Discovering Islam, 42; Marsham, Rituals of Islamic Monarchy. Accession and succession in the first Muslim Empire, 184; Crone, Medieval Islamic Political Thought, 97; Versteegh, Landmarks in Linguistic Thought III: The Arabic Linguistic Tradition, 2; and Berkey, The Formation of Islam: Religion and Society in the Near East, 600–1800, 117. 29 See: Watt, The Majesty that was Islam. The Islamic world, 661–1100, 89; Versteegh, The Arabic Language, 43; Bashear, Arabs and Others in Early Islam, 42 -43, 75; and Suleiman, The Arabic Grammatical Tradition: A Study in Taʿlīl, 7. 27

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He approves of no books but [the books of] logic, there is not a thing he praises apart from their content and he approves of nothing but what is widespread. (al-Jāḥiẓ 1964 2: 194) To poses fine calligraphy skills and [the ability to] compose a verse in praise of a singing girl and the joys of wine – that is the sole goal of our scribe’s scribbling! He studies a bit of astrology in order to be able to compose a horoscope and a bit of logic as well. Against the Book of Allah, the All-merciful, the Compassionate, he raises objections without knowing its meanings – and the teachings of the Prophet, peace be upon him, he calls wrong without knowing who transmitted them. In the sciences of Arabs (…) like genealogy, language and literature he is totally uninterested! (Ibn Qutayba 1900: 2)

Notwithstanding the fact that the hegemony of the Greek language in the administration halls of the Arab Middle East came to an abrupt end during the reign of ʿAbd al-Malik, for many centuries to come the hatred for the court bureaucracy has remained the same. In the first century of the Islamic era, Classical Arabic was thus set to emerge as the principal symbol of group identities. Throughout the centuries, it will prevail as one of the determining factors in the rise and fall of nobles, merchants and court officials. 30 Upon dealing with a phenomenon that is as layered as group identities, every study risks raising more questions than it answers. Complex, variable and elusive, identities remain an everlasting source of scientific debates – and a vulnerable subject of manipulations as well (Suleiman 2003: 4). In the attempt to establish a universally-applicable definition of group identities, Alberto Melucci reflected on identities as 30 Commonly compared to the smell of a rotting flesh, grammar omissions were

deemed to be the valid ground to remove an imām and/or a nobleman from his office (al-Ṭūfī 1997: 251; Ibn ʿAbd Rabbih 1928: 18). For according to the ‘Umayyad caliph ʿAbd al-Malik b. Marwān (d. 705) “no one could rule over Arabs except for those who know their language” (Ibn ʿAsākir #17/840–841). The historical occurrences of this practice were amply documented by Suleiman Yasir in: Suleiman, The Arabic Language and National Identity: A Study in Ideology, 49–55.

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“interactive and shared definition produced by several interacting individuals who are concerned with the orientation of their action as well as the field of opportunities and constraints in which their action takes place” (Melucci 1989: 34). Six years later, Melucci refined his definition by identifying three recurrent features of group identities in the history of mankind: 1.

The continuity of subject over and beyond variations in time and adaptations that were imposed by environment;

2.

The delimitation of subject with respect to others;

3.

The ability to recognize and be recognized.31

Melucci’s definition stands as one of the main theoretical foundations of the present study in spite of the fact that its author fell into the same trap as Ferguson did upon asserting that “although the Arabic speech community is very large numerically, and spreads over a vast expanse spatially, the myths about the language are relatively uniform throughout community and may be safely summarized without too much regard for local variations” (Ferguson 1997: 375). Whereas the respect for the beauty of Classical Arabic and its power over the souls of men represents one of the most widespread and the least disputed motives in the ʿAbbāsid cultural history, these teachings were neither unchallenged nor invariable. Under the influence of explicit questionings, cultural interactions and/or changing sociohistorical circumstances, ideologies transfigure and evolve – as did the medieval notions of what is “good”, “true” and “aesthetically pleasing” about the Arabic language. As opposed to Melucci’s premise of the permanence of identities, the present study aims to (re)capture the evolution of the Arab notion of the Self and its manifestation in Ibn al-Sarrāj’s meditations on the Wisdom of Arabs. Empires and identities emerge as a result of processes that aren’t always visible. Concurrently, both tend to share the same foundations. Ideological foundations of (the ʿAbbāsid) Empire were therefore referred to by Rosenthal as “meaningful concepts of abstract nature” (Rosenthal 1970: 1). In the late 9th and the early 10th century, these concepts found their foundation, rationalization and unifying 31 Melucci, The

Process of Collective Identity, 43–45.

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force in Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teachings on the supreme Wisdom. In order to come to terms with how the high prestige of Classical Arabic was established as a mirror of the virtuous Muslim ‘umma and its inhabitants, the present study represents an attempt to reconstruct Ibn alSarrāj’s methodological approach and the reasoning process behind it. Deep faith in the supremacy of one’s language has been commonly identified as an aspect of language ideologies which grants them prevalence and dominance by making them invisible within a society. 32 Endowed with power to distort linguistic structures, 33 language ideologies tend to mirror social, political and religious backgrounds of those intellectual circles which revere them. To grasp the evolution of a grammar tradition thus often means to come to terms with a language ideology behind it (Kroskrity 2004: 496; Silverstein 1985: 220). In his attempt to establish language ideologies as an eligible field of scientific analyses, Kroskrity points out their potential to serve as a bridge between the social studies and linguistic analyses.34 As opposed to treating Classical Arabic as a system of communication first and foremost, the present study will analyse it as a mode of cultural representation in the Empire overwhelmed by the ṭalab alri‘āsah. Serving as a common accusation of the time, the term ṭalab al-ri‘āsah, the pursuit of leadership, unmasks the intellectual struggles that have followed the emergence of grammar, logic and fiqh as

32 See: Suleiman, The Arabic Language and

National Identity: A Study in Arabic Language Ideology, 7; Sayer, Ambiguities and Tensions in English Language Teaching, 132; Eagleton, Ideology: An Introduction, 17; and Heath, Social History, 53. 33 Rather than being merely based upon the linguistic properties of a certain language, Silverstein points out that language ideologies tend to distort linguistic structures. See: Silverstein, Language Structure and Linguistic Ideology, 210.

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the scientific branches endowed with distinct fields of inquiry. 35 In the mid-8th and the early 9th century, the ʿAbbāsid Empire has witnessed the consolidations of Islamic sacred literature as the rise of the legal maḏāhib was followed by the emergence of ʿulamā’, the religious scholars, as a distinct social group. The first two centuries of the ʿAbbāsid era have been commonly identified as a formative period in the cultural history of the Empire; when the growing Muslim population actively sought to come to terms with their identity as

Kroskrity, Language Ideologies, 298–319. Following in Kroskrity’s footsteps, Woolard asserted that “language ideologies are never about the language alone, but rather envisions and enact ties of language to identity, to aesthetics, to morality and to epistemology. Through such linkages, they underpin not only linguistics form and use, but the very notion of the person and the social group, as well as such fundamental social institutions as religious ritual, child socialization, gender relations, the nation-state, schooling and law. (…) Simply using the language in particular ways is not what forms the social groups, identities or relations. Rather, ideological interpretations of such uses of language mediate these effects” (Woolard 1998: 3). Language ideologies have been furthermore identified as the “situated, partial, and interested character of conceptions and uses of language” (Errington 2010: 110); “the actual uses of language between particular human subjects for the production of special effects” (Eagleton 2007: 9); “bias toward an abstracted, idealized, homogenous spoken language which is imposed and maintained by the dominant bloc institutions and which names as its model the written language, which is drawn primarily from the speech of the upper, middle class” (Lippi-Green 1997: 64); “mediating link between social structures and forms of talk” (Woolard 1994: 55); “shared bodies of common sense notions about the nature of language in the world” (Rumsey 1990: 346); “meaning in the service of power” (Thompson 1990: 7); “the cultural system of ideas about social and linguistic relationships, together with their loading of moral and political interests” (Irwine 1989: 255); “any sets of beliefs about language articulated by its users speakers as a rationalization and justification of perceived language structure and use” (Silverstein 1979: 193); “self-evident ideas and objectives a group holds concerning roles of language in the social experiences of members as they contribute to the expression of the group” (Heath 1977: 53) – and, most broadly, as “any set of behaviours, assumptions, cultural forms, prejudices, folk-system beliefs, attitudes, stereotypes, ways of thinking about language and religio-historical circumstances associated with the particular language” (Schiffman 1996: 5). 35 Yong’s analyses on the ṭalab al-ri ‘āsah in the ʿAbbāsid Empire can be consulted at: Yong, Religion, Learning and Science in the ʿAbbasid Period, 127. 34

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Muslims. 36 Composed of experts in religious and legal sciences, the ʿulamā’ had an important role to play in the emergence and preservation of the newly-established Arab notions of the Self. However, at the heart of this process, the ʿulamā’ did not stand alone. In the cultural and political framework of the Empire, radical changes were taking place – and with the rise of theory and the Graeco-Arabic translation movement, the (ideological) unity of the Empire was about to come to an end. “This came about as follows”, noted Ibn Khaldūn (d. 1406) in his treatise al-Muqaddima. “The ʿAbbāsid caliphs had the works of ancient [philosophers] translated from Greek into Arabic and many Muslims investigated them critically. Scholars whom God led astray adopted their doctrines and defended them in disputations” (Ibn Khaldūn 1980: 250). Composed between the late 9th and the early 10th century, the teachings of Ibn al-Sarrāj emerge as a reaction to the great intellectual ferment in the Middle East. His meditations on the supreme Wisdom were spurred by the introduction of Hellenistic sciences to the world of ʿAbbāsid caliphs. In the ʿAbbāsid culture, the difference between the Eastern Roman Empire (al-rūm), their arch-enemy and successor of Roman civilization, and the ancient Greeks (al-yūnān) was a significant one.37 “Greek culture, as it became known in the [ʿAbbāsid] court

36 Commonly referred to as the Rise of Theory, the cultural and identity pol-

itics of the first two centuries of the ʿAbbāsid Era have been notably analysed by McKinney and Jokisch. See: McKinney, The Case of Rhyme Versus Reason, 3–166; and Jokisch, Islamic Imperial Law, 265–305. 37 “Whereas the Arabs freely admired the knowledge and experience of the Classical Greeks whose writings they translated and learned to love, they despised the Byzantines, whom they regarded as a debased form of Greeks, who had no proper respect for their heritage”, observed Versteegh in his study on the Graeco-Arabic translation movement. Versteegh, Landmarks in Linguistic Thought III: The Arabic Linguistic Tradition, 42. In the mid-9th century, al-Jāḥiẓ notably argued that the Byzantines possess no philosophical tradition nor deserve to be given any credit for the works of Greek philosophers that they take pride in. See: Dunlop, Arab civilization to A.D. 1500, 50–51. However, based on the fact that the subsequent refutations of ʿAbbāsid scholars have commonly referred to the supporters of the Hellenistic sciences as “Greeks” (al-yūnān) but never as “Byzantines” (al-rūm), al-Jāḥiẓ’s opinion appears to have been widespread.

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circles, was not the thought of ancient Greece but rather the thought of Greece as it had evolved and came to be understood in the Mediterranean world in the centuries immediately prior to Islam”, wrote Ira Lapidus in his History of Islamic Societies (Lapidus 1988: 93). In the mid-13th century, Ibn ‘Abī ‘Uṣaybiʿa (d. 1270) maintained that the first phase of interplay between the Islamic and Greek culture came in the form of a conquest. And through the course of al-Muʿtaṣim’s (d. 842) conquests in the Asia Minor, the works of Aristotle were acquired (Ibn ‘Abī ‘Uṣaybiʿa 1972: 124). Assuming that Ibn ‘Abī ‘Uṣaybiʿa was right, not all manuscripts came from the Asia Minor. In his search for the manuscripts yet untranslated, Ḥunayn b. ‘Isḥāq (d. 873) was known to have travelled throughout Syria, Palestine, Mesopotamia and Egypt; with extended periods of field-research in Alexandria, Damascus and Harran.38 In the centuries to come, many manuscripts were acquired from the monasteries of Antiochia, Cyprus and Armenia.39 Some were pillaged, some were bought or presented as the Byzantine’s gifts to the Caliphs of Islam (Sypianski 2013: 467). For a suitable interpreter, no price was too high; with ʿAbbāsid caliphs searching for them as far as Levant.40 Apart from (1) diffuse literary infiltrations, Majid Fakhry singled out (2) translations and textual transmissions as the main modes of cultural exchange between the Islamic and Hellenistic culture (Fakhry 1991: 61). A small tract of land in the present-day Syria has been furthermore identified by McGinnis and Reisman as the causa prima of the ʿAbbāsid translation movement. Ceded by the Byzantine emperor Jovian (d. 364) to the Sassanid Empire, this territory gradually became the sanctuary of persecuted Monophysites and Nestorian Christians. Into their exile to the newly-acquired Sassanid territory, their books have followed them. Translated into Syriac in the centuries to come, these books and the Syriac scholars who studied them were identified by McGinnis and Reisman as the foundation stone of the Graeco-Arabic translation

38 Walzer, Greek

into Arabic: Essays on Islamic Philosophy, 116. The fieldwork research of Ḥunayn b. ‘Isḥāq has been notably traced by Peters and Koningsveld – among others. See: Peters, Aristotle and the Arabs. The Aristotelian Tradition in Islam, 18; and Koningsveld, “Greek Manuscripts in the Early Abbasid Empire. Fiction and Facts about their Origin, Translation and Destruction”, 345. 40 Peters, Aristotle and the Arabs. The Aristotelian Tradition in Islam, 18. 39

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movement.41 Even so, their contributions to the ʿAbbāsid translation movement poses one of the most obscure and difficult problems of the Islamic intellectual history. In addition to the McGinnis-Reisman theory, a similar stand on the Syriac intermediaries in the ʿAbbāsid translation movement has been taken by Adamson (Adamson 2016: 1), Vagelpohl (Vagelpohl 2008: 16), Haq (Haq 1996: 52), Qadir (Qadir 1988: 31– 32), Peters (Peters 1968: 7, 18) and Walzer (Walzer 1945: 167). However, in his study on the history of Syriac logic and grammar, King pointed out that any hypothesis proclaiming the Syriac culture as the main source of the textual corpus and translators who have contributed to the ʿAbbāsid translation movement is hard to prove due to the fact that most of the relevant Syriac literature has been lost to the ravages of sword and time (King 2013: 101). The existence of a well-developed Syriac tradition of translating, copying and studying of Greek classics that will subsequently give birth to the Graeco-Arabic translation movement was consequently denounced by Dimitri Gutas as a “widespread misconception” and “misreading of history” which had serious consequences on the translation movement studies. For according to Gutas, few Greek classics have been translated into Syriac prior to the rise of the ʿAbbāsid Empire and the Graeco-Arabic translation movement.42 With the notable exception of the first three books of Organon, Isagoge, and a few works on astronomy and popular astrology, “less Greek secular literature was translated into Syriac than, say, into Armenian” (Brock 1979: 25). Detailed analysis of the role of Syriac scholarly tradition in the ʿAbbāsid translation movement is beyond the scope and purpose of the present study. However, in spite of the fact that the existence of the earlier Syriac translation of Greek classics and the role they played in the ʿAbbāsid translation movement is yet to be determined, Walzer’s research indicates that the later-date translations of Mattā b. Yūnus and 41 See: McGinnis

and Reisman, Classical Arabic Philosophy. An Anthology of Sources, 27–28. As such, the McGinnis-Reisman theory might have been inspired by the fact that, by the early 8th century, all major Syriac intellectual centres in Edessa, Resain, Kinnesrin, Homs, Heliopolis and Nisbis fell under the ʿAbbasid rule. 42 Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 21. In addition, consult Watt’s analysis on the potential role of the Syriac culture in the ʿAbbāsid translation movement in: Watt, Al-Fārābī and the History of the Syriac Organon, 751–778; and Watt, The Syriac Aristotle Between Alexandria and Baghdad, 26–50.

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Yaḥyā b. ʿAdī almost exclusively relied on Syriac source texts which were produced by Ḥunayn b. Isḥāq and his associates (Walzer 1970: 32–35). Apart from the Syriac culture, Sabinians of Harran,43 Armenian scholars,44 the pre-Islamic cultures of Iran,45 Jundishapur46 and the Christians of Egypt, Syria and Iraq47 came to be identified as the potential paragons of the Graeco-Arabic translation movement. But with the lack of primary sources, scarce and anecdotal records of the ʿAbbāsid historiographers leave us somewhat uncertain of its heralds and origins. The problem of a founder is always the problem of a beginning. And it is at the beginning that we are the most uncertain.

1.2. THE CITY OF PEACE AND THE HERALDS OF DESTRUCTION “In whichever pious community those rational sciences set foot, only corruption and discord have followed!” — Ibn Nubātā48

By the late 10th century, the first phases of interplay between the Greek philosophy and Islamic culture have already faded into myth and legend. And according to legend, the works of Aristotle were introduced to the Arab world with the discovery of mysterious books in Baghdad. When were these books discovered, Ibn Nadīm (d. 990) chose not to say. But assuming that the Graeco-Arabic translation movement was truly inspired by the forgotten manuscripts from a ruinous house, these books were almost certainly not written in Classical Arabic. Ibn Nadīm On the Sabinians of Harran as the potential paragons of the Graeco-Arabic translation movement see: Peters, Aristotle and the Arabs. The Aristotelian Tradition in Islam, 43; and Lapidus, History of Islamic Societies, 93–94. 44 Carmichael, The Shaping of the Arabs. A Study in Ethnic Identity, 158. 45 Bartold, Mussliman Culture, 46. 46 Jundishapur has been identified as a potential source of the ʿAbbāsid translation movement by Fakhry, Haq and, most notably, Bukhsh and Watt. See: Fakhry, History of Islamic Philosophy, 15–16; Haq, “The Indian and Persian Background”, 53; Bukhsh, Contributions to the History of Islamic Civilization vol. 1, 290; and Watt, Islamic Philosophy and Theology, 43. 47 On the potential Christian influences in the Graeco-Arabic translation movement see the writings of Kenny and Watt: Kenny, Philosophy of the Muslim World. Authors and Principal Themes, 5; and Watt, Islamic Philosophy and Theology, 43. 48 Ibn Nubāta, Sharḥ al-ʿUyūn fī Sharḥ Risālat Ibn Zaydūn, 331. 43

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sought the origins of the translation movement and “the reason why books of philosophy and other ancient sciences became plentiful in this country” in the nameless philosopher who was summoned from Alexandria by Khalīd b. Yazīd (d. 704), ancient manuscripts from the ruins of Baghdad and, most notably, in a dream of the ʿAbbāsid caliph alMaʿmūn (Ibn Nadīm 1970: 581–583). Apart from Ibn Nadīm’s Kitāb al-Fihrist, the legend of a dream which has inspired al-Maʿmūn to recognize the superiority of Greek culture has been notably recorded by the 13th century historiographer Ibn ‘Abī ‘Uṣaybiʿa (d. 1270), Ibn Nubāta (d. 1366) and the subsequent head of the Peripatetic school Yaḥyā b. ʿAdī (d. 893). “In my dream, I saw an old man sitting on the throne in his audience chamber. I paid him my respect and made some inquiries about the man, only to find out that he was Aristotle. Thus I approached him once again and asked him the following: ‘What is Good?’ ‘Whatever the reason deems to be good.’ ‘What else?’ ‘Whatever people deem to be good.’ ‘What else?’ ‘Whatever the law deems to be good.’ ‘What else?’ ‘Nothing else!” (Ibn ‘Abī ‘Uṣaybiʿa 1972: 186–187)

Apart from his preference for the rule of Law over the judgment of the people, Yaḥyā’s account of al-Maʿmūn’s dream fully corresponds to the later-date version that was recorded and preserved by Ibn ‘Abī ‘Uṣaybiʿa.49 However, on the authority of ʿAbdullāh b. Tāhir, Ibn Nubāta reports that caliph al-Maʿmūn recounted his dream as 49 Yaḥyā’s record survived in only in the later-date Kitāb al-Fihrist by Ibn Nadīm.

Ibn Nadīm, Kitāb al-Fihrist, 83–84. However, in spite of the minor discrepancies between Ibn Nadīm’s Kitāb al-Fihrist and Ibn ‘Abī ‘Uṣaybiʿa’s ʿUyūn al-‘Anbā’, Gutas believed that Ibn ‘Abī ‘Uṣaybiʿa’s record was directly inspired by Yaḥyā’s writings. See: Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 101.

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following: “In my dream, I saw a seated man presiding over the gathering of philosophers and asked him who he was. ‘Aristotle the Wise’, is what he said to me. Thus I said: ‘Tell me, Wise One, what is the best speech?’ ‘The one that stands in accordance with the personal judgement’, said he. ‘Then what?’, said I. ‘The one which the listener finds good’, said he. ‘Then what?’, said I. ‘The one whose consequences are not to be feared’, said he. ‘Then what?’, said I. ‘Everything else is but a neigh of a donkey”. (Ibn Nubāta 1964: 213)

Writing on the dream of al-Maʿmūn, Ibn Nubāta believed that ʿAbdallāh b. Ṭāhir spoke the truth. For in the eyes of Ibn Nubāta, the dream was real – as were its consequences. In the year 824 A.D., this dream was believed to have inspired al-Maʿmūn to order for the library of Crete to be brought to Baghdad. Upon its arrival, the library gave birth to the Graeco-Arabic translation movement. Spreading further with each new commission of the ʿAbbāsid translation movement, manuscripts of Crete were identified by Ibn Nubāta as heralds of the subsequent disintegration of the Empire: [Upon reaching the peace agreement with Crete], al-Maʿmūn immediately sent a demand to obtain the library of Ancient Greek books which were gathered in a room no one has ever visited. Thus the proconsul of the island gathered his retinue and advisors to consult them about passing the books to al-Maʿmūn and all of them objected bitterly – except for a single bishop, who said: ‘I think you should hurry up and provide the caliph with the books that he lusts for! In whichever pious community those rational sciences set foot, only corruption and discord have followed! (Ibn Nubāta 1964: 331)

In his analysis of the medieval interpretations of al-Maʿmūn’s dream, Gutas favoured Ibn Nubāta’s version due to its compatibility with the

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royal agendas that have sought to establish the personal authority of the caliph over the religious authorities in the Empire (Gutas 1998: 98– 99). Rather than discarding it as the later-date fabrication of the translation movement, Gutas identified the dream of al-Maʿmūn as propaganda whose origins were to be sought in the royal court and inner circles of the caliph; with the Ṭahirids being the most likely suspect. As a promotion of the sovereign power of ʿAbbāsid caliphs, the legend and its origins had little to do with representatives of the translation movement.50 The subsequent breakthrough of Hellenistic sciences has been commonly traced to the life and times of the early ʿAbbāsid caliphs and the court of al-Maʿmūn as its chief supporter.51 As “the peerless prince’, endowed with the energetic wisdom of al-Manṣūr, the piety of Mahdi, and the pride of Hadi”,52 caliph al-Maʿmūn yearned to be acknowledged as the heir of ancient Greece and its culture. In his lifetime, the movement had no serious challengers to face (Gutas 1988: 98, 100). “That [what] we witnessed’, wrote Abdelhamid Sabra on the translation movement under Hārūn al-Rashīd (786–809) and his son al-Maʿmūn, “can only be described as a cultural explosion of which the translation of ancient sciences and philosophy was a main feature” (Sabra 1987: 228). During the reign of al-Maʿmūn (813–833), professional translators took great efforts to obtain and compare different versions of manuscripts in order to achieve the greatest possible accuracy in translations. Gathered around Ḥunayn b. ‘Isḥāq (d. 873), the protégés of the caliph broke up with the obscure, word by word translation method of their predecessors. 53 Notwithstanding the fact that the patronage of the caliph gave wings to the GraecoArabic translation movement, the first Arab encounters with the Greek philosophy almost certainly preceded the reign of al-Maʿmūn. Contrary to the theory of Anawati, al-Maʿmūn, the seventh ʿAbbāsid caliph, was but a successor of the well-developed practices 50 Gutas, Greek

Thought, Arabic Culture, 99–100. Versteegh, Landmarks in Linguistic Thought III, 41. Like Versteegh, Rescher maintained that the first contacts between the Greek logic and ʿAbbāsid culture can be traced as early as 810–820 A.D; when the so-called “four books” have been translated by Muḥammad b. ʿAbd ‘Allāh b. alMuqaffa. See: Rescher, The Development of Arabic Logic, 25. 52 al-Masʿudi, The Meadows of Gold. The Abbasids, 83. 51

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of cultural exchange that were established by his predecessors. 54 Centred in the medieval city of Baghdad, 55 organized translation activities were probably initiated in the years following the triumph of ʿAbbāsid revolution in 750 A.D. (Crone 2004: 166; O’Leary 1954: 105). As opposed to the fully institutionalized scholarly interest in Greek works of the ʿAbbāsid era, sporadic, unsystematic translations can be traced to the life and times of the ‘Umayyad caliph ʿAbd alSee: Hodgson, The Venture of Islam. Conscience and History in a World Civilization vol. 2, 412; and Peters, Aristotle and the Arabs. The Aristotelian Tradition in Islam, 60–61. On the authority of the 14th century scholar alṢafādī (d. 1363), Yuḥannā b. Batrīq, Ibn al-Nāʿima al-Ḥimsī and other early translators are believed to have translated Greek classics by relying on the wordby-word method – in contrast to the later-date, refined translation method of al-Jauhāri and other eminent translators who were gathered around Ḥunayn b. ‘Isḥāq and his son ‘Isḥāq (d. 910). Ḥunayn’s group was the most active in the period between 835 and 890. A.D. According to Rescher, not only did Ḥunayn b. ‘Isḥāq translate texts according to the meaning of larger units of each and every expression, but he also used to rely on multiple manuscripts in order to successfully reconstruct the original version of texts he was working on. Moreover, Ḥunayn’s translations attempted to establish references to the original Greek text; either as basis for the direct translations into Arabic or for the sake of establishing a reliable Syriac version which could subsequently serve as a basis a good Arabic translation. See: Rescher, The Development of Arabic Logic, 25. However, in the light of the fact that few works of the early Arab translators have survived up until today, Kennedy-Day denounced the alleged inaccuracy of the early translations as the modern-day myth. Kennedy-Day, Books of Definition in Islamic Philosophy, 34. Contrary to Kennedy-Day’s observations, Mattock concluded that in spite of the fact that the works of the early ʿAbbāsid translators cannot be compared to the later-date translations of Ḥunayn b. ‘Isḥāq and his followers, these early works haven’t been conducted in unsophisticated, word-by word manner either. See: Mattock, The Early Translations from Greek into Arabic: An Experiment, 73–102. 54 Anawati identified al-Ma‘mūn as the founder of the ʿAbbāsid translation movement in: Anawati, Philosophy, Theology and Mysticism, 353. 55 See: Vagelpohl. Aristotle’s Rhetoric in the East: The Syriac and Arabic Translation and Commentary Tradition, 15; and Versteegh, Greek Elements in Arabic Linguistic Thinking, 117. Unlike in Basra, Kufa and Damascus, all channels of cultural reception exchange were fully institutionalized in Baghdad. The systematic translation activities of the ʿAbbāsid era have been attributed by Jokisch to the Barmakid family. See: Jokisch, Islamic Imperial Law, 20, 68. 53

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Malik (685–705) and his son Hishām (724–743). 56 Among the first works to be translated were the medical treatises of Galen and Hippocrates. Owing to the close connection between philosophy and medicine in the Greek antiquity, 57 translations of the major works of Greek philosophers were quick to follow. During the reign of alManṣūr (754–775), the royal court has sponsored the translations of literary works such as Kalīla wa Dimna in addition to the acclaimed translations of Almagest, The Book of Euclid and the writings of Aristotle.58 With the notable exceptions of Politica and the works of Greek historians, by the late 9th century every notable treatise with its respective commentaries, epigraphs, introductions and glosses that was available in the Middle East and Byzantine has been successfully translated into Arabic (Gutas 1998: 1–2; Peters 1968: 20). In the mid-9th century, courts of local rulers and viziers were still the main patrons of arts and culture.59 But apart from the sponsorship of royalty and nobility, the prominence of the ʿAbbāsid translation movement was likely propelled by the spread of paper. Rumoured to be as precious as gold,60 manuscripts written on parchment and papyrus were available to few. Following the spread of paper, merchants, craftsmen and landowners were also able to gradually establish themselves as patrons of ʿAbbāsid translators. The introduction of paper to the Arab world has been traditionally perceived as one of the aftermaths of the Some of the most notable attempts to trace the first phases of the GraecoArabic translation movement have been made by Jokisch, McKinney, Gutas, Endress, Sabra and Meyerhof. See: Jokisch, Islamic Imperial Law, 68; McKinney, The Case of Rhyme Versus Reason, 47; Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 24; Endress, Introduction to Islam, 418, Sabra, “The Appropriation and Subsequent Naturalization of Greek Science in Medieval Islam”, 228; and Meyerhof, “Das Vorwort zur Drogenkunde des Bērūnī”, 23. 57 As it was pointed out by Kraemer, philosophy and medicine walked hand in hand upon being assimilated into the cultural milieu of the Empire. Kraemer, Humanism in the Renaissance of Islam, 1. 58 Translation activities during the reign of al-Manṣūr were attributed by alMasʿudi to the caliph’s personal interest in philosophy and the plethora of Islamic sects. al-Masʿudi, Mukhtaṣar Tārīkh al-‘Umām, 133. 59 Kraemer, Humanism in the Renaissance of Islam, 53. 60 Sypianski, Arabo-Byzantine Relations in the 9th and 10th Centuries as an Area of Cultural Rivalry, 467. 56

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enslavement of Chinese papermakers in the battle of Talas in 751 A.D.61 If there was any truth to legends concerning the origins of paper, Ibn Nadīm found himself unable to decide. “While some say that it appeared in the days of ‘Umayyads and others say it was during the ʿAbbāsid regime. Some say that it is ancient product and some that it is recent. It is said that craftsmen from China made it in Khorasan”, wrote Ibn Nadīm on the so-called Islamic paper made of rag fibres (Ibn Nadīm 1970: 39–40). However, by the early 9th century the manufactories of Khorasan, Samarkand, Damascus, Hama and Tripoli already had the means to support the marked with the cheap writing materials. Propelled by the spread of paper, heterogeneous urban communities were set to emerge as the main foci of the cultural development of the Empire. In the age of ʿAbbāsid caliphs, a typical city population could be divided into four distinct groups: (1) the ruling class consisting of caliph, his ‘amīrs and dependents; (2) the ‘āmma, as the majority of city population consisting of merchants, craftsmen, artisans and peasants; (3) scholars and the ʿulamā’; and (4) the social class that was traditionally referred to as “rabble” due to the fact that it consisted of people from the bottom of society: beggars, prostitutes and social outcasts. 62 Also known as the ẓarīf or khāssa, the intellectual elite of the Empire has been traditionally perceived as the union of scholars, bureaucrats and military commanders serving as “the men of sword and pen” (Bennison 2009: 96). Owing to the fact that it was cheap and durable, the paper produced at the manufactories of Khorasan gradually induced the intellectual elite to transcend the traditional boundaries of the men of sword and pen. By the mid-9th century, education ceased to be the privilege of khāssa – and yet, in the light of the fact that the poor and disadvantaged are traditionally left out of history, it remains unclear to which degree the ancient Greek culture did resonate among The origins of paper in myth and legend have been notably analysed by Hirschler and Bloom. See: Hirschler, The Written Word in the Medieval Arab Lands: A Social and Cultural History of Reading Practices, 22–23; and Bloom, Paper Before Print. The History and Impact of Paper in the Islamic World, 44–45, 57. 62 For a detailed overview of the social and power hierarchy in the ʿAbbāsid society see: Hodges, Logic: An Introduction to Elementary Logic, 109–110 and Bennison, Logic: An Introduction to Elementary Logic, 96. 61

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the generally anonymous masses of the Empire. “Once in possession of these books’, wrote al-Masʿudi (d. 896) on the works of Greek scholars, ‘the general public read and studied them avidly” (al-Masʿudi 1989: 388). But although it would be reasonable to assume a certain degree of interplay between the high and folk culture, an ordinary citizen of the 9th century Baghdad would broad, labour, and perish without leaving a trace in history; his personal strivings, thoughts and desires lost to the mists of the past. In the centuries to come, Greek impact on the cultural tradition of the Empire nonetheless came to be disregarded as “opaque” and “marginal”,63 devoid of “joyous acceptance”64 and “limited to a very small group of people at court. There was no public domain for these disciplines, let alone an educational system in which they could be taught” (Versteegh 2005: 41). Writing on the translation movement in the age of caliphs, Patricia Crone furthermore asserted that the Greek intellectual elite must have been poorly represented in Baghdad in the wake of the Graeco-Arabic translation movement (Crone 2004: 165). Owing to the fact that the ʿAbbāsid caliphs managed to conquer only the eastern provinces of the Byzantine Empire, Crone’s observation regarding the number of Greek intellectuals who were residing in Baghdad between the mid-8th and the early 9th century might be deemed correct. In the cultural tradition of the Empire, the Hellenistic culture will be represented by others. Propelled by the Graeco-Arabic translation movement and paper manufactories, the popularity of Hellenistic sciences was primarily sustained by the royal court and the so-called Peripatetic school of Baghdad.

1.3. SETTING THE STAGE: IBN AL-SARRĀJ AND THE PERIPATETIC SCHOOL OF BAGHDAD “Wisdom may be used for extreme competence in any art whatsoever when it leads to performing feats of which most practitioners are incapable of.” — al-Fārābī65

“[Following the rise of Islam their] doctrine moved from Alexandria to Antioch (…). There it remained for a long time until but a single 63 Crone, God’s

Rule. Government and Islam, 165. History of Medieval Islam, 197. 65 See: “tehsil” in: Alon ed., Al-Farabi’s Philosophical Lexicon, 39. 64 Saunders, A

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master and the two of his students remained. Together they moved again, bringing their books with them. Of the two students, one was from the people of Harrān and the other one came from Marw. The student from Marw had two successors in turn: ‘Ibrāhīm al-Marwāzī and Yūḥannā b. Ḥailān. Among the students of the Marwānī were ‘Iṣrāʿil the Bishop and Quwairī; both of whom subsequently moved to Baghdad. While Ibrāhīm chose to occupy himself with religion, Quwairī took it upon himself to give lessons [in logic]. As for Yūhannā, he occupied himself with religion as well. ‘Ibrāhīm alMarwāzi went to the city of Baghdad and taught Mattā b. Yūnus. At that time he studied [material until the end of the forms of existence. As for al-Fārābī, he has said it himself that he used to study with Yūhannā b. Ḥailān…” (Ibn ‘Abī ‘Uṣaybiʿa 1882: 135). On the authority of al-Fārābī, by the 13th century A.D. three scholars by the name of Quwairī (d. 915), al-Marwāzi (d. 910) and Yūhannā b. Ḥailān (d. 920) came to be identified as progenitors of the Peripatetic school of Baghdad.66 With their works lost to the ravages of sword and time, little can be ascertained about the lives and goals of the tree masters of Baghdad. While Watt believed them to be of Eastern Syrian origin,67 their arrival in Baghdad was estimated to have taken place during the short-lived reign of al-Muʿtaḍid (892–902), the sixteenth ʿAbbāsid caliph and prominent patron of translators and philosophers (Jokisch 2007: 581; Peters 1968: 160; Rescher 1964: 114). Together with their successors, in the centuries to come they came to be perceived as the heirs of Aristotle.

66 Ibn ‘Abī ‘Uṣaybiʿa, Ṭabaqāt 67 Watt, The

al-‘Aṭibā’ vol. 2, 135. Syriac Aristotle between Alexandria and Baghdad, 44

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! Fig. 1 – The students of Aristotle

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! Graph. 1 – The .Abb!sid logicians and the school of Baghdad

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Commonly referred to as the Peripatetic school of Baghdad, the assembly of philosophers who frequented Qaṭīʿat al-Naṣārā68 was less of an academic institution than a chain of transmitters of the well-developed doctrine that was, to its greatest extent, based on independent scholarly readings of Aristotle’s works. Noted for its refined methodology approach and coherent world-view, the school of Baghdad honoured Aristotle as the bringer of method and systematization to the art of logic (Ibn Khaldūn 1980: 139; al-Fārābī 1970: 151). As of their doctrine, ‘Abūl-Ḥasan al-ʿĀmirī (d. 913) traced its origins to the teachings of Luqmān the Sage. On the on the authority of the twelfth ayah of the surah al-Karīm,69 Luqmān was identified by al-ʿĀmirī as a contemporary of the prophet David and the progenitor of Wisdom (ḥikma).70 Following the death of Luqmān, his companion by the name of Empedocles (d. 430 B.C) was believed to have transferred his teachings to Greece – but alas, neither did he truly understand them nor did he ever give his teacher the credit he deserved. In spite of his failure to comprehend Luqmān’s meditations on the Hereafter (‘amr al-maʿād), his literal interpretations of Sage’s works brought Empedocles to fame in his native Greece.71 According to al-ʿĀmirī, these teachings came to be systematized one century later by Aristotle, the master of logic (ṣāḥib al-manṭiq) and the last sage of Ancient Greece.72 Notwithstanding the fact that the commentaries of Mattā b. Yūnus, al-Rāzī, Sarakhsī and al-Fārābī have ensured the prominence of Aristotle’s Organon in the cultural tradition of the Empire, their devotion to the First Teacher was neither absolute nor unconditional. For in the eyes of al-Fārābī, Aristotle, al-muʿalim al-‘awwal, was but a As the main point of gatherings of the school of Baghdad, the house of Yaḥyā b. ʿAdī was located in the neighbourhood of the church Mār Tūma in the western quarter of Baghdad by the name of Qaṭīʿat al-Naṣārā. See: Kraemer, Humanism in the Renaissance of Islam, 105; and Le Strange, Baghdad During the Abbasid Caliphate, 82–83. 69 “We had certainly given Luqman wisdom. Be grateful to Allah – and whoever is grateful is grateful for [the benefit of] himself. And whoever denies [His favor] – then indeed, Allah is free of needs and praiseworthy” (Qur’an 31:1). 70 al-ʿĀmirī, al-‘Amad ʿalāl-‘Abad, 71. 71 Ibid. 72 al-ʿAmirī, al-‘Amad ʿalāl-‘Abad, 74 68

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guardian of Chaldean wisdom. Rather than being introduced through the efforts of .Abb!sid translators, al-F!r!b% believed that logic was simply reborn in the ancient cradle of its birth. Neither foreign, Greek nor Aristotelian, it returned home – to al-‘Ir!q.73

Fig. 2- The students of Aristotle

“Pedagogic in orientation, scholastic in method, logical and metaphysical in its interests”, 74 the school of Baghdad had little in common with the teachings of al-Kind%. Perfected and polished through the writings of Aristotle,75 the allegedly Chaldean doctrine that was taught in the

!!!!!!! 73 al-F!r!b%, Ta#s(l

al-Sa!"da, 38. Regarding the medieval tendencies to search for the ‘.arabic” roots of Aristotelian logic, Gutas observed the following: “alKind% created genealogy according to which Y-nan, legendary ancestor of Greeks was shown as the brother of Qa&*!n, ancestor of Arabs – an idea widely used in caliph’s propaganda for the translation movement”. Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, 88. 74 Peters, Aristotle and the Arabs. The Aristotelian Tradition in Islam, 20. 75 According to al-F!r!b%, the art of logic reached perfection through the writings of Aristotle. al-F!r!b%, Kit"b al-/ur'f, 151.

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school of Baghdad has been shaped by influences of Stoicism, Pythagorism and Neoplatonism.76 At the core of its curriculum stood the art of logic. One of the most notable definitions of Chaldean logic as the science of scales (ʿilm al-mīzān) and the equilibrating standard (‘iyār muʿaddil) by the means of which truth can be distinguished from falsity and sound speech from unsound has been preserved in al-ʿĀmirī’s Kitāb al-‘Iʿlām bi-Manāqib al-‘Islām: [Logic] is the rational tool by the means of which the rational soul manages to distinguish between the truth and lies in the various types of speculation and between good and evil in practical problems. One can roughly compare its position in the souls to the use of gauge by the means of which distance is measured. It (logic) observes questions, answers, contradictions, contrasts and errors. It can resolve doubts, expose deception, lies and other ideas, the claims of which require verification. It confers intellectual satisfaction in its application and provides us with blissful composure about knowledge to a degree that our soul becomes a sole medium for obtaining the wisdom (ḥikma) – but not in order to earn the praise of our peers but to be blessed with the realization of truth and certainty [within ourselves]. (al-ʿĀmirī, 1988: 95)

Notable analyses of the potential influences of Stoicism, Pythagorism and Neoplatonism on the teachings of the school of Baghdad have been conducted by D’Ancona, Adamson, Kraemer, Anawati, Grayeff and Moraux in: D’Ancona, “Hellenistic Philosophy in Baghdad. Plotinus’ antiStoic Argumentations and their Arabic Survival”, 167–184; Adamson and Taylor, The Cambridge Companion to Arabic Philosophy, 1–2; Kraemer, Humanism in the Renaissance of Islam, 6; Anawati, “Philosophy, Theology and Mysticism”, 353; Grayeff, “The Problems of the Genesis of Aristotle’s text”, 105–122; and Moraux “Les listes anciennes des ouvrages d’Aristote”, 165–167. The main reason why the genesis of the school’s teachings is yet to be determined has been however summarized by al-Jabri as following: “Philosophy in Islam has always been based on individual readings having foreign, Greek philosophy, for object. The readings have vested the same cognitive material with diverse ideological aims”. al-Jabri, Arab-Islamic Philosophy. A Contemporary Critique, 39. 76

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As the self-proclaimed masters of the rules of logic (qawānīn almanṭiqī),77 the members of the school of Bagdad yearned for Wisdom that was “the true science, wisdom of wisdoms and the science of sciences” (al-Fārābī 2001: 86). What was however this science and its field of inquiry, their contemporaries did not know: While some of them say that philosophy (falsafa) is the arrival of wisdom (ḥikma), others [claim] that philosophy is natural familiarity with all things existing. Some say that philosophy is knowledge of the divine realities – that is, meanings which are grasped with the rational mind and knowledge of the human realities which are grasped with our senses. And yet, some say that philosophy is the preoccupation with death, that is, with surrendering ourselves to death, means to subdue our passion – and this is what they claim to be Plato’s definition. Others claim that philosophy is to be guided by its creator according to the capacity of the created. Aristotle claimed that philosophy is the highest form of craft and the emblem of all sciences. (al-Zajjājī 1959: 47).

On his side, al-ʿĀmirī believed that the whole subject of knowledge (al-ʿilm) can be divided into philosophical and religious knowledge. With theology, ḥadīth and jurisprudence as its main branches, the proficiency in religious knowledge was determined by researcher’s competence in the art of language (ṣināʿat al-lugha). However, in order to come terms with philosophical knowledge, the familiarity with the art of logic (ṣināʿat al-manṭīq) was the absolute prerequisite.78 Celebrated by its proponents as the canon of human knowledge,79 Ibn Nadīm observed that logic has the tendency to extend the field of its inquiries to “the world, its grandeur, the origin of its causes; its foundation, stars, kinds of drugs, medicines, remedies, charms and others…” (Ibn Nadīm 1970: 572). In the eyes of the ʿAbbāsid scholars, most 77 al-ʿĀmirī, Kitāb

al-‘Iʿlām, 60.

78 In his study Al-Farabi and His School, Netton provides a detailed overview

of al-ʿĀmirī’s classification of sciences. See: Netton, Al-Farabi and His School, 72–76. 79 Rosenthal, Knowledge Triumphant: The Concept of Knowledge in Medieval Islam, 204.

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pretentions of the school of Baghdad were highly problematic. Devoid of a distinct field of inquiry, logic was a vulnerable target of every branch of science whose research domain it (un)intentionally threatened to usurp. As the elite product of the Graeco-Arabic translation movement, by the mid-10th century logic lacked the aura of authority and a centuries long tradition to support its pretensions for the position of a master science (ʿilm al-ʿilm). Although innovative and high of standard, it had neither the strength nor numbers to enforce its claims of supremacy over the traditional sciences – and this was the seed of its allure and the resistance it faced. Hoary with age, grammar and religion rose to defend their traditionally assumed authority to interpret the nature of a soul and the world we live in. Writing in the late 9th century, the Muʿtazila poet and intellectual Ibn Shirshīr (d. 905), has been commonly identified as the earliest known critic of the Peripatetic school of Baghdad.80 Apart from the occasional citations that have emerged through the course of al-Sirāfī’s debate with Mattā b. Yūnus, the exact context of al-Shirshīr’s critique remains unknown – and similar was the fate of the subsequent refutations that were penned by the Shiite scholar Ḥasan b. Mūsā alNawbakhtī (d. 922) in the now lost Kitāb al-‘Ārā’ wa al-Diyānāt (Ritter 1931: 6). But almost two centuries before the well-known refutations of al-Shirshīr and al-Nawbakhtī, Jaʿfar b. Ṣādiq (d. 746), the sixth Shiʿa imam, advised his followers to deal with the logicians as following: “People occupy themselves with logic until they begin to question the belief in God. So if you happen to hear some of that kind, say: ‘there is no God but Allah and nothing is comparable to Him”.81 “Their minds are perplexed, visions distorted and religion destroyed”, wrote Ibn Nadīm on the logicians of Baghdad (Ibn Nadīm 1970: 572). “I wish he didn’t get himself involved with sciences of the ancients”, lamented al-Shāṭibī (d. 790) the fate of al-Lawraqī, “for they are nothing but poison for religion and disaster”. 82 “… It [logic] is the core of philosophy and the source of many evils. It leads astray theologians

See: Van Ess, Frühe Muʿtazilitische Häresuigraphie, 1; Ouyang, Literary Criticism in Medieval Arabic-Islamic culture, 22; and Ritter’s introduction to Firāq al-Shiʿa in: al-Naubakhtī, Kitāb Firaq al-Shīʿa, 6–26. 81 Quoted according to: Goldziher, Introduction to Islamic Theology and Law, 198. 82 al-Shāṭibī. Kitāb al-Muwāfaqa vol. 1, 26. 80

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and Sufis and contaminates the once pure areas of knowledge”.83 As a deeply pious man, ‘Abū Maʿshar al-Balhkī (d. 886) was a notable opponent of al-Kindī. Alas, on his way to Mecca, he got himself acquainted with the lustrous library of ʿAlī Yaḥyā al-Mujjaim. There he has, according to Yāqūt, “mastered sciences of the ancients and this blasphemy sullied his last pilgrimage, piety and Islam” (Yāqūt 1907: 218). Blasphemous and utterly useless – such was the ultimate judgement of al-Ghazālī on the teachings of the school of Baghdad. As they were cultivated by “the heretical philosophers”, logic and arithmetic were consequently bound to be treated with suspicion even when they don’t interfere with religious doctrines!84 In retaliation, logicians have attempted to dismiss grammar and religion in favour of logic as the ultimate science,85 universal grammar, superior to Arabic grammar and all other grammar traditions86 and “the mother of all knowledge, to whom the other one [religion] is but a wet-nurse”. 87 By the early 10th century, Classical Arabic will be universally denounced by professional translators and logicians as the language unworthy of refined wisdom of Greek philosophers, avowed al-Fārābī in his Kitāb alḤurūf (al-Fārābī 1970: 112). As there was no universal consensus of ʿAbbāsid logicians when it comes to the classification of sciences and logic and its field of inquiry, if al-Fārābī’s low opinion of the Arabic language was as widespread as he believed remains unknown. However, between 870. and 1023 A.D., the public debates of grammarians and logicians came to be appreciated as one of the most popular forms of entertainment at the courts of royalty and nobility. Whereas the hostility of the ʿulamā’ towards the school of Baghdad is well-researched, the complex interplay of logic as logical

83 Quoted according to: Küglegen, The

Poison of Philosophy: Ibn Taymiyya’s Struggle for and against Reason, 265. 84 al-Ghazali, Mi‘yār al-ʿIlm, 117. 85 al-Kindī, al-Risāla fī Kamiyya Kutub Ariștū wa mā Yuḥtāj ‘ilayhi fī Taḥșīl al-Falsafa, 363–372. 86 The earliest known occurrence of the notion of logic as logical grammar and grammar as Arabic logic has been recorded by al-Sarakhsi. See: al-Sarakhsi, Kitāb fī al-Farq bayna al-Naḥw al-ʿArab wal-Mantīq, 56. 87 al-Tawḥīdī, Kitāb al-‘Imtā’ vol. 2, 14–15.

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grammar and grammar as Arabic logic88 still waits for its interpreters. In an age when language has been revered as the principal symbol of the self and the community, al-Fārābī cherished friendly associations, a place of residence and the strength of the given word over the bonds of blood and common language (al-Fārābī 1985: 292–296). A desire to challenge the language and its role in ʿAbbāsid culture thus emerges as a recurrent motive of al-Fārābī’s teachings. Notwithstanding the fact that the school of Baghdad valued eloquence (bayān) and the clarity of expression (faṣāḥa) in general,89 al-Fārābī’s writings on the nature and origins of language had no room for the Creator and his vow to protect the language that was meant to convey his final revelation to mankind.90 Covering the scientific domains of linguistics, poetry, rhetoric and sophistry,91 the field of inquiry of ʿAbbāsid grammarians was limited by al-Fārābī on the analysis of (1) single words and (2) the laws that govern them, (3) compound words, (4) the rules of derivation, (5) orthography, (6) orthoepy and (7) poetry (al-Fārābī 1953: 12). On the authority of Plato, al-Fārābī maintained that any grammar is to be stripped of authority to cultivate virtue and lead men towards the essence of all things. For even if one was to master the rules and regulations of Arabic grammar, no wisdom could ever come from

88 For the detailed overview if al-Sijistānī’s (d. 971) teachings on the interplays

of grammar and logic see: Endress, al-Munāẓara bayna Manṭiq al-Falsafī wa Naḥw al-ʿArabī, 342. 89 According to Ouyang, the roots of logician’s reverence for rhetoric are to be sought in the belief that eloquent, powerful speech can persuade people to commit themselves to good deeds. See: Ouyang, Literary Criticism in Medieval Arabic-Islamic Culture 31. 90 Ibn al-Sarrāj, Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, 536. A.H; Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.1. 91 On al-Fārābī’s division of sciences see: al-Fārābī, Philosophy of Plato and Aristotle, 56–57; and Colmo, Breaking with Athens. Alfarabi as Founder, 56. For the alternative divisions of the scientific domains of grammar and logic see: alAmirī. al-‘Iʿlām bi Manāqib al-‘Islām, 182; Ibn Khaldūn, Muqaddima vol.2, 319; and al-Tawḥīdī, al-Hawāmil wa Shawāmil, 265–266.

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it. 92 In the eyes of al-Fārābī, classical Arabic was but a union of nouns, verbs and particles93 whose linguistic connotations he was yet to master. “Upon his arrival in Baghdad’, wrote Ibn Khallikān (d. 1258) in his Wafayāt al-‘Aʿyān, ‘he [al-Fārābī] was familiar with Turkish and several non-Arabic languages. Thus he set himself a goal to master the Arabic language so that he could put it to good use on the path of wisdom”.94 Determined as he was to obtain a good working knowledge of Classical Arabic in the shortest amount of time, al-Fārābī searched for a study peer rather than a master grammarian. In young ‘Abū Bakr Muḥammad b. Sahl Ibn al-Sarrāj, he will manage to find both. By the time Ibn al-Sarrāj began teaching al-Fārābī the rules and regulations of Arabic grammar in exchange for the lessons in music and logic, 95 he was yet to become the most eminent grammarian of his time. In the year 898 A.D., when their first meeting most likely took place, Ibn al-Sarrāj was but a visitor of the vivid cultural saloon that was hosted by the Baghdadi grammarian al-Zajjāj.96 Owing to

See: al-Fārābī, Alfarabi’s Philosophische Abhandlungen, 7; al-Rāzī, alRasā‘il al-Falasafiyyah, 44; and Fakhry, Al-Fārābī. Founder of Islamic Neoplatonism: His Life, Works and Influence, 18, 93 al-Fārābī, Kitāb al-‘Alfāẓ, 5. On the similar grounds al-Zajjājī later based his refutation of logic. For according to al-Zajjājī, whereas the works of logicians were devoid of clear research objectives, grammarians have always honoured the language as the union of verbs, nouns and particles. To research the three main components of language was the main goal of each and every ʿAbbāsid grammarian. See: al-Zajjājī, Kitāb al-‘Īḍāḥ, 47. 94 Ibn Khallikān, Wafayāt al-‘Aʿyān wa-‘Anbāʾ al-Zamān vol. 4, 239. 95 Ibn ‘Abī ‘Uṣaybiʿa. ʿUyūn al-‘Anbāʾ vol. 2, 136. 96 The exact scope of their collaboration and the place of meetings of the two scholars remains unknown. Owing to the fact that al-Fārābī was the frequent visitor of the majlis of al-Zajjāj, Mahdi’s hypothesis that the collaboration of Ibn al-Sarrāj and al-Fārābī must have started after 898 A.D. appears plausible as Ibn al-Sarrāj started frequenting al-Zajjāj’s majlis only after the death of alMubarrad in 898 A.D. See Mahdi’s introduction to Kitāb al-Ḥurūf at: alFārābī, Kitāb al-Ḥurūf, 45. 92

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his connections with his host’s nemesis Ibn al-Rūmī97 and the special status that he enjoyed in the majlis of their mutual teacher al-Mubarrad, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s standings with al-Zajjāj were poor. Upon giving the wrong answer to a linguistic problem that was originally presented to al-Zajjāj by one of his guests, Ibn al-Sarrāj thus ended up being publicly humiliated. The detailed account of the incident at the house of al-Zajjāj has been recorded by Yāqūt on the authority of al-Marzubānī: The example [you provided me with] cannot be accounted as the correct answer to my question. By the name of the Almighty, if this happened in my house, I would slap you for this – however, this is not tolerated in a gathering [of scholars]. Many times you have hit me already, ‘Abā ‘Isḥāk – for it is the art of music that has made my interests stray from the [linguistic matters] in question. (Yāqūt 1999 18: 198).

Apart from Yāqūt’s Kitāb al-Muʿajam, the incident at the house of alZajjāj has been recorded by Ibn Nadīm (Ibn Nadīm 1871: 62) and alQifṭī (al-Qifṭī 1955: 149). However, the two earlier authors provide us with a somewhat longer version of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s apologetic remark than al-Qifṭī: You beat me, ‘Abā ‘Isḥāk, as often as you teach me – for indeed I have neglected my studies of al-Kitāb for the sake of logic and

97 Ibn al-Rūmī (d. 896), was a prolific ʿAbbāsid poet, intellectual and a known

foe of al-Zajjāj. Upon being accused by al-Zajjāj of being too excessive when it came to optimism and pessimism alike, Ibn al-Rūmī was rumoured to have replied that “optimism is the language of time and pessimism is a keyword” (alṢābi’ 1977: 54). The disrespectful tone of Ibn al-Rūmī’s remark was apparently more than al-Zajjāj was willing to forgive – and the enmity between the two scholars might have been one of the reasons behind the subsequent feud between al-Zajjāj and Ibn al-Sarrāj. For according to ‘Abul-ʿAlāʾ al-Maʿarrī (d. 1057), Ibn al-Sarrāj was known to have kept close contact and exchanged books with Ibn al-Rūmī. See: al-Maʿarrī, The Epistle of Forgiveness or A Pardon to Enter the Garden, vol. 2, 101.

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Records of the ʿAbbāsid historiographers indicate that he stayed true to his word. By the mid-13th century, Ibn al-Sarrāj will be celebrated as the master grammarian, perfect of virtue, peerless in his time.99 His magnum opus, Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl, nevertheless came to be criticized by al-Qifṭī as the recycled content of al-Kitāb that was wrapped up in the terminology of philosophers100 and corrupted by Ibn al-Sarrāj’s meddling with musicology and representatives of the Kufan school of grammar. Commonly labelled as the arch-enemy of logicians and, at the same time, as the main source of transmission of logic from the 10th century philosophers to the grammarians of Baghdad,101 Ibn al-Sarrāj remains a shadowy figure in the history of Arabic grammar studies. Rare as precise biographies of the early Arab grammarians are, autobiographies are rarer still. Like his predecessors, Ibn al-Sarrāj was determined to have no other autobiography apart from his works. The story of his early years and education; his innermost thoughts and day to day struggles was thus left to be narrated by others.

1.4. IBN AL-SARRĀJ AND HIS TIMES: THE PORTRAIT OF A GRAMMARIAN AND THE PORTRAIT OF AN EMPIRE “Knowledge is something that will not partially give itself to you until you give your whole self to it; and when you give your all to

98 The identical version of the quoted paragraph can be found in: Ibn Nadīm,

Kitāb al-Fihrist vol.1, 62; and al-Qifṭī, ‘Inbāh al-Ruwāh vol.3, 149. min al-Shuʿarāi’ wa ‘Ashāʿrihim, 343 100 Similar assertions, exaggerated as they are, are present in the Islamic studies up until today: “Without exaggeration one could say that the entire linguistic tradition in Arabic is nothing but a huge commentary on the Kitāb Sibawayh”, thus wrote Versteegh in his study The Arabic Language. See: Versteegh, The Arabic Language, 29. 101 See: Jarrar, The Grammatical Concept of Causality in Arabic: A Study and An Annotated Translation of al-Zajjājī’s Book al-‘īḍāh al-ʿIllāl fī al-Naḥw, 29; Versteegh, The Arabic Language, 124–125; and Suleiman, The Arabic Grammatical Tradition: A Study in Ta‘līl, 7. 99 al-Qifṭī, Muḥamadūna

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it, then you stand a chance but you cannot be certain that it will grant you what you seek” — al-Jāḥiẓ102

Traditional sources103 celebrate Ibn al-Sarrāj as one of the most prominent grammarians, poets and lexicographers of the late 9th and the early 10th century. While the place and date of his birth remain unknown,104 al-Qifṭī believed that Ibn al-Sarrāj died young, on Sunday, 10th of February 929. A.D.105 Although little can be ascertained on the family lineage of Ibn al-Sarrāj, he appears to have fathered at least one son to whose mother he was passionately devoted. Writing in the early 13th century, al-Qifṭī notes that Ibn al-Sarrāj’s devotion often led him to the brink of a ruin as he was apparently ready to compromise his social, financial and personal renown for the debts of his son and the lavish expenses of his wife.106 The personal dislike he felt for Ibn al-Sarrāj nonetheless didn’t prevent al-Qifṭī from describing him as an ‘adīb, poet and erudite

102al-Jāḥiẓ, Tarikh

al-Baghdad, 146. The main sources for the present reconstruction of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s biography have been composed between the late 9th and the early 13th century by Ibn Nadīm, al-Zubaydī, Ibn al-‘Anbārī, al-Sirāfī, al-Qifṭī, Ibn ‘Abī ‘Uṣaybiʿa, Ibn Khallikān, Kaḥḥālah, and Yāqūt. See: Ibn Nadīm, Kitāb al-Fihrist vol.1, 62; al-Zubaydī, Ṭabaqāt al-Naḥwīyīn wa al-Lughawīyīn, 112–113; Ibn al‘Anbarī, Nuzha al-‘Alibbā, 186; al-Sirāfī, ‘Akhbār al-Naḥwiyīn al-Basriyīn, 27, 67–69, 60, 53–56, 51, 43, 80–81, 72–37, 77; al-Qifṭī, ‘Inbāh al-Ruwāh vol.3, 146; Ibn ‘Abī Uṣaybiʿa, ʿUyūn al-Anbā’ vol.2, 136; Ibn Khallikān Wafayāt vol.3, 462, Kaḥālah, Muʿjam al-Mu’alifīn vol.10, 19–20; and Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-‘Udabā’ vol. 18, 198–201. 104 On the authority al-Chouémi and Daerdji, Cassels places the birth of Ibn alSarrāj between 873. and 878 A.D., for “this is based on facts known about him” (Cassels 1979: 11). No further references were provided in support of this estimation, which cannot be verified through the traditional sources either. In his introduction of Kitāb al-Ḥurūf, Mahdi estimates that Ibn al-Sarrāj must have been born between 260 and 265 A.H. See: al-Fārābī, Kitāb al-Ḥurūf, 45. 105 See: al-Qifṭī, ‘Inbāh al-Ruwāh vol.3, 146. al- Qifṭi’s date of Ibn Sarrāj’s death must be taken with due precautions due to the fact that, according to Tables of H.G. Cattenoz, Sunday did not fall on the 10th of February 929. A.D. 106 See: al-Qifṭi, ‘Inbāh al-ruwāh vol.3, 146; and al-Zubaydī, Ṭabaqāt alNaḥwīyīn wa al-Lughawīyīn, 112. 103

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second to none, “for he was one of those learned men, whose life exemplifies the culture and science of Arabs”.107 Ibn al-Sarrāj’s early education probably started in one of the many elementary schools (kuttāb) of the 9th century Baghdad; where the children of slaves mixed with the future city elite in order to make their first steps towards the mastery of ‘adab. 108 In the attempt to come to terms with the medieval notion of ‘adab, Roger Allen notes that “The original meaning of the verbal root from which the noun adab is derived implied inviting someone to a meal, and from that developed the notion of enriching the mind, particularly by training in the social norms of politeness. The ideas of intellectual nourishment, manners, and education were thus present from the outset and remained important features of the concept as it developed and expanded within the general framework of the Islamic sciences” (Allen 2003: 134). The one endowed with the mastery of ‘adab, as “the sum of virtues that were praised in the society”, 109 has been subsequently referred to as ‘adīb. Of all the empires (‘umma) in the history of mankind, four have been celebrated by al-Tawḥīdī as a potential birthplace of an ‘adīb. But whereas an ‘adīb could be born of Byzantine, Persian, Hindi or Arab blood, no scholar could hope to compete on equal footing with an ‘adīb of the ʿAbbāsid Empire. 110 Sharp of intellect and distinguished among the mankind by the will of the Almighty, “Arabs are, by the mercy of the Lord, the best of all people due to their circumstance[s] and the [way of] life” al-Qifṭi. ‘Inbāh al-Ruwāh vol.3, 145. Similar observations have also been made by al-Zubaydī and Ibn Khallikān. See: al-Zubaydī, Ṭabaqāt alNaḥwīyīn wa al-Lughawīyīn, 112; and Ibn Khallikān, Wafayāt al-‘Aʿyān wa’Anbāʾ al-Zamān vol.3, 462. 108 For the general information on the education system and the study curriculum in the medieval kuttāb see: Asimov, The Age of Achievement vol. 4, 33–35. 109 Peters, Aristotle and the Arabs. The Aristotelian Tradition in Islam, 129. Brief observations on the qualities of a perfect ‘adīb have also been made by Hoyland, Bonebakker, Carter and Gabrieli. See: Hoyland, “History, Fiction and Authorship in the First Centuries of Islam”, 26; Bonebakker, “Adab and the Abbasid Bell-letters”, 30; Carter, Sibawayhi, 6; and Gabrieli, “Greeks and Arabs in the Central Mediterranean Area”, 175–176. 110 al-Tawḥīdī, Kitāb al-‘Imtāʾ, 69–71. 107

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(al-Tawḥīdī 2014: 87). The superiority of Arabs among the scholars of the four empires has been attributed by al-Jāḥiẓ (d. 868) to the supremacy of the Arab mind over the intellectual traditions from the times past: The Indians developed the philosophy of life which is divorced from the life itself. From the past they inherited great classics whose virtues they are yet to embody. The Greeks have had their great philosophers and the schools of logic – and yet a man of logic expresses himself in muttering words. The Persians have their oratory tradition but their sermons are nonetheless the result of complex rational contemplations. But lo and behold, all of it comes naturally to an Arab; as if by the means of inspiration. (…) it is within the power of Arabs to rely on their own minds without being overly-concerned with bulky, dusty works of scholars of the times past. (al-Jāḥiẓ 1897: 15)

For all of his wit and natural gift for poetry, the subsequent renown of Ibn al-Sarrāj as a master ‘adīb and the most eminent poet among grammarians111 was without a doubt a result of many years of study and self-cultivation. Although the subjects taught at kuttāb varied from one school to another, his early education probably focused on reading and writing skills, arithmetic and the basic religious duties such as the rules of ablution and prayer. Through the course of his studies, Ibn al-Sarrāj was most likely made to memorize a plethora of classical proverbs (‘amthāl), historical anecdotes (‘akhbār), sermons (khutab) and classical (qadīm) and modern verses (muḥdath). By the early 10th century, ʿAbbāsid scholars have already established a strict distinction between the term ‘ālim, which has been used to denote

111 Ibid., 343.

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an expert in a certain field, 112 and the ‘adīb as an erudite who is acquainted with the new trends in every relevant scientific discipline of his time: He who excels at committing vocabulary to his memory is described as lexicographer (lughawī), he who excels at the discipline of inflection is described as grammarian (naḥwī) and he who is a master of the rules of prosody is described as prosodist (ʿarūḍī). But if someone combines these three [branches of science] and is capable of composing eloquent speech and verses – he is then to be referred to as an ‘adīb. (al-ʿĀmirī 1988: 60)

Philologist, grammarian, poet, prosodist, philosopher – all equally correct, these are but a few of the academic labels Ibn al-Sarrāj was bestowed with by the historiographers of the Empire. As an ʿAbbāsid ‘adīb of the highest rank, he has successfully united them within himself. Apart from grammar, prosody and lexicography, Ibn al-Sarrāj was known to have held lectures in the certain branches of ‘adab as well (al-Qifṭī 1988: 345). However, lacking further information on the syllabus of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teaching sessions, the exact number of disciplines that he (was believed to have) mastered remains open to interpretations. As the medieval ‘adīb felt as his main duty to be conversant in the plethora of Islamic intellectual branches of history, by the early 10th century there was no universal consensus on the number of scholarly disciplines covered by the term ‘adab. According to Makdisi, the number of scientific branches and social skills which were to be mastered by a renowned ‘adīb fluctuated between four and fourteen;113 with the special accent on genealogies of tribes and horses, 112 “The ʿilm without the ‘adab is like fire without firewood and the ‘adab with-

out knowledge is like spirit without a body”, noted al-Sam’ānī in his ‘Adab al‘Imlā’. See: al-Sam’ānī, ‘Adab al-‘Imlā’, 2. According to Kadi, the field of inquiry of an ʿālim covered the religious sciences and its ancillary disciplines; with the accent on the Qur’anic studies, exegesis, ḥadith tradition, jurisprudence, grammar, poetry and oratory (Kadi 2006: 314). Following the rise of the Graeco-Arabic translation movement, an ʿālim was expected to demonstrate a certain insight in logic and medicine as well. See: Dietrich, Some Aspects of the Education of Princes at the ʿAbbāsid Court, 2; Kadi, Education in Islam: Myths and Truth, 314; and Bartold, Mussliman Culture, 54. 113 Makdisi, The Rise of Humanism in Classical Islam and the Christian West, 89.

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grammar, jurisprudence, natural history, geography, zoology, medicine, geometry, military history, biographical tradition, historiography, horsemanship, lute, chess playing and polo (Ali 2010: 14, 35–36; Richter-Bernburg 1974: 56; al-Ḥuṣrī 1952: 140). Due to the tendency of medieval scholars to identify erudition with personal ethics and general character disposition, it would be safe to assume that Ibn al-Sarrāj must have been an example par excellence of ethics, customs and moral norms of his time. Upon contemplating the qualities of an ideal scholar, al-Jāḥiẓ concludes that “His intellectual ability should go hand in hand with lively intellectual curiosity and wide erudition, and these qualities should be associated with good habits. When learning is allied to intellect, energy to learning and resolve to energy, there is no need [to look further]”.114 In a similar fashion, al-Sirāfī, “the most brilliant Baghdadi youth of his time”, was described by al-Tawḥīdī as a man in his forties, “whiskers were slightly touched by grey and [he] was adorned with uprightness, dignity, piety and seriousness”. In the eyes of al-Tawḥīdī, these traits could be taken as the symbol of “the people of virtue and authority”, who, by their very nature, command respect, praise and love of their contemporaries (alTawḥīdī 1964: 115). As a scholar whose personal interests revolved around grammar, poetry, philosophy, music, rhetoric, orthography and the Qur’anic readings, Ibn al-Sarrāj consciously strove to embody the medieval notions of ‘adīb, as the “master of all sciences and branches of knowledge” and “guardian of the peace and stability in this world and the hereafter” (al-Ṭūsī 1978: 305). The result of his efforts, such as it was, will be analysed in detail within the second, third and fourth chapter of the present study. Following his education at a kutāb, a child from a well-off family such as Ibn al-Sarrāj was usually deemed fit to pursue his further studies under the wing of a learned scholar or to spend some time among Bedouins in order to refine his knowledge of poetry, lexicography and historiography. As an aspiring youth in search for the secrets of Classical Arabic language, Ibn al-Sarrāj decided to follow the first path. Although the lives of his students and teachers proved to have been examples of al-riḥla fī ṭalab al-ʿilm par excellence, Ibn al-Sarrāj himself apparently felt no desire to search beyond the city of Baghdad – a decision which will 114 Pellat, Life

and works of Jāḥiẓ, 55.

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subsequently earn him a nickname “Ibn al-Sarrāj of Baghdad” in the cultural history of the Empire. 115 As such, the nickname appears to be devoid of criticism for narrow-mindedness. By the late 9th and the early 10th century, it was relatively easy to come to the conclusion that the world outside Baghdad had nothing more to offer: I have travelled far to find parallel for Baghdad and her people – my task was second to despair. Alas, for me Baghdad is the entire world, Her people the only genuine ones.116

Dazzled by the 10th century capital of the ʿAbbāsid Empire, al-Muqaddasi (d. 991) will report the following: “Baghdad is metropolis of Islam. (…) Its people have distinctive characteristics of wittiness, charm, refinement and correct scholarship”.117 As the heart of the rich cultural development, the 10th century Baghdad has been revered by the Muslim scholars as an omphalos: the navel of the world and the microcosmical reflection of the Empire.118 Distinguished by its dazzling intellectual life and the eager cultivation of arts and science – Ibn al-Sarrāj’s Baghdad was nevertheless a capital that was falling apart at its seams. In the late 9th century, the mighty empire of Hārūn al-Rashīd and al-Maʿmūn was still visible in its outlines. However, following the ascendance of al-Muqtadir (909–929 and 929–932), the demise of ʿAbbāsid central power was about to unfold. “A star shone brightly upon us from the Palace – a new dawn for the world and the religion has come”, wrote al-Ṣūlī (d. 974) in honour of the first underage caliph of the Empire (al-Ṣūlī 2000: 24).

115 Yāqūṭ, Muʿjam

al-‘Udabā’ vol. 18, 198. The quoted verses have been composed by the 9th century poet Ibn Saʿd (d. 845). See: Reuven Snir, ed., Baghdad: The City in Verse, 39 117 al-Muqaddasi, ‘Aḥsan al-Taqāsim fī Maʿrifa al-‘Aqālīm, 109. 118 Berkey, The Formation of Islam: Religion and Society in the Near East, 600–1800, 114 116

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Fig. 3 – Baghdad, the City of Peace. The location of the former Qa*%.at al-Na(ara quarter is depicted on the bottom left.

However, the young caliph soon proved to be uninterested in the administration of the state – a fact that was eventually attributed by Miskawayh and al-Mas.-d% to his lascivious nature and heavy

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drinking.119 As “a dull boy of thirteen, whose sole joy consisted in obtaining holidays from school”,120 al-Muqtadir was singled out among his cousins by the vizier Ibn al-Furāt, chief qāḍī and the two military officials. Writing in the late 10th century, Miskawayh reported that Ibn al-Furāt’s justification of their choice of the eighteenth ʿAbbāsid caliph was the following: Why would you appoint a man who will [know how to] rule, who will be familiar with our resources, who will take care of affairs himself and consider himself independent? Why shouldn’t you entrust this matter to someone who will leave you to manage it? (Miskawayh 1920: 3)

According to Kennedy, this was “a sinister development” and “inauspicious beginning to what was to prove one of the most disastrous reigns in the whole of Abbasid history. (…) It was a quarter of a century in which all of the work of his predecessors would be undone”. 121 Tormented by the financial crisis, by the death of al-Muqtadir in 932 A.D., the Abbāsid Empire dissolved into the several autonomous and more or less independent principalities. The 10th century historian subsequently compared the fate of the ʿAbbāsid Empire to the downfall of the kingdom of Alexander the Great (al-Masʿudi 2002: 306). Reduced to political impotence, the caliph was nonetheless to remain the living symbol of the unity of Muslims; his delegation of authority had to be nominally sought by the local potentates. At the heart of the crumbling Empire, al-Muqtadir’s Baghdad emerges as a grand stage where the notable historians al-Masʿudi (d. 956) and al-Ṭabarī (d. 923) crossed path with the renowned translator and physician ‘Isḥāq b. Ḥunayn (d. 911), the explorer Ibn Fadlān (d. 960), astronomer alBattānī (d. 923), famous philosophers al-Rāzī (d. 930) and al-Fārābī (d. 950) and, among others, Manṣūr al-Ḥallāj (d. 922), mystic, poet and the teacher of Sufism who was infamously put to death for his self119 See: Miskawayh, Tajārib al-‘Umam, vol. 1, 13, 23–24; and al-Masʿudi, Kitāb

al-Tanbīh wa ‘Isrāh, 337. Renaissance of Islam, 8. 121 See: Kennedy, The Prophet and the Age of the Caliphates: The Islamic Near East from the 6th to the 11th Century, 185–186; and Ouyang, Literary Criticism in Medieval Arabic-Islamic Culture: The Making of a Tradition, 22. 120 Mez, The

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proclaimed divinity. Among the most eminent scholars of the late 9th century Baghdad, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s first choice fell on a grammarian: ‘Abū al-ʿAbbās Muḥammad b. Yazīd b. ʿAbd al-‘Akbar al-Mubarrad. In the absence of official schools and academic institutions, teaching session were held at private houses, libraries and cultural saloons of emirs, viziers and renowned intellectuals have emerged as the meeting points of grammarians who were seeking to refine their theories and discuss new treatises. Writing on the teaching sessions hosted by al-Mubarrad and his guests, al-Suyūṭī (d. 1505) recorded the following: “Their method of dictating closely resembled the one [which can be commonly found among] the traditionalists. Listeners used to write at the top of a page: ‘lecture delivered by our Shaikh so-and-so on that-and-that-day’. The one dictating [the lecture] would mention something with the chain of transmissions, something that was narrated by Arabs and orators from the times passed, something of a striking nature that requires explanations. He would then proceed by explaining it with relation to poetry, linguistic and so – with or without chain of transmission, as he pleases. While every quote had to be thoroughly authenticated, subsequent comments and interpretations were treated with indifference”. Once a lecture was concluded, the host and his guests would usually close the assembly with discussion sessions (al-Suyūṭī 1986: 313–314). In the age when an unbroken chains of transmission (riwāyāt) were often valued more than the quickness of a mind and sharp perception, what students hoped to obtain from their teacher was not so much a body of knowledge but an authority to interpret texts in which the knowledge in question was embedded in (Berkey 2003: 225; Bulliet 1972: 47). As the former student of al-Jarmī and al-Māzini, both of whom studied from al-Kitāb under its very first transmitter al-‘Akhfash (d. 830), al-Mubarrad was an authority to be reckoned with. Seeker of knowledge be aware, To al-Mubarrad or Thaʿlab for help you are to turn, There the Wisdom you shall find! Be not like a camel unkempt, For all the disciplines of the creation of East and West alike To these two are yoked.122

122 Ibn Khallikān, Wafayāt

al-‘Aʿyān wa-‘Anbāʾ al-Zamān vol.4, 314.

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The life-long rivalry of al-Mubarrad and Thaʿlab gradually came to be perceived as an embodiment of the conflicting ambitions of grammarians from the rivalry schools of Basra and Kufa. 123 Up until today, it remains unclear if the subsequent triumph al-Mubarrad124 is to be perceived as his personal victory over the great rival or as the triumph of Basra over the ever-dwindling school of Kufa. By the mid-20th century, the mere existence of the two schools became the subject of disputes.125 If, and to which degree did the ʿAbbāsid historiographers fabricate the rivalry of Basra and Kufa remains open to speculations. However, by the mid-9th century, the grammar tradition of the two schools was already perceived as a semi-sacred inheritance to be mastered and believed in (Hodgson 1977: 152). The reverence of ʿAbbāsid scholars towards the schools of Basra and Kufa was effectively summarized by the 10th century scholar ‘Abūl-Tayyib al-Lughawi (d. 962): “Arabs have no scholarship except in these towns. (...) Baghdad is the royal city and not a city of scholarship. Whatever scholarship it possesses has been transplanted and imported for the caliphs, their retinue and subjects. Apart from that, their interest in scholarship is faint because scholarship is serious a serious matter and they are the people who are prone to jesting and possessed by play”.126 The modern history of Arabic grammar studies commemorates Ibn al-Sarrāj as the scholar who established the Basran grammar tradition in Baghdad. 127 Writing in the early 13th century, Kaḥālah and Yāqūt however suggest that Ibn al-Sarrāj turned to Basra only in the later stages of his career

123 See Gelder’s research on the rivalry of Basra and Kufa – as it was portrayed

in the ʿAbbāsid literary tradition in: Gelder, “Kufa vs. Basra: The Literary Debate”, 341–355 124 In the late 9th century, al-Mubarrad was rumoured to have swayed Thaʿlab’s son in law to quit his study with Thaʿlab and become his student instead. Bernards, Establishing the Refutation, 32–33. 125 Mubārak used to identify the differences between the teachings of the two school as the differences in personal opinions of renowned grammarians. See: Mubārak, al-Rummānī al-Naḥwī fī Ḍau’ Sharḥihi lil-Kitāb Sibawayh, 329–330. 126 al-Lughawi, Marātib al-Naḥwiyyīn, 155, 160 127 “Naḥw”, in: Encyclopedia of Arabic Language and Linguistics, Managing Editors Online Edition: Lutz Edzard, Rudolf de Jong. Consulted online on 27 July 2015.

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due to his initial interest for the grammar tradition of Kufa.128 Regardless of the fact that the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj offer no support to their claims, the content of his treatise Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ indicates that Ibn al-Sarrāj was familiar with the teachings of Kufans even though he discarded them as inferior to the Basran tradition.129 At which point of his life Ibn al-Sarrāj became an admirer of al-‘Akhfash of Basra130 remains unknown. But upon expressing a desire to continue his studies under al-Mubarrad, the heir of al-‘Akhfash through al-Jarmī and al-Māzini, he might have been as young as fourteen.131 In an era when scholars were often indistinguishable from the subsequent transmitters of their works,132 it was not enough for a young man to be brilliant in order to study from al-Kitāb under the watchful eye of al-Mubarrad. Regardless of the fact that al-Mubarrad’s personal opinion of al-Kitāb fluctuated between the unwilling acknowledgment and open scorn,133 no student was allowed to attend his lectures before presenting him with 100 gold dinars (al-Qifṭī 1950: 224–225). Fortunately for Ibn al-Sarrāj, he appears to have been as well-situated as he was intelligent. On the authority of Ibn Durustawayhī, Ibn Nadīm reports that Ibn al-Sarrāj shone as one of the brightest students of al-Mubarrad: sharp of intellect and always quick to grasp complex linguistic problems (Ibn Nadīm 1871: 62). Through his

See: Kaḥālah. Muʿjam al-Mu‘alifīn: Tarājum Muṣannifī al-Kutub liʿArabiyya vol.10, 19; and Yāqūt. Kitāb al-Muʿjam vol. 18, 198. 129 See: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ, 536 A.H, Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100q, ff.2/48; and Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī alNaḥw, 651 A.H, London, British Museum #2808, ff.73. For the possible influences of the Kufan tradition on Ibn al-Sarrāj’s notions of ṣarf and taqrīb see: Cassels, Arabic grammatical studies in the late 9th and early 10th centuries: with particular reference to the Uṣūl al-naḥw of Ibn al-Sarrāj, 139–165. 130 Kaḥālah. Muʿjam al-Mu‘alifīn vol.10, 19. 131 For according to Avicenna (d. 1037), boys were expected to finish their studies at a kuttāb by the age of fourteen (Asimov, 1999: 33–34). As Ibn alSarrāj was supposedly the youngest student that al-Mubarrad ever had (Yāqūt 1999: 198), he might have been even younger that the average graduate of a medieval kutāb. 132 Schoeler, The Oral and the Written in Early Islam, 50. 133 Bernards, Establishing the Refutation. The Reception on Sibawayh’s Book, 43–96. 128

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teacher, Ibn al-Sarrāj became acquainted with the circle of Muʿtazila scholars who were gathering around al-Mubarrad. Regardless of the fact that members of medieval majālis were often united by shared ideological orientations, it remains unclear if Ibn al-Sarrāj was a Muʿtazilite like his teacher al-Mubarrad, 134 close friends al-Buḥturi and Ibn al-Rūmī135 and three of his most famous students: al-Sirāfī,136 alRummānī137 and al-Zajjājī.138 During the life and times of Ibn al-Sarrāj, two Muʿtazila schools dominated the cultural life of the Empire: Bā Hāshimiyya, which was founded by ‘Abū Ḥusayn al-Khayyāṭ and ‘Aḥmad b. ʿAlī b. al-‘Ikhshīd’s Ikhshīdiyya school. Devoured by the mutual hatred and competition, by the late 9th century the two schools were losing grounds to the strict Sunnism of Ibn Ḥanbal that was favoured by the caliph al-Mutawakkil and the lower classes. On the one hand, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s passion for music makes it unlikely that he might have been attracted to the strict, traditionally oriented Ḥanafī school; as it was known for its hatred for the music instruments, philosophers and scientific innovations in general. Like the majority of the eminent Muʿtazila of his time, Ibn al-Sarrāj was criticized for his alleged inclinations towards the Hellenistic sciences and the personal and professional associations he might have had with the Peripatetic school of Baghdad.139 But unlike his renowned predecessors ‘Abū ʿAmr b. al-ʿAla (d. 770), ‘Īsā b. ʿUmar (d. 766), Sibawayh (d. 793), ‘Akhfash al-‘Awsaṭ (d. 830), al-Farrā’ (d. 822) and al-Māzini (d. 863) – the cultural tradition of the Empire didn’t set down Ibn al134 al-Jabbār, al-Mugni

fī ‘Abwāt al-Tawḥīd wal-ʿAdl, 7, 218. al-Maʿarrī, The Epistle of Forgiveness or A Pardon to Enter the Garden, vol. 2, 101. 136 See: Ibn al-‘Anbārī. Nuzha al-‘Alibbā’ fī Ṭabaqāt al-‘Udabā’, 185; and alTawḥīdī, al-Hawāmil wa al-Shawāmil, 265–266. 137 Ibn al-‘Anbārī. Nuzha al-‘Alibbā’ fī Ṭabaqāt al-‘Udabā’, 189 138 al-Zajjāji. Kitāb al-‘Īḍāḥ, 43. 139 The rise and fall of the two schools roughly coincided with the rise and fall of the ʿAbbāsid translation movement in a twist of fate which, according to McKinney, couldn’t have been a coincidence. McKinney, The Case of Rhyme Versus Reason, 56. It is however important to take heed that some of the most notable opponents of the school of Baghdad were members of the Muʿtazila movement – and such is the case with the 10th century scholar ‘Ibrāhīm b. al‘Ayyāsh. See: Ibn Nadīm, Kitāb al-Fihrist vol.1, 264. 135

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Sarrāj as Muʿtazilite. Regardless of his close associations with the Muʿtazila scholars, the movement itself appears to have had little to no influence on the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj.140 For according to Walid Jarrar, who had little doubt of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s allegiance to the Muʿtazila movement, the contributions of the movement to the Arabic grammar tradition can be successfully traced as of the late 10th century only; when these were integrated into the Arabic grammar tradition by Ibn al-Sarrāj’s students al-Sirāfī, al-Zajjājī and Ibn Jinnī (Jarrar 1992: 30, 91). Apart from the well-known grammarians al-Zajjājī, alRummānī, al-Sirāfī and ‘Abū ʿAlī al-Fārisī; Ibn al-Sarrāj must have had at least six more students among the eminent philosophers, historiographers and lexicographers of the 10th century Baghdad: ‘Abū Naṣr Muḥammad al-Fārābī, ‘Ismā’īl b. al-Qāsim ‘Abū ʿAlī al-Qālī, ‘Abū Manṣūr Muḥammad b. ‘Aḥmad al-‘Azharī al-Lughawī, ‘Abū alQāsim al-Ḥasan b. Bashar al-‘Amadī, ‘Abū al-Ḥasan ‘Aḥmad b. Yūsuf al-‘Azraq al-Tanawakhī, ‘Aḥmad b. Muhammad b. al-Faḍl b. al-Jaraḥ ‘Abū Bakr al-Khazzāz and ‘Abū ‘Aḥmad al-Ḥasan b. ‘Abdullah b. Saʿīd b. ‘Ismaʿīl al-‘Askarī.141 140 As of the life and times of Ibn al-‘Anbārī, scholars have been on the constant

search for the so-called “Muʿtazila method and approach to Arabic grammar studies”. See: Versteegh, Greek Elements in Arabic Linguistic Thinking, 148; and Fleisch, Traitè de philologie arabe vol.1, 25. According to Jarrar, the Muʿtazila impact on the Arabic grammar tradition can be traced as of the late 10th century, when al-Sirāfī, Ibn Jinnī and al-Zajjājī have initiated a series of discussions that were evolving around doubt if words are identical with nominata (musammayāt) or with the act of inventing new words for the musammayāt in question. Jarrar, The Grammatical Concept of Causality in Arabic, 30. However, as will be shown within the scope of the present study, the Muʿtazila theories on ‘awāmil and the debate-like writing style were all-together irreconcilable with the grammatical opus of Ibn al-Sarrāj. 141 The provided list of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s students has been reconstructed according to the writings of al-Baghdādī, al-Suyūṭī, Ibn ‘Abī ʿUṣaybiʿa, ‘Uthman alDahabī, al-Subkī, Yāqūṭ and al-Ṣafadī. See: al-Baghdādī, Tarīḥ Madīna alSalāma vol.3, 264; al-Baghdādī, Tarīkh Madīna al-Salāma vol. 6, 470–471; al-Suyūṭī, Bughya al-Wa‘āt vol.1, 110, 453, 550; al-Suyūṭī, Ṭabaqāt alMufsirīn, 83; Ibn ‘Abī ʿUṣaybiʿa, ʿUyūn al-‘Anbā vol.2, 136; ‘Uthman al-Dahabī, Sīr ʿAlām al-Nabalā’I vol. 26, 316; al-Subkī, Ṭabaqāt al-Shāfi‘iyya vol.3, 64, Yāqūṭ, Muʿjam al-ʿUdabā’ vol. 18, 198; and al-Ṣafadī, al-Wāfī bil-Wafayāt vol.8, 53.

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As a person of a violent temper and unwavering determination which was jovially compared by his friends to the lightning bolts of Jupiter;142 Ibn al-Sarrāj appears to have been loved and respected by his students and teachers alike. In his treatise ‘Akhbār al-Naḥwiyīn al-Basriyīn, al-Sirāfī reserves the place of honour for Ibn al-Sarrāj among those scholars with whom he consulted to re-capture the lives of the most eminent Basran grammarians of the early 8th and mid-9th century.143 And upon being awarded one thousand gold dinars by the vizier Ibn alFurāt, al-Zajjājī allegedly remarked: “The foundation of the narration that has left all of you in awe rests on the words of Ibn al-Sarrāj”.144 Deep reverence appears to have been mutual – and even somewhat familylike – between Ibn al-Sarrāj and his teacher al-Mubarrad.145 Given the lack of evidence indicating otherwise, it is therefore unlikely that Ibn alSarrāj might have studied in the Mosque of Manṣūr with Thaʿlab. In addition, al-Qifṭī notes than when ʿAlī b. ʿAysī expressed his admiration for Ibn al-Sarrāj’s treatise Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw by proclaiming it superior to al-Mubarrad’s Kitāb al-Muqtaḍab, he was immediately silenced by Ibn al-Sarrāj: “Don’t you say that!’ At that point he [Ibn Sarrāj] proceeded by reciting a poem as an example, for he would often illustrate his remarks about things that happened to him with the most beautiful verses: She burst into tears; Her weeping moving me to tears as well. Thus I said: the first one is the best one.146

al-Maʿarrī, The Epistle of Forgiveness or A Pardon to Enter the Garden, vol. 2, 101. 143 al-Sirāfī, ‘Akhbar al-Naḥwiyīn al-Basriyīn, 27, 67–69, 60, 53–56, 51, 43, 80–81, 72–37, 77. 144 Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-‘Udabā’ vol. 18, 200. In al-Zubaydī’s record of the same event, al-Zajjāji impressed the vizier by reciting him the verses which were originally composed by Ibn al-Sarrāj. See: al-Zubaydī, Ṭabaqāt al-Naḥwīyīn wa al-Lughawīyīn, 113. 145 Ibn Nadīm, Kitāb al-Fihrist vol.1, 62 146 Quoted according to: al-Qifṭī, ‘Inbāh al-Ruwāh vol.3, 145. Accounts of the same episode were also provided by Ibn Nadīm, al-Zubaydī and Yāqūt. See: Ibn Nadīm, Kitāb al-Fihrist vol.1, 62; al-Zubaydī, Ṭabaqāt al-Naḥwīyīn wa al-Lughawīyīn, 113; and Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-‘Udabā’ 18, 201. 142

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Graph. 2 – The Academic Lineage of Ibn al-Sarr!j

Ibn al-Sarr!j’s poetry appears to have been prized during his lifetime, in spite his reluctance to recite it even in front of his students. In 902 A.D., the splendour of al-Muktaf%’s triumphal procession is said to have inspired Ibn al-Sarr!j to compose his most famous poem; dedicated to the slave-girl he was in love with:

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THE BANISHER OF MADNESS Having compared her beauty to her conduct, The charm fails to compensate for betrayal! She swore never to betray our vows, It is as if she had sworn never to be true to us! Dear God! Never shall I speak to her again, Even if hers is the radiance the full-moon, the Sun and al-Muktafi!147

Regardless of the fact that he was celebrated by his contemporaries as a person of great self-confidence;148 Ibn al-Sarrāj proved to be a more effective writer than orator. Similarly to Sibawayh before him, he was known to have had a speech defect – a potentially catastrophic failing for anyone wishing to shine in the public life of the 10th century Baghdad, where the lack of eloquence, pleasant accent and intonation were often perceived as a sign of ignorance of an individual. 149 In combination with Ibn al-Sarrāj’s attested modesty, his inability to pronounce rā’ 150 might have been the main why Ibn al-Sarrāj took no part in any public debate between the eminent grammarians and logicians of his time – however, upon being asked about the poetry of his teacher, alZajjājī remarked: “Nothing more amazing have I seen” (al-Qifṭī 1955: 148). Apart from his private affiliations with the school of Baghdad, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s decision not to take part in public debates can also be explained by the lack of need to expose himself to the situation from which he had little to gain and much to lose. Writing on the (verbal) duels of the 9th century grammarians, al-Jāḥiẓ recorded the following: Once I saw two men. Standing at the door of Muways b. ʿImrān’s house, they quarrelled about [something related] to nayrūz and rāziqī grapes. There was a lot of cursing between them and finally See: Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-‘Udabā’ vol. 18, 199; and al-Zubaydī, Ṭabaqāt alNaḥwīyīn wa al-Lughawīyīn, 112. 148 al-Zubaydī, Ṭabaqāt al-Naḥwīyīn wa al-Lughawīyīn, 113. 149 See: Ibn Jinnī, al-Khaṣā‘iṣ, vol.1, 213–237; Ibn Nadīm, Kitāb al-Fihrist vol. 1, 97, 100–102, 106, 109; and Ibn Khallikān, Wafayāt al-‘Aʿyān vol.1, 391. In addition, Ibn ʿAbd Rabihhi (d. 940) deemed eloquence as a necessary prerequisite of ‘adīb’s education. Ibn ʿAbd Rabbihī, Kitāb al-‘Iqd al-Farīd vol.2, 421. 150 According to Ibn Khallikān, who was mocking him for his speech defect, Ibn al-Sarrāj was pronouncing rā’ as ghayn. Ibn Khallikān, Wafayāt al‘Aʿyān vol.3, 462. 147

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they flew at each other. One of them, who came from Kufa, cut off a finger of the Basran who [retaliated] by gouging out the eye of the Kufan. Not long afterwards I saw them together once again. Engaged in discussions, they were drinking together and debating as if they were best of friends… (al-Jāḥiẓ 1965 1: 8)

Also known as majlis al-munāzara, the verbal duels of ʿAbbāsid scholars and the exuberance they produced have been compared by Kraemer to the gladiator fights of ancient Rome and the jousting tournaments of medieval knights (Kraemer 1992: 58). As of the late 8th century, public debates between eminent grammarians and representatives of other scientific disciplines have been loved and sponsored by at least two caliphs and seven viziers: Hārūn al-Rashīd (d. 809), al-Maʿmūn (d. 833), Khālid b. Barmak (d. 782), Yaḥyā al-Barmaki (d. 803), Ibn al-Zayyāt (d. 847), ‘Abū Muḥammad al-Muhallabī (d. 963), ‘Abū al-Faḍl b. al-ʿAmīd (d. 970), Ibn Sa’dān (d. 984) and, most notably – by Ibn al-Furāt (d. 924).151 In the year 932 A.D., the court of the vizier Ibn al-Furāt emerges as the grand stage of the debate between Ibn al-Sarrāj’s student al-Sirāfī and the head of the Peripatetic school of Baghdad Mattā b. Yūnus. In the age when courts of local potentates and viziers were slowly gaining the upper hand over the royal palace, no court was as grand as the one held in Mukhārim quarter by Ibn al-Furāt. Ruthless, unscrupulous and firm of grasp over the state funds and royal treasury, Ibn al-Furāt was rumoured to have possessed an immeasurable treasure to distribute to his liking. With an estimated property of ten million gold dinars, the vizier made sure that a portion of his private and state funds were invested in the development of science as well.152 As a highly cultivated man, Ibn al-Furāt established himself as a sponsor of important works of science, the hostof majālis and patron of more than five thousand scholars whom he had supported on a monthly level with the scholarships varying from one hundred dinars to five 151 The provided list was reconstructed according to the writings of al-Tabarsi,

Ibn al-‘Anbārī, Yāqūt, al-Zubaydī and Rescher. See: al-Tabarsi, Al-‘Iḥtijāj vol.2, 401–422; Ibn al-‘Anbārī, Nuzha al-‘Alibbā, 62–63); Yāqūt, Muʿjam al‘Udabā’ vol.3, 194–197; al-Zubaydī, Ṭabaqāt al-Lughawīyīn, 68–73, 222–223; and Rescher, The Development of Arabic Logic, 42. 152 ‘Ārīb, Ṣilat Taʿrīkh al-Ṭabari, 37.

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dirhams.153 Writing in the early 11th century, the Buyyid court bureaucrat and historiographer Hilāl al-Ṣābi’ (d. 1056) described how Ibn alFurāt preferred to receive his protégés and foreign delegates in the pleasant ambient between the river Tigris and the lavish gardens that were furnished with Armenian silken drapes and the seats of honour. Surrounded by servants and bodyguards armed with axes, the vizier presided over the gatherings (al-Ṣābi’ 1977: 17–18). In his Kitāb al‘Imtāʾ wal-Muʿānasa, al-Tawḥīdī commemorates the fiery atmosphere of Ibn al-Furāt’s majālis al-munāẓara and the following triumph of al-Sirāfī over an “ignorant Christian” Mattā b. Yūnus.154 Recorded in the quoted paragraph from al-Jāḥiẓ’s Kitāb al-Ḥayawān, the episode at the house of Muways b. ʿImrān indicates that medieval grammarians were not reluctant to rely on their fists in order to prove a certain point. But regardless of the subsequent fame of al-Tawḥīdī’s record of the triumph of Arabic grammar over Greek logic, al-Ṣābi’s records concerning the 10th century court etiquette reveal that there was little place for the exchange of personal opinions and heated arguments between the grammarians and logicians which were described by al-Jāḥiẓ and al-Tawḥīdī. As a man prone of pranks, Ibn al-Furāt could choose to appear in front of his guests in a formal robe or wearing tattered clothes of a monk155 – but his protégés were nevertheless expected to show up in front of him in a formal cotton undergarment regardless of the time of year. The topics of the debates and conversations alike were determined by the whims of the vizier. According to al-Ṣābi’, guests were forbidden to mention anything they were not being asked of and no report was to be made without the permission of the host. Before addressing his noble patron, a scholar was furthermore expected to clean his teeth with a special toothbrush (siwāk). In the presence of a nobleman, the voice was never to be raised and the body language was expected to be minimal. Spitting and nose blowing were strictly forbidden; coughing and sneezing were to be avoided at all costs. In cases the caliph chose to attend the debate, guests were prohibited from whispering among each other and their attention was expected to be focused on the presiding nobleman and direct his gaze See: Ibn Nadīm, Kitāb al-Fihrist vol.1, 338; and Le Strange, G. Baghdad During the Abbasid Caliphate, 221. 154 al-Tawḥīdī, Kitāb al-‘Imtāʾ wal-Muʾānasa, 96–127. 155 al-Ṣābi’, Rusūm Dār al-Khilāfah, 63. 153

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toward the mouth of a nobleman. In front of the royalty and nobility, scholars were not to laugh even if there was a reason for laughter – and even if they felt that they had something to prove, their manners were at all times to remain modest, delicate and accomplished. But most of all, scholars were to remember that the injury of a tongue was considered to be equal to the one caused by hand (al-0!bi’ 1977: 31–45, 63).

! Fig. 4 – Majlis al-mun!zara. Plucked beards were apparently a common repercussion

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Fierce competition to join the cultural salons of royalty and nobility has left its mark on the intellectual tradition of the Empire. If successful, a scholar could hope for a chance to increase his income and leave a trace in history by getting himself acquainted with a patron willing to sponsor his research. In return, he was expected to demonstrate absolute loyalty to his patron by mocking his enemies, providing him with the answers he wanted to hear and becoming the most refined instrument of personal propaganda at his disposal. In his study on the development of Arabic logic, Rescher has concluded that the 10th century scholars were not as dependant on their wealthy patrons as their predecessors – for they were able to make their own way “as physicians, teachers, clerks, scribes or bookseller” (Rescher 1964: 37). Contrary to Rescher’s remarks, the case of Yaḥyā b. ʿAdī (d. 974) illustrates that the fate of an eminent scholar without a patron to support him was often a miserable one. As the fierce opponent of Baghdadi grammarians, Yaḥyā b. ʿAdī was celebrated for his studies on the nature of the soul and relationship between the mind and language. Alas, the fame of his treatises and the vivid cultural salon he held in Qaṭīʿat al-Naṣara proved to be insufficient to provide Yaḥyā with a steady income. For all of his fame, Yaḥyā b. ʿAdī, the heir of al-Fārābī and the head of the school of Baghdad, was forced to earn for a living as a professional amanuensis.156 Without a wealthy patron to support him, Yaḥyā died in poverty; his fate to be shared by al-Tawḥīdī and the countless nameless scholars of the ʿAbbāsid era. In fact, in the early 10th century, few ʿAbbāsid scholars could choose not to fight for the position of a “sāḥib” of a certain noble patron – and Ibn al-Sarrāj was one of them. In the age when majālis were still perceived as the main source of income and glory for aspiring scholars, Ibn al-Sarrāj proved himself capable of securing both without the previously acquired mastery in the role of a trained lap-dog of his wealthy patron. In addition to alQifṭī’s remarks concerning the lavish expenses of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s irresponsible son and frivolous wife,157 Ibn al-Sarrāj’s lifestyle indicates that he must have had a significant personal fortune at his disposal. If we take into account that the annual income of an average 10th century 156 Kraemer, Humanism 157 al-Qifṭī, ‘Inbāh

in the Renaissance of Islam, 105. al-Ruwāh vol.3, 146.

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family was estimated to be around 300 silver dirhams,158 the tuition fee of 100 gold dinars which Ibn al-Sarrāj was paying to al-Mubarrad gives an impression of an exorbitant amount. Composed in the mid-10th century, al-Zubaydī’s treatise Ṭabaqāt al-Naḥwīyīn wa al-Lughawīyīn however indicates that the amount of 100 dinars might have been but a trifle for an eminent grammarian of the late 9th and the early 10th century. According to al-Zubaydī, al-Mubarrad’s biggest rival Thaʿlab earned 1000 silver dirhams per month.159 As the most prominent Baghdadi grammarian of his time160 and the heir of al-Mubarrad, who outweighed Thaʿlab both in authority and personal renown, Ibn alSarrāj could have been expected to earn even more. The certificate of audition (samāʿ) that was bestowed by al-Mubarrad on each of his students161 gave Ibn al-Sarrāj the right to transmit Sibawayh’s al-Kitāb for the same lavish amount as his teacher.162 As a result, the transmission of this work probably played a role in the study program of Ibn alSarrāj’s students – and thus in his personal income as well. According to ‘Abū al-ʿAlāʾ al-Maʿarrī (d. 1057), Ibn al-Sarrāj appears to have taken much pride in his personal library163 – although it remains unclear if the voracious reader and possessive book collector portrayed in al-Maʿarrī’s Risāla al-Ghufrān ever made a living as a professional book dealer.164 Regardless of the fact that the manufactories of 158 Mez, The

Renaissance of Islam, 379. al-Naḥwīyīn wa al-Lughawīyīn, 128–129. 160 Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-‘Udabā’ vol. 18, 198–199. 161 For the detailed research on the teaching methods of al-Mubarrad see: Makdisi, The Rise of Humanism in Classical Islam and the Christian West, 71. 162 Although al-Qifṭī’s and Yāqūt’s records don’t offer us direct proof that alKitāb was a part of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teaching curriculum, Bernard’s research on the prevailing popularity of this work makes it unlikely that Ibn al-Sarrāj, the most renowned grammarian of his time, would fail to 1) include al-Kitāb in his study program and 2) profit financially form it. See: al-Qifṭī, Muḥamadūna min alShuʿarāi’ wa ‘Ashāʿrihim, 345; Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-‘Udabā’ vol. 18, 198–199 and Bernards, Establishing a Reputation – the Reception of Sibawayh’s Book, 3–26. 163 al-Maʿarrī, The Epistle of Forgiveness or A Pardon to Enter the Garden, vol. 2, 101. 164 Writing on Ibn al-Sarrāj, Ḥasan asserted that he was an owner of a bookstore. However, al-Maʿarrī’s record doesn’t allow us to ascertain if Ibn al-Sarrāj was a professional book dealer. See: Ḥasan, Nawābigh al-Fikr alʿArabī Series, 16. 159 al-Zubaydī, Ṭabaqāt

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Islamic paper made books more available to the general public, it was still unlikely that an average 10th century income of 300 dirhams per annum would suffice for assembling of a private library like the one in the possession of Ibn al-Sarrāj. As a well-secured man whose books were read in a wide range of social circles, Ibn al-Sarrāj could afford to be indifferent to patronage (‘iṣṭinā’) in general. None of his surviving works has been dedicated to anyone – and upon having the order for the writing of Kitāb al-Jumal being placed with him by a wealthy merchant, Ibn al-Sarrāj ordered ‘Abū ʿAlī al-Fārisī to use his notes and finish it after getting bored with his task halfway through.165 As he was already celebrated as the most eminent grammarian of his time, it is unlikely that Ibn al-Sarrāj would risk taking part in court debates whose outcome was often decided on eloquence and allow himself to be publicly compared to an animal for his incapability to pronounce ra’ properly.166 As a wealthy, popular and highly independent scholar, Ibn al-Sarrāj emerges as the breaker of more than one well-established tradition in the history Arabic grammar studies. Apart from his indifference towards the majālis al-munāzara, the freedom to choose his own path would make an impact on Ibn Sarrāj’s methodology approach, his personal and professional relationship with the logicians of Baghdad – and the doctrine of the Wisdom of Arabs as well.

1.5. THE WRITINGS OF IBN AL-SARRĀJ: A DESCRIPTION OF SOURCES Between the mid-10th and the early 12th century, at least sixteen treatises investigating the issues of grammar, lexicography, poetry and the Qur’anic readings were attributed to Ibn al-Sarrāj.167 In order to come al-Maʿarrī, The Epistle of Forgiveness or A Pardon to Enter the Garden, vol. 2, 44, 46. 166 Ibn Khallikān, Wafayāt al-‘Aʿyān wa ‘Anbā’ vol.1, 391. 167 Reconstructed in accordance with the records of Yāqūt, al-Zubaydī, Ibn Khallikān, al-Qifṭī and Ibn Nadīm, the full list of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s treatises can be found in the table below. The detailed analysis of the medieval records of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s works was conducted by Sezgin in: Sezgin, Geschichte des arabischen Schrifttums vol.9, 83–85. For more information, see: Ibn Nadīm Kitāb al-Fihrist vol.1, 62; al-Zubaydī, Ṭabaqāt al-Naḥwīyīn, 122; Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-‘Udabā’ vol.18, 200; al-Qifṭī, ‘Inbāh al-Ruwāh vol.3, 295; and Ibn Khallikān, Wafayāt al-‘Aʿyān wa-‘Anbāʾ az-Zamān vol.3, 462. 165

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to terms with the Wisdom of Arabs, the present study focuses on the following nine that have survived up until today: Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī alNaḥw, al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw, Kitāb al-Qalam, Kitāb al-ʿArūḍ, Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ, Kitāb al-‘Ishtiqāq, Risāla fī al-Naqṭ and the excerpt from Kitāb al-Qurrā’ which was preserved in ‘Abū ʿAlī al-Fārisī’s treatise alḤujja fī ʿIlali al-Qirāʿat al-Sabʿi. Some of these works, like Kitāb al‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw, Risāla fī al-Naqṭ and Kitāb al‘Ishtiqāq have been subjected to critical and diplomatic editions – and in such cases, modern publications have been consulted in addition to the original manuscripts. However, five other works of Ibn al-Sarrāj are available in manuscripts only. Table 1 – The works of Ibn al-Sarrāj Grammar

• Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw/ al-‘Uṣūl al-Kabīr • Kitāb al-Jumal al-‘Uṣūl/ al-‘Uṣūl al-Ṣaghīr • Kitāb al-Mūjaz/ al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw • Kitāb al-Jumal • Kitāb al-Muwāṣalāt fīl-‘Akhbar wal-Muḏakkarāt • Kitāb al-‘Ishtiqāq • Kitāb al-Qalam • Sharḥ Kitāb Sibawayh • Kitāb al-ʿIlāl al-Naḥw

Orthography

• Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ • Risāla fī al-Naqṭ

Qur’anic studies

• Kitāb al-‘Iḥtijāj al-Qurrā’ / Kitāb al-Qurrā’

Poetry and Metrics

• Kitāb al-Shiʿr wa al-Shuʿarā’ • Kitāb al-Riyāḥ wal-Hawā’ wa al-Nār • Kitab al-ʿArūḍ

In his Geschichte des arabischen Schrifttums, Sezgin lists eight surviving manuscripts of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s works, most of which are located in Turkey and Morocco. 168 In addition to the eight manuscripts that were identified by Sezgin, the present study relies on the eleven manuscripts which are described below. Whereas six of them are unique, the manuscript of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s magnum opus Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al168 Sezgin, Geschichte

des arabischen Schrifttums vol.9, 83–85

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Naḥw survives in five copies that are currently held in the National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco in Rabat, the Qarawiyyin Library in Fes, the Süleymaniye Library in Istanbul, the British Museum in London and the Library of Tehran in Iran. Dating from 12th to 18th century A.D., these manuscripts preserved the overall number of app. one hundred and forty chapters169 – however, no manuscript with the complete text of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw has been discovered until today. In 1996 and 2010 A.D., two critical editions of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw were published by Abdalhusayn Fatli and Muhammad alSharbinī Sharid respectively. MS Rabat #326

Of the one hundred and forty chapters of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, thirty are preserved in the MS Rabat #326. Dated 1146 A.D., this manuscript is entitled as “The First Part of the Foundations of Grammar That Was Authored by ‘Abī Bakr Muhammad al-Sārī [Who Was] Known as Ibn al-Sarrāj”. Written in clear naskh script, the 262 foliolong manuscript is neatly inscribed with sixteen lines pro folio, with c.a. ten words in each line. The thirty chapters of this manuscript cover the first part of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl, from the introduction on the nature and origins of the language to the chapter Bāb al-asmāʾ almaẖfūḍa fī-l-qism. However, for the reason unknown, the otherwise meticulous scribe decided to omit the closing paragraph of chapter twelve – alongside with masāʿil of the eleventh chapter, Bāb mā jāʿa min al-kalim fī maʿnā ʿillā. Moreover, four leaves between the ff.154 and ff.155 are virtually unreadable on my digital copy of MS Rabat #326 albeit smattering of phrases can be made out here and there. Damage to the manuscript is particularly severe in ff.155 recto.

169 Number varies from one manuscript to another as some sharh and masāʿīl

units are often labeled as independent chapters (bāb). For more details see Graph.1 below.

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Fig.6 – The title page of MS Rabat #326

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MS Qarawiyyin #1774

Written by ʿAbdallah ‘Aḥmad al-Manṣūrī, this undated copy of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw is currently held in the Qarawiyyin Library in Fes under the registry number 1174. In his critical edition of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl, Fatli estimates that MS Qarawiyyin #1774 was copied in the 12th century A.D. – thus being the second-oldest copy of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl in existence.170 MS Qarawiyyin #1774 is divided into 100 folios, each of which is inscribed with thirty-two lines consisting of ten-words on average. As such, it covers the first five chapters of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, beginning with the introduction to grammar laws and ending abruptly with Sharḥ ath-thānī, wa huwa al-ṣifa al-mushabaha bi-‘ism al-fāʿil. MS Tehran #3990

Copied by an anonymous scribe in 1222 A.D., the 218 folio-long MS Tehran #3990 preserved the first forty-three chapters of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. Singlehandedly written in clear naskh, the manuscript folios are divided into twenty-one lines each, with seventeen words pro line on average. As such, this manuscript contains the single extant copy of the masāʿil discussion on the chapter Bāb mā jāʾa min al-kalim fī maʿnā ʿillā. Nonetheless, the comparative analysis of MS Tehran #3990, MS Rabat #326 and MS Qarawiyyin #1774 revels that, in other cases, the copyist who composed MS Tehran #3990 was prone to random omissions.171 The manuscript is in good condition albeit six leaves between the folios 200–204 are undecipherable as the ink has bled from the effects of humidity. On the ff.205 verso, the paper is marred with stains and holes that render some sentences nearly illegible.

170 See Fatli’s foreword to his critical edition of Kitāb

al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw at: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw vol.1, 32. 171 See MS Rabat #326 ff.2 and MS Tehran ff.3, MS. Rabat #326 ff.173 and MS Tehran ff.84

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Fig. 7 – The title page of the Tehran edition of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw

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MS London #2808

Covering the forty-one chapters Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, the incomplete MS London #2808 opens up with the Basmala that is followed by the titleless chapter fifty-two, Bāb at-taqdīmi wa-l-taʿẖīr. For the next twelve chapters, the text is unabridged – however, together with the conclusion of the chapter sixty-four, Bāb “min” wa ʿay ʿ iḏā kunta mustafhiman ʿan nakira, the following twenty-seven chapters are left out without an explanation. The text continues with the chapter ninety-three, Bāb al-masādir wa-ʿasmāʾ al-fāʿilayn and its last chapter, Bāb ḍarūrati ash-shāʿir, corresponds to the last chapter of Fatli’s critical edition of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw and the concluding chapter of MS Istanbul #1077. Dated 1235 A.D., MS London #2808 appears to have been copied by Maḥmūd b. ‘Abī al-Mafākhir on the basis of an older, now lost copy which belonged to shaykh ‘Abī alḤasan ʿAlī b. ʿAysī al-Ramānī. One hundred and twenty-eight folios long, the manuscript contains thirteen lines pro folio, with fifteen words in each line.

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Fig. 8 – The title page of MS London #2808

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MS Istanbul #1077

Decorated with red borders, stunning section-headings and floral patterns, MS Istanbul #1077 emerges as the most recent, the most comprehensive and the most beautiful manuscript edition of Kitāb al‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw in existence. Originally part of the Selim Ağa collection, this manuscript is currently held in the Süleymaniye Library under the registry number 1077. Dated 1731 A.D., it was copied by ʿAbdullah b. Manṣūr in clear naskh. The opening lines of the manuscript cite the loss of the first chapters and the subsequent division of the remaining content into three parts. 172 As a consequence, the manuscript begins abruptly, in the middle of the thirty-first chapter of the original text, and ends up with the chapter one hundred and forty, Bāb ḍarūrati ash-shāʿir. Albeit ʿAbdullah b. Manṣūr failed to indicate the beginning and the end of the three books that make up MS Istanbul #1077, he has meticulously marked chapter titles with red and black ink. The manuscript contains one hundred and nineteen folios, each of whom is divided into forty-six lines consisting of ten words.

Interestingly enough, the lost chapters of MS Istanbul #1077 correspond to the content of MS Rabat #326; which is entitled as “The First Part of the Foundations of Grammar That Was Authored by ‘Abī Bakr Muhammad alSārī [Who Was] Known as Ibn al-Sarrāj”. This could either indicate that a) such division was intended by the author himself or, more likely, that b) MS Rabat #326 and MS Istanbul #1077 were originally copied from the same source. Nonetheless, the missing chapters of MS Rabat #326 and the neglect of the scribe who was working on MS Istanbul #1077 don’t allow us to ascertain which chapters belong to the second, third and fourth part of Kitāb al‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. In addition, no other manuscript of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī alNaḥw speaks of the division of its contents into four parts. 172

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! Fig.9 – The title page of MS Istanbul #1077

Collection 100/q

The manuscript entitled as al-Kit"b al-M'jaz f( al-Na#w by ‘Ab" Bakr Mu#ammad b. al-S"r( al-Sarr"j is a truly remarkable document. Discovered in 1958 A.D. at the Zawiya al-N!(riyya in Tamghr-t, it is currently held at the National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco under the serial number 100/q. In spite of its title, this manuscript represents the collection of miscellany works, four of which have been penned by Ibn al-Sarr!j: al-M'jaz f( al-Na#w, Kit"b al-Khatt, Kit"b al-.Ar'% and Kit"b al-Qalam. Whereas the manuscript contains the full text of al-M'jaz f( al-Na#w and Kit"b al-Qalam, only the first chapters of Kit"b al-Kha)) and Kit"b al-.Ar'% are preserved in this edition – and apart from the collection 100/q, no other copies of either of these works have survived up until today.

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Fig.10 – The title page of the collection 100/q

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Fig.11 – The concluding lines and colophon of MS Rabat #100/1

Written in beautiful maghribi script, the manuscript is bound in red and brown leather and almost fully provided with diacritical points. Originally pristine white, its pages have mostly turned yellowish over time. All texts of this collection contain a large number of marginal notes and corrections that were made by the original copyist. Sometimes later, another hand added further corrections and interlinear notes in red ink. Of the ten treatises that were preserved in the

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collection 100/q, only al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw contains the colophon stating that it was penned in 354 A.H by Muhammad b. Muhammad ʿAbdullah al-‘Isbahānī on the basis of an older copy which has been dictated in multiple sessions to ‘Abū ʿAlī al-Fārisī. Provided that the date stated in the colophon is correct, this would mean that this edition of al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw was composed less than thirty years after Ibn al-Sarrāj’s death – thus being the oldest Ibn al-Sarrāj’s manuscript in existence. Divided into fifty-one chapters, the thirty-four folio-long al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw also represents the longest text of the collection 100/q. In comparison, the four chapters of Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ are only fifteen folio-long, whereas the eight folio-long Kitāb al-ʿArūḍ and the half-folio long Kitāb al-Qalam consist of a single chapter each. Their pages are divided into 18–22 lines on average, with twenty-two words in each line. In 1965, the first annotated edition of al-Mūjaz fī alNaḥw was published in Beirut under the supervision of Chouèmi and Damerdji. Seven years later, the publication of Fatli’s annotated edition of Kitāb al-ʿArūḍ will follow. MS #21028–2

Ibn al-Sarrāj treatise Kitāb al-‘Ishtiqāq survives in a single copy that is currently held in the Iraqi Library of Sciences. However, my analyses of this manuscript were based on the digital copy which is currently held in the Umm al-Qura University Library in Medina under the serial number #21028–2 and the later-date modern edition that was commissioned by al-Ḥadrī and subsequently published in Damascus in 1973 A.D. Dated 564 A.H, the six folio-long manuscript of Kitāb al‘Ishtiqāq was composed in beautiful nasta’liq script on white paper. However, all six folios are marred with underlined passages and marginal notes in red ink, some of which are written in Persian. Although most pages of the manuscript have suffered from moisture effects, the text is fully readable and in generally good condition. Each of the six folios of Kitāb al-‘Ishtiqāq is divided into twenty-six lines of text consisting of twenty words on average.

1. THE MIRROR AND THE WISDOM

75

Fig.12 – Kit!b al-‘Ishtiq!q. MS #21028–2

MS Ankara 547/3

Dated 581 A.H, the manuscript in the possession of Esmail Saeb Library in Ankara represents the single extant copy of Ibn Sarr!j’s treatise Ris"la f( al-Naq). In the light of the fact that this manuscript addresses the issues of transcribing vowels and the writing of a diacritical mark, it comes as no surprise that the sixteen folio-long text is almost fully vocalized and provided with diacritical marks – and its colophon reveals that the present version was copied by ‘Ab% al-Faraj .Abdullah b. ‘Asad b. al-Dah!n. Written in a very clear naskh, the manuscript itself consists of a single chapter with introduction. It was catalogued in Esmail Saeb Library under the serial number 547/3. In 2009, the diplomatic edition of this manuscript has been commissioned and published by Hamidreza Mostafid.

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Fig.13 – The title page of MS Ankara 547/3

1. THE MIRROR AND THE WISDOM

Fig.14 – The concluding lines and colophon of MS Ankara 547/3

77

78

THE BANISHER OF MADNESS Table 2 – One hundred and forty chapters of Kit!b al-‘U(-l f% al-Na&w in five manuscripts

2

chapter of Kit!b al-‘U(-l f% alNa&w! The nameless!introduction chapter! al-Kal!m!

3!

B!b!maw!qi2 al-hur-f!

4

B!b al-! i.r!b wa-l-mu.rab wabin!2 wa-l-mabn%y! B!bu ni.ma wa-bi2sa!

# 1

5 6! 7 8

B!b al-asm!2 llat%! u.milat! amal al-fi.l! B!b al- ma.rifa wa-l-nakira!

10

B!b al- fi.l! lla7i yata.dd!! il! maf.-l! B!b al-fi.l! lla7i yata.dd!! il! thal!that maf.-l! B!b at-t!amy%z!

11!

B!b kasr alif! inna wa-fat&ih!!

12!

B!b m! j!2a min al-kalim f% ma.n!! ill!!

9

!!!!!!!

manuscript! MS Rabat #326, MS Qarawiyyin #1774, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Qarawiyyin #1774, MS Tehran #3990 ! MS Rabat #326, MS Qarawiyyin #1774, MS Tehran #3990173! MS Rabat #326, MS Qarawiyyin #1774, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Qarawiyyin #1774, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990! MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990

Notwithstanding the fact that MS Tehran #3990 contains the text of the chapter B"b!maw"qi* al-hur'f, the anonymous scribe who was working on it didn’t label it as a separate chapter.! 173

1. THE MIRROR AND THE WISDOM #

14

chapter of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī alNaḥw Bāb al-istithnāʾ al-munqaṭaʿ min al-ʿ awwal Bāb tamyīz al-maqādīr

15

Bāb tamyīz al-aʿdād

16

Bāb kam

17

Bāb an-nidāʾ

18

20

Bāb mā khaṣṣa bihī an-nidāʾ min taghyīr bināʾ al-ʿ ism almunādā wa-z-ziyāda fīʿ ākhirihi wa-l-ḥaḏf fīhi Bāb al-lām allatī tadkhulu fī-nnidāʾ lil-istighāṯa wa-t-taʿajjub Bāb al-nudba

21

Bāb al-tarkhīm

22

Bāb muḍāriʿ li-n-nidāʾ

23

Bāb an-nafy bi-lā

24

27

Bāb mā yuṯabatu fihī t-tanwin wa-n-nūn min al-asmāʾ al-manfiyya Bāb māʿ iḏā daẖalat ʿalayhi lā lam tughayyirhu ʿan ḥālihī Bāb lā an-nāfiyaʿ iḏā dakhalat ʿalayhā ʿalif al- istifhām Bāb taṣarruf "lā"

28

Bāb rubba

29

Bāb ḥattā

13

19

25 26

79

manuscript MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990174 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990175 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990176 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990 MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990

MS Tehran #3990 doesn’t contain the opening paragraph and the title of this chapter. 175 The scribe of MS Tehran #3990 wrongly classified the third sub-chapter of Bāb mā ʿiḏā daẖalat ʿalayhi lā lam tughayyirhu ʿan ḥālihī as a separate chapter in its own right. 176 Sub-chapter of Bāb taṣarruf “lā” was classified as a separate chapter in MS Tehran #3990. 174

80 # 30 31 32

THE BANISHER OF MADNESS chapter of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī alNaḥw Bāb al-asmāʾ al-maẖfūḍa fī-lqism Bāb mud wa mundu177

33

Bāb ʿ iḍāfati-l -ʿ asmāʾʿ ilā-l-ʿafʿāl wa-l-jumal Bāb al-ʿaṭf ʿalā-l-mawḍiʿ

34

Bāb al-ʿaṭf ʿalā ʿāmilīn

35 36

Bāb mā yuḥkā min al-kalim ʿ iḏā summiya bihi mā yajūzu ʿan yuḥkā Bāb mā lā yajūzu ʿan yuḥkā

37

Bāb at-tasmiyya bi-l-ḥurūf

38

Bāb al- kināyāt: wa hiya ʿalāmāt al-muḍmarīn Al-bāb ath- thālith min almabniyāt: wa-huwa-l-ʿ ism ʿalaḏi yushāru bihi ʿ ilā al-musamā Bāb al-ʿasmāʾ al-mubniyyati-lmufradaʿ llatī summiya bihā alfiʿl Bāb al-ʿ ismʿ llaḏī qāma maqam al-ḥarf Bāb aẓ- ẓarfʿ llaḏī yatamakkanu wa-huwa al- khāmis min almabniyāti

39

40 41 42

177 In

manuscript MS Rabat #326, MS Tehran #3990 MS Tehran #3990, MS Istanbul #1077 MS Tehran #3990, MS Istanbul #1077 MS Tehran #3990, MS Istanbul #1077 MS Tehran #3990, MS Istanbul #1077178 MS Tehran #3990, MS Istanbul #1077 MS Tehran #3990, MS Istanbul #1077 MS Tehran #3990, MS Istanbul #1077 MS Tehran #3990, MS Istanbul #1077 MS Tehran #3990, MS Istanbul #1077179 MS Tehran #3990, MS Istanbul #1077 MS Tehran #3990, MS Istanbul #1077 MS Tehran #3990, MS Istanbul #1077

Fatli’s critical edition of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, this chapter is entitled as al-Majrūr bī al-‘Iḍāfa. As he had no access to MS Tehran #3990, Fatli’s edition opens up with the second sub-chapter of Bāb mud wa mundu. See: Ibn al-Sarrāj, Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw vol.2, 5. 178 The discussion chapter of Bāb al-ʿaṭf ʿalā ʿāmilīn is classified as a separate chapter in MS Istanbul #1077 and Fatli’s critical edition alike. In MS Tehran #3990, this is not so. See: Ibn al-Sarrāj, Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw vol.2, 76; Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 619 A.H. Tehran, Majlis #3990, ff.185 and Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, 1077 A.H. Istanbul, Süleymaniye Library #1077, ff.81 179 In MS Istanbul #1077, this chapter is entitled as Bāb ath-thāmin fī almabniyāt

1. THE MIRROR AND THE WISDOM # 43 44 45

chapter of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī alNaḥw Al-bāb as-sādis min al-mabīiyāt al-mufrada wa-huwa aṣ- ṣsawt al-maḥkiyy Bāb iʿrābi- l-ʿafʿāl wa-bināʿ ihā

52

Bābʿ iʿrābi-l- fiʿli-l-muʿtall allām Bāb al-ʿafʿāli-l-mabnīyya Bāb al- ḥurūfʿ llātī jāʿat lilmaʿānī Bābʿam wa-ʿaw wa-l-faṣl baynahumā Bāb mā jāʿa min ḏalika ʿalā thalātha ʿaḥruf Bāb mā jāʿa minhā ʿalā ḥarf wāḥid Bāb al-ḥarfi-l- mabnīyi maʿa ḥarfin Bāb at- taqdīmi wa-l- taʿ ẖīr

53

Bāb al-ʿ ittisāʿ

54

Bāb az- ziyāda wa-l-ʿ ilghām

55

Bāb mā jāzaʿan yakūna khabaran Bāb mā tukhbaru fīhi biʿ llāḏī wa lā yajūzu ʿan tukhbaru fīhi bi-l-alif wa-l-lām wa mā yajūzu billaḏi (wa ḏālika al-mubtadaʾ wa-l-khabar) Bāb mā ʿallafa an-naḥwiyūn min "ʿallaḏī" wa-"ʿallatī" waʾidkhālu ʿallaḏī ʿalā "ʿallaḏī" wamā rukkiba min ḏāllika Bāb ʿakhawāt ʿ llaḏī

46 47 48 49 50 51

56

57

58 59 60 61

Bāb al-ʿ istifhāmʿ iḏā ʿaradta alʿ ikhbār ʿanhu Bāb min al-ʿalif wa-l-lām yakūn fihi-l-majāz180 Bāb ʿalif al-waṣl

81

manuscript MS Tehran #3990, MS Istanbul #1077 MS Tehran #3990, MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808

MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808

180 Both MS Istanbul #1077 and MS London #2808 list the discussion to this

chapter as an independent chapter in its own right.

82 # 62

63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82

THE BANISHER OF MADNESS chapter of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī alNaḥw Bāb as-sākin ʿallaḏī tuḥarrikuhū fī-l- waqt ʿiḏā kāna baʿdahā-lmuḏakkar ʿallaḏī huwa ʿalāmat al-ʿiḍmār Bāb al-waqf ʿalā-l-qawāfī

Bāb “min” wa ʿay ʿiḏā kunta mustafhiman ʿan nakira Bāb mā talḥaqahū az-ziyāda fīl-ʿistifhām Bāb ḏakar al-hamza almutaḥarrikati Bāb al-hamzatayn ʿiḏā iltaqatā Bāb al-muḏakkar wa-lmuʿannaṯ Bāb at-taʿnīt bil-alif Bāb jamʿ al-ʿism Bāb jamʿ ar- rijāl wa-n-nisāʾ Bāb mā ʿishtaqqa lahu mina-lʿadad ʿism tamāmuhu wa-huwa muḍāfun ʿilayhi Bāb al-ʿadad al-muʿannath almawāqiʿ ʿalā maʿdūd muʿannath Bāb jamʿi- th-thulāṯī ʿallaḏī fīhi hāʿu-t-taʿnīth fī-l-jamʿ Bāb mā yakūnu min banāti-ththalātha wāḥidan yaqaʿu ʿalā ʾljamīʿ Bāb mā jāʿa lafẓ waḥidan wajamʿuhu siwāʾ Bāb mā kāna ʿalā ḥarfayn walaysa fīhi ʿalāmat -t-taʿnith Bāb taksīr ma ʿiddat ḥurūfihi bi-z-ziyādati ʿarbaʿa ʿaḥruf liljamʿ Bāb al- muʿannath Bāb mā kāna mina-l-ʿasmāʾ ʿalā ʿarbaʿa ʿaḥruf min ghayri ziyāda Bāb taksīr mā kāna fī-ṣ-ṣifāt ʿadad ḥurufihīʿarbaʿatu ʿaḥrufin bi-z-ziyāadati Bāb mā ulḥiqa min banāt aththalātha bi-banāt al-ʿarbaʿa mina-ṣ-ṣifāt

manuscript MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077

1. THE MIRROR AND THE WISDOM #

100

chapter of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī alNaḥw Bāb taksīr mā jāʿa mina-ṣ-ṣifat ʿalā ʿakthara min ʿarbaʿa ʿaḥrufin Bāb mā kāna min al-ʿasmāʾ ʿiddatu ḥurūfihi khamsa wakhāmisuhū ʿalif at-taʿnīth ʿaw alif at-taʿnīth Bāb mā jumʿa ʿalā-l-maʿnā lā ʿalā-l-lafẓ Bāb mā jāʿa banāʾ jamiʿihi ʿalā ghayr mā yakūnu fī-miṯlihī Bāb mā huwa ʿism yaqaʿu ʿalā-ljamīʿ wa-lam yukkasir ʿalayhi wāḥiduhu wa-huwa min lafẓihi Bāb jamʿ al-jamʿ Bāb mā lufiẓa bihi muthatan kamā lufiẓa bil-jamʿ Bāb mā kāna mina-l-ʿaʿjamiyyati ʿalā ʿarbaʿa ʿaḥruf wa-qad ʿuriba Bāb al- taḥqīr Bāb mā ghuyyira fī-n-nasab wajāʿa ʿalā ghayr al-qiyās ʿallaḏī taqaddama Bāb al-masādir wa-ʿasmāʾ alfāʿilayn Bāb mā yakhtaliṭu fīhi: faʿula yafʿalu kaṯīran wa-huwa mā kāna min ar-rifʿati wa-ḍ-ḍaʿati Bāb: faʿala, yafʿalu, min ḥurufil-ḥalq Bāb naẓāʿir ath-ṯulāth aṣ-ṣaḥīḥi min al- muʿtall Bāb ḏikr al-maṣādir ʿallatī tuḍāriʿ al-ʿasmāʾ Bābu ḏikri-l-ʿafʿāl ʿallatī fīhā zawaʿid Bāb dukhūli “faʿaltu” ʿalā “faʿaltu” lā yushrikuhu fī ḏalika: ʿafʿaltu Bāb dukhuli- t-tāʿi ʿalā faʾʾala

111

Bāb iftirāq: faʿaltu wa-ʿafʿaltu

112

Bāb maṣādir mā laḥiqatuhu haḏihi-z-zawāʿid

83 84

85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99

83

manuscript MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077

MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808

84 # 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124

125 126

127 128 129

THE BANISHER OF MADNESS chapter of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī alNaḥw Bāb mā laḥiqatuhu al-hāʾ ʿawḍan Bāb mā jāʿa al-maṣdar fīhi min ghayr al-fiʿl liʿanna-l-maʿnā wāḥid Bāb mā yukṯiru fīhi-l-maṣdar min "faʿaltu" Bāb mā lā yujūizu ʿan tuʿaddiyahū mina-th-thulāṯī wa-rrubāʿī Bāb naẓīr "ḍarabtuhu" ḍarbatan min haḏihi-l-ʿabwābi kullu-lmaṣādir Bāb mā kāna min haḏā-l-naḥw min banāt al-yāʾ wa-l-wāwi ʿallāti fīhi lāmāt Bāb mā kāna min haḏā-l-naḥw min banāti-l-yāʾ wa-l-wāwi fīhi fāʿun Bāb mā yakūnu "mafʿalatun" bil- fatḥi wa-l-hāʾ lāzimatun lahā Bāb naẓāʿir mā ḏakarnā mimmā jāwaza banāt ath-thalāṯa ziyādatin bi-ziyāda ʿaw ghayri Bāb mā ʿālajta bihi

Bāb mā lā yujūzu fīhi "mā ʿafʿalahu" Bāb mā yustaghnā fīhi ʿan mā ʿafʿaltu bimā ʿafʿala fiʿlahu waʿan ʿafʿala minhu bi-qawlihim "ʿafʿalu minhu fiʿlan" Bāb mā fʿaluhu ʿalā maʿniyīna, ʿaḥaduhumā ʿalā maʿnā al-fāʿil wa-l-ʿāẖaru ʿalā maʿnā aṣ-ṣifati Bāb mā taqūl al-ʿarabu mā ʿafʿalahu wa-laysa fīhi fiʿl wa ʿinnamā yaḥfaẓu ḥifẓan wa lā yuqāsu ʿalayhā Bāb ma yukassiru fīhi ʿawāʾil alʿafʿāl al-muḍāriʿa Bāb ma yusakkanu istikhfāfan fī al-ʿism wa-l-fiʿl Bāb al-ʿimāla

manuscript MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808

1. THE MIRROR AND THE WISDOM # 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142

chapter of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī alNaḥw Bāb ar-rāʾ

Bābu mā jāʿa ʿalā thalātha ʿaḥrufin Bābu az-ziyāda bi-takrīr ḥarf min al-ʿaṣli fīth-thulāthī Bāb mā az-ziyādati fīhi takrīrun fī-r-rubāʿī liḥāquhā min mawḍiʿi ath-thānī Bāb ʿabniyati mā ʿuʿriba min alʿaʿjmiyyati Bāb mā yuksaru ʿalayhi alwāḥid mimmā ḏakarnā Bāb mā yajrī fīhi baʿḍu mā ḏakarnā ʿiḏā kusira lil-jamʿ ʿalā al-ʿaṣl Bāb "fuʿila" min "fawʿaltu" min "qultu" wa "fayʿaltu"min "biʿtu" Bāb mā al-hamz fīhi mawḍiʾ allām min banāt al-yaʾ wa-l-wāw Bāb mā yakhruju ʿalā al-aṣl ʿiḏā lam yakūn ḥarf ʿiʿrāb Bāb mā ʿiḏā ʿiltaqat fīhi-lhamza (wa-l-yāʾ) qullibat-lhamza yāʿan wa-l-yāʿu ʿalifan Bāb al-yāʾ al-mutaḥarrika

144

Bāb ʿijtimāʿ al-ḥurūf al-muʿtalla fī-kalima Bāb mā ḏakarahū al-ʿAẖfash min al-masāʿil ʿalā mithāli marmarīsa Bāb min masāʿil al-jamʾ

145

Bāb al-ʿidghām

146

Bāb aṣ-ṣādi wa-z-zāy wa-s-sin

147

Bāb al-ḥarf ʿallaḏi yuḍāriʾ bihī ḥarf min mawḍiʿihi Bāb mā yuqallibu fīhi-s-sīnu ṣādan fī baʿḍ al-lughāt Bāb mā kāna shāḏdan: mimmā khaffafū ʿalā ʿalsinatihim wa laysa bimuṭarrad Bāb ḍarūrati ash-shāʿir

143

148 149 150

85

manuscript MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808 MS Istanbul #1077, MS London #2808

CHAPTER 2. THE INTERPRETATION OF SILENCE: GREEK ELEMENTS IN THE FOUNDATIONS OF ARABIC GRAMMAR “Know that there are certain mysteries in words and the way they are used that you haven’t been introduced to no more than your masters, Avicenna, al-Fārābī, Aristotle and Plato have been; they who have led you astray from the beginning”. — ʿAlī ‘Azz al-Dīn b. al-‘Athīr (d.1233)1

Raised in the mid-10th century, the controversy over Greek elements in the teachings of Ibn al-Sarrāj echoed through the writings of Ibn al‘Anbārī (d. 940), Ibn Nadīm (d. 990), Yāqūt (d. 1229), al-Qifṭī (d. 1248) and al-Suyūṭī (1505).2 Writing on the Greek elements in Ibn alSarrāj’s Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, al-Qifṭī recorded the following: He, that is Ibn al-Sarrāj, composed a book on grammar which he called al-‘Uṣūl (the foundations) and these were extracted from Sibawayh’s al-Kitāb. He divided its categories into sub-categories by using the terminology of logicians even though he only introduced the terminology of sub-divisions. When it comes to [its] structure and order, its content as a whole is inherited from Sibawayh’s al-Kitāb. (al-Qifṭī 1955 3: 149) 1 al-‘Athīr, al-Mathal

al-Shaʿir fī ‘Adab al-Kātib wa al-Shāʿir, 187. See: Ibn al-‘Anbārī, Nuzha al-‘Alibbā’, 7–8, 150; al-Suyūṭī. Bughya vol. 1, 109–110; Ibn Nadīm, Kitāb al-Fihrist vol.1, 62; al-Qifṭī, ‘Inbāh al-Ruwāh vol.3, 149; and Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-‘Udabā’ vol.3, 198. 2

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In the light of al-Rummānī’s (d. 994) expulsion from the circle of students and successors of Ibn al-Sarrāj,3 the enmity between the medieval grammarians and logicians indicates that al-Qifṭī’s observations wouldn’t have been taken lightly by the contemporaries of Ibn al-Sarrāj. For in spite of his affiliations with the school of Baghdad, Ibn al-Sarrāj was never the devout logician that Versteegh believed him to be (Versteegh 1997: 125). As a matter of fact, he was an ‘adīb. Even so, his treatises Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw and Kitāb al-Qalam identify him as the professional grammarian (al-naḥwī) first and foremost. 4 In the mid-10th century, it was no easy task being a grammarian. In order to be worthy of the title, one was expected to memorize the full vocabulary and each and every linguistic regulation of Classical Arabic. In the eyes of Ibn Nadīm, those who succeeded deserved to be lauded as the Sun and Moon of mankind. 5 Eloquent and well-versed in poetry, genealogies and historical narratives, the ʿAbbāsid grammarians were the unrivalled masters of literary style. 6 As their sole passion lay in knowledge, many grammarians decided against getting married or taking a concubine. As a result, they were able to commit the entire language to memory.7 Ibn Nadīm’s portrait of grammarians as “the masters of obscure words”8 bears resemblance to Baalbaki’s definition of lexicographers (lughawīyūn). Lexicographers’ dedication to the research and preservation of strange (gharīb) words and their meanings has led Baalbaki to establish a According to Ibn al-‘Anbārī, “He used to mix his speech with logic so that ‘Abū ʿAlī al-Fārisī said: “If grammar is the way ‘Abūl-Hasan al-Rummānī speaks, we have no part in it; but if it is the way we speak, then he has no part in it!’”. Ibn al-‘Anbārī, Nuzha al-‘Alibbā’, 189. 4 As Ibn al-Sarrāj’s holographs of both treatises remain lost up until today, it is unclear if their typical opening sentence “thus spoke the grammarian by the name of Abū Bakr Muḥammad al-Sarī al-Sarrāj” is to be attributed to a) one of his students or c) to the scribes who were working on the two treatises. See: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, 651 A.H, London, British Museum #2808, ff.3; and Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-Qalam, 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff. 69/39. 5 Ibn Nadīm, Kitāb al-Fihrist vol.1, 92. 6 Ibid., 87; 93. 93. 7 Ibid., 87, 92–95, 97, 99–102, 106, 109. 8 Ibid., 101–102. 3

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distinction between the medieval lughawīyīn and grammarians, who were on their side rather interested in morphology, morphophonology, phonetics and syntactical structures (Baalbaki 2008: 11). In contrast to the observations of Baalbaki, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s treatises make no clear distinction between the scientific domains of grammar and lexicography. Based on Carter’s observation that Sibawayh, Khalīl b. ‘Aḥmad (d. 791) and Yūnus b. ʿAmr (d. 798) apparently used to make a distinction between themselves and other grammarians, Jokisch proposed a theory that the naḥwiyyūn should be identified as the professional translators from Greek and Syriac who were active in Baghdad (Jokisch 2007: 408–409). But whereas it can be ascertained that the pioneers of the Graeco-Arabic translation movement have demonstrated a certain interest in the Arabic grammar studies, medieval historiographies and the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj offer no indication that he participated in the ʿAbbāsid translation movement. Moreover, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s definition of grammar as the science of analogical patterns that was based on the speech of Arabs,9 indicates that his perception of grammarians might have been closer to the literal aspect of this term – as “those concerned with how people speak”. By the 9th century A.D., scholars who have dedicated their lives to the protection and preservation of Classical Arabic came to be known as grammarians (naḥwiyyūn).10 In his Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, Ibn al-Sarrāj sets a distinction between the men of learning (‘ahl al-ʿilm) and the speakers of Classical Arabic as the true People of the Language (‘ahl al-lugha). In order to successfully fulfil the duty of an expert in Arabic grammar, the men of learning were expected to dedicate their lives to the elimination of (1) language deviations from grammar treatises, (2) language deviations that appear in spoken language and grammar treatises alike and, most rarely, (3) language deviations that are unique for the everyday speech.11 Writing on the qualities of an ideal grammarian, Ibn al-Sarrāj recorded 9 See: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, 651 A.H, London, British Mu-

seum #2808, ff.3; and Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.2. 10 Carter, An Arab Grammarian of the Eight Century: A Contribution to the History of Linguistics, 147. 11 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.28–29.

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that the greatest of them all are distinguished by the fact that they don’t consider themselves as judges (qādiyūn) of the spoken language.12 Upon approaching language deviations of the third type, a professional grammarian was therefore warned to take heed lest his vanity leads him to conclusions that oppose the foundations of grammar.13 As he believed that language ultimately consists of everyday speech, Ibn al-Sarrāj insisted that familiarity with Classical Arabic is to be found in the analysis of the spoken language.14 As a result, he recognized the authority of the kalām al-ʿarab over the personal authority of any professional grammarian. As of the mid-8th century, the speech of Arabs has been traditionally perceived as the triad of nouns, verbs and particles of Classical Arabic.15 As he was unfamiliar with the later-date notions of jumla, Ibn alSarrāj widened the perception of kalām to include the notions of speech, utterance – and the independent clause endowed with form and meaning alike (Owens 1988: 36). “I propose that this corpus of pre-Islamic poetry, formal speeches, and tribal war (ayyām) material is what grammarians and others refer to as kalām al-ʿarab”,16 wrote Kristen Bustard in her study on Sibawayh’s impact on the Arabic grammar tradition. As such, the proposed definition proves to be too wide for the limited perception of al-Kitāb17 – and somewhat too narrow for the notions of kalām that were upheld by Ibn al-Sarrāj.

12 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the King-

dom of Morocco #100/q, ff.13/43 13 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, 651 A.H, London, British Museum

#2808, ff. 46, 62, 73, 102. Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.3 15 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff.1/42; Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.2. Some decades later, al-Zajjājī identified Sibawayh as the true author of the hypothesis that the union of each and every noun, verb and particle of Classical Arabic “is the speech of Arabs in its fullness”. See: al-Zajjājī, Kitāb al-‘Īḍāḥ, 41. 16 Bustard, The Iconic Sibawayh, 148. 17 Sibawayh believed that only the language of Bedouin poets could qualify as the true speech of Arabs; with the Qur’an being the prime example of this language. Versteegh, Greek Elements in Arabic Linguistic Thinking, 4. 14

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! Fig. 15. The pre-Islamic settlements of Bedouin Arabs and the available data on the early Bedouin vernaculars

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Ibn al-Sarrāj revered the kalām al-ʿarab as the building element and medium of Classical Arabic. 18 As a major verification criterion of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teachings, kalām al-ʿarab has been furthermore identified as “the language of Arabs”, “the language of poets”, “the language of Shām”, “Tamīmī language”, “the language of Basra”, “the language of the Kufans”, “our language”, “the language of the tribes”, “the language of Hijāz”, “the language of the people” – and, most notably, as “the Exalted Speech” of God.19 From the practical point of view, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s research on the kalām al-ʿarab mostly focused on the dialects of Arabia and al-‘Irāq. In the early 10th century, the region known as al-‘Irāq consisted of six districts: Wāsit, Baghdād, Hulwān, Samarra, Basra and Kufa. 20 Among these, Ibn alSarrāj appears to have been the most interested in the linguistic pactices of Basra, Baghdad and Kufa. If, and to which extent he traveled throughout the Empire to confirm the results of his observations remains unclear. For in spite of the fact that Ibn al-Sarrāj’s writings grant us certain insight into his meditations on the medieval vernaculars, the mere percentages presented in Graph 421 don’t allow us to ascertain where did his field-research take place.

18 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 651. A.H, London, British Museum

#2808, ff.3; Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.2. 19 See: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff.1/43; Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī alNaḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.10, 51, 54, 117, 118, 136, 137, etc. 20 al-Muqaddasi, The Best Divisions of Knowledge of the Regions, 105. 21 In the attempt to document the significance of various Arabic dialects in the works of Ibn al-Sarrāj, Graph 3 was based on all works of his which survived until today. In cases when more than one copy was preserved, duplicate examples were not taken into consideration. The full list of the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj can be consulted in the first chapter of the present study and its sub-chapter “The Writings of Ibn al-Sarrāj: a Description of Sources”.

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! Graph. 4– Arabic vernaculars in the works of Ibn al-Sarr!j

Like his predecessors before him, Ibn al-Sarr!j was expected to “travel among the Bedouin tribes and search for the transmitters of accounts and keepers of the ancient lore from the eras [past] and I investigated everyone whose company I kept away genealogies and I took what the old men transmitted to me from their forebears until I had assembled their small amount of proverbs…”’.22 His failure to do so subsequently induced al-Qif*% and Y!q-t to accuse him of plagiarism of Sibawayh’s al-Kit"b. Raised in the late 12th and the early 13th century, their accusations appear to be one of a kind in the .Abb!sid cultural history.23 For in spite of the fact that he was accused never to have left Baghdad, Ibn al-Sarr!j’s contempt for the linguistic theories that were incompatible with the everyday speech indicates that it would be far-fetched to denounce his writings as the replications of earlier sources. In the eyes of Ibn al-Sarr!j, the Arabic language was sacred. And contrary to the ultimate perfection of Classical Arabic stood the human mind: feeble, weak and unable to establish the distinction between the right and wrong. When willing to learn and listen, the human mind was deemed to be capable of bringing further refinement to the language governed by supreme Wisdom. The arrogant and vain mind thus emerges as the bringer of confusion and calamity. Ibn alSarr!j illustrates the feebleness of an arrogant mind with the vast

!!!!!!! 22 al-‘A(ma‘i, Tat(h

al-!Arab, 3. 23 See: Y!q-t, Kit"b al-Mu!jam vol.18, 201; and al-Qif*%, ‘Inb"h al-Ruw"h vol.3, 146, 149.

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number of contradictory teachings which were established by the grammarians of Basra and Kufa. Among the followers of the two schools, he deemed that no grammarian was as arrogant as al-Kisāʿī and al-Farrā’. Having renounced qiyās and samāʿ, the Kufans were left with no means to determine what is common in speech and what is unusual. As a result, they were allegedly incapable of differentiating between the parts of speech.24 Ibn al-Sarrāj’s refutation emerges as the earliest critique that was penned by a Basran grammarian on the school of Kufa.25 The vanity which led the Kufan grammarians to neglect the samāʿ for the sake of the personal rational contemplations subsequently led Ibn al-Sarrāj to denounce their teachings as null and void: That what they permit [in the science of grammar] I am unfamiliar with from the speech of Arabs and it cannot be found in what one could find [by the means] of qiyās!26 Baghdadi [grammarians] who follow the doctrine of the Kufans say that it is not from the speech of the Arabs and point out that it diverges from what is allowed.27

In the light of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s criticism of the Kufans, significant differences between the content of al-Kitāb and Ibn al-Sarrāj’s writings indicate that his journey in search for knowledge (riḥla fī ṭalab al-ʿilm) did take place. But whereas it would be reasonable to assume that “Ibn al-Sarrāj of Baghdad” occasionally conducted fieldwork research, his journeys are rather to be interpreted as short trips to the outskirts of Baghdad than as an expedition into the depths of Arabian Desert. In the late 9th century, in the outskirts of every big city dwelled a 24 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library

of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff. 223. 25 It is also worth recording that the earliest known example of the term kūfyūn in the Basran grammar tradition was recorded by Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teacher al-Mubarrad. In his treatise al-Muqtadab, al-Mubarrad uses term kūfyūn only once and, sadly, without any further specifications. See: alMubarrad, al-Muqtadab vol.2, 155. 26 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.251–252. 27 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 651. A.H, London, British Museum #2808, ff.73.

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settlement of now de facto sedentary Bedouins, whose sole occupation was to hand down reliable information to any grammarian who was willing to pay for their services.28 Following the widespread emigration of Bedouins in the wake of the Arab conquests, a 10th century researcher of the dialects of Banū Tamīm was more likely to encounter their settlements in Khorasan and Kufa than in the valley of Najd (Blankinship 1988: 596; Kennedy 1986: 20). If the irony of the situation escaped Ibn al-Sarrāj remains unclear. Nevertheless, he carefully avoided making a distinction between the dialects of the Bedouin and sedentary Arabs. By the early 10th century, the tradition of traveling scholars was evidently fading out in spite of the fact that the preferred methodology of ʿAbbāsid grammarians had remained the same. For upon being compared to the Bedouin dialects, the speech of sedentary Arabs was often found to be corrupt. “Sedentary people are much concerned with all kinds of pleasures”, maintained Ibn Khaldūn in the mid-14th century. “They are accustomed to luxury and success in worldly occupations and to influence in worldly desires. Therefore, their souls are coloured with all kinds of blameworthy and evil qualities” (Ibn Khaldūn 1980: 254). The fact that Sibawayh was able to find examples of the grammatically correct speech of sedentary Arabs, worthy of analysis and weighty of authority, would be subsequently identified by alSirāfī as no less than a miracle.29 Writing in the late 10th century, al-Muqaddasi observed that Himyarī and ‘Adan dialects had been corrupted to the point of being “incomprehensible”. For this reason, al-Muqaddasi advised his contemporaries to turn their attention to the western Arabia and the pure language of Banū Hudhayl (al-Muqaddasi 1994: 89). Similarly to alMuqaddasi before him, Ibn Jinnī attributed the supremacy of Bedouin dialects to the remoteness of their camps as he believed that the isolation of desert life enabled Bedouins to preserve their clear pronunciation, precise expressions and firm rules of grammar from the corrupt influences of urban melting pots of languages, cultures and religions that were assembled under the ʿAbbāsid banner (Ibn Jinnī

28 Hoyland, History,

Fiction and Authorship in the First Centuries of Islam, 26. 29 al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ Kitāb Sibawayh, vol. 3, 386.

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1952: 5–6). The high prestige of Bedouin dialects in the Arabic grammar tradition was notably illustrated by the proud words of alMuʿarrij (d. 811): “I came from the desert and knew nothing of the rules of the Arabic language, my knowledge was purely instinctive and I first learned the rules in the lectures of ‘Abū Ziyād al-‘Anṣārī alBaṣrī”.30 In a similar fashion, al-Shāfiʿī (d. 820) believed that “God chose to address Arabs in their own language owing to the fact that Arabs were already familiar with the mental content behind it” (alShāfiʿī 1938: 51). The natural inclination of Bedouins towards the grammatically correct forms of speech has been traditionally regarded as the source of their unsurpassable eloquence. Fully assured of the sound judgement of Bedouin Arabs, Khalīl b. ‘Aḥmad (d. 791) allegedly described his methodology approach as following: Arabs speak according to their instinct and nature. They know the rules of their speech and its causes are firmly established in their minds even if this wasn’t [explicitly] transmitted to them. [For example], I have derived the ʿilla laws in accordance with my enthusiasm for the things to which I assign them. If I have seized the correct cause, this is what I’ve been searching for. However, if there is another cause, then I am akin to a man entering a wellbuilt hose, impeccable in its structure and parts. The wisdom of its builder is evident to me. Whenever such a man contemplates anything in the house he says: ‘Ah, he constructed it like this for this or that reason’! And it is quite possible that the wise builder of the house did that thing for the very reason that the man who entered the house has named. [However], it is also possible that [the builder] did it for another reason entirely... (al-Zajjājī 1959: 66)

Like his teacher Ibn al-Sarrāj and Khalīl b. ‘Aḥmad before him, alZajjājī believed that Arabs were blessed with the natural affinity for the grammatically correct speech.31 However, in the absence of universal criteria establishing the purest dialect of them all, a choice of consultants depended on the personal preference grammarians. In the mid-10th century, al-Muqaddasi observed that the language of Banū 30 Quoted according to: Goldziher, Muslim 31 al-Zajjājī, Kitāb

al-‘Īḍāḥ, 65–66.

Studies vol.1, 108.

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Hudhayl was widely revered as the purest among the pure dialects of Hijāz and Najd (al-Muqaddasi 1994: 89). Yet every general observation has its exceptions. For instance, Ibn Jinnī’s treatise al-Khaṣā‘iṣ singles out the pure language and eloquence of the Banū Tamīm. Although worthy of respect as the language of the Qur’an, the speech of Banū Quraysh and other Hijāzī dialects hardly deserved the glorification they received from the grammarians of Kufa. For according to Ibn Jinnī, by the early 10th century Hijāzī dialects have already been corrupted to the point that the Qurayshite Arabs were unfamiliar with the proper use of predicate and negation verbs like laysa (Ibn Jinnī 1952: 11, 125). Three centuries later, the language of the Banū Quraysh will nonetheless rank highest on Ibn Khaldūn’s list of Arabic dialects; followed by the vernaculars of Thaqīf, Banū Hudhayl, Khuzā’a, Banū Kināna, Ghaṭafān, Banū ‘Asad and Banū Tamīm. The personal preferences of Ibn Khaldūn for the certain Arabic dialects was solely based on their similarity to the language of the Quraysh. The closer a tribe camp is to the homeland of Banū Quraysh, the better their dialects. For this reason, Ibn Khaldūn discarded the dialects of Banū Rabīʿah, Lakhm, Judhām, Ghassān, Iyād, Quḍā’a and the Arabs of Yemen as worthless due to their geographical and cultural connections to Byzantium and Persia (Ibn Khaldūn 1980: 343). Notwithstanding the fact that his Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw identifies the language of Hijāz as the most noble form of spoken language,32 it remains unclear whether Ibn al-Sarrāj was led by the same criteria as Ibn Khaldūn. For unlike his student al-Sirāfī, Ibn Jinnī and Ibn Khaldūn, Ibn al-Sarrāj revered no dialect of Hijāz as the exalted language of Allah, the Almighty.33 The surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj furthermore appear to have shared the mutual tendency to neglect the dialects of Hijāz in favour of the language of Banū Tamīm. Contrary to the open preference of al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw, Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī alNaḥw treats the progenitors of both dialects as equally proficient speakers of Classical Arabic (Ibn al-Sarrāj 1996: 298). The main points of difference between the Hijāzī and Tamīmī dialects have been identified through the joint efforts of Versteegh (Versteegh 2014),

32 Ibn al-Sarrāj. al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the

Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.66/39. Kitāb Sibawayh vol.1, 324.

33 al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ

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Rosenhouse (Rosenhouse 2013) Levin (Levin 1998), Bloch (Bloch 1967) and Corriente (Corriente 1976) as: 1.

The absence of emphatic vowel in a final consonant cluster in the dialects of Banū Tamīm;

2.

Strong expiratory stress in Tamīmī dialects that encourages vowel harmony and assimilation;

3.

Typical inclination (‘imāla) of the long vowel ā in the sedentary dialects of Banū Tamīm;

4.

Possible widespread use of the phoneme /ē/ in the dialects of Hijāz;

5.

The use of passive hollow verbs with medial “w” varied between the Hijāzī and Tamīmī dialects;

6.

Typical pronunciation of qāf as /g/ in the dialects of Hijāz;

7.

Absence of the glottal stop (hamza) in the Hijāzi dialects;

8.

The prefix of imperfect in Hijāz was formed with the vowel “a” instead with “i”.

9.

A wide-spread palatalization of kāf occurred in the Tamīmī dialects in the suffix –ki in the second person singular (the kashkasha phenomenon);

10. Typical use of mā as the nominal negation with an accusative in the predicate in the Hijāzī dialects was opposed to the use of laysa in the dialects of Banū Tamīm; 11. Typical use of ‘in as negation in the dialects of Hijāz; 12. Pronunciation of /‘/ as hamza and elision of hamza in the dialects of Hijāz; 13. Changing of the particle ‘inna to ‘in the dialects of Hijāz; 14. The tendency to shorted long final vowels in pause positions in Hijāzī dialects; 15. Undeclined dual in the dialects of Hijāz; 16. /j/ and /č/ have been perceived as the sun letters in the Tamīmī dialects;

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17. The vowels in the imperfect prefixes ya-, ta-, ‘a-, na- in the Hijāzī dialects correspond with the 3rd person vowels – hū/-hī and –hum/-him in the Tamīmī dialects. 18. The prefix “na” in the first face of plural has its vowel a changed into “i” in the dialects of Banū Tamīm (ni-‘lamu = we know);34

Among accounted points of difference between the Hijāzī and Tamīmī dialects Ibn al-Sarrāj successfully identified the following: (1) declination of cardinal numbers, (2) variations in the use of hadhā and hadhihi, (3) conjugation of the second type of verbs in plural (4) the use of particle ‘lā’, (5) conjugations of weak verbs and (6) the use of mā’ and laysa in nominal negations.35 Limited as they were, Ibn alSarrāj’s analyses of the Hijāzī and Tamīmī dialects leave us with little doubt that he was unaware of diversities in the everyday speech of Arabs. Nevertheless, his works betray the overall lack of desire to conduct the comprehensive comparative analysis of Arabic dialects on phonetical, phonological, syntaxical and morphological level. Moreover, in the light of his tendency to rely on the term al-lugha al-ʿarabiyya, it remains unclear if Ibn al-Sarrāj shared the belief of his students that vernaculars were of minor importance for a successful linguistic research.36 Rather than attempting to resolve the issue, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s Kitāb al-’Ishtiqāq simply proclaims discrepancies between the dialects The first sixteen points of difference between the the Hijāzī and Tamīmī dialects have been analysed in detail by Versteegh in: Versteegh, The Arabic Language, 47–52. Further information on Bloch’s analyses of the correspondence between the imperfect prefixes ya-, ta-, ‘a-, na- in the Hijāzī dialects and the 3rd person vowels – hū/-hī and –hum/-him in the Hijāzi and Tamīmī dialects can be found at: Bloch, Morphological Doublets in Arabic Dialects, 64– 65; whereas Levin’s observations on the point 18 can be consulted at: Levin, Arabic Linguistic Thought and Dialectology, 228. In addition, see Corriente’s analyses on kaškaša at: Corriente, From Old Arabic to Classical Arabic, 74 and Rosenhouse’s general overview of the main features of Bedouin dialects at: Rosenhouse, The Bedouin Arabic Dialects: General Problems and a Close Analysis, 7–53. 35 See: Ibn al-Sarrāj, Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw vol.1, 156, 289; Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw vol.2, 424; Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw vol.3, 105, 146; Ibn al-Sarrāj. al-Mūjaz fī al-nahw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.5/39, 36/39. 36 al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ Kitāb Sibawayh, vol.1, 179. 34

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of Bedouin and sedentary Arabs as the mystery beyond the reach of mankind.37 In a similar fashion, the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj offer us little insight on the proper role of the Qur’anic revelation and poetry in the construction of the Arabic grammar theories. Immortalized within the 114 Qur’anic surahs, the speech of the All-merciful was revered by Ibn al-Sarrāj as the sacred language, perfect of grammar and beauty. Ibn al-Sarrāj’s reverence for the language of the Qur’an found manifests in his solution to the famous debate concerning the influence of the particle yā on the case endings. On the one side, al-Māzini and Sibawayh deemed it proper to rely on nominative, as in the example: “Yā Zaydu”.38 However, upon proclaiming that Zayd represents the person who is being called upon, al-Jarmī and ‘Aysī b. ʿAmr argued that the case ending should stand in accusative. On the authority of the tenth ayah of the surah Sabaʿ,39 Ibn al-Sarrāj concludes that the correct case ending is nominative, for “Allah knows best”.40 His solution to the dilemma on the proper case ending of nouns that follow the particle yā’ indicates that Ibn al-Sarrāj attempted to abide by the Qur’anic notion that above every learned man stands God who knows everything (Qur’an, 12:76). However, Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw demonstrates that his attempts were not always successful. For upon acknowledging that the language ultimately consists of everyday speech, Ibn al-Sarrāj developed the strong tendency to limit his analyses on the everyday speech. As a consequence, his main research object eventually left him torn apart between his desire to focus on the spoken language and the attempt to establish the credentials of teaching on the authority of the Qur’an. In his doubts, Ibn al-Sarrāj was far from lonely. The ambiguous role of the Qur’an in the Arabic grammar studies has been the constant source of debates among the grammarians of Basra as of the mid8th century.41 On the authority of ʿAysī b. ʿAmr, a relatively widespread solution was proposed by al-Sirāfī: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Ishtiqāq, 564. A.H, Medina. Umm Al-Qura University Library #21028–2, ff.33–34. 38 Sibawayh, al-Kitāb vol.1, 305. 39“Yā jibālu ‘ūbī ma‘ahū wal-ṭayru.” (Qur’an, 34:10) 40 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Nahw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff. 384–386. 41 al-Sirāfī, ‘Akhbār al-Naḥwiyīn al-Basriyīn, 26 37

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One day he [ʿAysī] was asked: ‘Elucidate us on certain matter, [for I was wondering] if the Arabic language as a whole is comprised in it [in the Qur’an]?’ He said: ‘No.’ (al-Sirāfī 1955: 26)

Al-Sirāfī honoured the Qur’anic revelation as the alpha and omega of the Arabic grammar studies. Only in cases when a solution couldn’t be found by the analysis of surahs, a professional grammarian could resort to the everyday speech of Arabs.42 In itself, such approach wasn’t fully compatible with Ibn al-Sarrāj’s conviction that the spoken language was to be taken as the foundation of all linguistic discussions.43 As a matter of fact, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw identifies grammar as the science of analogical patterns which were derived from the speech of Arabs (Ibn al-Sarrāj 1996: 31). The subsequent fame of the definition which was established in his Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw didn’t prevent Ibn al-Sarrāj to become the first person to question its foundations. If not for the Rabat manuscript of Kitāb al-Qalam (MS Rabat 100/q), the favoured position of the everyday speech in Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw could be established as a perfect contra-argument against Fishman’s theory of “long ago” serving as the desirable foundation of all ideological discourses (Fishman 1972: 70). Even so, in spite of his preferences for spoken language, Ibn al-Sarrāj was no supporter of ‘Abū ʿAmr b. al-ʿAlā’s (d. 690) bold claim that “the muṣḥaf contains errors for Arabs to correct them”.44 For upon having it compared to the Exalted language of the Qur’anic revelation, Ibn al-Sarrāj has found the speech of his contemporaries to be plain, primitive and corrupt. As he believed that the language reflects what is in the soul of the speaker, his attitude is highly surprising.45 Reflected in the words spoken and written, an Arab soul falls short to the might of its Creator. In the light of his belief that the language holds the power to reveal and transform a soul, Ibn al-Sarrāj sought to base his every word 42 al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ

Kitāb Sibawayh vol.1, 324. Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-Qalam. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff.69/39. 44 al-Farrā’, Maʿanī al-Qur’an vol.2, 183. 45 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ, 352 A.H; Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/6, ff.1/43. 43

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on the speech of the Almighty.46 Notwithstanding the fact that similar tendencies were common among the medieval grammarians, it is unlikely that Ibn al-Sarrāj’s efforts were dictated by the same dream that governed the quill of ‘Abū al-‘Aswad al-Duʿalī (d. 668), “whom most people regard as the first [Arab] grammarian”.47 Writing on the life and times of the greatest grammarians of Basra, al-Sirāfī notes that the first grammarian chose his profession on the basis of the widespread belief that it would be impossible to achieve familiarity with the Qur’an while lacking familiarity with the rules and regulations of Arabic grammar (al-Sirāfī 1955: 12). Contrary to the teachings of his predecessors, Ibn al-Sarrāj insisted that every pious Muslim should focus on his prayers and religious studies in hope that the mercy of the Almighty might grant him an insight to the nature and origins of language. On the authority of the seventy-second ayah of the surah al‘Isrāʾ,48 Ibn al-Sarrāj portrays the Almighty as the sole apprehender and banisher of Ignorance49 – but whereas others have studied the language so that they could obtain familiarity with the surahs, Ibn alSarrāj taught his students to rely on prayers and piety in order to achieve the perfect knowledge of Classical Arabic. In the eyes of Ibn al-Sarrāj, a successful pilgrim on the path of Wisdom was without fail a pious Muslim – for if left to its own, no rational mind could grasp the transcendent, divine nature of the supreme Wisdom. The dancing at the tip of his quill were described by Ibn al-Sarrāj as a trap which was set to capture the Perfection and Mercy of the Almighty50 – and yet, curiously enough, it wasn’t the language of the Qur’an he chose as his main focus. If it not for his elaborate study plan that was set to embody the perfect language (of God) in a word of Man, it would be reasonable to assume that Ibn al-Sarrāj’s ambitions were never fueled Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-Qalam. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff.69/39. 47 al-Sirāfī, ‘Akhbār al-Naḥwiyīn al-Basriyīn, 10 48 “Wa man kāna fī hadihi ‘aʿmā fa huwa fī ‘ukhrati ‘aʿmā wa ‘aḍallu sabīlan.” (Qur’an 17: 72). 49 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 651. A.H. London, British Museum #2808, ff.5–6. See also: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.95. 50 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-Qalam. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff.69/39 46

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by realistic hope of success. For in spite of the fact that he was ready to acknowledge that the search for the perfect of language often started with awe for the written word of God, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s path of Wisdom was not the path of uncritical imitation. Few things are as dangerous as familiarity with an expression (lafẓ) that precedes familiarity with the laws that govern it; forewarns Ibn al-Sarrāj’s Kitāb al-ʿArūḍ.51 Due to the exceptional beauty of Classical Arabic, a reading of the Qur’an represented an ultimate test that Ibn al-Sarrāj’s student would face towards the end of his studies with the master.52 But as he dreaded the power of the language to allure its listeners to the point of not being able to determine “what is the verb of a sentence”,53 Ibn al-Sarrāj believed the poetry to be the sole research object that is as dangerous for a novice grammarian as the Exalted Speech. Ambiguous, witty and devoid of clear pronunciation, the language of poets has been revered by Ibn al-Sarrāj for its tendency to demonstrate a knowledge of grammar superior to the one that was normally found in the everyday speech. As a matter of fact, the common accusations against poets’ willingness to sacrifice laws of grammar for the sake of metrics and lively rhythm are completely absent from the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj.54 Whereas he was lauded as a prominent poet of his time, Ibn al-Sarrāj might have inherited his notion of poets as “the princes of speech” from his teacher al-Mubarrad and/or Khalīl b. ‘Aḥmad.55 Through the course of his studies in the majlis of al-Mubarrad, Ibn al-Sarrāj was surrounded, nurtured and 51 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-ʿArūḍ. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the King-

dom of Morocco #100/q, ff.3/47. al-‘Udabā ‘a vol.8, 146. 53 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 651. A.H, London, British Museum #2808, ff.7. 54 Like Sibawayh before him, al-Sirāfī didn’t approve of poetic freedom which, for the sake of achieving better rhythm and metric structure, changes “dirham” into “darahīm”, “ṣajf” into “ṣajārīf”, “masjid” into “masājīd” etc. Slurred speech and odd sentence construction, (2) Incorrect and/or improper use of adjectives, (3) Improper use of waṣla, ‘alif maqṣūra and (4) the improper conjugation of weak verbs are some accusations that were listed by al-Sirāfī against the speech of poets. See: al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ Kitāb Sibawayh vol.1, 189. 55 Sharlet, Patronage and Poetry in The Islamic World. Social Mobility and Status in the Medieval Middle East and Central Asia, 10. 52 Yāqūṭ, Muʿjam

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examined by poets. Not only were Ibn al-Rūmī and al-Buḥturi among the frequent visitors – but their visits occasionally prompted alMubarrad to pause his lessons so that he could provide his guests with an opportunity to test the knowledge of his students (al-‘Āmidī 1999: 22; al-Ṣūlī 1958: 106). The difference between the teaching methods of Ibn al-Sarrāj and al-Mubarrad is reflected in the fact that Ibn al-Sarrāj wouldn’t allow his students to be tested with poetic verses that he deemed inappropriate as a study material for novices. He also thought little of linguistic analyses of the ḥadīth narratives.56 In order to prepare himself for a demanding, independent research of pre-Islamic poetry, surahs and the Wisdom that governed them, a novice grammarian was required to focus on the words from the mouths of Arabs (min ‘afwāh al-ʿarab)57 until he was able to identify faults in the works of his teachers and predecessors. Only then would he be allowed to test his skills against the poetic verses and the Exalted Language of the Qur’anic revelation. In the majlis of Ibn al-Sarrāj, study of the written works of grammar appears to have been reserved for the early stages of grammarians’ education. Until 9th century A.D., these treatises have been mostly transmitted orally; with teacher reciting them from memory to his to students in multiple sessions – and the colophon of al-Mūjaz fī alNaḥw indicates that the same method was used by Ibn al-Sarrāj as well.58 Once the teacher has completed the dictation of a certain work

The prolonged lack of interests in ḥadīth collections in the Arabic grammar tradition was attributed by Baalbaki to the lack of the ultimate transmitted verbatim in: Baalbaki, Legacy of the Kitāb, 8. However, by the early 10th century, authoritative collections of the sayings of the Prophet and his companions (‘aṭar) have already been established. For this reason, it would be likely to assume that Ibn al-Sarrāj either deemed that the ḥadīth narratives cannot be taken as verbatim accounts of Prophet’s utterances or, alternatively, that he has deemed them to be of low quality – and thus inappropriate to be used as a study material. 57 See: Ibn al-Sarrāj. al-Mūjaz fī al-Nahw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff.47/39, 48/39; and Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.1. See also: Sibawayh. al-Kitāb I, 328. 58 Ibn al-Sarrāj. al-Mūjaz fi al-Nahw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, 68/30. On the different transmission methods 56

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of grammar (either from his notes or memory), each manuscript was read aloud in front of him once again in order to be evaluated, corrected and certified as a proper basis for further transmissions.59 In rare cases when other teaching methods like qirāʿah and/or kitābah were used, students occasionally took notes – which was tolerated by some teachers and frowned upon by others (Schoeler 2006: 30, 32). However, having believed that familiarity with the language is to be achieved through familiarity with the soul, Ibn al-Sarrāj realized that there was no guarantee that his students would be able to put the ʿilla laws to good use upon having them memorized from their lecture notes. Concurrently, he was well-aware that spoken and written words alike echo personal struggles, attitudes and desires of the progenitors of Classical Arabic. Only upon expressing the inner world of men could Classical Arabic emerge as the medium of Wisdom. In order to come to terms with Classical Arabic, a novice grammarian was thus required to come to terms with the Arab soul – for his failure to do so would render him incapable of identifying the laws that govern the seemingly identical speech constructions. The ability to differentiate between the similar grammar terms thus came to be seen as one of the major conditions for achieving the renown and status among the students and successors of Ibn al-Sarrāj. A master grammarian like Ibn al-Sarrāj had no difficulties of pinpointing differences between a conjugated verb and maṣdar – and his ability to do so held equal to his capability to grasp the heart and intentions of a speaker. However, in itself, the memorization of rules and regulations that were established by the grammarians from the times past was believed ineffective in bringing a novice closer to the Wisdom of Arabs. In order to reap the benefits of the blessing of the Almighty to mankind, it was not sufficient to learn to speak in Classical Arabic “like the Arabs speak”.60 Provided that one chose any other research object apart from the in the Arabic grammar tradition consult: Schoeler, The Oral and the Written in Early Islam, 30, 70; and Ibn Nadim, Kitāb al-fihrist vol.1, 69, 74 59 Taking the dictation process one step further, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teacher alMubarrad chose to dictate the works he taught word by word. The Rise of Humanism in Classical Islam and the Christian West, 71 60 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 651. A.H, London, British Museum #2808, ff.3; Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.2.

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Wisdom of Arabs, Ibn al-Sarrāj maintained that veils of mystery and ignorance that stand between a grammarian and his goal could be penetrated by eye or heart alone. However, in search for the supreme Wisdom, human heart and rational mind were required to stand side by side to ensure the success of a research. It is said in the Qur’ān that he who was blind in this world will be blind and even more misguided in the next. He [i.e. the Prophet Muhammad] was told that there are two aspects to this. The first is when someone is blind in his heart. He is deemed to be the most misguided. You say: ‘Oh, how blind is he’ – just like when you say: ‘Oh, how foolish!’ The second [aspect] concerns the one who is literally blind, so that His words ‘he will be more misguided in the hereafter’61 don’t mean that this person is more blind than such-and such [degree] but that he is blind in this life and will be even more disoriented in the hereafter. Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.424–425.

On the path of Wisdom, the blindness of an eye and the blindness of the heart alike were to be successfully subdued. In his treatise Kitāb al‘Uṣūl fi al-Naḥw, Ibn al-Sarrāj identifies the heart as (1) the cognitive and spiritual foundation of human beings and (2) the core of the supreme Wisdom. To know one’s heart was to be familiar with the Wisdom lodged within it – and the nature of this knowledge was neither merely spiritual nor rational but both.62 However, this was not the case with the ʿilla laws of grammar. Reflected in written works of grammar, the spoken language and the poetry alike, the man-made regulations of the ʿilla category were the eligible object of rational analyses. Once he has achieved familiarity with the ʿilla, a novice grammarian was advised 61 In the quoted example, Ibn al-Sarrāj makes reference to the forty-sixth ayah

of the surah al-Hajj: “Haven’t they traveled throughout the earth and haven’t they had hearts by which to reason and ears by which to hear? For indeed, it is not eyes that are blinded, but blinded are the hearts which are within the breasts” (al-Qur’ān 22:46). 62 In his critical edition of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, Faṭlī will be among the first to analyse the complex relationship between the eye and the heart in the teachings of Ibn al-Sarrāj. Faṭlī’s introduction to Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw can be consulted at: Ibn al-Sarrāj, Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw vol.1, 20–34.

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to attend to his religious duties so that he could eventually transcend limits of the mind; thus coming to terms with foundations of language that precede the Arabic grammar tradition and the spoken language alike. Universal, absolute and divine of origins, the foundations of grammar cannot be comprehended by the rational mind alone as our whole being stands in front of their judgement. In the eyes of Ibn alSarrāj, to be familiar with the grammar laws meant to be familiar with the Divine. The truthful, proper speech brings the man closer to his Creator – and for their failure to comprehend such a simple truth, Ibn al-Sarrāj chides his contemporaries and the grammarians of Kufa as nothing but “falsifiers, non-believers and human failures”!63 If there was any difference between (1) the supreme Wisdom (2) the Law of Laws of Arabic grammar, Ibn al-Sarrāj found himself unable to decide.64 However, in an attempt to come to terms with the language and its laws, Ibn al-Sarrāj pointed out that whereas an ʿilla law might rule out that the subject of a sentence should stand in nominative, the ʿilla al-ʿilla offered us an explanation why this is actually the case.65 In the history of Arabic grammar studies, Ibn al-Sarrāj will be the first to attest the existence of the Law of Laws, observes Ibn Jinnī’s treatise al-Khaṣā‘is.66 Writing on Ibn al-Sarrāj’s ʿilla al-ʿilla, Suliman identified its role as the twofold: To infer the Wisdom of Arabs as it is embodied in the ʿilla class of grammar laws; To explain the divinely sanctioned superiority of Classical Arabic over other languages.67

In his study on taʿlīl in the Arabic grammar tradition, Suliman nonetheless leaves out Ibn al-Sarrāj’s works on the basis of an assumption that 63 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the King-

dom of Morocco #100/q, ff.22/43. Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 651. A.H, London, British Museum #2808, ff.3; Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.2. 65 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 651. A.H, London, British Museum #2808, ff.3; Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.2. 66 Ibn Jinnī, Kitāb al-Khaṣā‘is, vol.1, 173. 67 Suliman, The Arabic Language and National Identity. A Study in Ideology, 47. 64

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he was mostly concerned with “grammar in the descriptive sense” (Suliman 1999: 4). But whereas Ibn al-Sarrāj revered the spoken language as the foundation stone of every successful research, Suliman’s decision cannot be easily justified in the light of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s self-proclaimed mission to protect Classical Arabic from decadence and corruption.68 “Typically, ideology – and hence its discursive manifestation – balances description and prescription”, points out Jef Verschueren in his study on the interplays of language and ideology (Verschueren 2011: 8). In this aspect, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teachings fit within Verschueren’s definition of language ideologies as his trust in the purity of language and the soundness of judgement of Bedouin Arabs was neither universal nor absolute. As a matter of fact, he went as far as to admit that in certain cases, the speech of Arabs reflects nothing but the twisted faith and willful ignorance.69 Lacking in piety and intuitive feelings for the patterns and properties of Classical Arabic, such people were destined to remain detached from the Wisdom that was bestowed upon them by the Almighty. In the age of linguistic corruption that affected the written works of grammar and the spoken language alike, Ibn al-Sarrāj felt that the 10th century grammarians were bound by duty to once again pave the way for the (re)emergence of the supreme wisdom.

2.1. LANGUAGE CORRUPTION AND ITS SOURCES “Whereas the grammar of Arabs is merely concerned with religion, our grammar is the reason itself”. — ‘Abū Sulaymān b. Tāhir

Just as every human action must assume a mental form of intention before an act of creation can take place, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s treatise Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw hints that Wisdom must be present within the soul before assuming its outward form in the words of men. Unobstructed by solecisms in the spoken and written language, Wisdom prevails; like a whirlpool swirling under the murky surface of a

Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.29 69 See: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff.22/43. 68

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water.70 But whereas men were incapable of eradicating the Wisdom, they were free to disobey its dictate. If there were any serious discrepancies between the language of the Qur’an and the everyday speech in the first Muslim ‘umma, no written records have survived to testify to it. Writing in the late 9th and early 10th century, Ibn al-Sarrāj however felt that the harmony between the each and every vernacular and the laws of grammar was pale and weak. In spite of the traditionally assumed superiority of Bedouin vernaculars over the speech of sedentary Arabs, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s contemporaries appear to have shared his alarm over the growing corruption of the Bedouin dialects. Some decades earlier, any likelihood of corruption in the pure speech of Bedouin Arabs would be deemed as preposterous. As late as the 8th century, Sibawayh suffered the public humiliation when his arguments failed to meet the criteria of the two uneducated Bedouins who were invited to preside over his debate with al-Kisā‘ī (d. 805). Years later, Ibn al-‘Anbārī (d. 869) would claim that the justice was on Sibawayh’s side.71 But regardless of the fact whether the Bedouins were as ignorant and/or bribed as Ibn al-‘Anbārī believed, by the early 10th century the blind faith of ʿAbbāsid grammarians in the purity of Bedouin vernaculars was shaken as the results of fieldwork research failed to meet the expectations. One hundred years following the public debate of Sibawayh and al-Kisāʿī in front of the vizier Yaḥyā b. Khālid (d. 805), Ibn Jinnī will be forced to admit that his search for an uneducated Bedouin who was blessed with the natural affinity for the

70 Like his student, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teacher al-Mubarrad also identified the soul

as the birth-place of speech. See: al-Mubarrad. Kitāb al-Muqtadab vol.1, 76. However, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s general idea that the laws of grammar precede the spoken language was irreconcilable with the so-called Muʿtazila theory of ‘awāmil stating that different case endings are created by men alone. Moreover, it is unlikely that Ibn al-Sarrāj would support the Muʿtazila belief that “speech is an act of a speaker”. For the detailed overview of the theory of ‘awāmil see: Versteegh, Greek Elements in Arabic Linguistic Thinking, 151; and Frank, Reason and Revealed Law: A Sample of Parallels and Divergences in Kalām and Falsafa, 24. See also: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fil-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.2–3. 71 Weil, Die grammatischen Schulen von Kufa und Basra: Zugleich Einleitung zu der Ausgabe des Kitāb al-Inṣāf von Ibn al-Anbārī, 292–295.

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grammatically correct forms of speech had resulted in failure (Ibn Jinnī 1952: 5, 2–13, 273–282). The medieval grammarians were quick to identify the corruption of Classical Arabic with the corruption of the Arab soul. The first signs of corruption of the Bedouin dialects were traced by al-Sirāfī to the mid-7th century and the life and times of ‘Abū al-‘Aswad alDuʿalī.72 In the late 10th century, Ibn Jinnī concluded that corruption could be brought upon a soul either intentionally, by the foolishness of a speaker who relied on obscene words and comical accent – or quite unintentionally, in the lack of an overall education. Weakness brought upon the soul by the ignorance and foolishness of men was to be cured with the diligent study under a master grammarian. On the authority of ʿOmar b. al-Khaṭṭtāb (d. 644), familiarity with the rules and regulations of Arabic grammar had been celebrated for its power to strengthen the mind and increase the virtue of a soul.73 In the eyes of Ibn Jinnī, the act of praising and protecting of Classical Arabic equaled praising and protecting of Arabs (Ibn Jinnī 1952: 218, 371). As a result of these beliefs, grammarians came to be revered by the society for the importance of their task and the virtue of their souls. Writing in the early 11th century, al-Thāʿlibī (d. 1038) recorded the following: When God Almighty ennobled the Arabic language and made it great, he elevated its rank, honoured it and inspired with it the best of mankind. He let the language of his message move after His inspiration and [decreed] its success on Earth. He aimed at its accomplishments and perseverance, that it belongs in this world to the best of his servants (…) to the point that he selected for its safeguard and treasuring the best of people, leaders of virtues, luminaries on Earth, who have given up worldly desires and roamed the desert in His service. They kept the company of notebooks, bookcases and ink cases and labored to delimit its rules. (al-Thāʿlibī 1954: 21)

72 al-Sirāfī, ‘Akhbar

al-Naḥwiyīn al-Basriyīn, 10, 13. Humanism in Classical Islam and the Christian West, 123. See also: Ms. Ẓāhirīya, Majmūʿ #87, 5; Bayhaqī, Shuʿab #2/257; Mutaqī 3 #9037, #29355. 73 Makdisi, The Rise of

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During the life and times of Ibn al-Sarrāj, the role of a guardian of Classical Arabic was often tied to the danger of death and dishonour in the face of the ignorance it was set to purge. In one of the famous escapades, al-Mubarrad’s students ‘Abū Khalifa (d. 917) and Mabramān (d. 956) barely escaped lynching when their discussion on the case endings in the surah al-Taḥrīm reminded a nearby passenger of the clucking of a chicken.74 In the mid-14th century, The Muqaddima of Ibn Khaldūn asserted that the emergence of professional grammarians was determined by fear of the negative influences that were spreading through the speech of non-Arab Muslims (Ibn Khaldūn 1980: 546). The necessity to establish grammar as a scientific discipline in its own right has been traditionally traced to the single command of ʿAlī b. ‘Abī Tālib (d. 661)75 or Ziyād b. ‘Abīhi (d. 673);76 both of whom are reported to have issued the following order to ’Abū al-‘Aswad al-Duʿalī: O ‘Abū al-‘Aswad, these foreigners have expanded and corrupted the speech of Arabs! Won’t you compose [a treatise] that would correct their language, thus providing the Holy Qur’an with a proper declension? (Ibn al-‘Anbārī 1962: 6)

Like his predecessors and successors in the centuries to come, Ibn alSarrāj acknowledged the necessity to come to terms with the evergrowing corruption that was gnawing at the souls and vernaculars of Arabs. In his study on taʿlīl in the Arabic grammar tradition, Suliman points out a desire to relate the prized features of Classical Arabic to “the mental make-up of Arabs/Bedouins of Central Arabia in pre-Islamic and early Islamic times” in order to assert the “pre-eminence of Arabs and their superiority among nations in response to shuʿūbiyya (anti-Arab feeling) in Islamic History” as Ibn al-Sarrāj’s main goal (Suliman 1999: 7). As the cultural history of the Empire contains no 74 According to al-Masʿudi, ‘Abu Khalifa was analysing the sixth ayah of the

surah al-Taḥrīm (Qur’an, 66:6) in the courtyard of a certain mosque when he was accused of blasphemy for imitating a chicken through the course of his recitation. al-Masʿudi, The Meadows of Gold. The Abbasids, 339–340. 75 Ibn Nadīm, Kitāb al-Fihrist vol.1, 88–89. 76 Ibn al-‘Anbārī, Nuzha al-‘Alibbā’ fī Ṭabaqāt al-‘Udabā’, 6.

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records of any self-proclaimed Shuʿūbī,77 the unverified antiShuʿūbiyya tendencies in Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teachings are to be mapped through the comparison of antagonistic records of ʿAbbāsid historiographers, most of which were penned in Baghdad during the reign of Hārūn al-Rashīd and al-Maʿmūn. By the life and times of Ibn al-Sarrāj, the sympathizers of the Shuʿūbiyya came to be perceived as “the men of mountains”78 and inhabitants of India, Iran and modern-day Turkey.79 With no renowned ancestry (‘aṣl) and genealogy (nasab) to boast of, the Shuʿūbī of the late 10th century allegedly preferred to “trace themselves to the cities and villages instead”. 80 The Shuʿūbī’s preference to trace their origins to a birthplace instead of associating themselves with a common ancestor has been commonly identified as the main point of difference between the medieval notions of the Shuʿūbī and the ʿarab (al-Baghawi 1857: 88; Ibn Jauzī 1965: 474; alQurṭubī 1967: 334). But whereas Suliman’s definition of Shuʿūbī as ‘ʿajam” and “non-Arab Muslims”81 can be supported by the writings of ʿAbbāsid scholars,82 in itself, it remains irreconcilable with the teachings of Ibn al-Sarrāj. For in spite of the fact that Ibn al-Sarrāj notably identified the features of Classical Arabic with the virtuous souls of its progenitors, he appears to have been indifferent towards the glorifications of desert life and the impacts it might have had on the willpower, courage, sagacity, generosity and robust health of Bedouin Arabs. Essentially, maintains Ibn al-Sarrāj’s al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw, all men share the same soul and this is what sets them apart as human beings.83 Virtually no trace of Shuʿūbiyya has ever been identified in “choreographies, heresiographies or works on genealogy, even though since Goldziher scholars have stressed genealogy as a particularly Shuʿūbī interest”, wrote Savant in his study on the movement and its progenitors. Savant, Naming the Shuʿūbī’s. In: Essays in Islamic Philology, History, and Philosophy, 168–169. 78 Ibn al-Jauzī, Zād al-Masīr vol.7, 474 79 al-Qurṭubī, Jāmī ‘Akhām al-Qur’ān, vol.16, 344 80 al-Baghawi, Maʿālim al-Tanzīl vol. 4, 88. 81 Suliman, The Arabic Grammar Tradition: A Study in Taʿlīl, 7. 82 See: al-Jauhari, al-Ṣihāh vol.1, 155; Ibn Sīdah, al-Muḥkām vol.1, 235; Ibn Yaʿīsh, Sharḥ Mufaṣṣal al-Zamashkarī, 4; and al-Ṭabarsī. Majmuaʿ al-Bayān vol. 15, 91. 83 Ibn al-Sarrāj. al-Mūjaz fī al-Nahw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff.37/39. 77

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As he believed that languages have the power to nurture, reflect and transform the soul, Ibn al-Sarrāj acknowledged the divinely established supremacy of Classical Arabic as the single basis for the superiority of the Arab soul.84 His teachings thus being open to every pious Muslim who was willing to follow his guidelines, Ibn al-Sarrāj insisted that the potential to acquire the mastery of Classical Arabic was not limited to specific bloodlines. Overshadowed by notions of language and religion, ancient lineages and pure bloodlines had but a limited impact on Ibn al-Sarrāj’s meditations on the Wisdom of Arabs. In contrast to the champions of the anti-Shuʿūbiyya movement, Ibn al-Sarrāj apparently had no desire to defend the vanity of his Arab contemporaries against criticism of their overall lack of poetic skills, sense of fashion, rough voices, coarse manners, military techniques, primitive nutrition and the traditional use of spears, sticks and bows to agitate the audience and improve the rhythm of public sermons.85 The personal attitude of Ibn al-Sarrāj towards the narrow perception of Arabs as Bedouin nomads pure of blood might have been close to the ḥadith narrative about the anger of the Prophet whose followers Bilāl and Salmān were constantly belittled on the account of their non-Arab origin: “O people, God is one, the father is one and Arabic is neither your father nor your mother but a language. And whoever speaks in Arabic is an Arab” (Ms. Ẓāhirīya, Majmūʿ #118; Ibn ‘Asākir #3/464). In this aspect, Suliman’s observations concerning the potential influences of the antiShuʿūbiyya sentiments on Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teachings appear exaggerated. Yearning to curb the corruption of language at its source, Ibn alSarrāj denounced “Greek” scribes and the newly-converted Muslims of non-Arab origin as the potential culprits behind the demise of Classical Arabic. Recognizable by countless outward manifestations,86 the 84 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library

of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.42–43 85 Regarding the content of slanders of Arabs that was allegedly orchestrated by the supporters of the Shuʿūbiyya see: al-Jāḥiẓ, Kitāb al-Bayān wa Tabyīn vol.3, 14, 16–18; Ibn Qutayba, Kitāb al-ʿArab, 282; al-Masʿudi, Kitāb Marūj al-Dhahab vol.2, 336; and al-Masʿudi, The Meadows of Gold. The Abbasids, 339. 86 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 651 A.H, London, British Museum #2808, ff.7.

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source of “perils” and “confusion” among the people of the language was identified by Ibn al-Sarrāj as the overall lack of familiarity with derivation laws. Going as far as to deny the existence of derivation, the progenitors of Classical Arabic have, according to Ibn al-Sarrāj, flooded their language with corrupt elements that have corrupted their souls in return.87 Balanced and argumentative, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s stand on foreign words in Classical Arabic lay at the border between the unconditionally sympathetic attitude of al-Sirāfī and the fierce scorn of Ibn Jinnī.88 Notwithstanding the fact that Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw suggests that Ibn al-Sarrāj was fluent in Persian and, possibly, Hebrew language,89 verb formulae and the derivation potential of nouns appear to have been his sole criteria when deciding between the native and foreign origins of a certain word. Ibn al-Sarrāj’s limited perception of etymology will subsequently lead him towards the conclusion that words of non-Arabic origin in the Qur’anic revelation and spoken language alike were solely represented by the isolated cases of personal names and nouns such as “pharaoh” and “hāmān” (Ibn al-Sarrāj 1996: 94–95, 150). Although worthy of recording, these nouns were deemed to be unworthy of serious analytical effort due to their ugliness and negligible influence on the language as a whole.90 Insignificant and ugly as they were, words of non-Arabic origin were nonetheless recognized by Ibn al-Sarrāj as an essential part of the Qur’anic revelation and the everyday speech of Arabs. Provided that they are promptly identified and used with caution, foreign words could be applied in the same way as derivation in order to (1) expand the speech of Arabs, (2) improve poetic verses and public sermons, and (3) refine the meaning of an expression.91 In using words of non-Arabic origin, one was however to 87 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Ishtiqāq, 565. A.H, Medina. Umm Al-Qura Univer-

sity Library #21028–2, ff.34. See: al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ Kitāb Sibawayh, vol.1, 178. As of Ibn Jinni, he maintained that it is one of main duties of professional grammarians to purge the foreign elements from Classical Arabic. Ibn Jinnī, al-Khaṣā‘is vol.2, 12, 31. 89 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 1077 A.H. Istanbul. Süleymaniye Library #1077, ff.85. 90 Ibid. 91 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Ishtiqāq, 565. A.H, Medina. Umm Al-Qura University Library #21028–2, ff.34. See also: Ibn al-Sarrāj, Risāla fi al-‘Ishtiqāq, 28. 88

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keep in mind that their original form was not to be modified. Being unfamiliar with the derivation laws, Bedouins found themselves unable to heed their limitations. Ibn al-Sarrāj blamed the subsequent consequences of their ignorance on professional grammarians and common people alike. As a result of this ignorance, first came the arabization; as foreign words had their form routinely modified until they resembled the words and expressions (‘alfāẓ) of pure Arab origin. The second step was derivation. Unaware of the proper use of derivation laws, progenitors of Classical Arabic applied them to foreign words and thus new ‘ʿarabic” terms were coined. The ultimate result was a disaster: the total disintegration of maʿnā in the Classical Arabic language.92

2.2. MENDING THE CORRUPTION: THE NOTION OF MAʿNĀ AND THE FOUNDATIONS OF ARABIC GRAMMAR

“Whomever attained ḥikma has attained great wealth”. — Qur’an, 2: 269

In the dictionaries of Modern Standard Arabic, the term maʿnā is commonly identified as the meaning, thematic purport, notion, idea, principle, and/or origin of words.93 In itself, the contemporary notion of the maʿnā has more in common with the grammatical opus of Ibn al-Sarrāj and Baghdadi logicians than with works of the early Arab grammarians. For according to Baalbaki, Sibawayh’s notion of maʿnā could indicate (1) the lexical meaning of words, (2) intentions of a speaker or (3) the function of a word in a sentence (Baalbaki 2008: 172–191). As such, Sibawayh’s three-fold definition was significantly narrower than the later notions that were upheld and promoted by Ibn al-Sarrāj. In an ironic twist of fate, one of the most comprehensive definitions of maʿnā in the ʿAbbāsid grammar tradition has been preserved by the logician: If he [i.e. a professional grammarian] investigates and, provided he comprehends important notions and ideas behind them for See: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Ishtiqāq, 565. A.H, Medina. Umm Al-Qura University Library #21028–2, ff.34; and Ibn al-Sarrāj, Risāla fil-‘Ishtiqāq, 31. 93 See: “maʿnā”, in: Lane, ed., Arabic-English Lexicon, 553; and “ma‘ānī” in: Baalbaki, ed., Al-Mawrid, 1075. 92

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Albeit he didn’t share Ibn al-Sarrāj’s reverence for Classical Arabic, alFārābī appears to have shared his notion of maʿnā as the universal, archetype-like essence of all things. The study peers also demonstrated a common yearning for Wisdom that was “the knowledge of remote causes”,94 “the ultimate cause”95 and “the law of laws”96 by the means of which man can exist in happiness (“al-ghāyatu al-qaṣwī ‘allati lʿajlihā kawnul-‘insān hiya al-saʿāda”).97 But albeit both scholars were ready to acknowledge that the path of Wisdom led through familiarity with the maʿnā, their meditations on the relationship between meanings (maʿānī) and their expression (lafẓ) shared no common ground. How languages came to be, and for what reason do different words stand for the same object in different languages? According to al-Fārābī, the answer to both questions lay in physiognomy. Scattered throughout valleys, archipelagos and mountain ranges of the whole wide world, inhabitants of different regions demonstrate significant variations in the physiognomy of their articulatory organs. From different habitats, different cultures emerged. As he believed that the common motifs of daily conversations were dictated by local cultures, al-Fārābī insisted that arbitrary sounds which were chosen to communicate them are determined by the diverging physiognomies of body extremities and articulatory organs.98 In the surviving works of al-Fārābī, vocabularies are perceived to be the result of social customs. Over the course of centuries, arbitrarily chosen words sometimes 94 al-Fārābī, Fuṣūl

al-Madanī of al-Farābī, 125–126.

95 Ibid., 133–134.

Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 651. A.H, London, British Museum #2808, ff.3; Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.2. 97 al-Fārābī, Fuṣūl al-Madanī of al-Farābī, 125–126, 133–134. 98 al-Fārābī, Kitāb al-Ḥurūf, 141–142. 96

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ended up being canonized into official languages with the arrival of an important man (‘insān muhim), the Giver of Language.99 Like his study-peer Ibn al-Sarrāj, al-Fārābī believed that the meaning was conveyed by nouns, verbs and particles.100 Moreover, al-Fārābī identified maʿnā as (1) any statement that is pronounced by voice by the means of which the tongue expresses what is in the soul; 2) the intelligibles that are signified by any utterance and/or 3) the trait that distinguishes the soul of man from the soul of animal.101 The main difference between the notion of maʿnā in the works of the two scholars is however reflected in the fact that al-Fārābī was reluctant to acknowledge the existence of organic connection between the expression (lafẓ) and the meaning it conveys. Notwithstanding the fact that a single word might correspond to a single material object, al-Fārābī argued that, most often, this was not the case. A single word, like ʿAmr or Khālid, can stand for the personal name of many people – and the gallop of countless millions of horses thunders behind the word fars.102 For this reason, one shouldn’t be overly concerned with the outward forms of speech. Even though human speech contains a word for Moon (qamar) – this word is not the Moon itself, cautions al-Fārābī in his Kitāb al-‘Alfāẓ.103 In similar fashion, the word shams, which stands for the new dawn and bright sunlight, is not the flame and light itself but a word like any other. If not for shams and qamar, any other expression (lafẓ) would serve us as nicely in well place (al-Fārābī 2015: 14, 21). Al-Fārābī deemed that the power of language to convey maʿnā was proportional to the intelligence of a speaker.104 Upon being pronounced, words could serve as a perfect mirror of a speaker’s state of mind, his intentions and general character disposition – but they were under no circumstances to be considered as the vessels of maʿnā. Once 99 al-Fārābī, Philosophy of Plato

and Aristotle, 47, 60. Writing on the concept of the Giver of Language in the teachings of al-Fārābī, Versteeghh maintained that the origins of “this typically Greek figure” are to be sought in the writings of Aristotle. See: Versteegh, Landmarks in Linguistic Thought III, 60. 100 al-Fārābī, Kitāb al-‘Alfāẓ fīl-Mustaḥdama fil-Manṭiq, 6. 101 See: “the maʿnā” in: Alon ed., Al-Farabi’s Philosophical Lexicon vol.2, 645. 102 Ibid., 11–14; 38– 55. 103 Ibid., 14. 104 Ibid., 72, 84.

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uttered, the word “wall” would not reveal to a listener if the wall that the speaker had in mind was made of brick, mortar or plaster. Moreover, this word would never ever summon the wall itself into the material domain of existence (al-Fārābī 2015: 70–71). Figurative and metaphorical, the language of poets thus came to be identified as the key evidence in favour of al-Fārābī’s theory that there was no organic connection between lafẓ and maʿnā to be established.105 Universal and absolute, a single maʿnā can be embodied in countless different expressions which could vary from one language to another.106 The relationship between meaning and expression was furthermore compared by al-Fārābī to the one between a lavish robe and a man clad in it107 and, ultimately, to the scientific domains of grammar and logic: [What is] logic is to reason and intelligibles is akin to craft (ṣināʿa). It corresponds to the art of grammar, like a technique for language and words. And all that the discipline of grammar gives us in terms of rules about the words, the discipline of logic gives us [too] – as if serving as a grammar for intelligibles.108

“Logic investigates meanings and intentions which can be grasped through the study of the mind and soul. When it comes to the intelligible things, all men are alike”.109 Commemorated by al-Tawḥīdī, ‘Abū Bishr Mattā’s taunting of al-Sirāfī emerges as the ultimate challenge of Baghdadi logicians to the Arabic grammar tradition. The perception of maʿnā which was conveyed by his words could have been as easily attributed to al-Fārābī or Yaḥyā b. ʿAdī, who on his side maintained that grammarians lacked the competence to study maʿnā since abstract concepts and physical objects we refer to in our conversations are not affected by grammar errors and improper case endings.110 AlFārābī nonetheless held that grammar was “priceless for making us alert to the rules of logic”.111 Nevertheless, Ibn al-Sarrāj and his Ibid., 70–71. See also: Hoyland, History, Fiction and Authorship in the First Centuries of Islam, 17. 106 See: al-Fārābī, Kitāb al-‘Alfāẓ, 26; and al-Fārābī, ‘Iḥṣā’ al-‘Ulūm, 16. 107 al-Fārābī, Kitāb al-‘Alfāẓ, 8, 10. 108 al-Fārābī, ‘Iḥṣā’ al-ʿUlūm, 13. 109 al-Tawḥīdī, Kitāb al-‘Imtāʾ vol.1, 101. 110 Ibn ʿAdī, Maqala fī al-Tawḥīd wa al-Naḥw al-ʿArabī, 189. 111 al-Fārābī, Kitāb al-Tanbīh ʿalā Sabīl al-Saʿādah, 83. 105

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colleagues were expected to limit their analysis to the language-specific ‘alfāz. In the eyes of al-Fārābī, it was the duty of a grammarian to ascertain how was his object of study represented in a specific language by a particular word. The meaning and properties of that object were however up to logicians. 112 Firm of belief that (1) grammar faults had no impact on the meaning of words and (2) that a single maʿnā can be expressed by different words in different languages, logicians came to the conclusion that Arabic grammar was of interest only to the members of a specific ‘umma.113 In this respect, the stand of the school of Baghdad was unanimous: no other than a logician could was entitled to conduct any research that transcended spoken and written language; thus tapping into the realm of the soul and maʿnā .114 Daring and innovative, the school’s notions of lafẓ and maʿnā had but a limited impact on the popular culture of the ʿAbbāsid Empire. When it came to the support of the merchants, craftsmen and city folk from the echelons of ‘āmma – al-Fārābī had to admit that the grammarians were winning.

On his side, al-Tawḥīdī maintains that logicians have sought to usurp the domain of lafẓ as well. According to al-Tawḥīdī, the notable Muʿtazila scholar and the first teacher of al-Sirāfī by the name of al-Jubbā’i (d. 915), used to identify logic with grammar on the basis of the seemingly identical names of two disciplines. Owing to the fact that the term manṭiq can be translated as “speech”, logic has assumed the name of ʿilm al-manṭiq (the science of the speech). For this reason, al-Jubbā’i allegedly identified the term manṭiq as the maʿfil pattern of the term nuṭq. In the decades to come, al-Tawḥīdī’s writings will be categorically denied by Ibn Ḥazm who maintained that the manṭiq is not to be perceived as a synonym for the term kalām. See: al-Tawḥīdī, alHawāmil wal-Shawāmil, 265–266; and Ibn Ḥazm, al-Taqrīb li-Ḥadd alManṭiq, 33. On his side, al-Fārābī believed that grammarians are eligible to study the ‘alfāz. However, in the light of the fact that he deemed that the term manṭiq was derived from the term nuṭq as “reason” and/or “articulate speech”, al-Tawḥīdī’s fears were probably more justified than Ibn Ḥazm was willing to admit. See: “manṭiq” in: Alon, ed., Al-Farabi’s Philosophical Lexicon vol.2, 646. 113 See: al-Fārābī, ‘Iḥṣā’a al-ʿUlūm, 33; al-Fārābī, Kitāb al-Ḥurūf, 44–49, 80, 111–112, 137, 143, 146; and al-Fārābī, Kitāb al-‘Alfāz, 43, 107, etc. 114 Ibn ʿAdī, Maqala fī al-Tawḥīd wa Naḥw al-ʿArabī, 189. 112

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Although outwardly defiant, the prevailing tone of al-Fārābī’s Kitāb al-‘Alfāẓ is the one of resignation. For apart from the indifference of the masses, his teachings had the suspicious ʿulamā’ to deal with. As a result, as far as North Africa, the proverb was spreading that those who study logic turn into heretics (“men tamanṭaqa tazandaqa”). 115 Discredited by the quarrels with religious scholars, by the early 10th century the teachings of the school of Baghdad were perceived as the wisdom tainted with unbelief (ḥikma mashūba bi-kufr).116 In the unfavourable climate, patrons were scarce – and in the late 9th century, ʿAbbāsid logicians became concerned with the possibility of “a division of labour” and subsequent reconciliation between the fields of grammar and logic. 117 Alas, the representatives of either discipline believed that theirs was the right to ponder the realm of maʿnā and lead the soul towards perfection.118 As they claimed the same research domain, logicians saw grammarians as competition. By his own 115 Cheneb, Proverbs

arabes de l’Algérie et du Maghreb vol.2, 283. Dictionary of Learned Men vol.2, 48. 117 Al-Sarakhsī (d. 899) is usually identified as the first logician to compose a treatise on the difference between grammar and logic. This treatise didn’t survive – but similarly to al-Rāzī (d. 932), he appears to have believed that logic is superior to grammar. Other notable attempts have been conducted by al‘Āmirī and ‘Abu Zayd al-Balkhī (d. 934). 118 On logic as the means of which the rational soul attains perfection see: “manṭīq” in: Alon, ed., Al-Farabi’s Philosophical Lexicon vol.2, 646. 116 Yāqūt, Yaqut’s

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admission, al-Fārābī defined as the goal of philosophers to know God and resemble him as best as one can.119 That he deemed grammarians and the ʿulamā’ as less fitting for this task, al-Fārābī made no secret of. However, behind their conflict was not the issue of supremacy of Hellenistic culture over the Islamic sciences. Rather, it was all the matter of professional status – for what was at risk was neither Islam nor the social prestige of Arabs. Philosophical teachings that aim to exclude and subdue all other disciplines are commonly found in the societies of diverse group identities and competing faiths. In search for an identity of their own, newly-established intellectual movements often demonstrate a tendency to disassociate themselves from other cultures and movements – and the school of Baghdad was by no means an exception. By attacking the grammarians, the logicians were fighting for new patrons, social prestige, and the right to promote their teachings as a scientific discipline it its own right. Upon being advised to focus on the laws of grammar in order to obtain familiarity with lafẓ and maʿnā alike, Mattā b. Yūnus allegedly replied as following: “This is grammar, and grammar is not something that I have studied, for whereas a logician doesn’t need grammar, a grammarian badly needs logic since logic investigates the meaning and grammar investigates wording”.120 Proclaimed in 932 A.D. at the court of Ibn al-Furāt, Mattā’s answer corresponds to Jacob Kantor’s bold claim that every Arab grammarian wanted to be a logician and “expert upon how to think clearly or at least to express thought lucidly” (Kantor 1952: 8). In the modern context,121 Kantor’s observation is more acceptable than it would have been in the ʿAbbāsid Empire of the late 9th and the early 10th century. For when it came to the grammarians’ broad field of inquiry and high 119 Ibid., 674. 120 al-Tawḥīdī, Kitāb

al-‘Imtāʾ wal- Muʿānasa, 104. “Consider for a moment what grammar is. It is the most elementary part of Logic. It is the beginning of the analysis of the thinking process. The principles and rules of grammar are the means by which the forms of language are made to correspond with the universal forms of thought. The distinction between various parts of speech, the cases of nouns, the modes and tenses of verbs the function of particles are distinction in thought not merely in words. The structure of every sentence is a lesson in logic.” Mill, Dissertations and Discussions, 352–353. 121

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standing in society, few 10th century grammarians wanted to be logician – whereas every ʿAbbāsid logician wanted to be a grammarian. Whereas the traditionally established research domain of medieval grammarians turned out to be a challenge to the social and intellectual pretensions of logicians, Ibn al-Sarrāj, as an eminent grammarian and representative of the traditional, Islamic sciences,122 didn’t feel the heavy pressure of the society to prove anything – to anyone. “In the beginning of Islam’, maintained Ṣāʿīd al-Andalusī (d. 1070), ‘Arabs cultivated no science apart from grammar and regulations of their religion law” (al-Andalusī 1912: 47). In the early 10th century, similar notions were as prevailing as they were untrue. Nonetheless, they enabled Ibn al-Sarrāj to stand his ground from the position of power. As he avoided refutations and apologetics in general, it remains unclear how Ibn al-Sarrāj might have felt in the light of al-Fārābī’s attempts to impose upon him the role of a simple school master whose sole duty was to instruct children in the proper forms of written and oral communication. However, it is possible that he took for granted that the universe came to be as a product of God’s speech in Classical Arabic. Among the grammarians of Basra and Kufa, parallels between divine speech and the Arabic language were a source of the long-standing, fierce pride123 that no logician could match. That Ibn al-Sarrāj was familiar with Aristotle’s De Interpretatione, Endress had little doubts of. Like Versteegh, he believed that Ibn al-Sarrāj lent his support to the ʿulamā’ by opposing the logicians and the Hellenistic sciences in general (Versteegh 2005: 43; Enders 2002: 245–246). Known as a voracious reader and having close contacts with al-Fārābī, it is unlikely that Ibn al-Sarrāj was unfamiliar with the teachings of logicians and the challenges they posed to the Arabic grammar tradition. By the early 10th century, 88 editions of Aristotle’s works For the detailed overview of the medieval notions of Islamic sciences and the position of grammar as one of them consult: Jokisch, Islamic Imperial Law, 583; Endress, ‘al-Munāẓara Bayān al-Manṭiq al-Falsafī wa al-Naḥw alʿArabī fī ‘Uṣūr al-Khulafā’, 374; Pellat, Life and works of Jāḥiẓ, 113–114; and Rosenthal, Knowledge Triumphant: the concept of knowledge in medieval Islam, 195. 123 On grammarians of Basra and Kufa and their teachings regarding the parallels between the mind, language and the creative power of the word of God consult: Corbin, Historija islamske filozofije, 130–131. 122

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have been prepared by 23 different translators. 124 As a notable bibliophile of his time, Ibn al-Sarrāj had access to the excellent Arabic editions from the circles of Ḥunayn b. Isḥāq – and, possibly, to the laterdate commentaries and critical editions that were penned by the logicians of Baghdad. With his library lost to the ravages of sword and time, the scope and nature of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s collection remains unknown. But if any refutation of logic that could be compared to al‘Ash‘arī’s Kitāb ʿalā ‘Ahl al-Manṭiq or Ibn Tayymiya’s al-Radd ʿalā al-Manṭiqiyyīn was ever penned by Ibn al-Sarrāj, no trace of it has survived. Moreover, in contrast to Versteegh’s and Endress’ observations, the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj offer no indication that he was concerned with the possibility of the submission of Arabic grammar to the foreign, pagan culture of ancient Greece. Composed in the early 10th century, when Hellenistic philosophy was at the apex of its influence, the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj reflect only the discomfort of a grammarian who was faced with the antagonistic scholarly tradition that was backed by the refined methodology and clear expectations of what a scientific discipline must be. Apart from the stark discrepancies between their teachings, the surviving works of Ibn alSarrāj reveal us little of his personal disposition towards the school of Baghdad. As a professional grammarian of the late 9th and the early 10th century, he believed that his field of inquiry rightfully covers any cognitive processes behind speech and the nature of a human soul. But in order to successfully demonstrate it once and for all, Ibn al-Sarrāj willingly engaged in a drastic re-evaluation of cultural and intellectual pretensions that have kept his personal import and the profession of choice relevant. Although he appears to have shared al-Fārābī’s belief that the absolute nature of maʿnā is reflected in the impermanent nature of spoken languages, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teachings lack any elaborate analysis of the genesis of languages and vocabularies. How languages come to be and what is the reason why in different languages, different words stand for the same object? If it was by the will of God or by the whim of men – Ibn al-Sarrāj chose not to say. As of his students and colleagues, whereas al-Sirāfī believed that the origins of Classical Arabic are to be sought in the human soul (nafs),

124 Halilović, Kratka

istorija islamske filozofije, 12

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Ibn Jinnī openly professed that he is unable to resolve the issue.125 In the mid-10th century, ‘Abu ‘l-Ḥusain ‘Aḥmad b. Fāris (d. 1004) asserted that the language of such perfection can only be created by God126 and similar theories were upheld by ‘Abū al-‘Aswad al-Duʿalī and ‘Abū ʿAlī al-Fārisī as well. As such, their theories of the divine origin of language were primarily based on the Qur’anic revelation. “Al-Duʿali in his turn stated that if language were not the achievement of God it would have had to be the product either of a human agreement or of a single man’s invention. But no one in his generation or in the generations before his time ever heard of such an agreement or of such and invention, not even in the case of so competent men as were the Prophet’s Companions. Hence, language must have appeared with the appearance of the first human being in the world and must have been created by God. (…) ‘Abū ʿAlī al-Fārisī, may God have mercy on him, said to me one day: “it (i.e. the language) comes from God” and he argued with the words of the Exalted One: “and He taught Adam all the names” and this doesn’t leave the place for contradiction and this is because it is possible that the interpretation of these words is “he (God) enabled Adam to start it (the language). And so the idea that the language comes from God, praise be to Him, leaves no place for any doubt and if that contradiction were probable, the argumentation with the help of this idea would inevitably have fallen”.127

The closest that Ibn al-Sarrāj comes to providing us with the definition of the origin of language is in Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl; where identifies the [native] speakers of Classical Arabic as progenitors of the everyday speech.128 As such, this theory serves as a sufficient explanation why in 125 See: al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ

Kitāb Sibawayh, vol. 3, 124, and Ibn Jinnī, al-Khaṣā‘is vol.1, 40–47. 126 Czapkiewicz, The Views of the Medieval Arab Philologists on Language and its Origins in the Light of as-Suyūṭī’s al-Muẓhir, 26. 127 as-Suyūṭī, al-Muẓhir. Quoted according to: Czapkiewicz, The Views of the Medieval Arab Philologists on Language and its Origins in the Light of asSuyūṭī’s al-Muẓhir, 26–46. 128 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.28–29.

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the spoken language the properties of Classical Arabic vary from one man to another. However, this tells us little of his stand on how the Arabic language originally came into existence – and at which point was it eventually sanctified by the Almighty above all other languages. Albeit it was less developed than al-Fārābī’s concept of the Giver of Language, the outline of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s theory of the origins of language doesn’t directly contradict the teachings of the school of Baghdad. Moreover, in his treatise Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ, Ibn al-Sarrāj implicitly backs al-Fārābī hypothesis that diverging accents and pronunciations are to be perceived as a result of the shared conventions of the people (‘ahl al-lugha).129 Up to this point, their teachings match. But whereas al-Fārābī attempted to come to terms with the origin of language by analysing the diverging physiognomies of mankind, Ibn al-Sarrāj believed that the answer was to be sought in the human soul. On the grounds that inhabitants of different tribes and communities demonstrate variations in the physiognomies of their articulatory organs, alFārābī offers a sufficient clarification of the existence of different languages and vernaculars. Owing to Ibn al-Sarrāj’s belief that all men share the same soul,130 al-Fārābī’s hypothesis on the origins of languages appears to be irreconcilable with Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teachings. As we are unfamiliar with Ibn al-Sarrāj’s stand on the genesis of languages, it remains somewhat unclear how the Arab soul became the vessel of Classical Arabic. What we do know however, is that Ibn alSarrāj believed that only the heart can grant us familiarity with the lafẓ and the maʿnā. In order to illustrate his theory, Ibn al-Sarrāj present us with the following adjectives: “long” (ṭawīl) and “short” (qaṣīr). In the light of the fact that human beings deem a certain object long or short by comparing it to another object, Ibn al-Sarrāj reasoned that neither of the two adjectives represent an absolute value that can be judged by the means of an eye. As a result, he came to the conclusion that our heart has a role to play in the way we operate with the maʿnā (Ibn al-Sarrāj 1996: 368). In the light of his belief in the role of the heart to distinguish correct speech from incorrect and false meanings from true; Ibn al-Sarrāj appears as an unlikely supporter of al-Fārābī’s Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ, 352 A.H; Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/6, ff.1/43. 130 Ibn al-Sarrāj, al-Mūjaz fī al-Nahw, 352 A.H; Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/6, ff.37/39. 129

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hypothesis that the ma‘ānī are to be determined by the means of rational contemplation alone. But whereas he maintained that pointless sentences carry no meaning (“mā lam yufīd fa lā maʿnā lahu”), Ibn alSarrāj’s perception of maʿnā wasn’t identical to the notion of a meaningful utterance (al-fā‘ida).131 As a result, whereas al-Fārābī maintained that only the rational mind should be employed in linguistic analysis, Ibn al-Sarrāj sided with al-Mubarrad by identifying the soul as the birth-place of all languages. For this reason, every attempt to separate language from the soul that generates it via utterances could be rightfully discarded as “absurd”.132 In this aspect, al-Zajjāji was probably right to assert that “their [logicians’] goals differ from our goals and the essence of their search is not the essence we are striving to reach”. 133 Following the death of Ibn al-Sarrāj in 929 A.D., al-Sirāfī extended his arguments by clarifying that the meaning of a sentence emerges as a union of physical perception and personal knowledge in the shape of conviction and/or Wisdom. Moreover, rational knowledge and physical perception were said to unite within the heart in order to shape an utterance; thus giving birth to the language.134 According to alSirāfī, a proper insight on rational knowledge and physical perception could be gained through the analysis of the thirty-eighth ayah of the surah Ṣād that states “We found him steadfast (wajadnāhu ṣābiran)”.135 Limited and unreliable, the physical perception of a human being lacks the potential to identify someone steadfast and patient. For this purpose, the rational mind is to be employed.136 Whereas al-Fārābī acknowledged no organic connection between lafẓ and maʿnā, Ibn al-Sarrāj maintained that the maʿnā could be distorted (1) by the heart, (2) by the eye and (3) words that are devoid of clarity and/or twisted by a

131 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library

of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.42–43 132 al-Mubarrad, Kitāb al-Muqtaḍab vol.1, 76. See also: Versteegh, Greek Elements in Arabic Linguistic Thinking, 139. 133 al-Zajjājī, Kitāb al-‘Īḍāh, 48. 134 al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ Kitāb Sibawayh vol.1, 456–458. 135 al-Qur’an: 38:44. 136 al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ Kitāb Sibawayh vol.1, 456.

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comical accent.137 As he believed that human beings have the power over maʿnā, Ibn al-Sarrāj felt that he was bound by duty to redeem the ignorance of men and the damage it caused.138 Concurrently, he was determined to prove that the superb qualities and deep Wisdom governing Classical Arabic represented far more than remnants of a Bedouin folklore. Twisted and corrupted by the folly of men, the language that he yearned to explore was still governed by the supreme Wisdom (Ibn al-Sarrāj 1996: 32). In order to successfully back his claims, the quill of Ibn al-Sarrāj followed the everlasting dream of medieval grammarians: to prevail where even the Qur’an stumbled and compose the book that would capture Arabic grammar in the fullness of its excellence. In the centuries to come, this treatise became widely known as Ibn al-Sarrāj’s Foundations of Grammar (ar. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw).

2.3. IBN SARRĀJ, THE BANISHER OF MADNESS “He took the contents of al-Kitab and gave them the most beautiful order.” — Yāqūt139

By the time Ibn al-Sarrāj began working on Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, many grammarians were already rumoured to have composed the treatise of all treatises. Regardless of the respect that he felt for Ibn alSarrāj as his teacher, al-Sirāfī didn’t hesitate to deny him a separate entry in his study on the greatest grammarians of Basra as he deemed that the development of Arabic grammar was finalized by the mid-9th century; thus reaching the peak of its glory in the works of al-Jarmī and al-Māzinī.140 When it comes to al-Māzinī himself, he was known to have advised ambitions youngsters who strove to make a contribution of their own to Sibawayh’s al-Kitāb to display an appropriate modesty

Ibn al-Sarrāj, Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ, 352 A.H; Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/6, ff.1/43; and Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī alNaḥw.651. A.H. London. British Museum #2808, ff.7, 10. 138 In his Kitāb al-‘Ishtiqāq, Ibn al-Sarrāj avows that many grammarians of his time were aware of this problem and willing to improve their knowledge on derivation. See: Ibn al-Sarrāj, Risāla fi al-‘Ishtiqāq, 29. 139 Yāqūt. Muʿjam al-‘Udabā’ vol. 28, 200. 140 al-Sirāfī, ‘Akhbar al-Naḥwiyīn al-Basriyīn, 82. 137

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instead.141 Also known as the Qur’an of grammarians, 142 Sibawayh’s treatise al-Kitāb continues to be revered as “the dīwān of all curiosities and nawādir of Arabic language” up until today143 – but even in the times before its composition, Khalīl b. ‘Aḥmad “didn’t allow himself to leave a single word behind or write down the shortest record [of his teachings]; (…) for he was aware that before him, people have written all there is to know about it. And he refused to be despised the idea of being a mere follower of those who preceded him!” (al-Suyūṭī 1908: 80). Unlike his predecessors, Ibn al-Sarrāj possessed the necessary confidence to take up the challenge head-on. “His name was ‘Abū Muḥammad ibn al-Sarī al-Sarrāj and he was [the author] of many useful books – and among them [was] Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, whose purpose was most noble indeed – for within this book, the grammar and foundations of Arabic language were successfully collected and summarized”, recorded al-Zubaydī in his Ṭabaqāt al-Naḥwīyīn wa alLughawīyīn (al-Zubaydī 1954: 112). In the centuries following its composition, Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw came to be perceived as the beginning of a general rationalizing tendency in the Arabic grammar studies. In the late 9th and the early 10th century however, the greatest opposition to Ibn al-Sarrāj’s reforms was likely to come from the grammarians. In the absence of official schools and academic institutions, the teaching sessions hosted at private houses provided grammarians with all benefits of privacy, if not absolute secrecy, to impose exorbitant fees for lessons on the great classics of Arabic grammar tradition. As of the mid-9th century, the common practice of ʿAbbāsid grammarians to rely on obfuscation and cryptic writing style for the sake of financial gain has been heavily criticized by the intellectual elite and the ruling establishment alike.144 Writing on the works of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s role model al-‘Akhfash, al-Jāḥiẓ recorded the following: I said to ‘Abū al-Ḥasan al-‘Akhfash: ‘You are the most knowledgeable about grammar. However, you don’t make all your works intelligible. How can it be that we are able to understand some [of your writings] but not most of them? Why do you put 141 Carter, Sibawayhi, 1. 142 al-Lughawī, Kitāb

al-Marātib, 106. Arabic Language, 11. 144 al-Tawḥīdī, Kitāb al-‘Imtāʾ wal-Muʿānasa, 104–105. 143 Versteegh, The

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some of the most abstruse [material] first while the comprehensible [material] comes after them?’ Thus he said: ‘I am not the kind of man who writes his books for the sake of God and my books are not about religion. If I was to heed your advice and write them the way you would like me to, people would rarely need me. My goal has always been the personal gain (manāla) and thus I write certain parts in intelligible fashion; knowing that the appeal of what they understood will prod them to seek me out [to clarify them] what they couldn’t comprehend. (al-Jāḥiẓ 1965 1: 91–92).

As an affluent scholar of high renown, Ibn al-Sarrāj broke with the questionable writing practices of his predecessors. As a matter of fact, the typical method of data exposition in the form of questions and answers (“you will be asked”/ “then you say”) that was commonly (ab)used by medieval grammarians, logicians and the Muʿtazila scholars alike is generally looked down upon and avoided in the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj. His role in the systematization and codification of Arabic grammar subsequently immortalized him as The Banisher of Madness in the history of Arabic grammar studies.145 Simplicity, clarity and strict organization emerge as the main traits of Kitāb al‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. As his commentary of al-Kitāb remains lost up until today, the absence of open criticism in Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw leaves us somewhat uncertain of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s stand on the methodology approach and “discernible, if clumsy, arrangement of contents”146 of Sibawayh’s al-Kitāb. Nonetheless, the opening chapter of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw faithfully reflects his uneasiness with Sibawayh’s failure to provide precise definitions of the most basic linguistic concepts. As a result, Ibn al-Sarrāj developed the method of data exposition that will be universally applied in his treatises. Commonly referred to as “the hierarchy of dichotomous classification” and Writing on Ibn al-Sarrāj as the author of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, alSūyūṭi writes: “mā zāla an-naḥw majnūnan ḥatta ‘aqlihi Ibn al-Sarrāj bil‘uṣūlihi”. al-Sūyūṭi, Bughya vol.1, 109. See also: Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-‘Udabā vol. 6, 2535; and Ibn al-‘Anbari. Nuzha al-‘Alibbā’, 186. 146 Schoeler, The Oral and the Written in Early Islam, 49. 145

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“the exhaustive division par excellence”,147 Ibn al-Sarrāj’s rigid taqāsīm emerges as the first method of data exposition in the history of Arabic grammar studies. As such, the taqāsīm and its properties can be sketched, for instance, through an overview of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s analysis of nouns. In his Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, Ibn al-Sarrāj relies on the term bāb to introduce a major grammar unit whose analysis is yet to be conducted. The five surviving manuscripts of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw preserve the overall number of 140 chapters (bāb); each of which begins with a clear and concise definition of the subject of its analyses.148 The opening sentence of the chapter on speech thus introduces speech as the union of nouns, verbs and particles.149 In the same way as the speech is divided into nouns, verbs and particles, the bāb dedicated to it is divided into three sub-chapters that are referred to by the term sharḥ.150 Within the grammatical opus of Ibn al-Sarrāj, the process of classification always precedes the internal analysis of, in this case, the speech and its properties. Upon determining the existence of the three elements of speech, Ibn al-Sarrāj proceeds by identifying the noun as See: Bohas, The Arabic Linguistic Tradition, 10–11; and Yong, Religion, Learning and Science in the ʿAbbasid Period, 128 148 As a notable exception from the general rule, see Bāb al-‘Asmā’i allati ʿAmalat ʿAmal al-Fiʿal; which represents the fourth chapter of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw in: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 651. A.H, London, British Museum #2808, ff.3; and Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.2. 149 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.114. 150 Ibn al-Sarrāj relies on the term tafsīr to signify the division of main grammar units from a bāb chapter into sub-units that will be subjected to further analyses in the special sub-chapters that are commonly referred to as the sharḥ (sharḥ al-‘ism, sharḥ al-fiʿl etc). Towards the end of the manuscript of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw the strict structure of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s headlines betrays certain exemptions from the general rule. Upon classifying the first four subunits of Bāb at- taqdīmi wa-l- taʿẖīr as “Sharḥ ‘Awal min Dalika”, “Sharḥ aṯṯānī”, “Sharh at-ṯāliṯ” and “Sharḥ ar-rābʿi’ “, Ibn al-Sarrāj, or the 12th century scribe working on his manuscript, thus simply proceeds by listing the headlines of the chapters dedicated to the remaining nine sub-units as “alkhāmīs”, “as-sādis” etc. 147

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“the grammar unit which serves to indicate the meaning of a single object; regardless of the fact if the object in question is concrete of abstract”.151 The distinguished maturity and consistency of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s taqāsīm singles out his treatises among the works of the early Arab grammarians. For unlike Sibawayh before him, Ibn al-Sarrāj doesn’t presume that his readers are capable of identifying complex grammar concepts with the help of a few examples. As a result, whereas al-Kitāb limits its definition of nouns to the two different examples (man, horse),152 Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw provides definitions in a strict sense rather than describing what can commonly happen in the speech. Once he has established (1) the external classification by determining the proper place of a grammar unit within a wider classification scheme; alongside its (2) definition and (3) internal classification, Ibn al-Sarrāj proceeds by subjecting an object of his research to the process of (4) exemplification and (5) detailed grammatical analyses. In practice, this means that upon identifying noun as a sub-element of speech and defining it accordingly as a grammar unit with the potential to convey maʿanā; Ibn al-Sarrāj would introduce the internal classification of nouns by dividing them into concrete and abstract nouns.153 From this moment on, Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw proceeds with the in-depth analyses of the grammatical properties of nouns in Classical Arabic. Following the conclusion of a sharḥ sub-chapter, a “reminder” sub-chapter (ḏakara) could be introduced in cases when further distinctions between several sub-categories were to be made. Before the introduction of a new grammar unit, each bāb of Kitāb al‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw closes up with general discussions under the specific headline “masā‘il min haḏā al-bāb” – except in rare cases when he relied on precise titles such as “bāb masā‘il al-‘aṭf”, “masāʿil min bāb lā” ibid. As a concluding discussion, the masāʿil could also be dedicated to the preceding sharḥ sub-chapter in specific.

151 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library

of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.3 vol.1, 36. 153 Ibn al-Sarrāj uses the term qism to denote an element of the internal classification of grammar units. 152 Sibawayh, al-Kitāb

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!!

!

Fig. 16 MS Istanbul #1077. Chapter structure: b!b and shar&

Upon contemplating the role of Kit"b al-‘U&'l f( al-Na#w in the history of Arabic grammar studies, Bohas rightfully pointed out how Ibn al-Sarr!j was gambling on all or nothing as he yearned to make his contemporaries connect with the Wisdom of Arabs in order to grasp it, preserve it and, in return, profit from it. Bohas’ and Cassels’ err is however reflected in the fact that Kit"b al-‘U&'l f( al-Na#w was never intended as a grammar book for beginners (Bohas 2006: 9–10; Cassels 1979: 60). As implied by its headline, Kit"b al-‘U&'l f( al-Na#w aimed to expose the Wisdom that serves as “the foundations (al-‘u&'l) the Arabic language is built upon”.154 The structure and writing style of Kit"b al-‘U&'l f( al-Na#w consequently demonstrate significant differences when compared to the true beginners’ level of Ibn al-Sarr!j’s treatise al-M'jaz f( al-Na#w. As one of the first learning book for beginners in the history of Arabic grammar studies, al-M'jaz f( alNa#w follows the elaborate system of classification and data

!!!!!!! Ibn al-Sarr!j. Kit!b al-‘U(-l f% al-Na&w. 651. A.H, London, British Museum #2808, ff.3; Ibn al-Sarr!j. Kit!b al-‘U(-l f% al-Na&w. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.2.

154

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exposition that was established in Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. Although no proof can be found that al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw was ever intended for non-Arabs, its content is simplified and devoid of metaphysical elements and abstract meditations on the nature and origins of language. Partially due to Ibn al-Sarrāj’s decision to limit the beginners’ lessons to the fifty-one basic units of grammar (bāb) with their respective sub-chapters (ḏakara),155 al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw lacks the elaborate classification terminology of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. Distinguished by its plain writing style, al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw contains no general discussions (masāʿil) – and the careful distinction between the qism and tafsīr was also sacrificed to the simplicity and clarity of the beginners’ level. The terminology scope of al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw furthermore appears to have been deliberately kept at minimum. In a similar fashion, its definitions are elegant, short and plain – and always illustrated by precise examples. Albeit devoid of the strict taqāsīm that was used in Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw and al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw, each of the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj shares the same pattern of chapter organization.156 For according to Ibn al-Sarrāj, it was in accordance with the nature of language that: 1.

Nouns are discussed before verbs and verbs before particles.

2. The analysis of nouns always precedes the analysis of noun modifiers.

155 Like his

student Ibn Sarrāj, al-Mubarrad relies on the term ʿilla as a reference for the grammatical properties of a certain bāb. See: al-Mubarrad, alKāmil, 49. 156 Although it would be impossible to put the surviving works of Ibn alSarrāj in chronological order, the loose structure of Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ indicates that this work might have preceded Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw and al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw. As a matter of fact, Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ tends to leave out definitions of the main parts of speech and illustrates them by the following examples: “Noun is, for example, man or horse, and verb are, for example “He sat” or “he is sitting” and particles are elements of speech such as: “from” and “until” and the letter “bā”, as it is used in the sentence “mururtu bi-zaydin”. See: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff.1/43.

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Nominative is to be discussed before accusative and accusative before genitive.

4. Word classification always comes first while the phonology is the last to be analysed. 5.

Subjects of active verbal sentences and subjects of passive sentences are always discussed before objects, direct objects before an object of a preposition and object of a preposition before modifiers.

On the sentence-level, this means that Ibn al-Sarrāj’s analysis of the structure of a sentence would begin with the analyses of subject, predicate and, if applicable, subjects of active verbal sentences and subjects of passive sentences. The analysis of an object of a sentence would always come next; followed by the analysis of prepositions and possessive pronouns.157 The terminology of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw provides us with further insights into his reasoning process. Unlike Sibawayh, who relied on the term tamthīl to signify the syntactical analyses of professional grammarians, Ibn al-Sarrāj preferred the term taqdīr and its implications of assigning something to its rightful status.158 As he believed that the elements of speech in Classical Arabic are “mysteriously connected with each other”, Ibn al-Sarrāj maintained that the right of an individual to call himself a grammarian is proportional to his ability to identify the function of each and every element of a sentence.159 157 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library

of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.29. 158 According to Versteegh, the first surviving references to the term taqdīr in the Arabic grammar studies can be found in Sibawayh’s al-Kitāb, where it’s used (1) in syntactic context to denote the assignment of status in the terms of context or 2) at the phonological level to denote the assignment of status in terms of f-ʿ-l, “as a structural description of an actual string of sounds and words” – and this is how Ibn al-Sarrāj chose to use it as well. Versteegh, “The Arabic Terminology of Syntactic Position”, 285. For the later-date interpretations of this term as an “elided, alternative element, unuttered intentions and underlying structure” see: Kasher, “Two Types of Taqdīr? A Study in Ibn Hišām’s Concept of ‘Speaker’s Intention”’, 360–380. 159 According to Bohas, similar belief has been shared by Ibn Jinnī as well. See: Bohas, The Arabic Linguistic Tradition, 13.

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Alongside his research on the parts of speech, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s taqāsīm and the organizational system of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw have been commonly singled out as the main points of influence of Hellenistic sciences on the teachings of Ibn al-Sarrāj.160 As a matter of fact, (1) the introduction chapters of grammar treatises, (2) data classification in accordance with the rules of logic, the (3) obsession with definitions and (4) the intersecting research domains of various scientific disciplines were identified by Versteegh as the “superficial notions of philosophy and logic” that “no respectable scholar could fail to use” (Versteegh 2005: 43). With regards to the teachings of Ibn alSarrāj and the Arabic grammar tradition, similar observations can be traced as early as the 13th century. In his treatise al-Radd ʿalālManṭiqiyyīn Ibn Taymiyya denounces grammar definitions as “the worst kind of sophistry. (…) When grammarians decided to preoccupy themselves with definitions, more than twenty definitions of nouns have been composed in accordance with their own principles only to serve as subjects of further objections! (…) Innumerable are the definitions in the works of philosophers, physicians, grammarians, jurists and theologians – and while all of them can be subjected to objections, few can be deemed as reasonable” (Ibn Taymiyya 1993: 8). As the main source of al-Qifṭī’s records on the life and times of Ibn al-Sarrāj, alMarzubānī (d. 994) might have been the first to attribute Ibn alSarrāj’s attention to detail and organization to the high standards of the school of Baghdad.161 But whereas the works of Ibn al-Sarrāj postdate the Graeco-Arabic translation movement and the rise of Aristotle’s teachings in the ʿAbbāsid Empire, one must be careful to declare his writings as a direct outcome of Hellenism. The first difficulty in attempting to determine the scope of influence of Aristotelian logic in the works of Ibn al-Sarrāj lies in the fact that his teachings (mostly) tend to deal with different topics than See: Ibn al-‘Anbārī, Nuzha al-‘Alibbā, 150; al-Suyūṭī, Bughya vol.1, 109; and al-Qifṭī, ‘Inbāh al-Ruwāh vol.3, 149. For their modern-day supporters see: Versteegh, Greek Elements in Arabic Linguistic thinking, 94, 124; Yong, Religion, Learning and Science in the ‘Abbasid Period, 128; Cassels, Arabic grammatical studies in the late 9th and early 10th centuries, with particular reference to the Usūl al-Nahw of Ibn al-Sarrāj, 45; and Jokisch, The Islamic Imperial Law, 585. 161 al-Qifṭī, ‘Inbāh al-Ruwāh vol.3, 149. 160

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Organon. In cases when both authors appear to have shared the same research topic, every attempt to track Greek elements in Ibn al-Sarrāj’s writings and establish a link connecting them to the surviving works of Aristotle and/or ʿAbbāsid logicians is hindered by Ibn al-Sarrāj’s reluctance to rely on the terms of non-Arabic origin. In the late 14th century, The Muqaddima Ibn Khaldūn asserted the tendency of medieval grammarians to edit the terminology of logicians before using it the works of their own (Ibn Khaldūn 1980: 142). As such, Ibn Khaldūn’s observation remains one of a kind in the medieval historiography. Albeit al-Qifṭī stresses out his readiness to rely on “the terminology of logic”,162 Ibn al-Sarrāj appears to have shared the aversion of his contemporaries towards the philosophical, Greek terms. As a result, the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj tend to rely either on (1) the traditionally established terms from the works of the early Arab grammarians or (2) terms that were originally used to designate moral criteria in the Islamic legal system. When it comes to the grammatical terms of both groups, Ibn alSarrāj sought to follow Sibawayh’s example in each and every case when the appropriate precedent was available. Limited as it was to terms like ḥasan (good), qabīh (ugly), mustaqīm (correct) and muḥtāl (absurd); the emergence and utilization of ethical terms and jurisprudential notions of qiyās, sharṭ, ‘iwaḍ and mauḍī’ in the works of medieval grammarians has been extensively documented by Versteegh (Versteegh 1977: 14) and Carter (Carter 1973: 83–84, 147–150; Carter 1972: 80–84, 86–87). At the same time however, the origin of the first group of terms remains a subject of controversy up until today. As a professional jurist by training, Sibawayh established a set of terms that was held in high regards by the grammarians of the late 9th and the early 10th century. Writing on the origins of Arabic grammar, Carter lists the grammar terms of the first group as following: ‘ism, fiʿl, ḥarf, rafʿ, naṣb, jarr, jazm, ḍamma, fatḥa, kasra, waqf, ‘iʿrāb, iʿjam, binā’, maʿrifa, nakira, tanwīn, ḥaraka, sukūn, iḍāfa, isnād, ‘aṭf, ‘iʿtimād, sabab, taʿallua, imāla, mufrad, jamʿ, mudhakkar-mu‘annath and māḍi-mustaqbal (Carter 2015: 11). Archaic and plainly descriptive, these terms were almost certainly in use prior to the composition of al-Kitāb. As such, they might have been introduced to the 162 Ibid.

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Arabic grammar tradition at any time – either Arab inventions or by the means of borrowing from foreign works. But whereas there can be little doubt that Ibn al-Sarrāj inherited these terms from al-Kitāb, it remains unclear whether Sibawayh relied on foreign elements to refine the teachings of his predecessors. As he deemed the period of fifty to sixty years between the life and times of Sibawayh and ‘Abū al-’Aswad al-Duʿalī too short to bring forth such a “tremendous improvement” without any foreign influences – Versteegh appears to have believed so (Versteegh 1977: 11). In the light of the fact that no works of the early Arab grammarians have survived up until today, Versteegh offers no primary sources to back his claims. However, even among the medieval historiographers, similar presumptions were not unheard of. As early as the 7th century, ʿAbd al-Malik b. Marwān (d. 705) reproached the grammarians for dealing with the languages of Byzantines (rūm) and Blacks (zanj)163 – with Merx going as far as to proclaim Greek philosophy as the foundation stone of Arabic grammar (Merx 1889: 137). In the mid-9th century, al-Mubarrad notably expressed his doubts if the long-standing appreciation of nouns, verbs and particles as the main elements of Classical Arabic can be perceived as a notion of a genuinely Arabic origin (“lā yakhlū al-kalām – ʿarabiyyan kāna, ‘aw ‘ajnabiyyan – min hadhihi al-thalātha”).164 While it is quite possible that certain major features of Arabic grammar such as the theory of the parts of speech have been based on the Greek model,165 the question remains whether any innovation of distinctly Greek origin was introduced to the Arabic grammar tradition by Ibn al-Sarrāj or Sibawayh himself. For whereas Ibn al-Sarrāj worked on his theory of the Wisdom of Arabs when the school of Baghdad was at the apex of its influence, Sibawayh’s al-Kitāb precedes the introduction of Aristotelian logic to the ʿAbbāsid culture. Concurrently, King showed the lack of evidence to support Talmon’s and Troupeau’s writings in favour of an alleged role of the early Arab logicians and Ibn al-Muqaffaʿ

163 Sezgin, Geschihte

des Arabisches Schriftungs vol. 8, 14. al-Mubarrad, al-Muqtadab vol.1, 51. In his treatise Kitāb al-‘Alfāẓ, alFarābī later will assert the same. al-Fārābī, Kitāb al-‘Alfāẓ, 6. 165 In accordance with al-Mubarrad’s observations, Merx appears to have believed so. See: Merx, Historia Artis Grammaticae apud Syros, 141–148. 164

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(d. 759) in Sibawayh’s teachings.166 In accordance with King’s observations, Versteegh maintained that the influences of Greek logic in the Arabic grammar tradition can be traced only as of the 9th and 10th century A.D. (Versteegh 1977: 8). While Merx has sought the origins of Arabic grammar in Greek philosophy, Versteegh believed to have found it in the Byzantine schools of grammar and the Greek grammar tradition in general. 167 Writing on Greek elements in the Arabic grammar tradition, Versteegh provides the following list of Greek terms and their counterparts in the works of medieval Aran grammarians. Table 3 – Greek equivalents of the Arabic grammar terms according to K. Versteegh168 Arabic terms

Greek terms

English equivalents

ḥarf

stoichèion

particle

‘iʿrāb

hellénísmos

declension

ṣarf

klísis

inflection

rafʿ

orthè/ptosis

nominative

taʿaddin

metábais

transitivity

ḥaraka

kinesis

vowel

ʿilal

páthè

sound changes

kalām/qawl

logos/lèxis

sentence, utterance

See King’s refutation of Talmon and Troupeau in: King, “Grammar and Logic in Syriac (and Arabic)”, 103. For Talmon’s and Troupeau’s hypothesises see: Talmon, “The Philosophizing Farra: An Interpretation of an Obscure Saying Attributed to the Grammarian Thaʿlab”, 265–79; and Troupeau, “The Logic of Ibn al-Muqaffa and the Origins of Arabic Grammar”, 27–35. 167 See: Versteegh, Arabic Grammar and Qur’anic Exegesis in Early Islam, 26; and Merx, Historia Artis Grammaticae apud Syros, 137. 168 Versteegh, Greek elements in Arabic Linguistic Thinking, 25. 166

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autotèleila

meaningfulness

maʿanā

lektión

meaning

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When it comes to the role of Hellenistic philosophy in the history of Arabic grammar, Versteegh believed that its influences are to be sought in the teachings of Stoics and the way they were integrated in the works of Dionysios Trax (d. 90 B.C) and the Byzantine grammar tradition (Versteegh 1977: 40). In accordance with Versteegh’s hypothesis, Wilson pointed out that the writing process of Sibawayh’s al-Kitāb coincided with the revival of the Byzantine grammar studies through the writings of Georgios Choiroboscos (d. 800) and Michael the Synkellos (d. 829).169 The first problem with both hypothesises has been identified by Versteegh himself, namely that a single Arabic term can correspond to one, two or three Greek terms (Versteegh 1993: 23). As the terms in question moreover prove to be semantically incompatible with one another, no definite conclusions have been reached in the similar attempts to draw connections between (1) ẓarf and angeîon, (2) ‘iʿrāb, hellénízein, hellénísmos, (3) ‘ism and ónoma, 4) fiʿl and rhèma, (5) ḥāl, hèxis, diathesis and (6) khabar and katégoríumenon.170 If, and to which degree, the ʿAbbāsid grammarians were familiar with the Greek terms in question remains open to interpretation. Contrary to what Jokisch believed, not all grammarians were professional translators with a working knowledge of Ancient Greek.171 As the listed examples of the supposedly genetic connection between the Greek and Arabic grammatical concepts mostly consist of isolated terms and simple-structured, general notions, a coincidental convergence between them cannot be ruled out. Concurrently, we have no means to prove that the medieval grammarians have consciously sought to purge Greek terms from the written works of grammar.172 Owing to the fact 169 Wilson, Geschichte

Philologie in Byzanz. Einleitung die griechische Philology, 106; and Wilson, Scholars of Byzantium, 77. 170 See: Elmarani-Jamal, Logique aristotelicienne et grammaire arabe, 24–25; Versteegh, Greek Elements in Arabic Linguistic Thinking, 131; and Merx, Historia Artis Grammaticae apud Syros, 141–148. 171 Jokisch, Islamic Imperial Law, 409. 172 Albeit he appears to have believed otherwise, Ibn Khaldūn provides us with no examples of this practice. See: Ibn Khaldūn, al-Muqaddima vol.3, 142.

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that he died in 796 A.D., Sibawayh probably had no access to the Arabic editions of Aristotle’s works. Troupeau’s comparative analysis of the terminology of al-Kitāb and the 10th century editions of Hermeneutics and Poetics moreover attests to serious discrepancies between these works and al-Kitāb even when it comes to the most basic grammar terms.173 “The most obvious weakness of the Greek hypothesis is that it has never been confronted with Arabic grammar itself or rather, that the Hellenists have never defined the kind of Arabic grammar itself or rather, that the Hellenists have never defined the kind of grammar which they claim was borrowed from Greek”, wrote Carter on the origins of Arabic grammar.174 Carter’s “kind of grammar” that was supposedly yet to be defined by the modern-day supporter of the socalled “Greek hypothesis” was however partially identified by alFārābī as early as the 10th century A.D. Writing on Greek elements in the Arabic grammar tradition, al-Fārābī recorded the following: Even though particles consist of many different categories, up until today Arab grammarians aren’t accustomed to distinguish each of them by its own, specific name. For this reason, we need to use for the many [categories] the terms that have come to us from Greek grammarians as they were accustomed to assign a [special] name to each of the categories in question. To one category they refer to as khawālif, to another one as wāṣilāt – and to others [they refer to] as wāsiṭa, hawāshī and rawābiṭ. (al-Fārābī 2015: 6)

Troupeau’s analysis pivots on the translations of ‘Abu Yaʿqūb ‘Isḥāq b. Ḥunayn (d. 910) and Mattā b. Yūnus. Upon having them compared to Sibawayh’s al-Kitāb, Troupeau came to the conclusion that whereas Isḥāq refers to letters as the ustuqus, Sibawayh preferred the term ḥarf. Moreover, Troupeau has discovered discrepancies between the terms they use for syllable (iqtidab in the works of Ḥunayn b. ‘Isḥāq; maqta‘ in Mattā’s translation), conjunctions (‘Isḥāq’s ribat and Sibawayh’s ḥarf), articles and verbs (Mattā’s kalima and Sibawayh’s fiʿl). See: Troupeau, Lexique-Index du Kitab de Sibawayhi, 12–13. 174 Carter, The Origins of Arabic Grammar, 5. 173

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The salient characteristic of Ancient Greek is the abundant use of particles and connectors in textual discourse. 175 In this respect, it is easy to understand al-Fārābī’s praise for the language he had no command of. The depth of his interest in Greek philosophy and grammar was nevertheless deemed to be extraordinary among the medieval logicians. 176 As he mistrusted the expertise of professional translators, al-Fārābī incessantly consulted personal acquaintances, various commentaries ancient and new and the occasional metalinguistic remarks in translated texts in order to come to terms with the genuine message of his teachers and role models (Menn 2008: 67–68). On which written and/or oral authorities in Greek grammar was al-Fārābī’s classification of particles based upon nonetheless remains unknown. During the life and times of al-Fārābī, Trax’s treatise Technē, Kanones of Theodosius and Apollonius’ Syntax were counted among the most influential Greek grammar treatises in the Middle East.177 When it comes to the five-fold classification of particles that was preserved by al-Fārābī’s Kitāb al‘Alfāẓ, the modern-day analyses tend to agree that the following four categories have been directly imported from Greek grammar: wāṣilāt (definite article), wāsiṭa (prepositions), hawāshī (adverbs) and rawābiṭ (conjunctions).178 Based on analogies between the writings of the two scholars and the fame and availability of Trax’s works in the 10th century Baghdad, Robins identified Technē as the borrowing source of alFārābī’s classification.179 With regard to this background, lexis as a genus is divided into three kinds but among them the one that Thrax calls “συνδεσµος” and Alfarabi “ḥurūf” is exactly the place that we can find hints of partial borrowings by him and as a result is our concern. And Eksell, Pragmatic Markers from Greek into Arabic. A Case Study on Translations by Isḥāq ibn Ḥunayn, 321. 176 Menn, “Al-Fārābī’s Kitāb al-Ḥurūf and his Analysis of the Senses of Being”, 67. 177 Jokisch, Islamic Imperial Law, 410–411. 178 See: Versteegh, Landmarks in Linguistic Thinking, 57–58; Versteegh, Greek Elements in Arabic Linguistic Thinking, 52–53; Younesie, “Speculations on the Possibility of Alfarabi’s Partial Reception of Thrax’ Tekhne Grammatike”, 104–114; Gätje, Die Gliederung der sprachlichen Zeichen nach al-Fārābī, 1–24; and Robins, A Short History of Linguistics, 37–38. 179 Robins, A Short History of Linguistics, 37–38. 175

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Translated into Syriac in the late 6th century, Trax’s Technē played a notable role in the history of Greek and Syriac grammar.180 On the contrary, no authoritative Arabic edition of Technē was ravailable to Arabic-speaking scholars of the 9th century Baghdad. Albeit al-Fārābī might have been introduced to Technē by his personal acquaintances, Trax’s role in the writing process of Kitāb al-‘Alfāẓ remains open to speculation. On his side, Robins maintained that al-Fārābī’s terms khawālif, wāṣilāt, wāsiṭa, hawāshī and rawābiṭ correspond to Trax’s notions of árthon, antonymia, prósthesis, epirrhema and súndesmos respectively (Robins 1997: 41–42). On the authority of Mattā b. Yūnūs, Versteegh subsequently reached the same conclusion concerning the meaning and origins of the term khawālif.181 However, contrary to Robins’ hypothesis, Versteegh believed to have found the origins of the term hawāshī in the Greek term stoibaí. Moreover, Versteegh deemed that al-Fārābī’s term khawālif actually corresponds to the Syriac ḥlāp̄ shmā.182 Although both authors asserted Trax’s significance in the history of Arabic grammar studies, there is no clear evidence that al-Fārābī was familiar, let alone well-versed in Trax’s teachings. At the same time however, Gutas’ analysis of the classification procedures of Paul the Persian successfully demonstrates al-Fārābī’s inclination to rely on Paul’s writings. Translated into Arabic in the 180 On Technē’s

role in Greek and Syriac grammar and Hūzāyā’s (d. 580) translation of Technē into Syriac see: King, D. “Grammar and Logic in Syriac (and Arabic)”, 108; Contini, “Considerazioni interlinguistiche sull’adattamento siriaco della ‘Techne Grammatike’ di Dionisio Trace”, 79; Dickey, Ancient Greek Scholarship, 79; Rundgren, “Über den griechischen Einfluss auf die arabische National-grammatik”, 125; and Younesie, “Speculations on the Possibility of Alfarabi’s Partial Reception of Thrax’ Tekhne Grammatike”, 111–114. 181 Versteegh, Greek Elements in Arabic Linguistic Thinking, 52. 182 Ibid., 51–53

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early 10th century, the teachings of Anūshīrwān’s (531–579) court philosopher Paul were extensively consulted by al-Fārābī and Miskawayh alike.183 Of the three known works of Paul the Persian, two have been preserved up until today: his commentary of De Interpretatione and a short introduction to the Logic in Syriac. Apart from the occasional references in Miskawayh’s Tartīb al-Saʿāda and al-Fārābī’s treatise ‘Iḥṣā’ al-ʿUlūm,184 little can be asserted of the third, nameless work of Paul the Persian. Whether Paul’s classification system had a direct impact on al-Fārābī’s categorization of particles consequently remains uncertain. However, if there was a single written work of grammar that has provided al-Fārābī with the terminology scope and theoretical foundation of his classifications, it remains to be identified. As alFārābī gives no hint of his sources, it would be reasonable to assume that his informants might have been the Christian scholars he is known to have consulted with. In the light of the fact that his acquaintances had only the rudimentary knowledge of Greek as liturgical language,185 their limited competence might serve as an explanation how al-Fārābī came to identify the Syriac term khawālif as the grammatical term of Greek origin. However, it is equally possible that alFārābī adopted this term from Mattā b. Yūnūs or the grammarians of Baghdad. As a frequent guest of al-Zajjāj’s majlis, al-Fārābī rubbed shoulders with most eminent ʿAbbāsid grammarians. Somewhere around the year 898 A.D., he also began his studies with Ibn al-Sarrāj. However, in due to the fact that the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj don’t operate with the terms khawālif, wāsiṭa, wāṣilāt, hawāshī and rawābiṭ, it is highly unlikely that he was the one who led al-Fārābī to believe that these terms have been widely used in the Arabic grammar tradition. In his treatise Kitāb al-‘Alfāẓ, al-Fārābī claimed the wide-spread use of his terminology among the Arab grammarians in spite of the fact that his efforts appear to have met with the deliberate, Gutas, “Paul the Persian on the classification of the parts of Aristotle’s philosophy: a milestone between Alexandria and Bagdad”, 239, 244–247, 253, 255. 184 See: al-Fārābī’s ‘Iḥṣā’ al-ʿUlūm, 71; and Miskawayh, Tartīb al-Sāʿda wa Manāzala al-‘Ulūm, 99. 185 Consult Menn’s research on al-Fārābī’s collaboration with Christian scholars at: Menn, “Al-Fārābī’s Kitāb al-Ḥurūf and his Analysis of the Senses of Being”, 67. 183

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impenetrable silence of his contemporaries and the later-date grammarians alike. As a matter of fact, the “Greek” terms proposed by alFārābī weren’t always compatible with the notions of particles that were established and promoted by the ʿAbbāsid grammarians. As a beginner with limited proficiency in Classical Arabic, al-Fārābī either 1) inherited the terms khawālif, wāsiṭa, wāṣilāt, hawāshī and rawābiṭ from Christian scholars or, more likely, 2) overheard discussions on these terms at the majlis of al-Zajjāj and somehow got the impression that they are widely used among the ʿAbbāsid grammarians. In either case, his observations regarding the wide-spread use of these terms were far from the truth. Moreover, in the light of the fact that alFārābī’s teachings were imbued with criticism of the long-standing, traditionally established reverence for Classical Arabic, it comes as no surprise that his Kitāb al-‘Alfāẓ and the terminology it proposed had a limited impact in the history of Arabic grammar studies. Considering the fact however, that the third sub-chapter of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw might have been composed in response to Kitāb al-‘Alfāẓ, the analysis of its content offers us insight into Ibn alSarrāj’s stand on al-Fārābī’s credibility and the proper role of Hellenistic sciences in the Arabic grammar tradition. If any comprehensive classification of particles existed prior to alFārābī’s Kitāb al-‘Alfāẓ, no trace of it has survived up until today. In this aspect, al-Fārābī’s criticism of grammarians appears to be justified. Considering that Kitāb al-‘Alfāẓ contains no trace of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s classification but moreover maintains that no such terminology has been established by Arab grammarians; it would be reasonable to assume that the composition of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw was initiated roughly at the same time or shortly following the composition of Kitāb al-‘Alfāẓ. But regardless of the fact if Ibn al-Sarrāj’s analysis was (primarily) motivated by al-Fārābī’s refutation of the substandard terminology and grammarians’ lack of motivation to properly classify particles in Classical Arabic, [his Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw presents us with one the earliest overviews of the various types of particles in the history of Arabic grammar. As his predecessors before him, Ibn al-Sarrāj betrays no hint that he was aware of, let alone concerned about al-Fārābī’s refutation of scholars who have dedicated their lives to the analyses and preservation of the laws of grammar. However, although he was unwilling to publicly admit that the works of grammarians from the times past might be

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lacking in consistency and refinement, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s efforts to conduct a comprehensive classification of particles indicate his willingness to implicitly acknowledge the criticism of logicians and, more importantly – address it properly. As his first step towards resolving the issue, Ibn alSarrāj subject particles to the rules of his taqāsīm, thus identifying them as one of the three main elements of speech in Classical Arabic.186 Provided that it serves (1) a syntactic function and that (2) it lies outside of the morphological and semantic range of nouns and verbs, Ibn al-Sarrāj maintained that such a part of speech could be defined as a particle. In this respect, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s criteria correspond to Sibawayh’s definition of particles as every part of speech that is neither verb nor noun.187 Covering the wide range of prepositions, pronouns, adverbs and conjunctions, each of whom has been assigned with the special function in a sentence, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s notion of particles appears closer to the Greek term phone asemos than to Sibawayh’s ḥarf. In addition to the comparative analysis that were conducted by Menn (Menn 2008: 67) and Guillaume (Guillaume 2007: 263–268), the main difference between the otherwise identical notions of ḥarf and phone asemos has been summarized by Carter as following: Sibawayh and Aristotle have very different interest in ḥarf which was identical with the Greek phone asemos but defined from a totally different point of view is reflected in the fact that Aristotle says that the particle has a definite function but no specific meaning while for Sibawayh the ḥarf has some kind of meaning (jāʿali maʿanan) but no specific function. (Carter 2006: 15)

As he maintained that particles are devoid of meaning of their own,188 Ibn al-Sarrāj believed them to be incapable of serving as the predicate of

Ibn al-Sarrāj, Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.3; Ibn al-Sarrāj. al-Mūjaz fī al-Nahw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff.3/39. 187 Sibawayh, al-Kitāb vol.1, 12. 188 Ibn al-Sarrāj. al-Mūjaz fī al-Nahw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff.3/39. 186

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a sentence.189 Nonetheless, the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj cherished particles as the element of speech that enables us to come to terms with the meaning of nouns and verbs.190 Depending if they serve to unite and determine nouns, verbs or nouns and verbs, Ibn al-Sarrāj sets a distinction between the three categories of particles: (1) particles that qualify nouns but not verbs, (2) particles that qualify verbs but not nouns and (3) particles that serve to qualify nouns and verbs alike.191 When it comes to the functions of particles in a sentence, Ibn al-Sarrāj furthermore differentiates between 1) the particles that qualify a single noun in a single sentence (al-rajul), 2) particles that qualify a single verb in a sentence (sayafʿalu), 3) particles that serve to unite two nouns (jā‘anī Zayd wa ʿAmr), 4) two verbs, 5) verb and noun, 6) two sentences and 7) particles that provide the foundations of perfect speech in general or 8) simply serve as a mere extra in a sentence.192 As opposed to the five-fold categorization of al-Fārābī, no Greek terms have been utilized in the three-fold classification that was established and preserved in Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī alNaḥw. Since al-Fārābī doesn’t engage into detailed linguistic analyses of the khawālif, wāṣilāt, wāsiṭa, hawāshī and rawābiṭ, how these categories compare to Ibn al-Sarrāj’s classification system remains unclear. As an example of the first category of particles, Ibn al-Sarrāj lists possessive pronouns, definite article and the prepositions ‘ilā, min ʿan, ʿalā and bi; whereas the second group is represented by the particles lā, ‘an and the verb conjugation prefixes sawfa and sa.193 In addition, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s third category of particles was illustrated by the conjunction wa. Writing on the term khawālif, al-Khwarizmī identified it as an equivalent of the combined meanings of the Arabic grammar terms ‘asmā’, mubhama, ‘asmā’ muḍamara and abdāl al-‘amsā’.194 On his side, al-

189 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library

of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.4. 190 Ibid, ff.9–11. 191 Ibid., ff.9. 192 Ibid., ff.9–10.

Ibn al-Sarrāj’s treatise al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw refer to the verbal prefix sa as “al-sīn”. In the Arabic grammar studies, this prefix has been commonly used to build the future tense. See: Ibn al-Sarrāj. al-Mūjaz fī al-Nahw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff.3/39 194 al-Khwarizmi, Kitāb al-Mafātiḥ al-ʿUlūm, 146. 193

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Fārābī in turn chose to identify the khawālif as articles.195 As of adverbs, (hawāshī) al-Fārābī divides them into positive, negative, qualitative, local and temporal.196 The term wāsiṭa concurrently came to be identified as “anything that, being attached to a name, indicates that thing is related to another [thing] and that yet a [thing] is related to it”.197 In addition, al-Fārābī believed that there are seven types of conjunctions (rawābiṭ): (1) conjunctions that are attached to multiple utterances; signifying that each and every one of them is distinguished by the special quality, (2) conjunctions that imply qualities of a concept whose existence is yet to be established, (3) conjunctions that are attached to utterances that mutually exclude one-another, (4) conjunctions attached to an utterance which implies something that has escaped our attention, (5) conjunctions that indicate that something precedes something, (6) conjunctions that indicate that something either precedes or follows an utterance which was just spoken and (7) conjunctions that, when attached to an utterance, indicate that the utterance in question was already implied by another utterance.198 With its five main categories and seven sub-categories, al-Fārābī’s classification of particles was disregarded by Ibn al-Sarrāj. Commonly translated as a “surrogate” and/or “pronoun”,199 the term khawālif appears to be the closest to Ibn al-Sarrāj’s notion of personal (‘ism muḍmar) and demonstrative pronouns (‘ism mubham). As of adverbs (al-Fārābī’s hawāshī), prepositions (wāsiṭa) and conjunctions (rawābiṭ), Ibn al-Sarrāj follows Sibawayh’s example by relying on the terms ḥurūf al-jarr, ẓurūf and ḥurūf al-ʿaṭfi respectively.200 In a similar fashion, Ibn al-Sarrāj simply refers to the definite article as “alif wa lām” – just as Sibawayh did two centuries earlier.201 However,

195 See: “khawālif” in: Alon, ed., Al-Farabi’s

Philosophical Lexicon vol.1, 183. In the eyes of al-Fārābī, adverbs serve to determine shape, constitution, and distinguish things from one another. See: “hawāshī” in: Alon, ed., AlFarabi’s Philosophical Lexicon vol.2, 543. 197 Ibid., 688. 198 Ibid., 570. 199 Versteegh, Landmarks in Linguistic Thought III, 57. 200 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.477, 214–219, 322, etc. 201 Ibid., ff.4, 23, 114, 123, etc. 196

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! Graph. 5. – The main elements of speech in Classical Arabic

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when it comes to the categorization of particles, no appropriate precedent from the works of the early Arab grammarians stood at Ibn alSarrāj’s disposal. Forced to make a choice of his own, Ibn al-Sarrāj gave preference to descriptive phases (al-ḥarf ‘alladhi jadkhalu ʿalā‘l-‘ism, ‘al-ḥarf ‘alladhi jadkhalu ʿalā‘l-fiʿl) instead of relying on the readily available Greek terms. As he preferred to stretch the limits of Classical Arabic with descriptive phrases instead of relying on the terms of non-Arabic origin; it comes as no surprise that Ibn al-Sarrāj’s classification of particles operates with different terms than al-Fārābī’s. What is surprising however, is that the surviving works of the two scholars demonstrate significant discrepancies even when it comes to the way they operate with grammar terms of Arabic origin. For instance, whereas al-Fārābī uses the term ṣinf and, from time to time, markaba, to denote a sub-unit of grammar, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s preference lay with the terms sharḥ, tafsīr and qism.202 Upon analysing the grammatical properties of verbs, alFārābī furthermore refers to verbs by the term kalim albeit he was well-aware of the wide-spread tendency of ʿAbbāsid grammarians to rely on the term fiʿl instead.203 Albeit his treatise Kitāb al-Ḥurūf indicates that he was familiar with both terms, al-Fārābī furthermore chose to rely on the term sabab to denote the laws of grammar – as if he was determined to avoid any possible connections with Ibn alSarrāj’s meditations on ʿilla and the Wisdom of Arabs (al-Fārābī 1969: 205). As for Ibn al-Sarrāj, in spite of his preference to rely on the terminology of al-Kitāb, the nature and origin of the following four (and allegedly Greek) elements can only be traced in his own works: 1) the taqāsīm system and data classification in accordance with the rules of logic, 2) the introductory chapters of his treatises and 3) his insistence on definitions and 3) the delimitations of scientific disciplines. In addition to his tendency to rely on the terminology of logicians, the maturity of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s taqāsīm has been commonly attributed to his affiliations with logicians by the scholars of the mid12th and the late 15th century. Determined to prove the existence of an all-inclusive, general rationalizing tendency in the 10th century grammar, logic and religious studies, Jokisch successfully drew a 202 al-Fārābī, Kitāb

al-‘Alfāẓ, 6. al-‘Alfāz, 41.

203 See: al-Fārābī, Kitāb

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comparison between the structure of Aristotle’s Organon and the later-date ‘uṣūl al-fiqh.204 Although he maintained that a similar comparison could be drawn for Ibn al-Sarrāj’s ‘uṣūl al-naḥw, Jokisch’s attempts to establish it fails to convince. As in the case of terminology, it isn’t Aristotle but Sibawayh, the ‘imām of grammarians, who emerges as the true role model for the structure and organization of chapters of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s treatises. For not only did Ibn al-Sarrāj share Sibawayh’s belief that every written work of grammar should open with morphological analysis that are followed by syntaxical and phonetical evaluations; but he also maintained that the provided model of chapter organization is based on the nature of Classical Arabic.205 The notable exception from Sibawayh’s general rule is however represented by the introduction chapters of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s treatises. Dealing with the three main elements of speech, “al-Kalām” chapter emerges as the second chapter of Sibawayh’s al-Kitāb and Ibn al-Sarrāj’s Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw alike. Nevertheless, no chapter of al-Kitāb corresponds to Ibn al-Sarrāj’s meditations on the Wisdom of Arabs, the role of grammarians and the sacrosanct nature of Classical Arabic threated in the introductory chapter of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. With the notable exception of al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw and his short, half a foliolong tract Kitāb al-Qalam, the introduction chapters that state the clear purpose and the scope of research of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s studies have been preserved in Kitāb al-‘Ishtiqāq, Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ, Risāla fī alNaqṭ, Kitāb al-ʿArūḍ and Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. Although the surviving works of Basran grammarians like Sibawayh and al-Mubarrad provide us with no real precedent for Ibn al-Sarrāj’s introductory chapters, the following excerpt from Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw indicates that his attention to detail and organization didn’t necessarily spring from infatuation with the school of Baghdad: In this book, I have announced all secrets of grammar, assembled them in total, subdivided them for demonstration and arranged the sub-types and sorts [of grammar units] as clearly as possible so that it remains close to the hearts and transmits easy to the learners. 204 Jokisch, Islamic

Imperial Law, 588–611.

205 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library

of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff.326.

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Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.29.

Guided by the prospect of financial gain, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s great rolemodel al-‘Akhfash insisted that Arabic grammar studies were in no way connected with religious matters.206 To the contrary, Ibn al-Sarrāj he perceived the compilation of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw as his personal, professional and sacred duty. In order to help his contemporaries to connect to the fading Wisdom of Arabs, Ibn al-Sarrāj was determined to preserve the grammar as its medium and representational device. As he was hoping for the widespread distribution of his works among the intellectual elite and the city population alike, Ibn al-Sarrāj developed a simple writing style and method of data-exposition instead of putting his trust in people to seek him out to “clarify them what they couldn’t comprehend”207 once he has lured them in with vague promises and hints of deep wisdom as al-‘Akhfash did. Covering the phonetics, phonology, morphology, syntax and semantics of Classical Arabic, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw quickly established itself as the most comprehensive, structured grammar treatise of its time. Although the strict structure of Sarrāj’s Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw has been favourably compared to the works of Baghdadi logicians, the comparative analyses of speech that were preserved in Sibawayh’s treatise al-Kitāb, al-Fārābī’s Kitāb al-‘Alfāẓ and Kitāb al‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw indicate that al-Fārābī’s writing-style actually bears greater resemblance to “the discernible, if clumsy”208 style of al-Kitāb than to the precise, clear-cut writings of Ibn al-Sarrāj: Speech [consists of]: noun (‘ism), verb (fiʿl) and particle (ḥarf) whose meaning is not the one of a noun or a verb. Nouns are: man, horse and wall. (Sibawayh 1988 1: 12) Meaningful words are noun (‘ism), verb (kalim), which is referred to by grammarians as “fiʿl” – and examples of nouns are: Zayd, Amr, man, animal, whiteness, blackness, justice, inscription, fairness, scribe, standing, sitting, white, black. Summa 206 al-Jāḥiẓ, Kitāb

al-Hayawān vol. 1, 91–92.

207 Ibid. 208 Versteegh, The

Arabic Language, 11.

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Writing on al-Fārābī’s classification of speech, Versteegh proposes that he might have inherited his notion of the three elements of speech “from his teacher Ibn as-Sarrāj”.209 This being a rare example when the three scholars tackled the same issue, al-Fārābī’s writings on the speech and its components were however most likely on Sibawayh’s methodology approach. Moreover, al-Fārābī’s analysis opens with the fourteen different examples that were intended to serve as an introduction to his analysis of nouns and the kalām al-ʿarab. As a consequence, his analysis falls short of the distinguished maturity and precision of Ibn Sarrāj’s taqāsīm. Albeit Ibn al-Sarrāj’s attention to detail, organization and precise definitions might have been inspired by his study-peer alFārābī,210 any attempt to establish a historical context and the pattern of direct acceptance between Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw and the works of medieval logicians would require a lot of oversimplification and strained guessing. Precise and explicit, the quoted example from Ibn al-Sarrāj’s Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw resembles the meticulousness of Aristotle’s definition of nouns as “composite, meaningful sounds without time, no part of which is meaningful in itself”.211 That much is certain. However, if Ibn al-Sarrāj consciously relied on Organon while working on 209 Versteegh, Landmarks

in Linguistic Thought, 62. al-Fārābī’s views on the importance of definitions can be consulted at: alFārābī, Kitāb al-‘Alfāẓ, 19–22, 81. 211 Aristotle. Poet a 1457 a 11–2 [G 41]. Quoted according to: Versteegh, Greek Elements in Arabic Linguistic Thinking, 138. 210

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his classification of speech, he was careful to leave no trace behind. As a matter of fact, no Greek terms and personal names like Aristotle/Aristō, al-Fārābī, manṭiq, and falsafa appear in Ibn al-Sarrāj’s works. With fatwas being issued against the logicians and their terminology, his cautiousness is hardly surprising.212 Moreover, he must have been aware of the unsettling rumours that were indicating that grammar, just like logic, “eliminates all humility from heart” and causes the insanity of those who deal with it.213 Another reason why there are no apparent Greek elements to be identified in Ibn al-Sarrāj’s works has been identified by Jokisch as the overlapping fields of inquiry of grammar and logic. “Unlike the grammarians, however, the jurists distinguished between the logical tool and the object of this tool, so that logic was not immediately applied to fiqh’, maintained Jokisch in his Islamic Imperial Law. ‘This is why Organon as a system is discernible in Islamic law but not in grammar” (Jokisch 2007: 586). As the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj make no attempt to differentiate between the scientific domains of grammar and logic, Jokisch’s hypothesis remains unconfirmed. In a similar attempt to pinpoint the complex interplay between the Islamic religious law and Hellenistic sciences, Van Grunenbaum concludes that one culture may affect another one when it comes to (1) the vantage point and objectives of research, (2) methodology and (3) the content of a receiving system.214 As the highly elitist product of the Graeco-Arabic translation movement, the teachings of the school of Baghdad postdate the earliest works of Arabic grammar for at least two centuries. While the 10th century grammarians and logicians shared a field of inquiry, the vantage point of ʿAbbāsid grammarians remained untouched by the teachings of the school of Baghdad. Quite the contrary, it was the school’s ambition to challenge the status of Classical Arabic and grammarians’ authority over the issues of soul and its Creator that locked the representatives of the two disciplines in a conflict for power and influence. By the year 974 A.D., when al-ʿĀmirī’s unsuccessful attempt to 212 For more on some of the most famous fatwas that were issued against the

terminology of logicians see: Goldziher, “The Attitude of Orthodox Islam Towards Ancient Sciences”, 205. 213 al-Makkī. Qūt al-Qulub vol.1, 166 214 Von Grunenbaum, The Problem of Cultural Influence. Islam and Medieval Hellenism: Social and Cultural Perspectives, 91.

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challenge al-Sirāfī in front of the disinterested vizier Ibn al-ʿAmīd (d. 970) signaled the overall decline of popularity of public debates between grammarians and logicians,215 no widespread solution for their conflicting vantage points has ever been established. Owing to the dearth of works of Basran grammarians between the early 8th and the mid-10th century, an analysis of evolution of grammatical terms and notions emerges as a formidable challenge to be tackled. In comparison with the surviving works of Sibawayh and alMubarrad, the grammatical opus of Ibn al-Sarrāj doubtlessly brought improvement in structural organization and data exposition. Whether his determination to do away with obfuscation in the works of his predecessors was inspired by Aristotle’s works or a pragmatic desire to convey his teachings to the widest audience possible remains uncertain. On the one hand, it is quite possible that Ibn al-Sarrāj’s notions of ḥarf, precise definitions and innovative method of data exposition might have been inspired by the teachings of the school of Baghdad. Concurrently, it is also possible that Sibawayh made use of yet unidentified Greek treatise(s), thus leading Ibn al-Sarrāj to unconsciously incorporate certain elements of Greek philosophy and grammar to the Foundations of Arabic Grammar. A third option would be that Ibn al-Sarrāj actively relied on Organon and/or works of ʿAbbāsid logicians but was careful to conceal his doings as he feared public outrage that could result in his excommunication from the circles of Baghdadi grammarians.216 As a fourth alternative stands the possibility that Ibn al-Sarrāj was neither well-versed nor influenced by the Greek grammar and logic – for apart from a general resemblance of a few semantically unrelated notions, no terms and concepts of distinctly Greek origin have ever been identified in his writings. Even so, it is important to take into account that with the notable exception of erroneous presumptions that he used to rely on philosophical terms, each and every outcry of medieval historiographers against the foreign element in Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teachings concerns the structural improvements in his works rather than focusing on his genuine, theoretical contributions to the Arabic grammar studies. As a matter of fact, no parallels

215 al-Tawḥīdī, ‘Akhlāq

al-Wazīrayn, 273. Such was the fate however of Ibn Sarrāj’s student al-Rummānī. See: Ibn al-’Anbārī. Nuzha al-‘Alibbā’, 189. 216

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between the Aristotelian notion of wisdom and Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teachings on the Wisdom of Arabs were brought up by ʿAbbāsid historiographers. In the mid-10th century, Ibn Nadīm reported that the shamefaced Ibn al-Sarrāj conceded the truth of al-Zajjāj’s remark that his own neglect of grammar studies made him sound more like logician than grammarian.217 In the centuries to come, this statement will serve as the foundation for the most claims about Ibn al-Sarrāj’s affiliations to the school of Baghdad. In the mid-12th century, al-Qifṭī notably expanded and supported al-Zajjāj’s remark by asserting Ibn al-Sarrāj’s tendency to rely on philosophical, Greek terms.218 Firm of belief that Ibn al-Sarrāj was actually accused of being overly-concerned with music lessons (but not the studies of logic), as early as the 13th century, Yāqūt expressed his doubts over the accuracy of Ibn Nadīm’s report (Yāqūt 1999: 198). In the centuries to come, Yāqūt’s doubts were however disregarded as the first allegations of the reputed parallels between Ibn Sarrāj’s writing style and the teachings of logicians began to surface. Seven centuries later, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s taqāsīm, precise definitions and his attention to detail and organization thus came to be associated with the school of Baghdad and the teachings of Aristotle.219 With regards to Ibn al-Sarrāj’s affiliations with Ibn al-Rūmī, there might have been a long-standing feud between al-Zajjāj and Ibn al-Sarrāj. Once a prominent member of the majlis of Thaʿlab, al-Zajjāj became the student of al-Mubarrad only upon offering him the twothirds of his annual income.220 Al-Zajjāj’s rise to renown and power had not been an easy one – and following the death of al-Mubarrad in 898 A.D., he had little reason to sympathise with the youngest, smartest and spoiled favourite student of al-Mubarrad. 221 Even so, in the light of grammarians’ tendency to resort to obfuscation to attract new 217 Ibn Nadīm, Kitāb

al-Fihrist, 62. al-Ruwāh vol.3, 149. 219 See: Versteegh, Greek Elements in Arabic Linguistic thinking, 94, 124; Yong, Religion, Learning and Science in the ‘Abbasid Period, 128; Jokisch, The Islamic Imperial Law, 585; and Cassels, Arabic grammatical studies in the late 9th and early 10th centuries, with particular reference to the Usūl alNahw of Ibn al-Sarrāj, 45–51. 220 See: ‘Abu al-Tayyib. al-Marātib al-Naḥwiyyīn, 83; and al-Sirāfī, ‘Akhbār alNaḥwiyīn al-Basriyīn, 108. 221 Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-‘Udabā’ vol.18, 198. 218 al-Qifṭī, ‘Inbāh

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students, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s neat writing style and innovative methodology were bound to be targeted upon jeopardizing his colleagues’ major source of income. Stigmatized by the ʿulamā’, the Baghdadi logicians provided Ibn al-Sarrāj’s opponents with the perfect opportunity to strike. In the light of his failure to demonstrate an appropriate vigour in the public debates of grammarians and logicians, Ibn al-Sarrāj, the rumoured study-peer and close associate of al-Fārābī, received the slander of historiographers and the respect of logicians.222 In itself, his stand on the school of Baghdad appears to have been the one of a typical 10th century ‘adīb: open minded, utilitaristic and ready to take into consideration any general notion that appeared relevant to his cause without being unduly influenced by it. Although the ʿAbbāsid logicians appear to have held his teachings in high regard, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s decision to remain aloof from the demagoguery of court debates doesn’t necessarily indicate that he was one of the known advocates of logic”; as Boer refers to Basran grammarians who were allegedly actively striving to naturalize Organon in the Arabic soil.223 As a matter of fact, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s meditations on the Wisdom of Arabs could hardly be reconciled with the presumed supremacy of logic over Arabic grammar. Being every bit as universal as logic, Arabic grammar was inherently prone to conflict with any religious and social movement that pondered the metaphysical issues of the first cause, meaning of words and principles of all things. However, in the light of the fact that Ibn al-Sarrāj’s vantage point and research objectives prove to be untouched by the influx of Hellenistic sciences in the ʿAbbāsid culture, even if Aristotle’s works happened to have had a direct impact on his methodology approach, his teachings would nonetheless meet Van Grunenbaum’s criteria for the weakest possible degree of cultural exchange. If it ever existed, Greek influence in the grammatical opus of Ibn al-Sarrāj is severely limited. Every attempt to analyse it can thus be labelled as an interpretation of silence.

“Philosophers admired his meaning”, maintains al-Qifṭī’s ‘Inbāh al-Ruwāh. See: al-Qifṭī, ‘Inbāh al-Ruwāh vol.3, 149. 223 According to Boer, members of the Basran school were generally known as the “advocates of logic”. See: Boer, History of Philosophy in Islam, 33. 222

CHAPTER 3. THE LANGUAGE OF GOD AND THE SPEECH OF MEN: IBN AL-SARRĀJ AND THE WISDOM (RE)ACQUIRED “While we profit from knowledge by transmitting it, from language we can profit only by speaking in it” — al-Sirāfī1

We profit from language by speaking in it, but its Wisdom is not our own creation. Like the spiritual and moral virtues, ḥikma was prized and omnipresent, but rarely discussed concept in the works of ʿAbbāsid grammarians. In this aspect, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teachings were aligned with those of his teachers, students and successors.2 In order to nurture the Wisdom and pinpoint its manifestations in individual souls and everyday speech, great capacities were needed. Once it has been acquired by dedicated study, prayer and piety, the Wisdom was set to ennoble an adept’s speech and soul alike. Sacred of beauty, speech imbued with the Wisdom could be termed the Perfect Speech (kalām al-tām).3 In its oral and written form, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s kalām altām had little in common with the ornate, stylized eloquence of Bedouin poets. He primarily perceived perfection as the union of law and beauty. In itself, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s notion of beauty somewhat resembles the famous lines which were penned by al-Jāḥiẓ and subsequently put in the mouth of the Prophet – for the beauty of Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl was 1 al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ

Kitāb Sibawayh vol.1, 9. See: Ibn Jinnī, al-Khaṣā‘is vol.4, 59; and al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ Kitāb Sibawayh vol.1, 70. 3 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.9–10. 2

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ultimately but a word produced by tongue.4 Whereas perfect language was bound to strike one as beautiful, beautiful sentences occasionally fall short of perfection. Writing on the qualities of perfect speech, Ibn al-Sarrāj came to the conclusion that the Wisdom manifests itself in language through (1) the perfection of grammar and (2) the clarity of expression. When it came to Classical Arabic, as the most exalted of all languages, the grammarian was moreover to take into account that perfect speech was also bound to firm, reliable and clear of intonation.5 Precise and alluring, the perfect speech should also be truthful: Truthful speech brings man closer to God and thus we were ordered to venerate [Him]. The origin of that is to recognize what God has bestowed on someone and namely to know oneself and the way God has favoured him over the one who doesn’t know that. Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.42–43

In the works of Ibn al-Sarrāj, truthfulness and perfection of speech serve to bring a man closer to his Creator. Concurrently, the perfection of speech was set to ensure the success of communication and the transmission of the maʿnā between the people. Whereas every speaker (mutakallim) was required to address his audience in clear, grammatically correct sentences, Ibn al-Sarrāj believed that it is the duty of a listener (mukhāṭab) to analyse the speech and its components in order to ensure the success of communication and the preservation of the high standards of Arabic grammar.6 As he al-Jāḥiẓ, Kitāb al-Bayān wa al-Tabyīn vol.1, 170. The original narrative can be consulted at the ḥadith collection Faṣāʿil al-Ṣaḥāba li-‘Aḥmad b. Ḥanbal under the reference number #1552. 5 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ, 352 A.H; Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/6, ff.2/43. See also: al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ Kitāb Sibawayh vol.1, 23, 185–18679. Similar criteria for the beauty of language are mentioned by Ibn Nadīm and Sibawayh. 6 Whereas Sibawayh believed that it is intention of a speaker that determines the maʿnā, Ibn al-Sarrāj and the later-date grammarians emphasized the role of a listener. For a detailed overview of Sibawayh’s notion of maʿnā and the evolution of these notions in the later-date Arabic grammar studies, see: Baalbaki, Legacy of the Kitāb. Sibawayh’s Analytical Methods within the Context of the Arabic Grammatical Theory, 172. 4

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believed that even minor grammar omissions have the potential to disrupt the transmission of the maʿnā between an author and his audience, Ibn al-Sarrāj insisted on the importance of the definite article, waṣla and declension. Whereas Yaḥyā b. ʿAdī maintained that arbitrary case endings have no power over the maʿnā,7 Ibn al-Sarrāj recognized the importance of grammar rules in the everyday speech of Arabs. For instance, in the sentence: “Ḍaraba Zayd ʿAmran (Zayd punched ʿAmr)” the case ending ‘an identifies ʿAmr as the object of the sentence and the man who was hit by Zayd. By omitting it, not only would a speaker leave a somewhat sloppy impression on his audience – but he would also obfuscate the distinction between subject and object, thus obliterating the meaning of a sentence. Neither arbitrary nor ethereal, the case system of Classical Arabic (‘iʿrāb) was believed to be influenced by the same Wisdom that governs the ʿilla class of grammar laws. 8 As he was aware of the crucial role of case endings in the transmission of the maʿnā, Ibn al-Sarrāj acknowledged the ‘iʿrāb as the foundation of any coherent, grammatically correct sentence.9 However, in the absence of the clarity of an expression, even a grammatically correct speech might be deemed corrupted. As an illustration of his claim, Ibn al-Sarrāj clarifies that it is grammatically correct to use expressions such as “a present man (rajul qāʿim)” or “a learned man” (rajul ʿālim). Even so, these expressions fall short of perfection as they leave us uncertain of the nature of his knowledge and/or his looks and tribal affiliations. Ibn al-Sarrāj thus advised wise men to refrain from taking part in conversations concerning strangers and newcomers in order to avoid a lack of clarity in their otherwise perfect sentences. 10 Apart from grammatical errors, the corruption of speech occasionally takes the form of an odd, “Even when a sentence is pronounced without declensional endings, its meaning is quite clear, and conversely, when a sentence is ambiguous, it does not help to supply the correct declensional endings”, maintained Yaḥyā b. ʿAdī. See: Ibn ʿAdī, Maqāla fī Tabyīn, 189. 8 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.2. 9 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 1077 A.H. Istanbul. Süleymaniye Library #1077, ff.91. 10 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.32–33. 7

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incomplete expressions and bad pronunciation. In addition, the corruption could also occur as a union of solecisms and the overall ambiguity of an expression, as in the sentence: “I will drink the sea water yesterday (sawfa ‘ashrabu mā’ l-baḥri ‘amsi)”. 11 For this reason, Ibn al-Sarrāj preferred concise sentences and neat handwriting.12 Strict and goal-oriented, he had no sympathies for ornate calligraphy. Instead, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s treatise Kitāb al-Qalam identifies the twenty-eight letters of Arabic alphabet as structural elements of the language which one by one, gather at the tip of a quill so that books can be written.13 Just as grammar slips were deemed to distort the maʿnā in the everyday speech of Arabs and similar was the impact of handwriting on written works of grammar. In the eyes of Ibn al-Sarrāj, bad handwriting was thus considered a blemish as serious as slurred speech. In a similar fashion as consonants bā’ / ‫ ب‬/, tā’ / ‫ ت‬/ and thā’ / ‫ ث‬/ differ from one another by the means of different voicing, scribes were required to pay attention to the diacritical marks lest their improvidence induces the reader to take tā’ for thā’ and/or bā’, thus committing a mistake that could potentially disrupt the conveying of maʿnā in written communication.14 Moreover, scribes were advised to take heed that their calligraphy was neat, written in light hand and with precise, small and uniform letters.15

11 See: Ibn

al-Sarrāj, Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.2; and al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ Kitāb Sibawayh vol.1, 187. 12 Ibn al-Sarrāj, Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ, 352 A.H; Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/6, ff.1/43 13 Ibn al-Sarrāj, Kitāb al-Qalam, 352 A.H; Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/6, 69/39; and Ibn al-Sarrāj. Risāla fi al-naqṭ. 581. A.H. 581. A.H. Ankara. Esm‘āil Ṣa‘eb Library, #547/3, ff.1. 14 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Risāla fī al-Naqṭ. 581. A.H. Ankara. Esm’āil Ṣa’eb Library, ff.2 15 Ibid., ff.1

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! Graph. 6 – The Wisdom of Arabs: the source and manifestations

Ibn al-Sarr!j held that the accounted traits of Classical Arabic were safeguarded by the Almighty.16 However, for the reasons unexplained, by the early 10th century the Divine protection upon the language was no more. It was thus the duty of professional grammarians to take the task upon themselves and secure the preservation of the language and its laws.17 For all the precautions of Ibn al-Sarr!j, as early as the 11th century, Ibn Jinn% came to the conclusion that the vowel system of

!!!!!!! Ibn al-Sarr!j. Kit!b al-‘U(-l f% al-Na&w, 619 A.H; Tehran, Majlis #3990, ff.2. 17 Ibid., ff.21. 16

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Classical Arabic had collapsed in the urban centers of the Empire. In the mouth of an ignorant person, consonants and vowels got twisted and corrupted. As a result, the consonant hamza disappeared from the everyday speech of sedentary population.18 “In their speech “khshun” becomes “khshūshun”, wrote Ibn Jinnī on the intonation of sedentary Arabs – ‘[a word] devoid of meaning” (dūna maʿnā).19 Moreover, ‘Abū al-Najm b. Qudāma al-ʻIjlī (d. 747) scoffingly comparing the ʿajam to donkeys due to the unpleasant tone and accent of their voices.20 On the authority of Sibawayh, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s student al-Sirāfī perceived phonemes of Classical Arabic as the foundation of its prized beauty. What makes the Arabic language unique are its phonemes as “its letters don’t resemble the pronunciation of foreign letters” (ḥurūfuhu lā tushabbahu ḥurūfa l-ʿajamī), maintains al-Sirāfī’s Sharh Kitāb Sibawayh – for in spite of the certain outward similarities, consonants ḥā‘ and mīm of the Arabic alphabet were deemed to be without equivalent in any other language – and such is the case indeed with ‘alif, yā‘, wāw and sīn as well (al-Sirāfī 1990: 28, 33). In this aspect, the quoted observations echo the widespread admiration of ʿAbbāsid scholars for the proper accent. In accordance with Sibawayh’s teachings, al-Maʿmūn’s vizier was known to have advised his son as following: “Learn to speak eloquently; for it is through speech that the man is superior to animals; and the more eloquent you are, the worthier of humanity you will be”.21 By the life and times of Ibn al-Sarrāj, clear intonation and pleasant speech were believed to have the power to elevate the soul and ensure successful conversation among the people. In the mid-10th century, Ibn ʿAbd Rabihhi (d. 940) observed that eloquence represents a prerequisite of ‘adīb’s education. As a matter of fact, proper tone and accent were believed to clothe speech in elegance, thus improving it in all aspects.22 As the mastery of public speaking came to be regarded as the prerequisite of proper education, it comes as no surprise that Ibn Nadīm avowed that both in public places and 18 Ibn Jinnī, al-Khaṣā‘is vol.2, 6. 19 See: Ibn Jinnī, al-Khaṣā‘is vol.4, 364. 20 al-Manẓūr, Lisān vol. 1, 2825. 21 Ibn Khallikān, Wafayāt

al-Aʿyān wa ‘Anbā vol.1, 391. See: Ibn ‘Abd Rabbihī, Kitāb al-‘Iqd al-Farīd vol.2, 421; Ibn Jinnī, alKhaṣā‘iṣ, vol.1, 213–237; and al-Masʿudi, The Meadows of Gold. The Abbasids, 339–340 22

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in the privacy of their homes, the voices of grammarians were a marvel to behold.23 Deep, sonorous and deliciously sweet, a grammarian’s voice was the perfect image of the pure speech of Bedouin Arabs. 24 “When you hear a story in Bedouin dialect’, forewarns al-Jāḥiẓ’s Kitāb al-Ḥayawān, ‘take care to repeat it with all declensions and its original pronunciation. If you alter [the pronunciation] and get the case-endings wrong, you will you spoil the flavour of the anecdote and miss the point altogether”.25 Either by the means of natural affinity or strict training, a refined man was expected to effortlessly express himself in rough, Bedouin-like voice in public orations and private conversation alike.26 As of Ibn al-Sarrāj, he appears to have been indifferent towards the intonation and sweetness of one’s voice for as long as the pronunciation was firm and clear.27 Whereas his contemporaries have lauded the rough voices of Bedouin Arabs, Ibn al-Sarrāj maintained that the ephemeral, arbitrary nature of tones and accents was but a product of convention.28 Provided that it is precise, clear and grammatically correct, a simple observation uttered during an informal conversation could easily outdo the eloquence of poetic verses: ʿAmrū qāʿim ‘am lā? /Is Amr coming or not/? ʿAmrū qāʿim. /Amr is coming/. Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.32

In the eyes of Ibn al-Sarrāj, no sentence that requires further clarifications once it has been uttered could rightfully lay claims on perfection. By stating that ʿAmr is truly coming, the speaker has provided the full answer to the question. Although laconic, the answer in the quoted example conveys its maʿnā precisely, thus rendering further inquiries 23 Ibn Nadīm, Kitāb

al-Fihrist, vol.1, 97, 100–102, 106.

24 Ibid., 109. 25 Quoted according to: Pellat, The

Life and Works of Jāḥiẓ̣, 105. al-Fihrist vol.1, 100–106. 27 See: Ibn al-Sarrāj, Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ, 352 A.H; Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/6, ff.2/43–3/43; and Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 651. A.H, London, British Museum #2808, ff.3, 7. 28 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ, 352 A.H; Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/6, ff.1/43. 26 Ibn Nadīm, Kitāb

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obsolete.29 Since the provided answer is at the same time grammatically correct, as such, it has also fulfilled Ibn al-Sarrāj’s second main criterion for the perfection of speech. Owing to the beauty and precision of verb formulae and the derivation potential of Arabic nouns, Ibn al-Sarrāj advised his student to rely on words of pure Arab origin – for the ugliness of foreign languages “no creative efforts of poets” could redeem (Ibn al-Sarrāj 1996: 95). As the speaker in the quoted example relies on Arabic words only, he has therefore successfully satisfied Ibn al-Sarrāj’s third criterion of perfection as well. Moreover, the simple inquiry concerning Amr’s upcoming arrival also meets the fourth criterion of perfection by combining the three main elements of speech: nouns, verbs and particles.30 Writing on medieval notions of complete, meaningful (mufīd) speech, Versteegh maintained that a perfect sentence was bound to contain a verb and the subject of a sentence (Versteegh 1977: 34–36). Preserved in Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw and al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s syntaxical criteria appear to have been somewhat higher – albeit Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl seemingly acknowledged the potential of nouns to independently form a sentence. In the Arabic grammar tradition, the basic syntactic unit of analysis was sentence. As such, a single sentence is minimally composed of two elements which form a predication so that either 1) two nouns form a nominal sentence or 2) a noun and a verb get joined together to compose a verbal sentence (Owens 1988: 32). As the main element of speech in Classical Arabic, nouns embody the meaning of words and thus, indirectly, the language itself In general, Ibn al-Sarrāj condemned ornate speech as he deemed that it causes confusion by implying that sentences contain hidden messages that might have escaped our attention. His preference for laconic speech was notably criticised by Ibn Jinnī. For according to Ibn Jinni, only in rare cases could laconic speech be rightfully deemed as perfect. As a matter of fact, Ibn Jinnī believed that most elements of a perfect sentence have no other functions but to exalt its nobility – whereas but a few of them are crucial for the successful transmission of the maʿnā. See: Ibn Jinnī, al-Khaṣā‘is vol.2, 197– 198. 30 See: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ, 352 A.H; Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/6, ff.1/43; and Ibn al-Sarrāj, Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī alNaḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.8–9. 29

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– regardless of the fact whether a noun in question is a concrete (man, horse, stone) or an abstract one (perception, punch, intellect, day, night, knowledge).31 Concurrently, nouns serve to indicate the objects of linguistic analyses and topics of our conversations – as in the examples: Amr is absent. /ʿAmrū munṭaliqun/. A man is in the house /rajulun fīl-dārī/.32

Nevertheless, a single noun such as “prayer” often fails to indicate when a pious Muslim chose to honour the Almighty – for Ibn alSarrāj maintained that such power belongs to verbs and verbs alone.33 The literal meaning of the term fiʿl can be translated an “act” or “action” – and this is how Ibn al-Sarrāj chose to define the verbs as well.34 In itself, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s definition of verbs is essentially a morphological one, as his research on the grammatical properties that set verbs apart from nouns and particles hinges on their potential to indicate time. According to Ibn al-Sarrāj, verbs represent the sole element of Classical Arabic that is capable of indicating past, present and future. Ibn al-Sarrāj’s treatise al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw thus divides verbs into three tenses (zamān): past, present and future tense.35 Concurrently, al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw singled out the role of a predicate as the main function of verbs within a sentence; as in the example:

31 Ibn

al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.2. In the decades to come, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s definition will be widely accepted among the professional grammarians– with the notable exception of his own student al-Zajjājī. Based on the fact that particles serve to qualify nouns, al-Zajjājī criticized Ibn al-Sarrāj’s assumption that a single noun could single-handedly convey a single maʿnā without the help of verbs and particles. al-Zajjājī, Kitāb ‘Īdāḥ, 50. 32 Ibn al-Sarrāj. al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff.3/39. 33 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.6. 34 Ibid., ff.2, 3. 35 Ibn al-Sarrāj. al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff.3/39.

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However, Ibn al-Sarrāj ascertained than one action cannot serve as an explanation for another. Consequently, he believed that within a sentence, a single verb infallibly serves to denote nouns alone. For this reason, al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw forewarns that it is not grammatically correct to say “jā’a yaḏhabu” – nor could one compose a perfect sentence that consists of a single verb. However, no sentence which is devoid of verb in the function of a predicate could be rightfully deemed as perfect. If one was to say that the fire is hot or snow is cold, such speech wouldn’t earn him any merit as the predicate of the sentence is not known (i.e. the speech is not perfect). Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.42–43

In the quoted example, nominal sentences “snow is cold” (al-thalj bārid) and “fire is warm” (al-nār ḥāra) are composed of the two main elements each. Whereas nouns “fire” and “snow” serve as the subject (mubtadaʿ) of a sentence, “hot” and “cold” have the function of a nominal predicate (khabar). However, in the eyes of Ibn al-Sarrāj, neither of these two sentences qualified as an example of the perfect speech in the light of the fact that provided that the verbal predicates were used, one could achieve greater clarity in conveying when were the mentioned warmth of fire and coldness of snow experienced. 37 Moreover, neither of the two sentences contains any particles. As the third main element of Classical Arabic, particles serve to qualify nouns and verbs alike. Albeit ranked among the main elements of speech, Ibn al-Sarrāj maintained that particles lack the potential to single-handedly form a sentence since no particle could serve as the predicate of a sentence.38 In the eyes of Ibn al-Sarrāj, the value of particles lay in their unique potential to bind nouns, verbs and multiple sentences

36 Ibid. 37 Ibn

al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.42–43 38 Ibn Sarrāj. al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff.3/39.

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together.39 As the unifying force of Classical Arabic, particles were believed to be the foundation of meaningful and perfect speech. In order to demonstrate his point, Ibn al-Sarrāj presents us with the short sentence: Yā, Zaydu! /Hey, Zayd/.

In the enclosed example, the particle yā ensures that Ibn al-Sarrāj’s quote can be acknowledged as a full, albeit imperfect sentence. Concurrently, without yā to signify vocative, the quoted example couldn’t be deemed grammatically correct (Ibn al-Sarrāj 1996: 41). As he was well-aware of the power of particles to ensure the grammatical correctness and clarity of speech, Ibn al-Sarrāj insisted that the perfect speech arises as the union of nouns, verbs and particles. If, however, the perfection of speech can serve as a general indicator of spiritual and moral virtues, Ibn al-Sarrāj chose not to say. Owing to the power of language to nurture and transform the soul, we arrive at the proposition that every progenitor of the perfect speech was bound to be endowed with the perfect soul as well. In the works of Ibn al-Sarrāj, grammatical correctness of the speech is akin to the concept of a religious duty, with offenders being labelled as infidels, sinners against God (kāfirūn)!40 Even so, whereas the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj have preserved a general overview of the Perfect Speech and its qualities, little can be

39 Ibn Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of

the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.8 40 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff.22/43. According to Carter, similar teachins weren’t unusual among the ʿAbbāsid grammarians. Carter, Sibawayhi, 1. Moreover, Carter believed that Arabic grammar makes no sense if it cannot be related to the practicalities of Islamic doctrine or the power and influence of grammarians in the society. The Arabic grammar tradition “is to be considered a branch of ethics, as it was, for example, in medieval Christianity”. Carter, “Les origins de la grammaire arabe”, 92. In the light of this fact, ‘Abu Suleimān’s refutation of grammarians is to be interpreted: “At the court of ‘Adad-ud-Dulah (d. 981) the difference between Arabic grammar and Greek logic was discussed and ‘Abu Suleimān b. Tāhir [observed]: The grammar of Arabs is merely concerned with religion while our grammar is reason”. Quoted according to: Mez, Renaissance of Islam, 236.

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ascertained from them about the power of Wisdom over the souls of men. Like the majority of ʿAbbāsid scholars, Ibn al-Sarrāj probably held two sets of classes: (1) closed working sessions for highly-advanced students and (2) classes open to the general public. Assuming that he went on to develop a theory of the Perfect Man as the highest form of human existence, these insights would have been doubtlessly reserved for the brightest and most faithful of his followers. The existence of the assiduous doctrine of the Perfect Man nonetheless remains open to speculations as the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj contain but a few hints of the spiritual and moral qualities that were commonly exhibited by the progenitors of Wisdom. First and foremost, such a man was bound to be educated, for Ibn al-Sarrāj believed that there can be no wise man without education.41 In order to come to terms with the language and the laws that govern it, a sharp, composed mind was required – such that is not likely to be confused by the plethora of exceptions and irregularities that plague the everyday speech of Arabs.42 In the 10th century A.D., the term ʿilm was predominately used to denote general erudition and religious knowledge alike. In its plural form (al-ʿulūm), the medieval ʿilm commonly served as a synonym for scientific disciplines in general – a meaning that survives up until today.43 Albeit the ʿilm has been widely revered for its power to give birth to Wisdom, an ʿAbbāsid grammarian of the early 10th century was also expected to be endowed with sharp perception (ẓanna),

41 Among the ʿAbbāsid grammarians, it was a general consensus that the wise

soul is capable of recognizing the decay and putridity in language. In the mid10th century, this trait was notably illustrated by al-Sirāfī’s analysis of the sentence “Zaydu ḍarabtu”. Perfectly understandable and grammatically correct, the quoted sentence was however bound to irritate the ear of a listener in the light of the fact that the noun Zayd was intended to serve as the subject of a sentence. The ability to recognize it as odd has been lauded by al-Sirāfī as a clear indicator of Wisdom. al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ Kitāb Sibawayh vol.1, 379. See also: Ibn Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.3–4; and Ibn Jinnī, al-Khaṣā‘is vol.1, 390. 42 Ibn Jinnī, al-Khaṣā‘is vol.1, 374. 43 See: Atiyah, Qur’anic Text: Towards a Retrieval System, 68; and Bennison, The Great Kaliphs. The golden age of the ʿAbbasid Empire, 161.

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questioning (shakka) and unwavering dedication to his goal (mubālāt).44 But most of all, a grammarian was to be hardworking, humble and pious. Over and above, no lies were ever to cross his lips.45 Sincere, alluring and grammatically correct, speech imbued with the supreme Wisdom was recognized by Ibn al-Sarrāj as the Perfect Speech. Up to this point, the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj are aligned. Nevertheless, it remains unclear to which degree Ibn alSarrāj’s kalām al-tāmm corresponds to the Exalted Speech. Moreover, we have no means to resolve the chicken-and-egg dilemma whether a grammarian was to be honourable and pious in order to be blessed with Wisdom by the mercy of the Almighty – or whether it was Wisdom itself that ultimately had the power to strengthen the virtue of a soul. As the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj contain no detail overview of the moral qualities of the progenitors of Wisdom, it also remains unclear what would theoretically happen to the soul of an individual once his everyday speech reaches perfection of the word of God that was embodied in the Qur’anic revelation. Intentionally obfuscated and/or underdeveloped, these issues were ultimately left unresolved in the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj. In the wake of the rising prominence of the Ḥanafī school, Ibn al-Sarrāj might have felt that his unorthodox, controversial meditations on the soul of a Perfect Man would undermine the transmission of his teachings on the Wisdom of Arabs. It is however equally possible that the issue of a Perfect Man never preoccupied his thoughts. On the other hand, he might have simply chosen to emphasise, over and over again, that the true seeker on the path of Wisdom has no other desires but the thirst for the Wisdom itself.

44 al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ

Kitāb Sibawayh vol.1, 414. In this aspect, Ibn Sarrāj’s notion of the ḥikma resembles the term maʿarifa; as a knowledge that was achieved by the means of intuition – almost like the mystic’s gnosis. 45

CHAPTER 4. THE LEGACY WE LEAVE BEHIND: THE BANISHER OF MADNESS AND THE FOUNDER OF FOUNDATIONS “Baghdad, who afflicted you with an evil eye? Were you not the eye’s delight?”1

Great changes in the scientific thought of a certain era, Foucault believed, can be interpreted either as the direct consequence of a revolutionary new discovery or as an appearance of new forms in the will to truth (Foucault 1981: 54). In this respect, the translation movement which secured the renown of Baghdad as the forefront of scientific development and the cultural capital of the Middle East in the 10th century A.D. was by no means an exception. Shrouded in myth and legend, the early years of the Graeco-Arabic translation movement still wait for its interpreters. What is clear however, is that the turning point came during the reign of al-Manṣūr (754–775), when the royal court began sponsoring the vast diversity of scientific disciplines; with the special accent on natural sciences and metaphysics.2 As a consequence, the translation activities intensified – and the renewed interest in the works of Greek scholars brought fourth innovative interpretations of rational knowledge, language and the nature of the human soul. “There is no branch of Muslim intellectual life or Muslim religious and political life and of the daily life of an average Muslim that remained untouched by the all-pervasive attitude towards ‘knowledge’ as something of superb value for Muslim being”, wrote 1 Snir, ed., Baghdad: 2 Gutas, Greek

The City in verse, 57.77. Thought, Arabic Culture, 27–34.

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Rosenthal on the cultural significance of the ʿAbbāsid translation movement.3 In the 10th century Baghdad, the lust for knowledge was all-pervasive. The rising popularity of Hellenistic sciences coincided with (1) the transfer of the main linguistic scholarly circles of the empire from Basra and Kufa to Baghdad, (2) the codification of the legal maḏāhib and (3) the emergence of the ʿulamā’, religious scholars, as a distinct social group. As the lines between the scientific disciplines were blurred, conflict was inevitable – and through the interplay of Innovation and Tradition, new intellectual approaches were about to arise. With the special emphasis on the teachings of Ibn al-Sarrāj, the present study reflects on the social contacts, intellectual exchanges and the nature of rivalry between the professional grammarians and logicians of the Peripatetic school of Baghdad. However, in the light of Foucault’s belief that scientific discipline is not to be perceived as 1) a sum of all that can be truthfully said about something nor as 2) a set of all that can be accepted about the same data in accordance with a certain principle of coherence and systematicity,4 it was not the goal of the present study to disentangle the scientific domains of grammar and logic. In the early 10th century, the Arabic grammar tradition wasn’t a product of meditations of isolated philologists but a reflection of a specific world-view. Through the analysis of the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj, I have attempted to reconstruct this worldview, its practical orientation, the ideals it was based on – and causes that have led it to collide with the seemingly unrelated teachings of the school of Baghdad. Prior to the first modern publications of Ibn alSarrāj’s Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw and al-Mubarrad’s Kitāb alMuqtaḍab in 1971 and 1965 A.D., the lack of readily available study material on the early history of Arabic grammar effectively limited similar enquiries to the later-date sources. However, the present study was able to rely on manuscripts and contemporary editions alike.

3 Rosenthal, Knowledge

Triumphant, 2. Instead, Foucault believed that each scientific discipline is defined by a domain of objects, set of methods, instruments, techniques and a corpus of propositions considered to be true. But most of all, discipline was to be identified as an existence of requisites for the construction of new statements. Foucault, “The Order of Discourse”, 59–60. 4

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Of the sixteen works of Ibn al-Sarrāj, eight survive to testify of his legacy up until today: the 12th century editions of Kitāb al-Qalam, Kitāb al-ʿArūḍ, Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ and al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw from the National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco, the 12th century manuscript of Kitāb al-‘Ishtiqāq from the Iraqi Library of Sciences, the Ankara edition of Risāla fī al-Naqṭ – and his monumental treatise Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw in five copies. As of Kitāb al-Qurrā’, no more than a few paragraphs have been preserved in ‘Abū ʿAlī al-Fārisī’s treatise Al-Ḥujja fī ʿIlali al-Qirāʿati al-Sabʿi.5 Had Ibn al-Sarrāj known what the future holds, his disappointment would have been a bitter one. Well-situated and admired by his rivals and students alike, what Ibn al-Sarrāj hoped for was a place of his own in the history of Arabic grammar studies. Of his desire, al-Tawḥīdī recoded the following: ‘O, brother of mine in God’s bequest and neighbour of mine in the lands of Allah, thou who seek the greatest grace of the Almighty, is there a sole comfort that is only within the power of the Almighty [to grant]?’ ‘The legacy [we leave behind]’, is what ‘Abū Bakr told me – and this is what I heard from ʿAlī b. ʿAysī. (al-Tawḥīdī 1964: 359)

Apart from the modest observation that the grammarians eventually acknowledged the necessity to improve their knowledge of derivation and tackle the growing corruption of language,6 the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj reveal us little of the impact of his teachings on the ʿAbbāsid (scholarly) community. What he hoped and believed to have achieved consequently remains unknown. Owing to the joint efforts of Durel (Durel 2015), Owens (Owens 1991), Bohas (Bohas 1990) and Cassels (Cassels 1979), the properties of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s taqāsīm and his contributions to the grammatical issues of transcribing vowels, transitive verbs and the writing of diacritical marks are relatively wellknown. Nevertheless, other dimensions of his work remain insufficiently studied and neglected up until today. In an ironic twist of fate, such was the case with the central motive of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teachings.

5 al-Fārisī, al-Ḥujja

fī ʿIlali al-Qirāʿati al-Sabʿi, 104–105, 110. fil-‘Ishtiqāq, 29.

6 Ibn Sarrāj, al-Risāla

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In search for the Wisdom of Arabs, the first chapter of the present study analysed the language as a mirror of souls and an emblem of group identities at the height of the ʿAbbāsid translation movement. The second and third chapter represent an attempt to come to terms with (1) the practical methods to obtain the Wisdom, (2) manifestations of Wisdom in everyday speech and (3) Greek elements in Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teachings. However, for a comprehensive overview of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s notions of the supreme Wisdom, some concluding remarks on the historical factors which have generated the need for the practical methods to obtain virtue and secure the unity of all men are required. With regards to the cultural, political and social influences that have shaped and determined the development of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teachings, the concluding chapter of the present study focuses on the impact of his writings and the legacy he left behind.

4.1. T HE PRECIOUS ROSARY “And of His signs is the creation of Heavens and Earth and the differences of your languages and colour. Verily, these are the signs for those who know” — Qur’an 30:33

The intellectual life is the life of an epoch, not of an individual.7 Brought forth in connection with the life and works of al-Saraḥsī (d. 899), Rosenthal’s premise can be applied on the surviving works of Ibn al-Sarrāj as well. Composed in the late 9th and the early 10th century, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s treatises have been as influenced by his epoch as alSarahsī’s. On the one hand, the ʿAbbāsid translation movement and the works of Greek scholars have had little or no impact on Ibn alSarrāj’s teachings. Nonetheless, his works were heavily influenced by the perceived decline of the ʿAbbāsid Empire and the cultural conflict which sprung up as a result of the assimilation of Hellenistic sciences into ʿAbbāsid culture. As a concept rooted in “nostalgia for quasitransparent form of knowledge, free from error and illusion”, Ibn alSarrāj’s Wisdom matches the Foucaultian notions of an ideology “as it stands in secondary position relative to something that functions as its infrastructure, its material, economic determinant, and so on”.8 7 Rosenthal,

Aḥmad ibn al-Ṭayyin al-Saraḥsī. A Scholar and Literature of the Ninth Century, 15. 8 Foucault, “Truth and Power”, 119.

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Serving as an infrastructure and medium of the Wisdom that he sought for, Classical Arabic consequently emerges as Ibn al-Sarrāj’s main object of study. Even so, a proof that a renowned scholar harboured a certain ideological concept within a certain time frame tells us little about the acceptance of his teachings within the society. Regarding the impact of the Arabic grammar tradition on the generally anonymous masses of the Empire, Bohas ascertained that grammar was limited to the small circle of specialists until the 10th century A.D.9 Considering that Ibn al-Sarrāj’s works and the ʿAbbāsid translation movement enjoyed the support of wealthy merchants and craftsmen, Bohas’ hypothesis appears to be exaggerated. Writing on the notions of lafẓ and maʿnā, al-Fārābī asserted that the teachings of grammarians were well-received among the general public.10 Unfortunately, alFārābī’s observation is impossible to verify. In his study on the religious politics of caliph al-Maʿmūn and his successors, Christopher Melchert developed a unique method that relies on the (absence of) riots to determine the popularity of certain cultural and religious reforms among the generally anonymous masses of the Empire.11 However, as Ibn al-Sarrāj’s writings caused no riots to be recorded, the time distance between the present study and the object of its research makes it difficult to gauge the appeal of his teachings in the eyes of ‘āmma.12 For this reason, the scope of the present chapter was limited to the creative minority and the intellectual elite that supported them. Disregarding varying socio-political backgrounds, uniformity and a scope of influence of diverse language ideologies, all theoretical discourses which were based on grammatical properties of a certain language have been denounced by Rumsey as misrecognitions in general (Rumsey 1990: 357). In the ʿAbbāsid culture however, language 9 Bohas and Guillaume, The

Arabic Linguistic Tradition, 1–2, 8.

10 al-Fārābī, ‘Iḥṣā‘a al-ʿUlūm, 43. 11 Melchert, “Religious Policies of the Caliphs from al-Mutawakkil to al-

Muqtadir”, 318–342. 12 In his study on the religious politics of the successors of al-Maʿmūn, Christopher Melchert was among the first to develop a method that relies on the (absence of) riots to determine the popularity of a certain cultural and religious reform among the generally anonymous masses of the ʿAbbāsid Empire. See: Melchert, “Religious Policies of the Caliphs from al-Mutawakkil to al-Muqtadir”, 318–342.

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was a bridge as much as it was a border. Separating the sacred from profane, crudeness from refinement and the ruler from his subjects, the prized language of ʿAbbāsid grammarians still prevails as the liturgical language of Islam and a medium of university education, news broadcast and scientific literature. In spite of the gap between the language practices and ideologies in the Arab Middle East, whereas Sanskrit, Pali, ancient Greek and Latin eventually came to be replaced with local dialects, the social relevance of Classical Arabic remains largely undiminished up until today. The pervasive influence of Classical Arabic in the Arab Middle East was attributed by Haeri to the pivotal role it played as the sacred language of the Qur’an and Islamic rituals in general – for she believed that as much as there would be no Islam without Classical Arabic, there would also be no Classical Arabic without Islam.13 However, in the late 9th and the early 10th century, the influence of Classical Arabic was primarily based on the widespread belief that language represents a form of social behavior.14 As a notable 10th century grammarian, Ibn Jinnī maintained that it is a duty of grammarians to follow the way the Arabs speak, so that non-Arabs could profit from the eloquence of Arabs (Ibn Jinnī 1952: 34). In the ʿAbbāsid era, divergences from the grammatically correct forms of speech were commonly attributed to the socio-cultural interactions of ethnic Arabs with non-Arab Muslims and Christians regardless of the fact whether the deviation appeared in accent, pronunciation or in sentence construction. As a result, ʿAbbāsid scholars gradually endowed the language with the function of a principal symbol of group identities in the Arab Middle East. Between the early 8th and 11th century, various scholars like Naṣr b. ‘Āṣim (d. 708), ʿAbd al-Raḥmān b. Hurmuz (d. 735), ‘Abū al-Aswad al-Duʿalī and Ibn Jinnī nonetheless came to be attributed with the desire to enlighten the ʿajam by introducing them to the speech of Arabs; thus (un)intentionally setting the foundation for the emergence of grammar as a scientific discipline in its own right. 15 As the name of a newly-established branch of science and the derivative of the verb nahā, the term naḥw testifies to 13 Haeri, Sacred

Language Ordinary People, 2. Origins of Arabic Grammar, 16. 15 See: Ibn al-‘Anbari, Nuzha al-‘Alibbā, 20–21; and al-Suyūṭī, Sabab waḍ’ ʿilmal-ʿarabiyya, in: al-Turfa al-bahiyya wa al-ṭurfa al-shahiyya, 1885 A.D., Constantinople, ff.49. 14 Carter, The

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pedagogical impulses of the ʿAbbāsid grammarians16 – whereas Sibawayh’s resolve to describe the speech of Arabs supposedly equaled his desire to justify grammar laws (ʿilla) by tracing the mental processes which are performed by speakers through the course of oral and written communication. 17 Even so, by the life and times of Ibn alSarrāj, a general consensus on the nature, origins and hierarchy of grammar laws was yet to be reached. Following in the footsteps of alMubarrad, 18 Ibn al-Sarrāj went on to extend Sibawayh’s analyses by identifying two main levels in the hierarchy of grammar laws: (1) the ʿilla, as the rules and regulations that were codified by the professional grammarians and (2) the ʿilla al-ʿilla, as the Wisdom that shapes and determines the development of the ʿilla. As one of the earliest, if not the earliest, classification of grammatical laws in the history of Arabic grammar, the two-fold hierarchy of Ibn al-Sarrāj was mostly overlooked by his contemporaries. As a notable grammarian and student of Ibn al-Sarrāj, al-Zajjājī must have been familiar with his teacher’s research on the ʿilla al-ʿilla. Even so, his Kitāb al-‘Īḍāh brings forth the claim that no grammarian has previously dealt with the classification of grammar laws.19 In the light of Ibn al-Sarrāj’s analyses, al-Zajjājī’s attempt to establish himself as the first grammarian to systematize the laws of grammar appears illfounded at best. All the same, al-Zajjājī’s hierarchy of grammar laws had no place for the ʿilla al-ʿilla. Neither did the surviving works of ‘Abū ʿAlī al-Fārisī and al-Sirāfī. Only seven centuries later, these teachings found their place in the newly-established role of language as a medium of political ideologies and the determining factor in the formation of national identities in the Middle East. Upon having them compared to the teachings of the Syrian language ideologists Sāṭi’ al16 Naḥā, i.e, “to take a direction”. Versteegh’s analysis of this term can be con-

sulted in: Versteegh, Landmarks in Linguistic Tradition III, 3 Legacy of the Kitāb. Sibawayh’s Analytical Methods within the Context of the Arabic Grammatical Theory, 57–59; and Carter, The Origins of Arabic Grammar, 16. 18 Many phenomena that al-Mubarrad believed to be ruled by the distinct ʿilla laws have been overlooked by Sibawayh. Al-Mubarrad’s contribution to the summarization of the ʿilla laws can be consulted at: al-Mubarrad, alMuqtadab vol.4, 163–169. 19 al-Zajjājī, Kitāb al-‘Īḍāh, 37–40. 17 See: Baalbaki,

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Ḥuṣrī (d. 1968), Zakī al-‘Arsūzī (d. 1968) and the works of the Lebanese scholar ‘Abdullah al-ʿAlāylī (d. 1996), Suliman Yasir came to the conclusion that Ibn al-Sarrāj’s works honoured the same criteria as his modern-day successors when it comes to logic, symmetry, lexical wealth and the great beauty of the Arabic language.20 Since Suliman’s analyses primarily focused on Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, his otherwise correct observations have been limited by the lack of primary sources. For what sets Ibn al-Sarrāj apart from his students, rivals and successors is that he didn’t perceive Classical Arabic as a distinct privilege of native speakers and ethnic Arabs. Rather than utilizing Classical Arabic as a medium of cultural and ethnic division, he grammar as the universally applicable discipline of the mind and soul. Through familiarity with the ʿilla, familiarity with language could to be obtained. And through familiarity with the language, the ultimate Wisdom was set to emerge. As language ultimately consists of everyday speech,21 the true progenitors of Classical Arabic were to be found before an adept could come face to face with the Wisdom of Arabs. Generally referred to by the term ʿarab, these people were the Arabic-speaking inhabitants of the ‘Umayyad and the ʿAbbāsid Empire. According to Lewis, in the age of ʿAbbāsid caliphs, an ʿarab was usually regarded as a Bedouin nomad – a social rather than ethnic term. 22 However, Ibn al-Sarrāj pragmatically refrained from emphasizing the purity of blood, as the tribal society of the pre-Islamic Arabia was no more. By the late 9th century, the social prestige of tribal affiliations was disintegrating in the cosmopolitan milieu of the Empire. It was the irreversible change that Ibn al-Sarrāj chose not to fight. For like his student al-Sirāfī, he believed that friendly encounters and inter-human contacts could have a positive impact on the Arabic language and its speakers.23 To See: Suliman, The Arabic Grammatical Tradition: A Study in Taʿlīl, 7; and Suliman, The Arabic Language and National Identity: A Study in Ideology, 47–49, etc. 21 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 619 A.H; Tehran, Majlis #3990, ff.2. 22 Lewis, The Arabs in History, 7. 23 See: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Ishtiqāq, 565. A.H, Medina. Umm Al-Qura University Library #21028–2, ff.34; Ibn al-Sarrāj, Risāla fil-‘Ishtiqāq, 28; alSirāfī, Sharḥ Kitāb Sibawayh, vol.1, 178; and al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ Kitāb Sibawayh, vol.2, 305. 20

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quote an example, al-Sirāfī recorded that in the region of al-Irāq, people use the word “burrā” for wheat in contrary to the Arabs of Medina, who rely on the word “ḥinṭa” – whereas in Egypt, people generally refer to wheat as “qamḥ”. When in Medina, al-‘Irāqī and Egyptian merchants would use the word ḥinṭa in order to be understood by the locals. Such variations al-Sirāfī compares to poetry; where the same event could be expressed through many different poetic formulations. To canonize one poem as the single proper version would inevitably impoverish Arabic culture – as would linguistic purism and a lack of inter-human contacts.24 Although he was rather inclined towards words of Arabic origins, Ibn al-Sarrāj maintained that provided that the laws of derivation were heeded, foreign words can be used to expand the speech of Arabs and refine public sermons, private conversations and poetic verses alike.25 Whereas his contemporaries lauded the simplicity and challenges of the everyday-life of Bedouin nomads, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s writings are generally devoid of nostalgia for the days gone by. As the leading ‘adīb of the Empire, he had a far more serious challenge to face – for his was the role of a guardian of peace and stability in this world and the hereafter (Ṭūsī 1978: 305). And yet, in front of his eyes, the ʿAbbāsid Empire was crumbling. Until today, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s exact date of birth remains unknown. However, in the light of the fact that he was known to have died young in 929. A.D.,26 in the year 871, he was likely a) either yet to be born or b) far too young to foresee the consequences of the turbulent events that marked the period between the 861–871 A.D. Since the times of caliph al-Mutawakkil (847–861), the civil authority and central bureaucracy of the Empire had been in steady decline. Even so, the plot against his life that was carried out by his son al-Muntaṣir (861– 862) brought neither peace nor prosperity to the realm. Six months later, the Turkish officers who collided with al-Muntaṣir to make an attempt on al-Mutawakkil’s life decided to poison him in favour of new caliph, al-Mustaʿīn (862–866).27 Meek and weak, he too met an 24 al-Sirāfī, Sharḥ

Kitāb Sibawayh, vol.1, 178.

25 Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Ishtiqāq. 565. A.H, Medina. Umm Al-Qura Univer-

sity Library #21028–2, ff.34. See also: Ibn al-Sarrāj. Risāla fil-‘Ishtiqāq, 28. 26 al-Qifṭī, ‘Inbāh al-Ruwāh vol.3, 146 27 On the assassination plot against al-Mutawakkil and the death of alMuntaṣir see: al-Ṭabari. The History of al-Ṭabari vol.34, 177–181, 218–219.

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untimely death at the hands of his successor al-Muʿtazz (866–869). As the thirteenth caliph of the ʿAbbāsid dynasty, al-Muʿtazz lost his life in the staged riots. Thus al-Muḥtadi (869–870) became the caliph; only to be assassinated by a group of military officers in 870 A.D.28 His successor was al-Muʿtamid (870–892) – the fifteenth ʿAbbāsid caliph and grandfather of the ill-fated caliph al-Muqtadir. Upon ascending the throne at the age of thirteen, al-Muqtadir was the first underage caliph of the Empire.29 His disastrous reign was nonetheless but a conclusion of the decades of anarchy that ensued from the paralysis of the central government. The chaotic period between the 861. and 871 A.D. was emphasized by Kennedy as the onset of the subsequent disintegration of the Empire30 – however, as early as 756 A.D., Baghdad lost control over the Iberian Peninsula and in 787 A.D., the ʿAbbāsid capital witnessed the rise of the contending royal dynasties in Maghreb. Although the rule of Hārūn b. Rashīd is traditionally perceived as the peak of the ʿAbbāsid dynasty, in 797 A.D. Ibrāhīm b. al-Aghlab managed to secure the autonomy of ‘Ifrīqiya (Lambton 1985: 43). In a similar fashion, in the mid-9th century Ibn al-Ḥusayn made Khurāsān virtually independent. Prior to the ascension of al-Muʿtamid, in less than six years, five of his predecessors fell victims to plots and riots. As of al-Muʿtamid, his reign was long if not successful. For in spite of the fact that more than fourteen years have passed before he finally succumbed to excessive eating and drinking, his reign was marked by military, social and civil unrests. In 870 A.D., the followers of ‘Abū alḤusayn thus gained control over Ṭabaristān and staged revolts in Kufa.31 In the first years of his reign, the caliph was also faced with the Zanj rebellion in al-‘Irāq. Owing to the military genius and decisiveness of regent al-Muwaffaq (d. 891), both rebellions were suppressed by 877 A.D. Nevertheless, Ibn Ṭūlūn, the governor of Egypt, was left unimpressed. Thus he chose to challenge the ʿAbbāsid authority by occupying Syria and refusing to pay the tribute to the caliph.32 28 See: al-Ṭabari. The

History of al-Ṭabari vol.35, 130–131; and al-Ṭabari. The History of al-Ṭabari vol.36, 91–108. 29 al-Ṣūlį. Mā lam yunshar, 24. 30 Kennedy, The Prophet and the Age of the Caliphates, 169. 31 al-Ṭabari. The History of al-Tabari vol.35, 14–27. 32 Bianquis, "Autonomous Egypt from Ibn Ṭūlūn to Kāfūr, 868–969”, 86– 119.

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Although Ibn Ṭūlūn was eventually compelled to pay his due, the fact that he got to keep Syria encouraged tax farmers and military governors to challenge the ʿAbbāsid hegemony in al-‘Irāq. As a result, in the early 10th century caliph al-Muqtadir was but a shadow of a ruler without an army or treasury at his disposal. By the life and times of Ibn Sarrāj, Baghdad was losing hold over al-‘Irāq to Ibn Rāʿiq (d. 942); with the growing Hamdanid influence in Mosul, Mesopotamia and Maghreb. Even though they were officially still part of the Empire, Syria and Egypt eventually stopped paying any tribute to Baghdad.33 And in 918 A.D., Ibn Abī al-Sāj, the governor of Armenia, withheld his taxes and invaded the province of Rayy.34 In the mid-12th century, Ibn al-Jauzī used the motive of a rosary to illustrate the extravagances that cost al-Muqtadir his treasury, army and, ultimately, his life. According to Ibn al-Jauzī, the rosary in question was unlike any other. Beautiful and precious, it was one of the most prized possessions of the caliph’s treasury. One evening, the caliph expressed his desire to examine it once again – but even though the treasury was ransacked in search for it, the precious rosary couldn’t be found. As it turned out, it lay in the sleeve of vizier ʿAlī b. ‘Isā – for upon seeing it exhibited in the city of Fusṭāt, he bought it back to save his master’s face. Albeit the culprit who sold the rosary was duly found, Ibn al-Jauzī believed that it was rather the extravagance of the caliph that depleted the treasury.35 As there was no money left for the army, soldiers’ discipline and morale were low. “Alas’, wrote Miskawayh in the mid-10th century, ‘the [ʿAbbāsid] soldiers are like women, too fond of their houses on the bank of the Tigris, drinks, ice cubicles, hanging fans and singing girls”. 36 Although Ibn al-Sarrāj was too young to be personally affected by the assassination of al-Mutawakkil and the anarchy that ensued, he was certainly old enough to remember the pillage of Syria and northern Mesopotamia that was carried out by the Qarāmiṭa in 890 A.D. 33 Miskawayh, Tajārib

al-‘umām vol. 1, 227. Miskawayh, Kitāb Tajarūb al-‘umām. The Concluding Portion of the Experiences of Nations vol.1, 45–47. 35 Ibn al-Jawzī. Al-Muntaḍḥam. 1509 A.D., Paris. National Library of France, Arabe 1509, ff.82. 36 Miskawayh, Kitāb Tajarūb al-‘umām. The Concluding Portion of the Experiences of Nations vol.1, 167–168. 34

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When Ismailites gained control over Yemen in 908 A.D., he was probably in his early youth.37 One year later, with the fall of Raqqada he experienced the prevailing feelings of anxiety and desolation that were spreading through the capital as Alexandria and Barqah were seized by the Faṭimīds in 924 A.D.38 After six months of fierce battles, the Faṭimīds were eventually expelled from the conquered cities. However, almost at the same time as the news of victory reached Baghdad, rumours began to spread that a certain Arab tribe ambushed the caravan of pilgrims who were returning from Mecca, enslaved the women and left the rest to perish from thirst and hunger. In Baghdad, the vizier ʿAlī b. ‘Isā believed that the Qarāmiṭa were responsible39 – for by the mid-10th century, the ʿAbbāsid Empire has learned to fear the Qarāmiṭa. The early history of the Qarāmita movement and their doctrinal and political relations with ‘Ismāʿīlites and the Faṭimids is referred to by Nasr as one of the most obscure and difficult problems of Islamic history.40 On his side, Massignon believed that they were originally composed of Arab and Nabatean refugees who emigrated from southern Mesopotamia following the Zanj rebellion (Massignon, 1922: 329). As such, Massignon’s assumption may or may not have been on the mark. However, as a syncretic religious group that combined the elements of Zoroastrianism with Ismailism, the rebels who went by the name of Qarāmiṭa were a military force to be reckoned with. Because of their raids in al-‘Irāq and the devastating, ten-days long looting of Basra, the year 923 A.D. eventually became known as the Year of Disaster (sannat al-damār).41 Four years later, under the command of ‘Abū Tāhir al-Jannābī (d. 944), the Qarāmiṭa gained control of al-Bahrayn as well. Upon defeating the army that was sent from Baghdad to punish him, al-Jannābī appointed himself the potentate of al-Ḥajār, a strategic city near the Persian Gulf, and unsuccessfully laid siege on Baghdad. In the city, panic has ensued.42 Following the sacking of Kufa and the series of attacks on pilgrims, in 927 A.D.

37 Carmichael, The 38 Bowen, The

shaping of the Arabs, 240. Life and times of ʿAli ibn Isa the good vizier, 140.

39 Ibid. 40 Nasr, Islamic

Cosmological Doctrines, 29. Tārīkh al-Ṭabarī, 110. 42 Miskawayh, Tajārib al-‘Umām vol. 1, 227. 41 Arīb, Ṣilat

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the pilgrimage to Mecca was cancelled altogether.43 To be exposed as incapable of protecting the pilgrims was a disaster for the public image of the caliph. Though it was his duty to maintain the public peace and security, suppress heresy and ensure access to the holy places,44 the Qarāmiṭa revolts made it all too plain that al-Muqtadir was capable of neither. As the common people were protesting over high prices of grain while Zaydis, Ismailites and the Qarāmiṭa were ravaging the Empire,45 the city elite was in a state of panic. For in the 10th century A.D., there was a general consensus that once a caliph proved himself unworthy of his position, Divine retribution was quick to follow.46 By the mid-10th century, it was evident that the foundations of the Empire were shaken. It is however important to take into account that the ʿAbbāsid scholars believed that the foundations of their home country were neither political, territorial nor ethnic. For at the heart of the Islamic political doctrine lay the notion of ‘umma; as the Islamic community united by the bonds of faith and piety. In the 10th century A.D., ʿAbbāsid scholars were fully convinced of the superiority of the Muslim ‘umma over the proposed political theories of Plato and Aristotle.47 Notwithstanding the fact that the concept of Law was the central motive of the ideal Platonic and Islamic state alike, Rosenthal points out that the Law of the ideal Islamic state was always the sharīʿa law (Rosenthal 1958: 116–117). Writing in the late 10th century, Miskawayh thus observed that religion is the foundation of kingship whereas the kingship protects the religion – “as whatever lacks the foundation perishes and whatever lack the protection disappears”.48 By quoting Sassanid king Ardashir the Unifier (d. 242), al-Masʿudi however asserted that “religion and kingship are two brothers and 43 Bowen, The

Life and times of ʿAli ibn Isa the good vizier, 249. Murūj al-Dhahab vol.4, 332–334. 45 In the year 920 A.D. the riots erupted in Baghdad over high prices of grain. Initially starting among the common people, the riots won the support of the military as well. After the initial efforts to subdue them, the caliph was eventually forced to comply with all requests of the protestors. See: Kennedy, “The Reign of al-Muqtadir (295–320/908–32): A History”, 30. 46 See: al-Irbilī, Kashf al-Ghumma vol.3, 124–25; and ‘Abu Yūsuf, Kitāb alKharāj, 3 47 Lambton, State and government in Medieval Islam, 316–318. 48 Miskawayh, Tajārib al-‘Umām, 102–103. 44 al-Masʿudi, Kitāb

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neither can dispense with the other. Religion is foundation of kingship and the kingship protects religion”. 49 In the late 8th century, similar stand was endorsed in ‘Abū Yūsuf’s (d. 798) advice to Hārūn alRashīd: Commander of the Faithful, Allah, may He be praised, entrusted the glorious task upon your hands – and for it, He will bestow the greatest reward or the greatest punishment upon thee. Allah entrusted you with presiding over his ‘umma – and lo and behold, from dusk ’til dawn you watch over the people, over [whom] Allah appointed you and whom he entrusted to you by laying their lives into your hands. Your task will not be successful unless piety dictates your efforts, for God will smite and destroy the foundations of any endeavour that was directed [against Him] or has sought help against Him! (‘Abū Yūsuf 1993: 3)

In the early 10th century, al-Masʿudi stood by ‘Abū Yūsuf’s surmise that if the Commander of the Faithful was pious and just, his ‘umma will know neither disorder nor sufferings. Compared to the strength of his belief, the historical facts were of minor importance. Notwithstanding the fact that the fourteen-year long reign of al-Mutawakkil was marked by military rebellions, al-Masʿudi chose to describe it as “one of the happiest and most flourishing” as the caliph has abolished the miḥna, banned the studies of philosophy and attempted to limit the social and political influence of the Shiʿa, Jews and Christians.50 As he insisted that heads of the maḏāhib must abide by religious norms, al-Mutawakkil reign was believed to be blessed by “low prices, hopes of love and the days of youth” in return (al-Masʿudi 1989: 263). Nonetheless, it was not within his power to reverse the cultural and religious 49 Zaehner, The

Teachings of the Magi, 85 al-Masʿudi, The Meadows of Gold, 239. For the notion of al-Mutawakkil as the abolisher of the miḥna and the supporter of the traditional values consult: al-Musabbiḥi, ‘Akhbār Miṣr, 221–222; and al-Kindī, The Governors and Judges of Islam, 447. However, Melchert’s recent study indicates that alMutawakkil’s support for the traditionalists was mild at best. Melchert, “Religious Policies of the Caliphs from al-Mutawakkil to al-Muqtadir, A.H. 932– 965/847–908 A.D”, 320–330.

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politics of his predecessors al-Maʿmūn, al-Muʿtaṣim (833–842) and alWāthiq (842–847). Following the assassination of al-Mutawakkil, his son al-Muntaṣir favoured the Shiʿa and the ʿAlids. His successor, caliph al-Mustaʿīn, eventually chose to do the same.51 In contrast to the religious politics of al-Mustaʿīn and al-Muntaṣir, caliph al-Muʿtazz preferred the Ḥanafī school and conservative religious values. Whereas al-Masʿudi maintained that al-Muḥtadi, the heir of alMuʿtazz, honoured austerity and piety as the twin-pillars of his reign, 52 the caliph actually despised the people who blindly followed the received authority. From his father al-Wāthiq, al-Muḥtadi had learnt to appreciate philosophical debates. Moreover, he inherited al-Wāthiq’s lively curiosity for science.53 And like his father, caliph al-Muḥtadi eventually turned against the Ḥanafīs in favour of the rational sciences. As a result, riots ensued in Baghdad.54 Feeling threatened by the growing social influence of the Ḥanafī school, caliph al-Muʿtamid and prince al-Muwaffaq tried to balance between the two extremes. Having learned nothing from his predecessors, al-Muʿtamid’s successor alMuṭʿadid openly favoured the Muʿtazila movement. Paranoid with the fear of supernatural, the caliph eventually came to be accused of being affiliated with sorcerers.55 As a result, al-Muṭʿaddid’s successful military enterprises in the eastern and northern Persia did little to win him the love of the people. Although he put an end to frictions between the civil government and the army, strengthened the regime and halted the decline of the Empire, the social unrests were ceaseless (Browne 1975: 3, 43–44). Throughout the Empire, scholars were grumbling against the ʿAbbāsid regime and the infidel scribes who served them. Between the 10th and 13th century, countless scholars have written on the negative influences of the Hellenistic sciences on the state politics, mental health and piety. However, the 14th century ‘adīb by the name of Ibn Nubāta would be the first to point out that the 51 See: Sourdel,

“La politique religieuse des successeurs d’al-Mutawakkil”, 5– 22; and Melchert, “Religious Policies of the Caliphs from al-Mutawakkil to al-Muqtadir”, 371. 52 al-Masʿudi, The Meadows of Gold, 306. 53 Ibid., 233. 54 Ibn Jauzī, al-Muntaẓam vol. 12, 85. 55 See: Ibn al-Murttaḍa, Der Klassen der Muʿtaziliten, 127; and al-Masʿudi, The Meadows of Gold, 360.

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seed of corruption was sown in 824 A.D; when caliph al-Maʿmūn ordered that the library of Crete was to be brought to Baghdad. Until today, the rule of al-Maʿmūn and the period between the mid-8th and the early 13th century is commonly perceived as the golden age of Islam.56 Nevertheless, Ibn Nubāta conceded that the causes for the downfall of the Empire are to be sought in al-Maʿmūn’s love for rationalistic sciences (Ibn Nubāta 1964: 331). In his opinion that alMaʿmūn was as godless as his protégés, Ibn Nubāta was however far from lonely. As his predecessors, caliph al-Maʿmūn ruled as the imām of guidance and justice,57 protector of the religion and its laws,58 trustee of the Creator59 and heir of the Prophet60 chosen by the Almighty.61 However, the caliph was alone in his belief that his relationship with the Creator was of a peculiar kind. In his letter to the governor of al-‘Irāq, al-Maʿmūn nevertheless went as far as to attest that each and every enterprise, intention and a personal belief of his had been inspired by the Divine will.62 In the age of the wide-spread notions that it was the duty of a ruling class to protect the religion even if it opposes the personal authority of the caliph,63 al-Maʿmūn’s attempt to pose as a divinely-inspired, supreme arbiter in religion disputes was serious. Represented by the cohesive community of religious scholars who were generally referred to as the ʿulamā’, the caliph’s opponents were nonetheless a force to be reckoned with. As he judged them to be ill-disposed, poorly educated, guilty of heresy (ilḥāḍ) and prone to “deliberately deluding the masses”,64 alMaʿmūn’s opinion of the ʿulamā’ was poor. No better did he think of

See: Nawas, “Al-Maʿmun’s Introduction of the Miḥna”, 615; and Bennison, The Great Caliphs, 158–159 57 See: Ṣafwat, Rasāʿil vol. 3, 358, 397; and al-Iṣfahani, Kitāb al-aghāni vol. 20, 244. 58 al-Masʿudi, Kitāb Murūj al-Dhahab vol.4, 332–334. 59 See: Ibn ‘Asākir, Tahadīb vol. 2, 366; and Junnoll, Muslim Tradition, 38 60 al-Iṣfahani, Kitāb al-‘Aghāni vol. 21, 340. 61 Ibn Kathīr, Bidāya vol. 10, 268. 62 Ṣafwat, Jamharat vol.3, 426–7. 63 See: Siegman, “The state and the individual in Sunni Islam”, 14; and Lambton, State and government in Medieval Islam, 13 64 al-Ṭabari, Tārīkh al-Ṭabari vol.3, 1112–1114. 56

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the Arabs; whom he considered vain, treacherous and ignorant in general: Never have I ordered a Qays [tribesman] off his horse and yet he devoured my treasury to the last dirham. For the Arabs of the South I have no love and they love me not… As of the Quḍā’a Arabs, all they wait for is the arrival of the Sufyānī in order to join him and the Rabī’a Arabs are bitter that Allah has chosen the Prophet from the tribe of Muḍar. And if you see two [Arabs] together, you can be certain that one of them is traitor!65

As of the correlation between the social hierarchy and the purity of blood, the caliph was rumoured to have asserted the following: Social rank is akin to genealogy and binds people together. Therefore is the noble Arab (sharīf al-ʿarab) closer to the foreign nobility (sharīf al-ʿajam) than the lowly Arabs (waḍī’ al-ʿarab). Concurrently, the foreign noble is closer to the Arab nobility than to the foreign plebs. The represent a [social] class – as those who are of humble [birth] also represent a class [of their own].66

Recorded between the mid-9th and the early 11th century, the quoted observations might have been falsely attributed to al-Maʿmūn. Nevertheless, they foreshadow his attempt to put an end to the marginalization of the newly-converted Muslims of Persian background. As he was lacking the support of the ʿulamā’ and the Arab nobility of Baghdad, the caliph sought for allies of his own.67 Irrespective of whether his choices were primarily inspired by the personal sentiment or political calculations, al-Maʿmūn’s preference for the inhabitants of Khorasan wasn’t unusual for the ʿAbbāsid Era. The royal court in Baghdad was essentially Persian in character in its manners, ceremonies and architecture. As a matter of fact, Goldziher demonstrated that the ʿAbbāsid caliphs had the tendency to give precedence to Persians – as it was a general tendency of the ʿulamā’ to condemn them for it and 65 Ibid., 1142. 66 Ibn Hamḍūn, al-Tadhkira

al-Hamḍūniyya vol.2, 71. For the ruling policies of al-Maʿmūn’s predecessors and the conflicting roles of the Khorasani and Arab nobility in the civil war between al-Maʿmūn and al-‘Amīn see: al-Hibri, The Reign of the Abbasid Caliph al-Maʿmun, 152–180; and Bennison, The Great Caliphs, 32–33. 67

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ascribe disastrous social and political consequences to their choices (Goldziher 1966: 139). As of the Graeco-Arabic translation movement, Walzer observed that apart from al-Maʿmūn’s sympathies for the Muʿtazila movement, little can be ascertained about his motives to sponsor the Hellenistic culture and sciences (Walzer 1962: 3–6). Whereas some have argued that al-Maʿmūn (ab)used the Hellenistic sciences to defy the ʿulamā’ and assert his personal authority as an arbiter in theological disputes,68 Lapidus maintained that the royal court eventually came to appreciate the Greek and Persian ideal of aristocratic self-cultivation as it served to define the social and moral qualities of the imperial elite.69 Al-Jabri in turn argued that the caliph turned to the Hellenistic culture as it was necessary to curb the social impact of Persian aristocracy since their resolve “to fight [the Arabs] on ideological front following their failed attempts on the political and social fronts” eventually became a threat for the stability of the Empire (al-Jabri 1999: 49). Whichever al-Maʿmūn’s motives were, soon it was all too plain that the newly-established trends in ʿAbbāsid culture and politics were only partially consistent with the literal interpretations of the sunna and the Qur’an. Although it remains unclear whether the school of Baghdad felt pressured to challenge the ʿulamā’ for the sake of its royal patrons, as early as the 10th century the challenge was made – and as late as 1975, the traditionally-oriented scholars like Bukhsh blamed the logicians for the subsequent demise of the Empire.70 Writing on the teachings of the school of Baghdad, Bukhsh maintained that logic “sowed the seed of corruption which in process of time enervated and enfeebled the Muslims and finally destroyed their learning” (Bukhsh 1976: 289). Which branches of Islamic sciences he deemed to be enfeebled by the logicians, Bukhsh choose not to say. Most likely however, he lamented

See: Gutas, Greek Thought Arabic Culture, 79, 95. Nawas, “Al-Maʿmun’s Introduction of the Miḥna”, 622–623; and al-Hibri, The Reign of the Abbasid Caliph al-Maʿmun, 41. 69 Lapidus, History of Islamic Societies, 96. 70 Bukhsh, Contributions to the History of Islamic Civilization vol. 1, 289. 68

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the attested influence of Aristotelian logic on the fiqh and kalam.71 Notwithstanding the fact that the notion of Hellenistic sciences as “a poison for religion and disaster” wasn’t unheard of in the ʿAbbāsid era,72 such accusations were largely untrue as the school of Baghdad always had a limited income and a small number of followers at its disposal. Portrayed as the harbingers of discord and division, the ʿAbbāsid logicians weren’t known for subversive political manifestos. Led by the belief that all men share a human nature (‘insaniyya) that is reflected in the body, soul and a rational mind, under the leadership of Yaḥyā b. ʿAdī the logicians sought to bring forth the unity of mankind within a single tribe.73 Nevertheless, it is evident that their role in the cultural and political life occasionally bugged the ruling elite. Owing to the religious affiliations of notable logicians like Mattā b. Yūnus, Yaḥyā b. ʿAdī and Yūḥannā b. Hailān, the Graeco-Arabic translation movement and the school of Baghdad were widely associated with Christianity by the mid-12th century. As a result, medieval refutations of logic often focused on refuting the religious beliefs of those logicians who happened to be Christians.74 In the late 13th century, Ibn Taymiyya thus came to the conclusion that logicians upheld views on the nature and attributes of God, the eternity of world, prophethood, the hierarchy and mediatory role of Intelligences and the creation of the Qur’an that were offensive to Islam.75 Some of these accusations were certainly true. Although he praised his colleagues for mocking the adversaries of God by affirming His existence and the unity of His Essence, al-ʿĀmirī felt that many of them were justly condemned by Islam for their failure to acknowledge the reality

Consult Jokisch’s and Saunders’ studies for the sake of the detailed overview of the influences of Aristotle’s Organon on the Islamic religious sciences. Jokisch, Islamic Imperial Law, 588–611; and Saunders, A History of Medieval Islam, 194. 72 See: al al-Shāṭibī. Kitāb al-Muwāfaqa vol. 1, 26 and the first chapter of the present study. 73 Ibn ‘Adī, Tahdib al-‘Akhlaq, 517–518. 74 See: Rescher, The Development of Arabic Logic, 41; and Hodgson, The Venture of Islam, 411. 75 Hallaq, ed., Ibn Taymiyya Against the Greek Logicians, 120. 71

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of the resurrection of the Body.76 However, the efforts of the ruling establishment to promote the conflict between the Islamic and Hellenistic sciences weren’t necessarily inspired by anti-Christian sentiments. As a proof that they were, Gunaydin reflects on al-Tawḥīdī’s record on the way vizier Ibn al-Furāt taunted his protégés to enter into debate with Mattā b. Yūnus: Surely there must be someone who can match his speech, argue with him and refute his view. I regard you as oceans of knowledge, champions of our religion and the minaret [that guides] the seeker to the truth. Why, then, this hesitation and fear?77

Upon addressing his guests and protégés, in the quoted example Ibn al-Furāt contrasts Mattā’s Christian background by addressing the potential opponent of his as the champion of Islam (al-Tawḥīdī 2014: 99). These words, whose primary goal was to provoke the reluctant alSirāfī into entering the debate with Mattā, nonetheless speaks more of the vizier’s attested love for sensationalism than of his ostensible intolerance for Christians. As a matter of fact, out of nine closest confidants of Ibn al-Furāt, four were known to be Christians. In his analysis of tax data, Mez moreover came to the conclusion that between forty and fifty thousand Christians were living in Baghdad by the life and times of Ibn Sarrāj.78 In the mid-10th century, their position in the capital was satisfactory. In the western Baghdad, where the meetings of the logicians took place, six churches and three monasteries were located – with five churches operating in the eastern part of Baghdad (Kraemer 1992: 76). With regard to the religious affiliations of Mattā b. Yūnus and Yaḥyā b. ʿAdī, not all logicians were of Christian background. In the liberal atmosphere of the school of Baghdad, eminent al-ʿĀmirī, Muslim Philosopher on the Soul and its fate. al-ʿĀmiri’s Kitab al-‘Amad ʿala l-’abad, 77. 77 The quoted excerpt represents author’s translation of al-Tawḥīdī’s account of the debate that can be consulted at: al-Tawḥīdī, Kitāb al-‘Imtāʾ walMuʾānasa, 99. As of Gunaydin’s translation and arguments, they can be found at: Gunyadin, Al-Sirāfī’s Theory of ‘Lingua-Logical’ Grammar: An Analytical Study of Grammatical Works of al-Sirafi (Sharh Kitāb Sibawayh) Within the Context of a Discussion of Language and Logic in Medieval Islam, 53–54 78 Mez, The Renaissance of Islam, 38, 394. 76

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Muslim logicians like al-Fārābī, al-Sijistānī, al-Rāzī, Ibn Zurʿah and alʿĀmirī mixed with the Shiʿa, Christians and sympathizers of the Muʿtazila movement.79 Owing to the religious diversity of the 10th century logicians, it would be difficult for the ruling elite to label them as Christians. To denounce them as a group of infidels altogether however proved to be unsustainable, as the royal court was a source of constant shifts in the cultural and religious politics of the Empire. Even when the ruling caliph appeared to be ill-disposed towards the school of Baghdad, the fate of al-Mutawakkil’s reforms showed the nobility that ʿAbbāsid caliphs had little regard for the cultural politics of their predecessors. In the light of the erratic cultural politics of the ʿAbbāsid dynasty, to persecute logicians posed a risk no one was willing to take. However, debates between logicians and scholars who opposed them were organized nonetheless – and thus the conflict between Hellenistic and Islamic sciences intensified. One of the main reasons why the nobility was inclined to host the public debates between the grammarians and logicians is to be sought in the fact that they had no interest in subduing them. For albeit they were devoid of subversive elements, the socio-political theories of Baghdadi logicians weren’t exactly calculated to please the ruling elite.80 Eventually, these debates became the matter of prestige and status. Upon inviting al-Tawḥīdī to serve as his cup-companion, vizier Ibn Saʿdān most likely cared little for the religious affiliations of logicians. Instead, he simply chose to go with the flow by organizing a fashionable discussion on the superiority of grammar over “the cheaters and deceivers” that were the logicians.81 Moreover, the arguments that were presented against logicians in the grand debate between alSirāfī and Mattā b. Yūnus were neither political nor religious in nature. Hosted by Ibn al-Furāt in 932 A.D., this debate came to be identified as “the dramatic evidence of the real hostility between Consult Netton’s overview of the religious affiliations of Baghdadi logicians in: Netton, Al-Farabi and His school, 1–4. 80 To quote an example, al-Fārābī’s teachings on the Good City (al-madīna al-faḍila) lauded virtuous people, common soldiers and the men of practical wisdom as the first citizens of the Empire. As such, his theory effectively denies the nobility the justification and flattery it felt entitled to. al-Farābī, Fuṣūl al-madanī of Al-Farābī, 50. 81 al-Tawḥīdī, Kitāb al-‘Imtāʾ wal-Muʿānasa vol.1, 104. 79

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grammarians and Hellenists” (Carter 2015: 4). Like Carter and Jokisch, Versteegh had little doubts of the authenticity of al-Tawḥīdī’s report. Moreover, he went on to attribute al-Sirāfī’s reluctance to stand up to Mattā’s challenge to the dramatic settings of the debate and the writing style of al-Tawḥīdī.82 In a similar fashion, Gunaydin lists al-Sirāfī alongside Ibn Qutayba and ‘Abū al-‘Abbās al-Nāshi’ (d. 906) as the best known “grammarian opponents of Aristotelian logic” (Gunaydin 2006: 3). However, as soon as the debates went out of the fashion, the grammarians withdrew from the conflict. With the notable exception of al-Zajjājī, al-Sirāfī’s reluctance to publicly face the logicians appears to have been shared by all students of Ibn al-Sarrāj.83 “Vizier, excuse us’, he is rumoured to have said, ‘for the knowledge that is stored in breasts differs from the knowledge that is displayed in this gathering of listening ears, prying eyes, sharp minds and critical hearts” (al-Tawḥīdī 2014: 100). Forty years later, when al-ʿĀmirī attempted to challenge him in front of Ibn al-ʿAmīd, we can see that alSirāfī’s attitude has remained the same: slightly scornful and determined not to be dragged into discussion. This time however, he had a supportive patron on his side. Like Ibn al-Furāt, the Buyid vizier Ibn al-ʿAmīd presided over his court with firm grasp. In both cases, it is evident that the court etiquette has been strictly followed with the viziers dictating the rhythm and ending of debates. By the late 10th century the public debates of grammarians and logicians were slowly losing popularity – and in 974 A.D., Ibn al-ʿAmīd’s response was thus reported to be as following: “Oh, talk about something else! By God, we have despaired of this”!84 As their patrons have perished, so did the public debates of grammarians and logicians. On his side, Ibn al-Sarrāj was relatively unconcerned. In public, he appears to have been respectful towards the logicians and according to al-Qifṭī, he was treated with respect in return (al-Qifṭī 1955: 149). In private, his thoughts on their spiritual and intellectual potential might have been different. As he believed 1) that language has the power to elevate and transform the soul and 2) that

82 Versteegh, Landmarks

in Linguistic Thought III, 43–45. al-Zajjājī’s refutation of the logicians can be consulted at: al-Zajjājī. Kitāb al-‘īḍāḥ, 47–48. 84 al-Tawḥīdī, ‘Akhlāq al-Wazīrayn, 273. 83

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Classical Arabic represents the divinely-established source of supremacy of the Arab soul among the souls of mankind, it is unlikely that Ibn al-Sarrāj deemed that anything good could come from logicians’ reluctance to come to terms with the laws of Arabic grammar.85 Concurrently, he perceived the religion as an important factor on the path to Wisdom. Albeit he chose not to assert it in his works, it would be reasonable to assume that Ibn al-Sarrāj considered Yaḥyā’s allegiance to the Jacobite church of Mār al-Tūma as an obstacle on his path of Wisdom.86 For like the Qur’an, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī alNaḥw portrays the Creator as the Banisher of Ignorance and the Giver of Scriptures and Wisdom. Those who were rejecting the faith were consequently believed to be rejecting the Wisdom.87 In his aspect, Ibn Sarrāj’s teachings were aligned with the writings of al-Jāḥiẓ: Barely able to obtain all that relates to their material existence, still less are they [men] capable of understanding what befits their spiritual life. For spiritual understanding stems from worldly understanding; but whereas the latter is manifest, or nearly so, the former is occult and is to be obtained only through great virtue and unremitting effort, assisted by the teachings of imams.88

In the eyes of Ibn al-Sarrāj, people’s virtue and piety were irreversibly bound to the sound meanings of a grammatically correct language. With the corruption of language, the corruption of the maʿnā was set

85 On

logic as the universal science and grammar as a possession of a specific ‘umma see: al-Fārābī, ‘Iḥṣā’a al-ʿUlūm, 33; al-Fārābī, Kitāb al-Ḥurūf, 44–49, 80, 111–112, 137, 143, 146; and al-Fārābī, Kitāb al-‘Alfāẓ, 43, 10. In spite of Ibn Sarrāj’s reverence for Classical Arabic, it remains unclear if he, like the ʿulamā’, perceived the language as the collective obligation (farḍ kifāya) of the Muslim community and the personal obligation (farḍ ʿayn) of those who wished to specialize in legal sciences. For al-Tūfī’s overview of the language as the farḍ kifāya and the farḍ ʿayn see: al-Tūfī, al-Ṣaʿaqa al-Ghaḍabiyya fī al-Radd ʿalā Munkiri al-ʿArabiyya, 248. 86 On the religious affiliations of Yaḥyā b. ʿAdī see: Rescher, Studies in Arabic Philosophy, 39; and Harrison-Griffith, The Beginnings of Christian Theology in Arabic: Muslim-Christian Encounters in the Early Islamic Period, 8. 87 The Qur’anic notions of God as the sole banisher of Wisdom can be consulted at: Qur’an 45:37; 2:129; and Qur’an 2:171. 88 Quoted according to: Pellat, Life and works of Jahiz, 5.

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to emerge. And with the corruption of intelligibles, the corruption of soul was quick to follow. By protecting and preserving the divine gift of language, Ibn al-Sarrāj yearned to heal the soul of its afflictions – and thus, perhaps, to impede the disintegration of the empire. With the potential future discovery of a yet another surviving work of Ibn al-Sarrāj, a proper analysis of his political and religious affiliations might be established still. However, the second chapter of the present study offers evidence against proposed theories which assert his sympathies for the anti-shuʿūbiyya movement and the strict Sunnism of ‘Aḥmad b. Ḥanbal. As he deemed that logicians weren’t responsible for corrupting the souls and language of Arabs, it is unlikely that he held them responsible for the demise of the Empire. Clear and coherently-presented, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s teachings were primarily set to refine, enlighten and unify. Rather than fueling hatred and divisions between the grammarians and logicians, Bedouin and sedentary Arabs, Persian and Baghdadi nobles and Shuʿūbī’ and the scholars who opposed them, Ibn al-Sarrāj taught that all of them had a human soul in common. In this respect, his teachings shared the common stand with the school of Baghdad.89 However, Ibn al-Sarrāj believed that the soul is to be refined by the means of language. By presenting his teachings clearly and coherently, what Ibn al-Sarrāj aimed for was to appeal to the widest audience possible. His attested obsession with order and systematization might have been additionally fueled by the sweeping anarchy around him. Rather than being inspired by the school of Baghdad, it is rather likely that both Ibn al-Sarrāj and the ʿAbbāsid logicians attempted to cope with the prevailing atmosphere of desolation and apprehension that engulfed the capital by presenting the disheartened citizens of the Empire with the notions of ‘insaniyya and the Wisdom of Arabs. For as it was summarized by Cleveland, “profound structural crises, severe political and social upheavals, fundamental social changes, the resultant of loss of stability and self-confidence, a collective sense of the collapse of and older and the impending advent of a new era – these are the elements that characterize those transitional periods of history during which human beings,

See: Ibn al-Sarrāj. al-Mūjaz fī al-Nahw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.37/39; and Ibn ʿAdī, Tahdib al-Akhlaq, 517–518.

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particularly intellectuals, feel impelled to try to establish a new collective image for their society” (Cleveland 1986: 81). Divided as to the means to achieve it, Ibn al-Sarrāj and his rivals shared a common goal: the proximity with God and the peace and stability in this world and hereafter.90 The results were however the same. As it was not within the power of logicians to inflict corruption upon the Empire, neither were they able to impede it. As an ‘adīb and ‘imām, Ibn al-Sarrāj was destined to fail. Ultimately, his legacy was the one of a grammarian.

4.2. T HE OUTCOME: T HE LEGACY WE LEAVE BEHIND “Baghdad, you know, is a house of calamity. May God save us from this very prison!”91

In contrast to the ‘imām as philosopher, al-Fārābī stated that the ‘imām of grammarians signifies a person whose example is followed and who is well received – “that is, either his perfection is well received or his purpose is well received”.92 In his works, Ibn al-Sarrāj honoured no higher purpose than to reveal Classical Arabic as a mirror of souls ruled by the supreme Wisdom so that both soul and language could be cured of corruption. In order to bring forth the Wisdom of the soul, he was determined to make it accessible to mankind. Thus he summarized its properties in a meaningful, organized and attractive way. The result was his Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw – as the greatest classification of grammar units the world has ever seen (al-Qifṭī 1988: 345). Endowed with firm chapter structure and organization, Kitāb al‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw emerges as the pinnacle of the 10th century grammar tradition. As such, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s magnum opus encapsulates his personal and cultural values in the light of the interplay between the grammatically correct language and the power of religious doctrines. “By presenting us with this book’, declared Ibn Jinnī in the late 10th century, ‘Abū Bakr, God’s blessings be upon him, brought forth enrichment and prosperity – for rather than presenting us with rules and On al-Fārābī’s definition of an ‘adib as “the one who sacrifices passion to be closer to God”; and the philosopher as a man whose actions “seek to resemble God as best one can” see: Alon, ed., Al-Farabi’s Philosophical Lexicon, 674. 91 Snir, ed., Baghdad: The City in verse, 57. 92 al-Fārābī, The Philosophy of Plato and Aristotle, 46. 90

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THE BANISHER OF MADNESS

regulations, he aimed to establish the foundations”.93 Either because it preceded Kitāb al-’Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw or due to Ibn al-Sarrāj’s negligence, Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ makes it all too plain that Ibn al-Sarrāj has failed to live up to the standards he established. Nonetheless, Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw was set to become his legacy, well-known in al-Andalus, North Africa and the Arab Middle East. Of the three commentaries that al-Rummānī, Ibn Bābahādh (d. 1077) and al-Jazūlī (1465) penned on Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, none has survived until today.94 However, in his Fihrist, Ibn Khayr al-‘Ishbilī (d. 1179) wrote of the two chains of transmission that were established by ‘Abū ʿAlī al-Fārisī and al-Sirāfī.95 In the mid-13th century, Yāqūt observed that “the superb grammar records of al-‘Uṣūl, the products of his [Ibn al-Sarrāj’s] sharp mind, continue to be esteemed until today”.96 Albeit Cassels maintained that Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw ultimately faded into obscurity by the mid-15th century,97 Ibn Yaʿīsh (d. 1489), al-Suyūṭī (d. 1505) and ʿAbd al-Qādir al-Baghdādī (d. 1682) appear to have held it in high regard.98 As the ʿAbbāsid ‘adīb of the highest rank, Ibn al-Sarrāj was widely renowned for his determination, erudition and fine verses. In this aspect, his personal perfection was acknowledged. Even so, the main purpose of his teachings was set to fade into obscurity. Notwithstanding the fact that the notion of Wisdom as a Divine blessing has been long-established and wide-spread in the Arabic grammar tradition, ʿAbbāsid grammarians were quick to denounce the Law of Laws of Arabic grammar. Even among his students, Ibn al-Sarrāj got no

93 Ibn Jinnī, al-Khaṣā‘is vol.2, 134.

See: Ibn Khayr, al-Fahrasa mā Rawāhu ʻan Shuyūkhihi, 274; and Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-‘Udabā’ vol.7, 40. 95 Ibn Khayr, al-Fahrasa mā Rawāhu ʻan Shuyūkhihi, 274. 96 Yāqūt. Muʿjam al-‘udabā’ vol.23, 200 97 Cassels, Arabic grammatical studies in the late 9th and early 10th centuries: with particular reference to the ‘Usūl al-Naḥw of Ibn al-Sarrāj, 13–15 98 See: Ibn Yaʿīsh, Sharḥ al-Mufaṣṣal vol.1, 124, 166–172; Ibn Yaʿīsh, Sharḥ alMufaṣṣal vol.2, 62; al-Suyūṭī, ‘Ashbāh qa al-Naẓāʿir vol.1: 13, 28, 90, 143–144, 241, 268, 274, 322; al-Suyūṭī, Ashbāh qa al-Naẓā‘ir vol. 2, 11, 51, 79, 87, 90, 91; and al-Baghdādī, Khizāna al-‘Adab, vol.1: 8. 94

4. THE LEGACY WE LEAVE BEHIND

197

recognition for his work on the hierarchy of grammar laws.99 Decades later, Ibn Jinnī found that their reasoning was just. On his side, he saw neither proof nor a need for Wisdom that shaped and determined the ʿilla class of grammar laws. Moreover, he believed that Ibn al-Sarrāj never came to terms with the nature and structure of Classical Arabic. If someone exerted in answering to prove the existence [of the Law of Laws], the result would be a higher number of grammatical causes. This would lead to defective speech and mental feebleness of the speaker. (Ibn Jinnī 1952: 173).

Albeit it was established on the desire to purge the corruption of the maʿnā and cure the soul of its afflictions, Ibn al-Sarrāj’s Wisdom of Arabs coincidentally proved Hobsbawm’s theory that the official ideologies of states and movements cannot serve as a guide to the inner thoughts of even the most faithful subjects (Hobsbawm 1990: 11). Even so, it would be mistaken to form a picture of Ibn al-Sarrāj as an isolated thinker, rejected from his contemporaries and incapable of exercising influence on the reading public – for as early as the 10th century, Ibn Nadīm praised him as the leading ʿAbbāsid grammarian.100 By the 12th century A.D., Ibn al-Sarrāj became recognized as the man whose life has exemplified the culture of Arabs in its fullness.101 Nonetheless, he was destined to be remembered as the Banisher of Madness and the systematiser of Sibawayh’s teachings. As he died in 929 A.D., he never got to see himself revered as “the master grammarian, perfect of virtue, peerless in his time”.102 Neither did he live to see the holy city of Mecca ransacked and the corner stone being taken away from Kaaba by ‘Abū Tāhir in 930 A.D., with dead bodies pilling up in the Well of Zamzam. The process of the disintegration of the Empire will be concluded five years later, with the Daylamis controlling Tabaristan and Jurjan, the Samanids in Khorasan and Transoxiania 99 On his side, al-Sirāfī justified his choice by the fact that the art of grammar

has already reached perfection in the works of al-Jarmī and al- Māzinī. alSirāfī, ‘Akhbār al-Naḥwiyīn al-Basriyīn, 82. 100 Ibn Nadīm, Kitāb al-Fihrist vol.1, 135. 101 al-Qifṭī, ‘Inbāh al-Ruwāh vol.3, 145. 102 al-Qifṭī, Muḥadimūna fi al-Shuʿarāi’ wa ‘Ashāʿrihim, 343.

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THE BANISHER OF MADNESS

and the Buyyids ruling over Fārs, Rayy, Isfahan and Jibal. It was not within Ibn al-Sarrāj’s power to prevent the disintegration of the Empire – however, for his failure as an ‘adīb, the history has judged him mildly. With the power of caliphs, the social of renown of the ʿAbbāsid grammarians was fading as well. As a consequence, as early as the 9th century, al-Jāḥiẓ reasoned that “fine points of grammar are the last sort of problem to arise in polite society and there is no need to bother with them”.103 And in the mid-12th century, Yāqūt dismissively observed that the grammarians were never the most pious people to begin with (Yāqūt 1929: 225). In age when expectations of the professional grammarians were low, no eyebrows were raised over the fact that a relatively little-known doctrine has failed on its task. By the late 12th century, the Wisdom of Arabs will fade from the memory of the people. And soon enough, the ʿAbbāsid Empire would follow.

103 Quoted according to: Pellat, The

life and works of Jāḥiẓ, 113–114.

The Motto of an ‘Adīb

Learning is the most prized of all possessions, The strongest of means, the clearest paths and the closest of ties to the heart. Thus has reason ruled, usage was shown and consensus ordained Thereby was the conflict eliminated1

1 al-Ṣābi’. Rusūm dār al-khilāfah. The rules and regulations of the ʿAbbāsid Court, 1.

199

‫‪APPENDIX 1.‬‬ ‫‪THE QUOTED EXCERPTS FROM THE‬‬ ‫‪GRAMMAR TREATISES OF IBN AL-SARRĀJ‬‬ ‫]‪[1‬‬

‫ﻗﺎل أﺑﻮ ﺑﻜﺮ ﻣﺤﻤﺪ ﺑﻦ اﻟﺴﺮي اﻟﻨﺤﻮي‪ :‬اﻟﻨﺤﻮ إﱠﻧﻤﺎ أرﯾﺪ ﺑﮫ‬ ‫أن ﯾﻨﺤﻮ اﻟﻤﺘﻜﻠﻢ إذا ﺗﻌﻠﻤﮫ ﻛﻼم اﻟﻌﺮب وھﻮ ﻋﻠﻢ اﺳﺘﺨﺮﺟﮫ‬ ‫اﻟﻤﺘﻘﺪﻣﻮن ﻓﯿﮫ ﻣﻦ اﺳﺘﻘﺮاء ﻛﻼم اﻟﻌﺮب ﺣﺘﻰ وﻗﻔﻮا ﻣﻨﮫ‬ ‫ﻋﻠﻰ اﻟﻐﺮض اﻟﺬي ﻗﺼﺪه اﻟﻤﺒﺘﺪﺋﻮن ﺑﮭﺬه اﻟﻠﻐﺔ ﻓﺒﺎﺳﺘﻘﺮاء‬ ‫ﻛﻼﻣﮭﻢ ﻓﺎﻋﻠﻢ أن اﻟﻔﺎﻋﻞ رﻓﻊ ﻓﺎﻟﻤﻔﻌﻮل ﺑﮫ ﻧﺼﺐ وأن ﻓﻌﻞ‬ ‫ﻣﻤﺎ ﻋﯿﻨﮫ ﯾﺎء أو واو ﺗﻘﻠﺐ ﻋﯿﻨﮫ ﻣﻦ ﻗﻮﻟﮭﻢ ﻗﺎم وﺑﺎء‬ ‫واﻋﺘﻼﻻت اﻟﻨﺤﻮﯾﯿﻦ ﻋﻠﻰ ﺿﺮﺑﯿﻦ ﺿﺮب ﻣﻨﮭﺎ ھﻮ اﻟﻤﺆدي‬ ‫إﻟﻰ ﻛﻼم اﻟﻌﺮب ﻛﻘﻮﻟﻨﺎ ﻛّﻞ اﻟﻔﺎﻋﻞ ﻣﺮﻓﻮع وﺿﺮب آﺧﺮ‬ ‫ﯾﺴﻤﻰ ﻋﻠّﺔ اﻟﻌﻠّﺔ ﻣﺜﻞ أن ﯾﻘﻮﻟﻮا ِﻟَﻢ ﺻﺎر اﻟﻔﺎﻋﻞ ﻣﺮﻓﻮﻋﺎ‬ ‫واﻟﻤﻔﻌﻮل ﺑﮫ ﻣﻨﺼﻮﺑﺎ وﻟﻢ إذا ﺗﺤﺮﻛﺖ اﻟﯿﺎء واﻟﻮاو وﻛﺎن ﻣﺎ‬ ‫ﻗﺒﻠﮭﻤﺎ ﻣﻔﺘﻮﺣﺎ ﻗﻠﺒﺘﺎ أﻟﻔﺎ وھﺬا ﻟﯿﺲ ﯾﻜﺴﺒﻨﺎ أن ﻧﺘﻜﻠﻢ ﻛﻤﺎ‬ ‫ﺗﻜﻠﻤﺖ اﻟﻌﺮب وإﱠﻧﻤﺎ ﺗﺴﺘﺨﺮج ﻣﻨﮫ ﺣﻜﻤﺘﮭﺎ ﻓﻲ اﻷﺻﻮل اﻟﺘﻲ‬ ‫وﺿﻌﺘﮭﺎ وﺗﺒﯿﻦ ﺑﮭﺎ ﻓﻀﻞ ھﺬه اﻟﻠﻐﺔ ﻋﻠﻰ ﻏﯿﺮھﺎ ﻣﻦ اﻟﻠﻐﺎت‬ ‫وﻗﺪ وﻓﺮ ﷲ اﻟﺘﻌﺎﻟﻲ ﻣﻦ اﻟﺤﻜﻤﺔ ﺑﺤﻔﻈﮭﺎ وﺟﻌﻞ ﻓﻀﻠﮭﺎ ﻏﯿﺮ‬ ‫ﻣﺪﻓﻮع وﻏﺮﺿﻲ ﻓﻲ ھﺬا اﻟﻜﺘﺎب ]ذﻛﺮ[ اﻟﻌﻠّﺔ اﻟﺘﻲ إذا‬ ‫‪201‬‬

202

THE BANISHER OF MADNESS

‫اطﺮدت وﺻﻞ ﺑﮭﺎ إﻟﻰ اﻟﻜﻼم ﻓﻘﻂ وذﻛﺮ اﻷﺻﻮل واﻟﺸﺎﺋﻊ‬ ‫ﻷﻧﮫ ﻛﺘﺎب إﯾﺠﺎز‬ The grammarian by the name of ‘Abū Bakr Muḥammad b. al-Sarī said: verily, by the term grammar (naḥw) I mean that the speaker, when you teach him the speech of Arabs [follows the way the Arabs speak]. This science is based on minute analyses the Ancients have conducted on the speech of Arabs ‘till they attained the way of speaking of the ancient speakers – and due to minute analyses of their speech, it is now known that that the subject [of a sentence] stands in nominative and its object in accusative and how in their speech the second radicals yā and wāw behave in the past tense forms of verbs like qāma and bā’. The laws of grammarians are of two kinds and the first of them (ʿilla) is illustrated in the speech of Arabs – like in all of our examples: “Every subject stands in nominative”! However, the second one is called the Law of Laws (ʿilla al-ʿilla) – as if one was to inquire of the reason why the subject is [to be put] in nominative and its object in accusative and why are the second radicals yā and wāw to be snubbed in favour of ‘alif [in the past tense forms of qāma and bā’]. We cannot obtain this knowledge by speaking like the Arabs speak – but rather, from their language, its wisdom is to be extracted in the form of principles that outline it. By the means of this Wisdom, the supremacy of the [Arabic] language over other languages was established. Allah the Allmighty provides for this Wisdom by safeguarding it and he made its excellence undisputed. As this was intended only as a short summary, in this book I intend to honour the universally applicable Law of the speech of Arabs and honour its principles. Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw, 619 A.H; Tehran, Majlis #3990, ff.1.

[2]

‫ب داﱞل ﻋﻠﻰ اﻟﻜﻼِم ﻛﻤﺎ أﱠن اﻟﻜﻼم داﱡل ﻋﻠﻰ ﻣﺎ ﻓﻲ اﻟﻨﻔِﺲ‬ ُ ‫اﻟﻜﺘﺎ‬ “…the book [that] reveals the speech in the same way as the speech reveals what is in the soul”. Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ, 352 A.H; Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/6, ff.1/43

APPENDIX 1

203

[3]

‫وﯾﺘﻘﺮب إﻟﻰ ﷲ ﺑﻘﻮل اﻟﺤﻖ وﺑﺬﻟﻚ أﻣﺮﻧﺎ وﺗﻌﺒﺪﻧﺎ وأﺻﻞ‬ ‫ذﻟﻚ اﻻﻋﺘﺮاف ﺑﻤﻦ ﷲ ﻋﻠﯿﮫ ﺑﺄن ﻋﺮﻓﮫ ﻧﻔﺴﮫ وﻓﻀﻠﮫ ﻋﻠﻰ‬ ‫ﻣﻦ ﻻ ﯾﻌﺮف ذﻟﻚ‬ Truthful speech brings man closer to God and thus we were ordered to venerate [Him]. The origin of that is to recognize what God has bestowed on someone and namely to know oneself and the way God has favoured him over the one who doesn’t know that. Ibn Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.42–43

[4]

‫ﻓﻘﺪ ﺟﺎء ﻓﻲ اﻟﻘﺮآن وﻣﻦ ﻛﺎن ﻓﻲ ھﺬه أﻋﻤﻰ ﻓﮭﻮ ﻓﻲ اﻵﺧﺮة‬ ‫أﻋﻤﻰ وأﺿﻞ ﺳﺒﯿﻼ ﻗﯿﻞ ﻟﮫ ﻓﻲ ھﺬا ﺟﻮاﺑﺎن‬ ‫أﺣﺪھﻤﺎ أن ﯾﻜﻮن ﻣﻦ ﻋﻤﻰ اﻟﻘﻠﺐ وإﻟﯿﮫ ﯾﻨﺴﺐ أﻛﺜﺮ اﻟﻀﻼل‬ :‫ اﻟﻮﺟﮫ اﻵﺧﺮ‬.‫ﻓﻌﻠﻰ ھﺬا ﺗﻘﻮل ﻣﺎ أﻋﻤﺎه ﻛﻤﺎ ﺗﻘﻮل ﻣﺎ أﺣﻤﻘﮫ‬ ‫أن ﯾﻜﻮن ﻣﻦ ﻋﻤﻰ اﻟﻌﯿﻦ ﻓﯿﻜﻮن ﻗﻮﻟﮫ ﻓﮭﻮ ﻓﻲ اﻵﺧﺮة أﻋﻤﻰ‬ ‫ﻻ ﯾﺮاد ﺑﮫ أﻧﮫ أﻋﻤﻰ ﻣﻦ ﻛﺬا وﻛﺬا وﻟﻜﻨﮫ ﻓﯿﮭﺎ أﻋﻤﻰ ﻛﻤﺎ ﻛﺎن‬ ‫ﻓﻲ اﻟﺪﻧﯿﺎ أﻋﻤﻰ وھﻮ ﻓﻲ اﻵﺧﺮة أﺿﻞ ﺳﺒﯿﻼ وﻛﻞ ﻓﻌﻞ ﻣﺰﯾﺪ‬ ‫ﻻ ﯾﺘﻌﺐ ﻣﻨﮫ ﻧﺤﻮ ﻗﻮﻟﻚ ﻣﺎ أﻣﻮﺗﮫ ﻟﻤﻦ ﻣﺎت إﻻ أن ﺗﺮﯾﺪ ﻣﺎ‬ ‫أﻣﻮت ﻗﻠﺒﮫ ﻓﺬﻟﻚ ﺟﺎﺋﺰ‬ It is said in the Qur’ān that he who was blind in this world will be blind and even more misguided in the next. He [i.e. the Prophet Muhammad] was told that there are two aspects to this. The first is when someone is blind in his heart. He is deemed to be the most misguided. You say: ‘Oh, how blind is he’ – just like when you say: ‘Oh, how foolish!’ The second [aspect] concerns the one who is literally blind, so that His words ‘he will be more misguided in the hereafter’ don’t mean that this person is more blind than such-and such [degree] but that he is blind in this life and will be even more disoriented in the hereafter.

204

THE BANISHER OF MADNESS Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.424–425

[5]

‫ﺲ ﻋﻨﺪھﻢ إﻧﺴﺎن‬ َ ‫ﻻﱠن اﻟﻨﻔ‬ “..as the soul they possess is the human [soul]...” Ibn al-Sarrāj. al-Mūjaz fī al-Nahw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #100/q, ff.37/39.

[6]

‫ﻓﻘﺪ أﻋﻠﻨﺖ ﻓﻲ ھﺬا اﻟﻜﺘﺎب أﺳﺮار اﻟﻨﺤﻮ وﺟﻤﻌﺘﮫ ﺟﻤﻌﺎ‬ ‫ﯾﺤﻀﺮه وﻓﺼﻠﺘﮫ ﺗﻔﺼﯿﻼ ﯾﻈﮭﺮه ورﺗﺒﺖ أﻧﻮاﻋﮫ وﺻﻨﻮﻓﮫ‬ ‫ﻋﻠﻰ ﻣﺮاﺗﺒﮭﺎ ﺑﺄﺧﺼﺮ ﻣﺎ أﻣﻜﻦ ﻣﻦ اﻟﻘﻮل وأﺑﯿﻨﮫ ﻟﯿﺴﺒﻖ إﻟﻰ‬ ‫اﻟﻘﻠﻮب ﻓﮭﻤﮫ وﯾﺴﮭﻞ ﻋﻠﻰ ﻣﺘﻌﻠﻤﯿﮫ ﺣﻔﻈﮫ‬ In this book, I have announced all secrets of grammar, assembled them in total, subdivided them for demonstration and arranged the sub-types and sorts [of grammar units] as clearly as possible so that it remains close to the hearts and transmits easy to the learners Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.29.

[7]

‫ﺼﺎ‬ ً ‫ ﻣﺎ دل ﻋﻞ ﻣﻌﻨﻰ ﻣﻔﺮد وذﻟﻚ اﻟﻤﻌﻨﻰ ﯾﻜﻮن ﺷﺨ‬:‫اﻻﺳﻢ‬ ‫وﻏﯿﺮ ﺷﺨﺺ ﻓﺎﻟﺸﺨﺺ ﻧﺤﻮ رﺟﻞ وﻓﺮس وﺣﺠﺮ وﺑﻠﺪ‬

APPENDIX 1

205

‫وﻋﻤﺮ وﺑﻜﺮ وأﻣﺎ ﻣﺎ ﻛﺎن ﻏﯿﺮ ﺷﺨﺺ ﻓﻨﺤﻮ اﻟﻀﺮب‬ ‫واﻷﻛﻞ واﻟﻈﻦ واﻟﻌﻠﻢ واﻟﯿﻮم واﻟﻠﯿﻠﺔ واﻟﺴﺎﻋﺔ‬ Speech consists of three parts: noun (‘ism), verb (fiʿal) and particle (ḥarf). The noun serves to convey a single meaning that can be either concrete or abstract. The examples of concrete [nouns] are: man, horse, stone, city, ʿAmr and Bakr. However, the examples of an abstract ones are: beating, eating, thinking, knowledge, day, night and hour. Ibn Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fi al-naḥw. 536 A.H. Raba

[8]

‫وھﺬا اﻟﺬي أﺟﺎزوه ﻏﯿﺮ ﻣﻌﺮوف ﻋﻨﺪي ﻣﻦ ﻛﻼم اﻟﻌﺮب وﻻ‬ ‫ﻣﻮﺟﻮد ﻓﻲ ﻣﺎ ﯾﻮﺟﺒﮫ اﻟﻘﯿﺎس‬ That what they permit [in the science of grammar] I am unfamiliar with from the speech of Arabs and it cannot be found in what one could find [by the means of] qiyās! Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 536 A.H. Rabat, National Library of the Kingdom of Morocco #326, ff.251–252.

[9]

‫ﯾﻘﻮل اﻟﺒﻐﺪادﯾﻮن اﻟﺬﯾﻦ ﻋﻠﻰ ﻣﺬھﺐ اﻟﻜﻮﻓﯿﯿﻦ ﯾﻘﻮﻟﻮن إّﻧﮫ‬ ‫ﻟﯿﺲ ﻣﻦ اﻟﻜﻼم اﻟﻌﺮب وﯾﺬﻛﺮون أﱠﻧﮫ إن اﺧﺘﻠﻒ ﺟﺎز‬ Baghdadi [grammarians] who follow the doctrine of Kufans say that it is not from the speech of Arabs and point out that it diverges from what is allowed. Ibn al-Sarrāj. Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw. 651. A.H, London, British Museum #2808, ff.73

APPENDIX 2. HIS WAS THE GREATEST POETRY AMONG THE GRAMMARIANS: THE SURVIVING VERSES OF IBN AL-SARRĀJ [1]

‫ﻟِﻜﻦ َﺑَﻜﺖ ﻗﺒﻠﻲ ﻓﮭﱠﯿﺞ ﻟﻲ اﻟُﺒﻜﺎ ﺑﻜﺎھﺎ‬ ‫ اﻟﻔﻀُﻞ ﻟﻠﻤﺘﻘ ِﺪّم‬:‫ﻓﻘﻠﺖ‬ She burst into tears; Her weeping moving me to tears as well. Thus I said: the first one is the best one. al-Qifṭī, ‘Inbāh al-Ruwāh vol.3, 145

207

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ُ ‫َﻣّﯿﺰ‬ ‫ت ﺑﯿﻦ ﺟﻤﺎﻟﮭﺎ وﻓﻌﺎﻟﮭﺎ‬ ‫ﻓﺈذا اﻟﻤﻼﺣﺔُ ﺑﺎﻟﺨﯿﺎﻧﺔ ﻻ ﺗﻔﻲ‬ ْ ‫َﺣﻠَﻔ‬ ‫ﺖ ﻟﻨﺎ أّﻻ ﺗﺨﻮن ﻋﮭﻮدﻧﺎ‬ ‫ﻓﻜﺄ َﱠﻧﻤﺎ ﺣﻠﻔﺖ ﻟﻨﺎ أّﻻ ﺗﻔﻲ‬ ‫وﷲ ﻻ ﻛﻠﱠﻤﺘﮭﺎ‬ ‫ﻟﻮ أﱠﻧﮭﺎ ﻛﺎﻟﺒﺪر أو ﻛﺎﻟﺸﻤﺲ أو ﻛﺎﻟﻤﻜﺘﻔﻲ‬ Having compared her beauty to her conduct, The charm fails to compensate for betrayal! She swore never to betray our vows, It is as if she had sworn never to be true to us! Dear God! Never shall I speak to her again, Even if hers was the radiance of the full-moon, the Sun and al-Muktafi! Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-‘Udabā’ vol. 18, 199

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INDEX al-‘Amadī, ‘Abū al-Qāsim alḤasan b. Bashar: 53 al-‘Askarī, ‘Abū ‘Aḥmad al-Ḥasan b. ʿAbdullah b. Saīd b. ‘Ismaʿīl: 53 al-Qālī, ‘Ismāʿīl b. al-Qāsim ‘Abū ʿAlī: 53 al-Tanawakhī, ‘Abū al-Ḥasan ‘Aḥmad b. Yūsuf al-‘Azraq: 53 ʿAbbāsid - Empire: 95, 119, 121, 135, 174, 178, 182 - Culture: 93, 112, 115, 137, 156, 172, 173, 174, 175, 187, 188, 189, 198 - Capital: see Baghdad ‘Abū Khalifa: 111, ‘Abū Yūsuf, Yaʿqūb b. ‘Ibrahīm al-‘Anṣāri: 96 ‘adab: 42, 44, Adamson, Peter: 19, 33, ‘adīb: 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 56, 88, 156, 179, 185, 195, 196, 198. ‘ahl al-lugha: 89, 125 ʿajam: 9, 10, 11, 39, 112, 162, 176, 187 al-‘Akhfash: 49, 51, 52, 128, 151 al-‘Alāylī, ʿAbdullah: 178

al-ʿĀmirī, ‘Abū al-Ḥasan Muḥammad b. Yusūf: 33, 34, 37, 44, 120, 153, 189, 190, 191, 192 al-ʿarab al-ʿāriba: 10 al-ʿArsūzī, Zakī: 178 al-ʿAynī, Badr al-Dīn Maḥmūd b. ‘Aḥmad: 5 al-Balhkī, ‘Abū Maʿshar: 36 al-Barmaki, Yaḥyā: 57 al-Baṣrī, ‘Abū Ziyād al-‘Ansari: 96 al-Battānī, ‘Abū ʿAbd Allāh Muḥammad b. Jābir: 48 al-Buḥturi, ‘Abū al-Wālīd: 52, 104 al-Duʿalī, ’Abū al-’Aswad: 102, 110, 111, 124, 137, 176 al-Fārābī, Abū Naṣr Muḥammad b. Muḥammad: 7, 19, 27, 28, 31, 32, 34, 36, 37, 38, 41, 48, 53, 60, 87, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123, 125, 126, 137, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144, 146, 147, 149, 151, 152, 153, 156, 175, 191, 193, 195 al-Fārisī, ‘Abū ʿAlī: 53, 62, 63, 74, 88, 124, 173, 177, 196 al-Farrā’, ‘Abū Zakariyā Yaḥyā b. Ziyād b. ʿAbdallāh: 52, 94, 101, 138

241

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al-Ghazālī, ‘Abū Ḥāmid Muḥammad b. Muḥammad: 36 al-Ḥallaj, Manṣūr: 49 al-Ḥuṣrī, Sāṭi’: 45, 178 al-‘Ikhshīd, ‘Aḥmad b. ʿAlī: 52 al-‘Ishbilī, b. Khayr: 196 al-Jāḥiẓ, ‘Abū ʿUthman ʿAmr b. Baḥr al-Kinānī al-Baṣrī: 6, 12, 13, 17, 41, 43, 45, 56, 57, 58, 113, 122, 128, 129, 151, 157, 158, 163, 193, 198 al-Jannābī, ‘Abū Tāhir: 182 al-Jarmī: 49, 51, 100, 127, 197 al-Khaṣā’is: 2, 56, 97, 107, 114, 124, 157, 162, 164, 168, 196 al-Khayyāṭ, ‘Abu Ḥusayn: 52 al-Kisā’ī, ‘Abū al-Ḥasan: 109 al-Kitāb: 39, 40, 49, 51, 61, 71, 87, 90, 93, 94, 100, 104, 127, 128, 129, 131, 134, 136, 137, 139, 140, 145, 149, 150, 151 al-Lawraqī: 35 Allen, Roger: 42, al-Lughawī, ‘Abū al-Tayyib: 50, 53 al-Maʿmūn, ‘Abū Jaʿfar ʿAbdullāh: 21, 22, 23, 46, 57, 112, 162, 175, 185, 186, 187, 188 al-Maʿarrī, ‘Abū al-ʿAlāʾ: 39, 52, 54, 61 al-Madāʾinī, ‘Abū al-Ḥasan ʿAlī: 11 al-Manṣūr, ‘Abu Jaʿfar ‘Abdallah b. Muḥammad: 23, 25, 48, 53, 54, 171 al-Marwāzī, ‘Ibrāhīm: 28 al-Marzubānī, ‘Abū ʿUbayd ‘Allāh Muḥammad: 39, 135

al-Masʿudi, ‘Abū al-Ḥasan ʿAlī b. al-Ḥusayn: 27, 48, 111, 113, 164, 183, 184, 185, 186 al-Māzinī: 49, 51, 52, 100, 127, 198 al-muʿalim al-awwal (see: Aristotle) al-Muʿarrij: 96 al-Muʿtaḍid, ‘Abu'l-ʿAbbas ‘Aḥmad b. Talha al-Muwaffaq: 28 al-Muʿtamid, ‘Abu al-ʿAbbās ‘Aḥmad b. Jaʿfar: 180, 185 al-Muʿtaṣim, ‘Abū ‘Isḥāq Muḥammad b. Hārūn al-Rashīd: 18, 185 al-Mubarrād, Muḥammad b. Yazīd: 2, 6, 38, 39, 49, 50, 51, 52, 54, 61, 94, 103, 104, 105, 109, 111, 126, 133, 137, 150, 154, 155, 172, 177 al-Muhallabī, ‘Abū Muḥammad: 57 al-Muḥtadī, ‘Abū ‘Isḥāq Muḥammad b. al-Wāṯiq: 180, 185 al-Mujjaim, ʿAlī Yaḥyā: 36 al-Muntaṣir, ‘Abu Jaʿfar Muhammad: 179, 185 al-Muqaddasi, Muḥammad b. Aḥmad: 46, 92, 95, 96, 96 al-Muqtadir, ‘Abu al-Faḍl Jaʿfar b. ‘Aḥmad al-Muʿtaḍid: 176, 180, 181, 183, 184, 185 al-Mustaʿīn: 179, 185 al-Mutawakkil, ‘Abu al-Faḍl Jaʿfar: 179, 181, 184, 185, 191 al-Nawbakhtī, Ḥasan b. Mūsā: 35 al-Qifṭī, Jamal al-Din abu al-Hasan ʿAli b. Yusuf: 7, 39, 40,

INDEX 41, 42, 44, 51, 54, 56, 60, 61, 62, 87, 88, 93, 135, 136, 155, 156179, 192, 195, 197 al-Qurṭubī, Ibn Ḥayyān: 10, 112 al-Rāzī, ‘Abū Bakr Muhammad b. Zakariyyā: 31, 38, 48, 56, 120, 191 al-Rummānī, ‘Abū al-Ḥasan: 50, 52, 53, 88, 154 196 al-Ṣābi’, Hilāl: 38, 58, 59, 199 al-Sarahsī, ‘Aḥmad b. al-Tayyib: 174 al-Shāṭibī: 35, 189 al-Sirāfī, Ḥasan b. ʿAbd Allāh: 2, 4, 5, 10, 35, 41, 45, 52, 53, 54, 57, 58, 95, 95, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 110, 114, 118, 119, 123, 124, 126, 126, 154, 155, 157, 158, 160, 162, 169, 169, 177, 179, 179, 190191, 192, 196, 197 al-Ṣūlī, Muḥammad b. Yaḥyā. 46, 104, 180 al-Suyūṭī, ‘Abū al-Faḍl ʿAbd alRaḥmān b. Abī Bakr b. Muḥammad: 10, 49, 53, 87, 124, 128, 129, 135176, 196 al-Ṭabarī, ‘Abū Jaʿfar Muḥammad b. Jarīr: 10, 48, 57, 179, 180, 182, 186 al-Tawḥīdī, ‘Abū Ḥayyān: 5, 6, 7, 9, 36, 37, 42, 42, 43, 45, 52, 58, 60, 118, 119, 121, 128, 154, 173, 173, 190, 191, 192 al-Thāʿlibī, 'Abū Manṣūr: 110 al-Zajjāj, ‘Abū ‘Isḥak ‘Ibrāhīm alSārī: 2, 39

243 al-Zubaydī, Muḥammad b. alḤasan: 7, 41, 54, 56, 57, 81, 62, 128 ‘amma: 26, 119, 175 Anawati, C. Georges: 23, 24, 33 ‘anṣār: 9, 96 ʿarab: 8, 9, 10, 11, 90, 92, 112, 152, 187 Ardashir: 183 Aristotle: 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 24, 25, 28, 29, 31, 32, 33, 34, 37, 42, 87, 117, 122, 135, 136, 140, 143, 145, 150, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156, 183, 189, 195 Baalbaki, Ramsey: 88, 89, 104, 115, 158, 177 Baghdad: 9, 19, 20, 21, 22, 24, 27, 28, 31, 32, 33, 35, 36, 37, 38, 40, 41, 42, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 40, 52, 53, 56, 57, 58, 60, 61, 62, 88, 89, 92, 93, 94, 112, 115, 118, 119, 120, 121, 123, 125, 135, 137, 141, 142, 143, 150, 151, 153, 154, 155, 156, 171, 172, 180, 181, 182, 183, 186, 187, 188, 189, 190, 191, 194, 195, 196 Bashār b. Burd: 9 Bashear, Suliman: 11, 12 bayān: 37 Bloch: 98, 99 Bohas, Georges: 130, 132, 134, 173, 175, Bukhsh, Salahuddin Khuda: 20, 188 Byzantine: 18, 25, 27, 42, 137, 138, 139

244

THE BANISHER OF MADNESS

Carmichael, Joel: 8, 20, 182 Carter, Michael: 42, 89, 136, 140, 145, 167, 176, 177, 192 Choiroboscos, Georgios: 139 Cleveland, William: 194, 195 Corriente, Federico: 98, 99 Crone, Patricia: 12, 24, 27 Durel, Jean: 173 Endress, Gerhard: 3, 25, 37, 122 Fakhry, Majid: 18, 20, 38 fiqh: 15, 150, 153, 189 Foucault, Michael: 171, 172, 174 Fromkin, Victoria: 1 Galen: 25 Goldziher, Ignaz: 9, 35, 96, 112, 153, 187, 188 Gutas, Dimitri: 4, 19, 21, 22, 23, 25, 32, 142, 143, 171, 188 Haeri, Niloofar: 2, 176 Haq, Seyed Nomanul: 19, 20 ḥarf: 136, 138, 140, 145, 149, 151, 152, 154 hawāshī: 140, 141, 142, 143, 144, 146, 147 ḥikma: 4, 5, 31, 33, 34, 115, 120, 157, 169 Hippocrates: 25 ‘Iʿrāb: 136, 138, 139, 156, 159 ‘iʿtilāl: 3 Ibn ‘Abī ‘Uṣaybiʿa, ‘Aḥmad b. alQāsim: 18, 21, 28, 38, 41 Ibn ʿAdī, Yaḥyā: 118, 119, 159, 194

Ibn ‘Aḥmad, Khalīl: 89, 96, 103, 128 Ibn al-ʿAmīd, ‘Abū al-Faḍl: 154, 192 Ibn al-‘Anbārī, ʿAbd al-Raḥmān b. Muḥammad: 41, 52, 53, 55, 87, 88, 109, 11, 129, 135, 154, 176 Ibn al-ʿAzīz, Hāshim: 10 Ibn al-Furāt, Nāṣir al-Dīn Muḥammad: 48, 54, 57, 58, 121, 190, 191, 192 Ibn al-Khaṭṭtāb, ʿOmar: 110 Ibn al-Rūmī, ‘Abū al-Ḥasan ʿAli ibn ʿAbbās: 39, 52, 104, 155 Ibn al-Zayyāt: 57 Ibn Fadlān, ‘Aḥmad b. al-ʿAbbās ibn Rāshid b. Ḥammād: 48 Ibn Ḥailān, Yūḥannā: 24, 28, 189 Ibn Hurmuz, ʿAbd al-Raḥmān: 176 Ibn ‘Imrān, Muways: 56, 58 Ibn ‘Isḥāq, Ḥunayn: 18, 20, 23, 24, 48, 123, 140, 141 Ibn Jinnī, ‘Abū al-Fath 'Utmān: 2, 3, 53, 56, 95, 97, 107, 109, 110, 114, 124, 134, 157, 161, 162, 164, 168, 176, 195, 197 Ibn Khaldūn, ‘Abū Zayd ʿAbd ar-Raḥmān b. Muḥammad: 12, 17, 31, 37, 95, 97, 111, 136, 139 Ibn Marwan, ʿAbd al-Malik: 15, 137 Ibn Nadīm, Muḥammad b. ‘Isḥāq: 20, 21, 26, 34, 35, 39, 40, 41, 51, 52, 54, 56, 58, 62, 87, 88, 105, 111, 155, 158, 162, 163, 197

INDEX Ibn Nubāta, ‘Abū Bakr Muḥammad b. Muḥammad b. alḤasan: 20, 21, 22, 185, 186 Ibn Qutayba, ʿAbd ‘Allāh b. Muslim: 12, 13, 113, 192 Ibn Saʿdān, ‘Abū ʿAbdallah alHusayn: 191 Ibn Ṣādiq, Jaʿfar: 35 Ibn al-Sarrāj, ’Abū Bakr Muhammad b. Saḥl b. al-Sārī: 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 12, 14, 15, 17, 27, 37, 38, 38, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 66, 71, 74, 80, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 112, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 124, 135, 136, 137, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147, 149, 150, 151, 152, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 172, 173, 174, 175, 177, 178, 178, 180, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 198 Ibn Shirshīr, ‘Abū al-ʿAbbās ʿAbdallāh b. Muḥammad: 35 Ibn Tāhir, ʿAbdullāh: 21 Ibn Taymiyya, Taqī ad-Dīn ‘Aḥmad: 5, 36, 135, 189 Ibn ʿUmar, ‘Īsā: 52 Ibn Yaʿīsh, ʿAbd al-Ḥusayn alMubarak: 112, 196

245 Ibn Yūnus, Mattā: 5, 19, 28, 31, 35, 57, 58, 118, 121, 140, 142, 143, 189, 190, 191, 192 ‘Ibrāhīm: 10 ʿilla (pl. ʿilāl): 2, 3, 4, 40, 96, 105, 106, 107, 133, 149, 159, 177, 178, 197 ʿilla al-ʿilla: 4, 75, 137. ʿilmal-mīzān: (see: logic) ‘ism: 139, 147, 149, 151, 152 ‘Ismāʿīl: 10 ‘Iṣrā’il the Bishop: 28 ‘iṣṭinā: 62 Jokisch, Benjamin: 3, 17, 24, 25, 28, 89, 122, 135, 138, 149, 150, 152, 153, 155, 189, 192 Jovian, Flavius Augustus: 18 jumla: 90 kalām al-tām: 157, 169 kalām: 10, 90, 91, 109, 119, 137, 138, 150, 152, 157, 169, 189 khassa: 26 khawālif: 140, 142, 143, 144, 146, 147 King, Daniel: 19 Kitāb ʿalā ‘Ahl al-Manṭiq: 123 Kitāb al-‘Alfāẓ: 38, 117, 118, 119, 120, 137, 142, 143, 144, 149, 151, 152, 193 Kitāb al-Ārā’ wa al-diyānat: 35 Kitāb al-ʿArūḍ: 63, 71, 74, 103, 150, 173 Kitāb al-Khaṭṭ. 150, 158, 160, 164, 167, 173, 196 Kitāb al-Qalam: 88, 101, 102, 150, 160, 173

246

THE BANISHER OF MADNESS

Kitāb al-‘Uṣūl fī al-Naḥw: 3, 4, 5, 37, 51, 54, 63, 64, 66, 67, 68, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 87, 88, 89, 90, 92, 94, 97, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 113, 114, 117, 124, 126, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 135, 144, 145, 147, 150, 151, 152, 152, 157, 158, 159 160 161, 163, 164, 165, 166, 166, 168, 169, 172, 173, 178, 193, 195, 196 Kraemer, Joel: 25, 31, 33, 57, 60, 190 Kroskrity, Paul: 15, 16 lafẓ (pl. ‘alfāẓ): 103, 116, 117, 118, 119, 121, 125, 126, 175 Lane, Edward William: 3, 4, 9, 115 Lapidus, M. Ira: 18, 20, 188 Lewis, Bernard: 11, 178 maʿnā: 115, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121, 123, 125, 126, 127, 158, 159, 160, 162, 163, 165, 175, 193, 197 Mabramān: 11 Makdisi, George: 44, 61, 110, maʿlūl: 3 masāʿil: 64, 66, 131, 133 McGinnis, Jon: 18, 19 Melucci, Alberto: 13, 14 Menn, Steven: 141, 143, 145 Merx, Adalbert: 137, 138, 139 Miskawayh, ‘Abū ʿAlī ‘Aḥmad b. Muḥammad b. Yaʿqūb: 47, 48, 139, 181, 182, 183 Muhājirūn: 9

al-Mūjaz fī al-Naḥw: 63, 71, 74, 97, 99, 104, 112, 125, 132, 133, 145, 146, 150, 164, 165, 166, 173, 194 Neoplatonism: 33, 38 Nuseibeh, Hazem Zaki: 10, 11 Omphalos: see Baghdad Organon: 19, 31, 136, 150, 152, 153, 154, 156, 189 Peters, Edward Francis: 18, 19, 20, 24, 25, 28, 32, 42 Plato: 87, 117, 183, 195 Pythagorism: 33 Qarāmiṭa: 181, 182, 183 Quwairī: 28 Rāshidūn: 11 rawābiṭ: 140, 141, 142, 143, 144, 146, 147 Reisman, David: 18, 19 Rescher, Nicholas: 24, 28, 57, 60, 189, 193 Retsö, Jan. 8, 9 Robins, H. Robert: 142 Rodman, Robert. 1 Rosenhouse, Judith: 98, 99 Rosenthal, Franz: 4, 14, 34, 122, 172, 174, 183 Rumsey, Alan: 16, 175 Sabra, Abdelhamid: 23, 25 Salman (the Persian): 112 Sarakhsī, Muḥammad b. ‘Aḥmad b. ‘Abi Sahl ‘Abū Bakr: 31, 36, 120

INDEX Sassanid Empire: 11, 18 shuʿūbiyya: 7, 12, 111, 112, 113, 194 Sibawayh: 40, 42, 51, 52, 56, 61, 63, 87, 89, 90, 93, 95, 99, 100, 103, 104, 109, 109, 115, 127, 128, 129, 131, 134, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 145, 147, 150, 151, 152, 154, 157, 158, 162, 162, 177, 197 Siwāk: 58 Synkellos, Michael: 139 Ṭabaqāt al-Naḥwīyīn wa alLughawīyīn: 42, 54, 56, 61, 62, 128 tamthīl: 134 taqāsīm: 130, 131, 133, 135, 145, 149, 152, 155, 172, taqdīr: 134 Tartīb al-Saʿāda: 143 Technē: 141, 142 Thaʿlab: 49, 50, 54, 61, 138, 155 The City of Peace: see Baghdad Trax, Dionysius: 138, 141, 142,

247 ʿulamā’: 16, 17, 26, 36, 120, 121, 122, 156, 172, 186, 187, 188, 193 ‘Umayyad: 11, 13, 24, 26, 178 Vagelpohl, Uwe: 19, 24 Verschueren, Jeff: 108 Versteegh, Kees: 12, 17, 23, 24, 27, 40, 53, 88, 90, 97, 99, 109, 117, 122, 123, 126, 128, 135, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 142, 147, 151, 152, 155, 164, 177, 192 Walzer, Richard: 18, 19, 20, 188 wāṣilāt: 140, 141, 142, 143, 146 wāsiṭa: 140, 141, 142, 142, 146, 147 Wisdom: see ḥikma Yāqūt, ʿAbd ‘Allāh al-Ḥamawī: 62, 87, 93, 93, 103, 120, 127, 129, 155, 196, 198 Yasir, Suleiman: 13, 178 ẓarīf (see: khassa)