Language and Heresy in Ismaili Thought: The Kitab al-Zina of Abu Hatim al-Razi 9781463214722

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Language and Heresy in Ismaili Thought

Gorgias Islamic Studies

2

Gorgias Islamic Studies spans a wide range of subject areas, seeking to understand Islam as a complete cultural and religious unity. This series draws together political, socio-cultural, textual, and historical approaches from across disciplines. Containing monographs, edited collections of essays, and primary source texts in translation, this series seeks to present a comprehensive, critical, and constructive picture of this centuries- and continent-spanning religion.

Language and Heresy in Ismaili Thought

The Kitab al-Zina of Abu Hatim al-Razi

By

Jamal Ali Foreword by

Ismail Poonawala

9

34 2013

Gorgias Press LLC, 954 River Road, Piscataway, NJ, 08854, USA www.gorgiaspress.com Copyright © 2013 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. 2013

‫ܘ‬

9

ISBN 978-1-59333-781-0 Second Printing

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 Table of Contents....................................................................................................v Foreword by Ismail Poonawala............................................................................ix Acknowledgments .................................................................................................xv Abbreviations .......................................................................................................xvii 1 Introduction ....................................................................................................1 Rāzī’s life ..........................................................................................................1 Rāzī’s works.....................................................................................................3 Kitāb al-zīna ......................................................................................................7 Published editions ..........................................................................................9 Studies of Zīna...............................................................................................10 This book.......................................................................................................10 2 Rāzī the Lexicographer................................................................................13 Early Arabic Lexicography..........................................................................13 Comparison between Rāzī and Ibn al-Anbārī .........................................16 Rāzī’s predecessors.......................................................................................19 al-Farrāʾ..........................................................................................................19 Abū ʿUbayda .................................................................................................21 Abū ʿUbayd ...................................................................................................23 Ibn Qutayba ..................................................................................................24 Thaʿlab ...........................................................................................................28 Mubarrad........................................................................................................28 Ghiyāth...........................................................................................................29 3 Kitāb al-zīna: Content....................................................................................31 The Introduction ..........................................................................................31 The doctrine of the superiority of Arabic: a historical context.............34 Ishtiqāq ............................................................................................................35 Foreign vocabulary in the Qurʾān .............................................................37 Rāzī on foreign vocabulary in the Qurʾān................................................40 The excellence and importance of poetry ................................................41 The Prophet’s miracle..................................................................................43 The revival of poetry....................................................................................45 Creation..........................................................................................................50 v

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LANGUAGE AND HERESY IN ISMAILI THOUGHT Organization of the book............................................................................51 The entry on kalima......................................................................................57 Rāzī on kalima ...............................................................................................57 Rāzī the etymologist: On the origin of place names...............................75 Prologue .........................................................................................................75 Ishtiqāq ............................................................................................................76 Ishtiqāq and proper nouns ...........................................................................79 Identity of Rāzī’s and Ibn al-Anbārī’s source ..........................................87 Adoption by later lexicographers...............................................................88 Rāzī the grammarian ....................................................................................91 Concerning terminology..............................................................................91 The history of Arabic grammar..................................................................92 The latter-day Kūfans ..................................................................................94 Categories and terminology ........................................................................95 School spirit among the Kūfans.................................................................98 Farrāʾ vs. the latter-day Kūfans................................................................101 Technical terminology ...............................................................................105 Farrāʾ on the badal ......................................................................................108 ʿIbāra .............................................................................................................108 Tarjama..........................................................................................................108 Tābiʿ (as well as yatbaʿ, etc.).......................................................................109 Takrīr ............................................................................................................111 Radd (and its derivatives) ...........................................................................113 Tafsīr..............................................................................................................114 Paraphrase....................................................................................................116 Tafsīr among the later Kūfans...................................................................116 Badal..............................................................................................................118 Tarjama/mutarjim .........................................................................................118 Badal..............................................................................................................119 Tābiʿ/itbāʿ, etc. ............................................................................................119 Radd and takrīr and derivatives.................................................................120 Badal in Kitāb al-zīna....................................................................................121 Rāzī the Heresiographer............................................................................125 Rāzī’s source material.................................................................................125 Heresiography as propaganda ..................................................................130 Rāzī’s organization of the material ..........................................................132 Rāzī on the term ahl al-sunna wa-l-jamāʿa .................................................136 Rāzī’s five divisions ....................................................................................137 1. Shīʿa..........................................................................................................138

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2. Murjiʾa......................................................................................................139 History of Irjāʾ ............................................................................................139 Rāzī on the Murjiʾa.....................................................................................141 3. Rāfiḍa .......................................................................................................144 4. Qadariyya.................................................................................................146 5. Māriqa ......................................................................................................147 Conclusions .................................................................................................148 8 Conclusion...................................................................................................151 Further avenues ..........................................................................................151 Rāzī the Ismāʿīlī ..........................................................................................152 Rāzī’s influence on later generations .......................................................158 Bibliography .........................................................................................................161 Index......................................................................................................................169

FOREWORD Ismāʿīlī studies have progressed rapidly since the thirties of the last century. Ḥusayn F. al-Hamdānī, Āṣaf ʿAlī Aṣghar Fyzee, Zāhid ʿAlī and Wladamir Ivanow, all of whom had access to Ismāʿīlī manuscripts, were the pioneers. Muḥammad Kāmil Ḥusayn, an Egyptian scholar, edited several important works and provided learned introductions and discerning analyses of those texts. Then followed the second generation of western and eastern scholars who built their investigations on the foundations laid by previous studies. They cover various disciplines, such as history, doctrine, law, etc., and are too numerous to be enumerated individually. In short, the Ismāʿīlīs are no longer studied and judged, as used to be the case in the past, exclusively on sources written by their opponents. One might ask: what precipitated this major breakthrough in Ismāʿīlī research? The answer is: the discovery of manuscripts of Ismāʿīlī works penned by their own great thinkers, known as the dāʿīs. These scholars were highly educated and trained to engage their opponents in disputations. During the heyday of the Fāṭimid Empire they actively participated in intellectual endeavors and enriched Islamic learning and civilization. The Fāṭimids were great patrons of learning and their newly founded capital, Cairo, would soon rival older centers like Baghdad as a seat of learning and intellectual activity. Unfortunately, following the collapse of Fāṭimid rule in Egypt, their rivals ruthlessly destroyed the rich Ismāʿīlī literature produced during the pre-Fāṭimid and Fāṭimid periods. Taqī al-Dīn Aḥmad al-Maqrīzī (d. 1442), a famous Egyptian historian, vividly describes that destruction in his best known work, al-Mawāʿiz. wa-liʿtibār fī dhikr al-khiṭaṭ wa-l-āthār, generally referred to as Khiṭaṭ. However, a portion of that legacy was transferred to Yemen, which had become an Ismāʿīlī stronghold under the Ṣulayḥids. There the Yemeni community of the Mustaʿlian-Ṭayyibī daʿwa preserved this heritage for almost four centuries by copying and studying those works as well as by augmenting and enriching this literature through their own original contributions which drew from various disciplines of learning. When the headquarters of the Ṭayyibī daʿwa were moved to the west coast of India during the sixteenth century, ix

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the Ismāʿīlī literature was once again transferred and transplanted to the new soil of the Indian sub-continent. In addition to preserving a great portion of that literature produced in Iran, North Africa, Egypt, Yemen and elsewhere, the learned Bohra shaykhs put their own stamp on the body of work by adding their own commentary and interpretations. The manuscripts were, thus, discovered in the Indian sub-continent preserved in the private collections of the Bohra community. Since the discovery of that hidden treasure, some of those manuscripts changed hands and found their way into public libraries of Europe, the Middle East and India. The Institute of Ismaili Studies in London, established in 1977 by the Āghā Khān IV, now boasts the largest collection of Ismāʿīlī manuscripts in Arabic, Persian, and Khojki under one roof. The recent donation of Ismāʿīlī manuscripts to the above Institute by ʿĀbid ʿAlī, the son of Dr. Zāhid ʿAlī, and Professor Abbas Hamdani of their respective family collections, known as the Zāhid ʿAlī and Hamdānī collections, have significantly augmented the scope and quality of that treasure trove. The present volume by Dr. Jamal Ali is based on a meticulous reading of a large manuscript that still remains unpublished except for a small portion from the beginning and the middle. It examines the role of a major early Ismāʿīlī thinker through critical study of one of his principal works. Dr. Jamal Ali’s presentation of material and its contextualization to the wider world of Islam during the fourth/tenth century fully mirrors the recent progress of research not only in Ismāʿīlī studies but also in other areas of Arabic and Islamic studies as well. It is a highly readable account of that remarkable period in Islamic history. Abū Ḥatim Aḥmad b. Ḥamdān al-Rāzī was the chief dāʿī of Rayy during the first decade of the 4th/10th century. As the head of the Ismāʿīlī mission, his activities extended over a vast area which was called al-Jibāl by the Arab historians and which comprised the regions of west central and northwest Persia, an area that includes the cities of Rayy, Qumm, Kāshān and Hamdān. The Iranian dāʿīs, in contradistinction to their counterparts in other Arab countries, such as Iraq, Yemen, and North Africa, were operating among a different layer of society. Their aim was to attract and convert the educated class of that society, especially the ruling elite, to their religiopolitical agenda. Hence, in order to appeal to them intellectually they formulated and expressed the Ismāʿīlī doctrine of the imāma and its theology in philosophical language that was current at that time. In other words, they drew upon a strand of Neoplatonism that was prevalent among the educated circles of Khurāsān and Central Asia.

FOREWORD

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In keeping with the tradition of his predecessor dāʿī, Abū Ḥātim had penetrated into the court circles and succeeded in converting Aḥmad b. ʿAlī, the governor of Rayy from 307/919 to 311/924. Around 313/925, he traveled to Ṭabaristān, south of the Caspian Sea, and threw his support behind Asfār b. Shīrawayh/Shīrūya, a Daylamite military commander, who was successful in subjugating the region against the local Zaydī ruler alḤasan b. al-Qāsim, called al-Daʿī al-Ṣaghīr. Abū Ḥātim’s efforts paid off and he won over Asfār b. Shīrawayh/Shīrūya, his lieutenant Mardāwīj b. Ziyār and other court officials to Ismāʿīlī faith. Later on Mardāwīj revolted against his master Asfār and founded the Ziyārid dynasty with Rayy as his capital. The famous debate between Abū Ḥātim al-Rāzī and Abū Bakr Muḥammad b. Zakariyyāʾ al-Rāzī, the famous physician-philosopher, took place in Rayy in the presence of Mardāwīj. The disputation between the two Rāzīs: an Ismāʿīlī and a free thinking Muslim philosopher, revolved around the question of reason and revelation, i.e., the human capacity for seeing, forming, and investigating cognitive relations versus the concept of a divine communication to human beings. Abū Ḥātim defended the concept of revelation, which is a fundamental element in every religion, while Abū Bakr defended the supremacy of human reason and claimed that all knowledge is accessible to reason. Soon thereafter Abū Ḥātim fell out of favor with Mardāwīj and fled to Ādharbayjān. There he sought refuge from a local ruler called Mufliḥ and died in 322/934. There is ample evidence to suggest that Abū Ḥātim had Qarmaṭī leanings and may have himself claimed to be the lieutenant (khalīfa) of the hidden imam Muḥammad b. Ismāʿīl. He also corresponded with Abū Ṭāhir Sulaymān b. Abī Saʿīd al-Jannābī, the famous chief of the Qarmaṭī state of Baḥrayn. In Ismāʿīlī history the name of Abū Ḥātim al-Rāzī is generally associated with a principal controversy concerning doctrinal issues with his contemporary dāʿīs, namely Abū al-Ḥasan Muḥammad b. Aḥmad alNasafī/Nakhshabī (d. 332/943), and Abū Yaʿqūb Isḥāq b. Aḥmad alSijistānī (d. after 361/971). The debate was a serious dispute about doctrine. The issues in dispute were wide ranging and concern the soul, the intellect, prime matter, the meaning of qaḍāʾ and qadar, whether Adam brought with him the sharīʿa or not, the role of the seventh nāṭiq, etc. Hence, Ḥamīd alDīn Aḥmad b. ʿAbd Allāh al-Kirmānī (d. after 411/1021) wrote his final work Kitāb al-riyāḍ (the Book of the Meadows) to settle debates over a number of philosophical issues. The full title of this work indicates what precisely his book contained and the nature of his intended goal in writing the book. The Arabic title is: Kitāb al-riyāḍ fī-l-ḥukm bayn al-ṣādayn: Ṣāḥibay alIṣlāḥ wa-l-Nuṣra, or Kitāb al-riyāḍ fī-l-ḥukm bayn al-shaykhayn Abī Yaʿqūb [al-

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Sijistānī] wa-Abī Ḥātim [al-Rāzī] fīmā awrad Abū Ḥātim fī Kitāb al-iṣlāḥ wa-Abū Yaʿqūb fī Kitāb al-nuṣra fī sharḥ mā qālahu al-shaykh al-ḥamīd [al-Nasafī] fī Kitāb al-maḥṣūl. (The Book of the Meadow in Judging between the two books [whose names contain the letter] ṣād, i.e., the Book of Correction and the Book of Support), or (The Book of the Meadow in Judging between the two Masters, Abū Yaʿqūb [al-Sijistānī] and Abū Ḥātim [al-Rāzī] in what the former set forth in his Book of Correction and what the latter presented in his Book of Support in explanation of what the praiseworthy Master [alNasafī] expounded in his Book of the Yield). In some manuscript copies of the Riyāḍ, the latter part of the title reads: wa-iṣlāḥ mā jarā baynahumā fī dhālika wa-iṣlāḥ mā uhmila iṣlāḥuhā min Kitāb al-maḥṣūl (And in correcting what occurred between them [Rāzī and Sijistānī] in that regard, and in correcting that the correcting of which was neglected from the Book of the Yield). The starting-point of this controversy was al-Nasafī’s Kitāb al-maḥṣūl (the Book of the Yield), composed at the turn of the century, wherein he is said to have introduced Neoplatonism into Ismāʿīlī doctrines. It is reported that his book gained popularity among dissident Ismāʿīlīs, known as the Qarāmiṭa. A detailed discussion of this controversy is beyond the scope of this brief preface, so let me touch on one important aspect that might have impelled Abū Ḥātim to compose his refutation of al-Nasafī, entitled Kitāb al-iṣlāḥ (the Book of the Correction). Al-Nasafī conceived hierohistory as a progressive sequence that passes through seven major cycles, each inaugurated by a nāṭiq (plural: nuṭaqāʾ), a speaking prophet who brings revelation and promulgates law in its external form. Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Jesus, and Muḥammad were six such nuṭaqāʾ. Each succeeding nāṭiq abrogates the law of the previous nāṭiq and promulgates a new law. Each nāṭiq is followed by an asās (foundation), also called ṣāmit, who remains silent during the time of the prophet but teaches the bāṭin (the inner, true meaning) of the scripture and law through taʾwīl (hermeunutics). He, in turn, is followed by a series of seven imams (also called seven minor cycles); the last in line rises in rank and becomes the nāṭiq of the following major cycle. Al-Nasafī maintained that Adam did not promulgate law as it was not needed. Noah was therefore the first nāṭiq to proclaim law. Similarly, he maintained that the seventh nāṭiq, known as the qāʾim, Muḥammad b. Ismāʿīl, would not announce new law, rather, he would reveal the inner meaning of the Islamic sharīʿa. He further asserted that Muḥammad b. Ismāʿīl had gone into hiding and would soon return. He thus upheld that the Islamic era had ended with the first coming of Muḥammad b. Ismāʿīl; hence the sharīʿa was annulled. Abū Ḥātim was probably appalled by the Qarmaṭian sack of Mecca (in 317/930) and later

FOREWORD

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events in Baḥrayn, especially the enthronement of a young Persian imposter as the Mahdī (in 319/931). These and other events might have prompted him to criticize certain doctrines held by al-Nasafī and rectify the erroneous statements in Kitāb al-maḥṣūl, especially since al-Nasafī and his followers believed that the Islamic era had ended, which resulted in antinomian tendencies and the manifestation of libertinism among the Qarāmiṭa and other dissident Ismāīlī groups. Kitāb al-iṣlāḥ, therefore, might have been compiled just before his death. This, in turn, prompted Abū Yaʿqūb Isḥāq al-Sijistānī, a younger contemporary of Abū Ḥātim, to compose his rejoinder entitled Kitāb al-nuṣra (the Book of the Support, i.e., support of al-Nasafī), wherein he defended al-Nasafī’s views against al-Rāzī’s criticism. It is worth mentioning in this respect that modern scholars of Ismāʿīlism are divided in their views about the early Ismāʿīlī doctrines and the advent of Neoplatonic philosophy among their writings. One group of scholars argues that the earliest Ismāʿīlīs accepted a view of the cosmos and its creation expressed in a Gnostic myth of kūnī qadar, the seven heavenly letters, and jadd, fatḥ, and khayāl. They further contend that Neoplatonism was introduced later, but its more penetrating influence superseded the earlier Gnostic system. It should be noted that early Ismāʿīlī cosmological and cosmogonical doctrines do not correspond precisely to any known Gnostic model. Some scholars even do not find any direct antecedents to Ismāʿīlī Gnosis either in Jewish or Christian Gnosticism. Rather they argue that it was essentially an original Ismāʿīlī innovation out of Islamic elements. This is not the place to deal with another controversy. Suffice it to state that by the time the Ismāʿīlī daʿwa emerged on the stage of history during the second half of the third/ninth century much of Neoplatonic philosophy, especially the two important and influential texts, namely the Theologia and Pseudo-Ammonius were already translated into Arabic. Both these and other translated works played an important part in the development of Ismāʿīlī strand of Neoplatonism. Jamal Ali’s study, which concentrates mainly on Abū Ḥātim’s magnum opus Kitāb al-zīna, illuminates yet another aspect of Abū Ḥātim’s versatility, his contributions to the field of Arabic linguistics and lexicography. Following the Introduction, the second chapter, entitled “Rāzī the Lexicographer,” explores the development of Arabic lexicography, specific sources from whom Rāzī drew his material, such as al-Farrāʾ, Abū ʿUbayd, Abū ʿUbayda, al-Mubarrad, Ibn Qutayba and others. The next chapter is devoted to listing the contents of Kitāb al-Zīna, its organization and how each entry is handled by Abū Ḥātim. It is worth noting that most of the entries deal with how the nuance of a particular word or term changed with the passage of time by

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providing citations from poetry. Abū Ḥātim’s handling of the material is therefore historical. As was the fashion in those days, he was fascinated with ishtiqāq, that is, how words are derived from old Arabic roots. The remaining chapters are devoted to treating specific subjects, such as Rāzī the Etymologist (on the origins of place names), Rāzī the Grammarian, and Rāzī the Heresiographer. The study concludes with the assessment of Rāzī’s originality and objectivity and avenues for further investigation. Until the full text of Kitāb al-zīna is critically edited and made available to the scholarly community, Jamal Ali’s book provides a comprehensive view of the early Arabic lexicographical tradition based on an early work that was composed probably towards the end of the third/ninth or the beginning of the fourth/tenth century. It also sheds ample light on the fact that the Ismāʿīlīs had developed their own intellectual traditions and that their works were not confined to the exposition of their doctrines alone. Jamal Ali is quite correct in pointing out that in Kitāb al-zīna Abū Ḥātim does not reveal his Ismāʿīlī identity outright. His true personality lays hidden behind his subtle organization and synthesis of the material at his disposal. This was one of the reasons that after the manuscripts of the Ismāʿīlīs were confiscated by their arch rivals the Zaydīs, Imam Yaḥyā alMutawakkil (reigned 1890–1904), the then Zaydī ruler of Yemen, destroyed all Ismāʿīlī books that he could get his hands on, but spared Kitāb al-zīna, which he preserved in his private collection for his own personal use. This imam’s copy was one of the manuscripts used by Ḥusayn al-Hamdānī in his edition of Zīna. Ismail Poonawala

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS My greatest thanks and appreciation goes first and foremost to the Ismail Poonawala, my chair and advisor, for his assistance and encouragement in completion of this book, as well as of the dissertation on which it is based. His faith in my abilities never wavered, and the patience and support I received from him over the years have been nothing short of heroic. I also would like to thank the other members of my dissertation committee, Profs. Michael Morony, Yona Sabar, and Hossein Ziai, whose suggestions, kindness and support were always appreciated. Secondly, thanks to my family, my mother Diana, and Tim, Leyla and Dina for their support and faith in me, and also my uncle Kais, whose prodding encouraged me to bring this project to a conclusion. Also invaluable to me was the help of Prof. Catherine Turner, who patiently offered several valuable insights, Prof. Roger Allen, who made me aware of a number of excellent sources, and Prof. Abbas Hamdani, who sent me his 1949 article which started it all. Furthermore, those who have walked the path before have given me wonderful advice throughout the period of writing the dissertation as well as the book, and I must single out in this regard Profs. Michael Cooperson, Joe Lowry and Sandra Campbell for their frequent and valuable pointers. I wonder if any of this would have been possible without the limitless resourcefulness of David Hirsch, the moral support and technical expertise of Stephen Cardoos, or the companionship of Lars Schumacher during study sessions at the Novel and at Javan.

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ABBREVIATIONS Ar. b. c. cir. d. ed. EI ms s.v. tr. r v

Arabic ibn (son of) century circa died editor Encyclopaedia of Islam manuscript sub verbo, “under the word” translation recto verso

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1 INTRODUCTION The following pages aim to shed light on the nature of Kitāb al-zīna fi-lkalimāt al-iṣlāmiyya al-ʿarabiyya [“The Book of Adornment on Islamic-Arabic Words”] by Abū Ḥātim Aḥmad b. Ḥamdān al-Rāzī (d. 322/934), as well as on the world from which it sprung. This book’s goals will be: 1) To place Abū Ḥātim al-Rāzī in the history of Arab and Islamic thought, specifically, linguistic and religious thought. I will describe some of the discourses in which he was a participant, and examine the debates of his time which affected the organization and method of his book, as well as determine the extent of his influence upon later scholars and subsequent generations; and 2) to use Kitāb al-zīna, until now only partially published, as a starting point for further exploration into Rāzī’s world, and thus to shed light on issues in Arabic linguistic and heresiographical writing which remain unclear or unexplored in current scholarship.

RĀZĪ’S LIFE The most comprehensive source for information on Rāzī’s life is Niz.ām al-Mulk’s Siyāsat-nāma. Minor fragments of information are also found in al-Ḥāfiz.’s Lisān al-mīzān, al-Dāʿī Idrīs’ ʿUyūn al-akhbār, Ibn alNadīm’s Fihrist, Baghdādī’s al-Farq bayn al-firaq, Maqrīzī’s Ittiʿāz. al-ḥunafāʾ, Rashīd al-Dīn’s Jāmiʿ al-tawārīkh, Isfarāyīnī’s al-Tabṣīr fi-l-dīn and al-Daylamī’s Qawāʿid ʿaqāʾid āl Muḥammad. No source states with any definitiveness where Rāzī was born. Ḥusayn al-Hamdānī suspects a North African origin, since Isfarāyīnī relates that when the Mahdī ʿAbd Allāh made a call for missionaries to go to Daylam to preach, a number of the people of al-Maghrib went to Daylam in response, among them a man named Abū Ḥātim.1 Hamdānī believes that Rāzī was most likely from the Maghrib region. He dismisses Abbas Hamdani’s conclusion that Rāzī never set foot in North Africa, for, had he done so, he would have been mentioned by al-Qāḍi al-Nuʿmān.2 Samarrāʾī also believes 1 2

Rāzī, Abū Ḥātim Aḥmad b. Ḥamdān, Kitāb al-Zīna, ed. Hamdānī, 1:26. Ibid., 1:26–7. There is no citation giving a specific work of Abbas Hamdani.

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Rāzī to be Arab, and both he and Hamdānī dismiss Rāzī’s statement that he was a native speaker of Persian (see chapter 3 below). Both argue that the statement in question does not suffice to establish a Persian origin for him.3 For Samarrāʾī, his enthusiasm for Arabic and his belief in its superiority, would argue against the possibility that he is Persian.4 Thus, just as Rāzī himself and some of his peers refused to accept a non-Arabic origin for any Qurʾānic words (see Chapter 3 below), these writers refuse to accept a nonArab origin for Rāzī himself. ʿUshayrī, on the other hand, argues that his statement does indeed prove that he is Persian, and his knowledge of Arabic is explainable by the fact that in his time Arabic was an important language, and would have been taught to him from youth.5 Hamdānī, attempting to identify the precise date Rāzī authored the Kitāb al-zīna, cites an account given by al-Dāʿī Idrīs in ʿUyūn al-akhbār, which states that after Rāzī finished writing al-Zīna, he brought it to the Fāṭimid caliph al-Qāʾim.6 Halm considers the veracity of this report doubtful, since Rāzī, in Kitāb al-iṣlāḥ , shows his thinking on the caliphate to be aligned with that of the Qarmaṭīs, that is, he did not recognize the Fāṭimids as caliphs.7 Stern presented an outline of Rāzī’s biography in an article about early Ismāʿīlī missionaries in North-west Iran.8 His primary source for the account of Rāzī’s life was the Siyāsat-nāma. Some supplemental information was culled from Ibn al-Nadīm’s Fihrist, Baghdādī’s al-Farq bayn al-firaq, Maqrīzī’s Ittiʿāz. al-ḥunafāʾ, Rashīd al-Dīn’s Jāmiʿ al-tawārīkh and al-Daylamī’s Qawāʿid ʿaqāʾid āl Muḥammad, but the main outline of the account is taken from the Siyāsat-nāma.9 Stern’s account may be summarized as follows: The first dāʿī in the Khurāsān/Transoxania region, sent by ʿAbd Allāh b. Maymūn, was Khalaf.10 Khalaf aroused local opposition and fled to Rayy,

3 Rāzī, Zīna (Hamdānī), 1:26; Samarrāʾī, ʿAbd Allāh Sallūm, al-Ghuluww wa-lfiraq al-ghāliya, 232. 4 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 232–3. 5 ʿUshayrī, Muḥammad Riyāḍ, al-Taṣawwur al-lughawiyy ʿind al-Ismāʿīliyya, 47. 6 Rāzī, Zīna (Hamdānī), 1:24. 7 Encyclopaedia Iranica, s.v. ‘Abū Ḥātem Rāzī.’ For more on Rāzī’s possible connection with the Qarmaṭī movement, see Rāzī, Abū Ḥātim, Kitāb al-iṣlāḥ (English intro by Nomoto), 7–9. 8 Stern, S. M., “The Early Ismāʿīlī Missionaries of North-West Persia and in Khurāsān and Transoxania.” 9 Stern, S. M., Studies in Early Ismāʿīlism, 190–1. 10 Ibid., 190.

INTRODUCTION

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where he died.11 He was succeeded by his son Aḥmad, who, in turn, was succeeded by Ghiyāth.12 Ghiyāth, too, aroused opposition and fled to Khurāsān, where he converted al-Ḥusayn b. ʿAlī al-Marw al-Rūdhī.13 He later returned to Rayy and groomed Abū Ḥātim al-Rāzī as his successor.14 Once again forced to flee, Ghiyāth disappeared and Rāzī assumed the headship of the daʿwa (missionary organization).15 He convinced Aḥmad b. ʿAlī, the ruler of Rayy, to convert to Ismāʿīlism.16 In 316, a Daylamite named Asfār b. Shīrūya took over Rayy, and in 318 was killed by another Daylamite, Mardāwīj.17 Abū Ḥātim had gone to Ṭabaristān and joined Asfār, whom he converted.18 He then converted Mardāwīj when the latter assumed power.19 However, the Ismāʿīlīs then fell out of favor with Mardāwīj, who began persecuting them. Abū Ḥātim fled to Mufliḥ, a lieutenant who established his own independent rule in Azerbaijan. He also converted Mufliḥ, and apparently died while at his court in 322/934.20

RĀZĪ’S WORKS Among Rāzī’s most important works is Kitāb al-iṣlāḥ, “Book of Correction,” which was edited by Hasan Minuchehr and published in 1998, though the extant manuscipts of the work are incomplete.21 It contains a refutation of some of the views of Rāzī’s contemporary and fellow Ismāʿīlī philosopher, Muḥammad al-Nasafī (d. 332/943), author of Kitāb al-maḥṣūl.22 Al-Iṣlāḥ con-

Ibid., 194. Ibid. 13 Ibid., 194–5. 14 Ibid., 195. 15 Ibid., 196. 16 Ibid., 196–8. 17 Ibid., 198–9. 18 Ibid., 199. 19 Ibid., 201. 20 Ibid., 203–4. Rāzī’s life is also summarized in Rāzī, Iṣlāḥ (English intro by Nomoto), 3–7. 21 Rāzī, Iṣlāḥ, English intro, 11. 22 Abu-l-Ḥasan Muḥammad al-Nasafī was head Ismāʿīlī missionary in Nīshāpūr and is thought to be the first Ismāʿīlī philosopher to introduce Neoplatonic ideas into Ismāʿīlī cosmology. See Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd edition (EI2), ed. H. A. R. Gibb et al., s.v. ‘Nasafī,’ I; for a description of his Maḥṣūl see Walker, Paul, Early Philosophical Shiʿism, 55–60. 11 12

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tains Rāzī’s views on cosmology and anthropology, but the larger portion of it is dedicated to prophetology.23 Among the important views Rāzī propounds is the idea that Soul, which emanated from the first Intellect, is perfect, as opposed to Nasafī’s view that it is imperfect. For Rāzī, any imperfection associated with the Soul derives from the fact that it acts in time.24 Thus, it is its action in time that is imperfect, not the essence of the Soul itself.25 A second disagreement with Nasafī regards the nature of the human soul. The human consists of three souls, the vegetable, the sensitive, and the rational (al-nāmiya wa-l-ḥissiyya wa-l-nāṭiqa).26 It is the last of these, the rational soul, which distinguishes humans from animals.27 According to Rāzī, this rational soul is an effect (athar) of the higher world, whereas Nasafī was of the opinion that it is a part of it.28 Rāzī is also in disagreement with Nasafī regarding aspects of the seven prophetic cycles. According to Rāzī, there are seven eras of prophethood, each associated with one major prophet, called nāṭiq. The seven eras are those of Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Jesus, Muḥammad and the Qāʾim or the Messiah. The middle five of those, that is, all but Adam and the Messiah, are also possessors of ʿazm, which means that they erase the law (sharīʿa) brought by the previous prophet before them and establish a new law.29 According to Rāzī, the first six, that is, all of them except for the Messiah, are all bringers of a new law (sharīʿa). Here Rāzī disagrees strongly with Nasafī, who does not believe that Adam brought a sharīʿa.30 Aʿlām al-nubuwwa, edited and published by Salah al-Sawy in 1977, is Rāzī’s chronicle of a series of disputations he entered into with Abū Bakr al-Rāzī, whom he refers to as only “the mulḥid.”31 The disputes between the

The contents of the book are described in Walker, Early Philosophical Shiʿism, 52–55. Also see Poonawala, Ismail, Biobibliography of Ismāʿīlī Literature, 38. 24 Rāzī, Iṣlāḥ, 24; English intro, 12. 25 Ibid., 26. 26 Ibid., 33; English intro, 12–13. 27 Ibid., 30. 28 Ibid., 31–32; English intro, 13. 29 Ibid., 61. 30 Ibid., 61, 64–76; English intro, 14–15. 31 Poonawala, Biobibliography, 38–9. Mulḥid (the verbal noun of which is ilḥād) means “heretic, apostate.” See EI2, s.v. ‘mulḥid.’ 23

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two Rāzīs occurred in the city of Rayy and were attended by numerous scholars and important political figures.32 They revolve around topics such as medicine, philosophy and doctrine, but the conflict underlying each disagreement is that between reason and faith, with Abū Ḥātim taking the side of faith and the necessity of religion and prophecy, and Abū Bakr taking the side of the supremacy of human reason.33 Among the disputes chronicled in the book is one regarding the issue of prophethood. Why, Abū Bakr asks, should one group of people be chosen to give the world a prophet, and why should one person be chosen over another? Why, indeed, are prophets necessary at all, since prophethood leads to disagreement and wars? Shouldn’t humans have been given direct knowledge of their duties and responsibilities, instead of having them come through a prophet?34 Abū Ḥātim responds that God has made some more knowledgeable than others, and points out that even Abū Bakr himself claims to know the truth and to be more knowledgeable than his compatriots.35 Abū Bakr responds that this is so because he has delved deeper into seeking truth than others.36 Abū Ḥātim says that even among those who delve deeper into contemplation some are more knowlegeable and reach sounder conclusions than others.37 This shows that indeed some people can be more knowledgeable than others, which supports the idea that God may send prophets who have greater knowledge than common people.38 To Abū Bakr, religion consists merely of men with long beards relating traditions from their forefathers regarding doctrine and ethics. Their tales often conflict, for they relate whatever supports their own beliefs. Furthermore, he says, they allow the killing of those who formulate their own views or disagree with them.39 To this condemnation of religion Abū Ḥātim responds that philosophers, too, follow the rulings of predecessors in matters in which their own Abū Bakr Muḥammad b. Zakariyyā al-Rāzī (d. 313/925 or 323/935) was the famous physician and philosopher known in Europe as Rhazes. See EI2, s.v., ‘Rāzī, Abū Bakr Muḥammad ibn Zakariyyāʾ. 32 See Rāzī, Abū Ḥātim, Aʿlām al-nubuwwa, Persian intro, ix-x. 33 Ibid., Arabic intro, iv. 34 Ibid., 4. 35 Ibid. 36 Ibid., 4–5. 37 Ibid., 5. 38 Ibid., 8–9. 39 Ibid. 31–2.

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reason proves unable to reach conclusions. Doing the same in the name of religion is no different from this practice. Furthermore, he says, following the teachings of elders without using one’s own ability to reason is not permitted in religion with regards to fundamental doctrine (al-uṣūl), such as the oneness of God.40 As for the accusation that disagreement is not allowed, Abū Ḥātim responds that contemplating and forming opinions (alnaz.ar) are not forbidden. Rather, what is forbidden and contrary to the precepts of religion is open fighting and violent conflict.41 Abū Ḥātim also elaborates upon the virtuousness of the prophets and describes the righteousness of the Prophet Muḥammad.42 To the accusation that revealed books contain lies and contradictions, Abū Ḥātim responds by saying that prophets and the books they bring frequently express ideas in parable and metaphorical language. Thus, to understand them one must seek their underlying meaning, and not stop at the surface interpretation.43 Examples of passages which appear contradictory until interpreted in such a way are given from both the Bible and the Torah.44 Abū Bakr also claims that the Qurʾān is not the miracle that it is claimed to be, to which defamation Abū Ḥātim responds with a full chapter dedicated to describing and defending the doctrine of the miraculous nature of the Qurʾān.45 Abū Bakr also attacks the usefulness of prophetic knowledge, saying that knowledge of useful scientific facts results from human contemplation, not from divinely revealed knowledge.46 Abū Ḥātim responds with the final chapter of the book which explains that most human scientific knowledge was also divinely inspired. Philosophers, scientists, and physicians who discovered important truths were, in his view, recipients of divine inspiration.47 The secrets of astronomy, for example, were first discovered by the prophet Idrīs. The philosopher known as Hermes, he asserts, was in actuality Idrīs.48 Similarly, many sciences were first discovered by wise people receiving divine inspiration who were known by pseudonyms under which they operIbid., 33. Ibid., 35–9. 42 Ibid., 73–93. 43 Ibid., 94–5, 104–107. 44 Ibid., 97–103, 117–127. 45 Ibid., Chapter 6, fī shaʾn al-Qurʾān, 227–70. 46 Ibid., 273–5. 47 Ibid., 277–8. 48 Ibid., 278. 40 41

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ated as scientists.49 The same applies to the study of pharmacology.50 Even in his own era, Abū Ḥātim says, the sciences of grammar and poetics were first described by ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib, who was also operating under divine inspiration.51 Other books by Rāzī include a book dedicated to the refutation of 52 rajʿa, the only known reference to which is Rāzī’s mention of it in Zīna.53 A Kitāb al-jāmiʿ is also mentioned by Ibn al-Nadīm in his Fihrist54 as well as by Daylamī in his Qawāʿid ʿaqāʾid āl Muḥammad, where it is wrongly ascribed to Sijistānī.55

KITĀB AL-ZĪNA Kitāb al-zīna was mentioned briefly by Ibn al-Nadīm in his Fihrist.56 Several manuscripts of the work exist, six of which were used in Ḥusayn alHamdānī’s edition of part of Kitāb al-zīna. Following is a description of the manuscripts: 1. A manuscript in the library of Ḥusayn al-Hamdānī’s grandfather, Sīdī Muḥammad ʿAlī al-Hamdānī al-Yaʿburī al-Ḥarāzī. The library, called alMaktaba al-Muḥammadiyya al-Hamdāniyya, is in Surat, India.57 This manuscript is dated 22 Ṣafar, 1306.58 2. A manuscript in the library of Sīdī ʿAbd Allāh Ḥakīm al-Dīn in Surat, India. It begins with a table of contents. After the entry on shirk,59 vol-

Ibid., 278–9. Ibid., 302. 51 Ibid., 291. 52 The belief that humans will be brought back to life before the resurrection. Rāzī, Zīna, 208v-209r; EI2, ‘radjʿa.’ 53 Rāzī, Zīna, 209r; Poonawala, Biobibliography, 39; Rāzī, Zīna (Hamdānī), 1:31. 54 Ibn Nadīm, Fihrist, 327; Ibn Nadīm, The Fihrist of Ibn Nadīm, tr. Dodge, 472, where it is called “The Compilation.” 55 Poonawala, Biobibliography, 39; also mentioned by Rāzī, Zīna (Hamdānī), 1:31. 56 Ibn Nadīm, Fihrist, 327; 472 (Dodge), where it is called “Decoration.” 57 Rāzī, Zīna (Hamdānī), 1:32. 58 Ibid., 1:33. 59 “Association,” i.e., “polytheism,” the act of associating, or attributing to an entity other than God, a status equal to that of God. See Rāzī, Zīna, 163v; EI2, ‘shirk.’ 49 50

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ume 1 ends and volume two begins with ilḥād.60 Hamdānī says that these two manuscripts were copied from the same Yemeni original.61 3. A manuscript in the library of the Imam Yaḥyā al-Mutawakkil ʿalallāh in Sanʿāʾ, Yemen. Microfilm copies also exist in Dār al-Kutub alMiṣriyya in Cairo and in al-Maktaba al-Muḥammadiyya al-Hamdāniyya. The manuscript contains only about half of Kitāb al-zīna, ending at the entry on nifāq.62 It is written in an 11th century A.H. script.63 4. A manuscript in the library of the Great Holy Mosque (al-Jāmiʿ alKabīr al-Muqaddas) in Sanʿāʾ, Yemen. A copy exists in Dār al-Kutub alMiṣriyya. This manuscript, like the previous one, is incomplete. It begins with the Most Beautiful Names of God (omitting Rāzī’s introduction), and ends with rabbāniyyūn.64 It distinguishes between parts 1 and 2, the latter part beginning with ilḥād.65 The script is from the 9th or 10th century A.H.66 5. Yet another manuscript is in the same library in Yemen, and a copy in Dār al-Kutub in Cairo. It consists only of the second volume of Kitāb alzīna, beginning with the entry on ilḥād. This manuscript may have been copied from an author’s original, since it is divided into subsections which it states are the same subsections recognized by Rāzī.67 6. A manuscript is, or was, in the Iraqi Museum in Baghdad. The Arab League possesses a microfilm copy in its Institute of Manuscripts. Some of the beginning is missing, for it starts with the section in Rāzī’s introduction which discusses grammar (al-naḥw). Part of the ending is also missing, for it

See note 31 above. Rāzī, Zīna (Hamdānī), 1:33–4. 62 Nifāq is the act of the munāfiq, roughly translated as “hypocrite.” It means to profess a particular belief but to hold another in the heart. Rāzī, Zīna, 161r-163v; EI2, s.v. ‘munāfik.ūn.’ 63 Rāzī, Zīna (Hamdānī), 1:34. 64 People of religious knowledge. See Rāzī, Zīna, 227v-228r. 65 See n. 31. 66 Rāzī, Zīna (Hamdānī), 1:34–5. 67 Ibid., 1:35–6. 60 61

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ends with the entry al-ʿāʾif and al-qāʾif and al-zājir.68 Hamdānī believes its script to be from the 6th century A.H.69 In addition to these manuscripts, which were used by Hamdānī in his edition of al-Zīna, Poonawala also lists the following: 7. A manuscript in the collection of Shaykh ʿAbd al-Qayyūm b. ʿIsābhāʾī in India.70 This manuscript is incomplete, reaching only the entry on al-jabt wa-l-ṭāghūt.71 8. A microfilm of an Indian manuscript in the Central Library of Teheran.72 9. A number of incomplete copies of late date in the collection of Zāhid ʿAlī in Hyderabad, India.73 Another manuscript: 10. A manuscript in the possession of Ali Asghar Engineer. Part of Engineer’s personal collection in Bombay which he inherited from his father, the manuscript was borrowed by Prof. I. Poonawala at UCLA, who arranged for it to be photographed and kept on microfilm at the UCLA library. It is this microfilmed copy at the UCLA library upon which this study is based.

PUBLISHED EDITIONS Ḥusayn al-Hamdānī edited and published part of Kitāb al-zīna, up to the entry on al-qiyāma.74 The edition is in two volumes. Part one, consumed mostly by Hamdānī’s and Rāzī’s introductions, was published in 1956 and a second printing was issued in 1957. Part two, which begins with bāb mā jāʾa The ʿāʾif is the person who practices ʿiyāfa, the pre-Islamic custom of deriving omens, good or bad, from observing the behavior of birds. Zajr is a variety of ʿiyāfa in which a bird’s activity is interpreted as a sign not to perform a certain act that a person had intended. The qāʾif is the one who practices qiyāfa, the art of deducing information about people and animals from traces they leave behind them. See Rāzī, Zīna, 356r-360r; EI2, s.v. ‘ʿiyāfa,’ ‘k.iyāfa.’ 69 Rāzī, Zīna (Hamdānī), 1:36. 70 Poonawala, Biobibliography, 38 and 440. 71 Jabt according to Rāzī, means “magic.” Ṭāghūt means “sorcerers,” “idols,” or “devils.” See Rāzī, Zīna, 360v; EI2, s.v. ‘ṭāghūt.’ 72 Poonawala, Biobibliography, 38 and 452–3. 73 Ibid., 38 and 458. Described in Cortese, Delia, Arabic Ismaili Manuscripts: The Zāhid ʿAlī Collection in the Library of The Institute of Ismaili Studies, 84–6. 74 “Resurrection.” See Rāzī, Zīna, 110v-111v (ms), 227–9 (Hamdānī); EI2, s.v. ‘k.iyāma.’ 68

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fī bismillāhi-l-raḥmāni-l-raḥīm (“the chapter on what has been related concerning [the phrase] bismillāhi-l-raḥmāni-l-raḥīm ‘in the name of God the Compassionate, the Merciful’”), was published in 1958. ʿAbd Allāh Sallūm al-Samarrāʾī published, as an appendix to his alGhuluww wa-l-firaq al-ghāliya (1972), the section of Kitāb al-zīna which deals with Islamic sectarian divisions. This section corresponds with part of what is called here Section 6 in Kitāb al-zīna (see chapter 3), beginning with aṣḥāb al-ahwāʾ wa-l-madhāhib,75 and continues to aṣḥāb al-rajʿa,76 at the end of that section. His edition was based on manuscript 6 mentioned above,77 though he occasionally consulted the microfilmed versions in Dār al-Kutub.78

STUDIES OF ZĪNA In 1948 Abbas Hamdani published a description of the as of then unpublished Kitāb al-zīna, described its value, and ended with, “Should not such books be published?” Ḥusayn al-Hamdānī’s edition of Kitāb al-zīna begins with a comprehensive introduction to the work, which gives background information on the modern field of linguistics, a comprehensive biography of Rāzī, and a description of Kitāb al-zīna and the manuscripts he used in editing it. The preface by Ibrāhīm Anīs discusses the field of semantics, and discusses what could have been Rāzī’s contribution had his method been more widely followed (see Conclusion). Vajda’s “Les lettres et les sons de la langue Arabe d’après Abū Ḥātim al-Rāzī” compares some of Rāzī’s views on letters with those found in other texts, including a Jewish and a Muʿtazilī text. Muḥammad Riyāḍ al-ʿUshayrī’s al-Taṣawwur al-lughawī ʿind al-Ismāʿīliyya was published in 1985 in Alexandria and is a study of Kitāb al-zīna from the point of view of linguistics. After giving background information on Kitāb al-zīna, ʿUshayrī evaluates some of Rāzī’s ideas in light of the theories of modern linguistics.

THIS BOOK Kitāb al-zīna is a very large and comprehensive glossary. Here, sections of the book have been chosen for examination, each of which exemplifies Roughly, “those who follow deviant sects.” i.e., “those who believe in rajʿa. See n. 52. 77 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 239. 78 Ibid., 244. 75 76

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some important aspect of Rāzī’s method, his use of sources, or his contributions. Then, Zīna is used as a starting point from which to draw conclusions about the broader intellectual world in which he lived. Chapter 2 discusses Arabic linguistics and lexicography as they existed in Rāzī’s era, especially the issues which relate directly to Kitāb al-zīna or are covered in Rāzī’s introduction. His main sources are examined. Chapter 3 gives an overview of the content of Kitāb al-zīna, beginning with a summary of the introduction, followed by a listing of the vocabulary covered in the book. A division of the glossary part of Zīna into several sub-sections is proposed. Chapter 4 examines Rāzī’s method. Rāzī’s uniqueness lay in his tendency to combine separate pieces of information handed down to him into a cohesive whole. He uses this technique fairly consistently throughout Kitāb al-zīna and his discussion of the word kalima has been chosen as a sample. This chapter also reveals some of the disputes amongst linguists of Rāzī’s era, such as that regarding the use and meanings of the words kalim and kalām. Chapter 5 concerns Rāzī’s views on the etymology of place names. Many of Rāzī’s views on language and linguistics described in his introduction, his ideas on etymology, as well as his unique synthesizing method, are illustrated in the section in which he discusses place names. It is for that reason that this section of al-Zīna has been singled out for scrutiny. Furthermore, it also reveals a minor but enduring contribution he made in this area to the field of Arabic lexicography. Chapter 6 is concerned with Rāzī’s ideas on grammar. His views are placed in the historical context of grammatical studies, and his school affiliation is examined. Then, some of the differences and similarities among the various grammar schools of his time are examined, as well as the differences and similarities among schools of his time and those of an earlier era. Chapter 7 is a discussion of his views on sectarian divisions, firaq (sing. firqa). In this chapter previous statements about this section by Hamdānī, Madelung and others are examined and evaluated. Then, the section is analysed for conclusions that might be drawn about Rāzī’s objectivity and his tendency to hide his Ismāʿīlism from his readers, or to express it only subtly. It is in this section on firaq that we can most clearly see how his Ismāʿīlī sentiments are subtle but nonetheless present in Kitāb al-zīna. Thirdly, this section brings to light new information about the name al-murjiʾa as used by the Shīʿa, and clarifies certain issues which have been until now unclear in other Islamic literature.

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In the concluding remarks, further possible avenues for research on Kitāb al-zīna are examined, Rāzī’s objectivity or lack thereof is analyzed, and his influence (or lack thereof) on succeeding generations is described.

2 RĀZĪ THE LEXICOGRAPHER The history of Arabic lexicography in general will be explored first here, and then the focus will be on Rāzī’s position within the field, examining his specific influences and inspirations.

EARLY ARABIC LEXICOGRAPHY Most historical analyses tell us that the main impetus behind the early desire to learn the meanings of Arabic words was the need to understand the Qurʾān.79 Much early exegetical work (tafsīr) was lexicographic in nature, and it was out of these early glosses on the Qurʾānic text that a full-fledged lexicographical tradition developed.80 Goldziher showed how variant readings of the text, in particular readings by ʿAbd Allāh b. Masʿūd and Ubayy b. Kaʿb, were in some cases glosses on the meanings of words.81 Most of the alternate readings he cited were culled from al-Kashshāf of Zamakhsharī (d. 538/1144). For example, Abu-l-Sirār al-Ghinawī read 2:48 lā tajzī nafsun ʿan nafsin shayʾan with nasama ʿan nasama in place of nafsun ʿan nafsin,82 a reading which could be said to add clarification to the meaning of the text.83 Early works of tafsīr consisted of glosses on meanings of Qurʾānic words. Tanwīr al-miqbās min tafsīr Ibn ʿAbbās is a good example of this type of tafsīr. Though we do not know for certain that it harkens back to the earliest Islamic period, it is nonetheless a good example of the tafsīr/lexicography tradition in its earliest form. It consists mostly of rewording the Qurʾānic text to clarify it, or, as Rippin calls it, an ‘Arabic translaSee for example Naṣṣār, Ḥusayn, al-Muʿjam al-ʿarabī, 21–22. See Versteegh, C. H. M., Arabic Grammar and Qurʾānic Exegesis in Early Islam, 93–4; Rippin, Andrew, “Lexicographical Texts and the Qurʾān,” 164–5. 81 Goldziher, Ignaz, Die Richtungen der Islamischen Koranauslegung, 16–17; 26–28 (Ar.). 82 Zamakhsharī, Jār Allāh, Tafsīr al-kashshāf, 1:138. 83 Goldziher, 16; 27 (Ar.). 79 80

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tion’ of the scripture.84 This type of paraphrastic analysis can be seen by opening the text to virtually any page. To take one minor example, on 34:1 al-ḥamdu li-llāh the author says, yaqūl al-shukr li-llāh, and, explaining wa-huwa-lḥakīm al-khabīr, he says, al-ʿalīm bi-khalqihī wa-bi-aʿmālihim.85 It is most likely out of this type of tafsīr work that later Arabic lexicography grew.86 Given that interest in lexicography was spurred by interest in the Qurʾān, it is logical that one of the very first genres of lexicography which emerged out of this pursuit is that of the gharīb al-Qurʾān.87 Soon, however, a general interest in lexicography would follow and works in numerous genres would appear. Though a vast number of these works have been lost, sources recount for us the numerous types of glossaries and dictionaries which were in existence by Rāzī’s era, as well as key authors in each. These genres have been described by Naṣṣār and Rippin, as well as Ramaḍān ʿAbd al-Tawwāb in his introduction to his edition of Abū ʿUbayd’s (d. 224/838) al-Gharīb al-muṣannaf. They include collections of the following types: gharīb al-Qurʾān;88 gharīb al-ḥadīth;89 fiqh terms;90 tribal dialect words in the Qurʾān;91 tribal dialect variations in general;92 Arabized terms;93 multilingual dictionaries;94 language errors committed by the common people (laḥn al-ʿāmma);95 words containing hamza;96 terms related to animals such as insects and horses;97 words related to the human being’s body and character, etc.;98 rare and unusual words;99 geography and place names;100 duals

Rippin, “Lexicographical Texts,” 164. Tanwīr al-miqbās min tafsīr Ibn ʿAbbās, 451. 86 Rippin, “Lexicographical Texts,” 164–5. 87 Naṣṣār, Muʿjam, 32. 88 Ibid., 39–50; Rippin, “Lexicographical Texts,” 165–7. 89 Naṣṣār, Muʿjam, 50–65. 90 Ibid., 66–9. 91 Ibid., 73–7. 92 Ibid., 77–84. 93 Ibid., 84–91; Abū ʿUbayd al-Qāsim b. Sallām, al-Gharīb al-muṣannaf (intro), 183–4. 94 Naṣṣār, Muʿjam, 91–96. 95 Ibid., 96–116. 96 Ibid., 117–122. 97 Ibid., 123–130. 98 Ibid., 130–4; Abū ʿUbayd, Gharīb (intro), 165–6. 99 Naṣṣār, Muʿjam, 135–147. 100 Ibid., 148–171. 84 85

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and plurals;101 different types of morphological structures such as verbs, nouns, verbal nouns, etc.;102 rhyming collocations (al-itbāʿ);103 polysemous words in the Qurʾān (wujūh);104 homonymous antonyms (al-aḍdād);105 and proverbs and expressions (al-amthāl).106 In addition to these types, there also appeared classified dictionaries, arranged by subject, which included within them several of these topics at once.107 Finally, there were the comprehensive dictionaries which aimed to collect all of Arabic between their covers, beginning with Kitāb al-ʿayn by Khalīl b. Aḥmad (d. 170/786 or 175/791).108 Rāzī, then, had an enormous amount of lexicographical material from which to draw in creating Kitāb al-zīna. By his time, lexicographical information had been circulating both in oral and written form. In his introduction, he says, “We have composed it (the book) out of the sayings of scholars and that which has come down to us from those knowledgeable about vocabulary, ḥadīth (Prophetic Traditions) and semantics (allafnāhu min alfāz. alʿulamāʾ wa-mā jāʾa ʿan ahl al-maʿrifa bi-l-lugha wa-aṣḥāb al-ḥadīth wa-l-maʿnā).109 The stated task which he set for himself was to gather the disparate material, some of which was scattered in various written works, and some of which had been circulating only orally among scholars, and was in need of being written down (wa-rawaytu-l-akhbār bihi ʿanhum idh kānat mutafarriqa fī muṣannafātihim wa-riwāyātihim lā yūqaf minhā īllā ʿala-l-ḥarf baʿd al-ḥarf idhā marra fī kitāb aw dhukira fī riwāya wa kathīrun minhu mimmā lam yudawwan ʿanhum walam yufassar tafsīran shāfiyan jamaʿnāhu fī kitābinā…).110 His contribution to the art, then, would not lie in his creating new material, since there was an abundance of material available to him. Almost nothing in Kitāb al-zīna is

Ibid., 172–5. Ibid., 176–205; Abū ʿUbayd, Gharīb (intro), 173–7. 103 Abū ʿUbayd, Gharīb (intro), 179–182. 104 Rippin, “Lexicographical Texts,” 167–171. 105 Abū ʿUbayd, Gharīb (intro), 167–172. 106 Ibn al-Anbārī, Abū Bakr, al-Zāhir fī maʿānī kalimāt al-nās (intro), 33–9. 107 Haywood, John, Arabic Lexicography, 111–114; Naṣṣār, Muʿjam, 206–213; Abū ʿUbayd, Gharīb (intro), 153–63. 108 Khalīl b. Aḥmad al-Farāhīdī, early linguist and lexicographer who was credited with being the first to describe Arabic metrics, and compiled the first comprehensive Arabic dictionary, Kitāb al-ʿayn. See Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd edition (EI2), ed. H. A. R. Gibb et al., s.v. ‘Khalīl b. Aḥmad.’ 109 Rāzī, Zīna, 1:56 (Hamdāni); 2r (ms). 110 Razī, 1:58 (Hamdānī); 4r (ms). 101 102

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original to Rāzī. Rather, his challenge lay, as it did for all glossary compilers of his era, in finding new and interesting ways to organize the material.

COMPARISON BETWEEN RĀZĪ AND IBN AL-ANBĀRĪ Abū Bakr Ibn al-Anbārī (d. 328/940) was a contemporary of Rāzī’s and a fellow disciple of the Kūfan school of grammar. The author of al-Zāhir fī maʿānī kalimāt al-nās, as well as several others,111 he was faced with the same dilemma as Rāzī: how to manage and organize the vast amount of lexicographical material—definitions, isnāds (chains of transmission), poetic citations—which had been handed down to him into a cohesive and useful whole? Rāzī chose to organize the material as a glossary of Islamic terms, whereas Ibn al-Anbārī created a book of “sayings,” that is, expressions that were commonly used by people (al-kalām alladhī yastaʿmiluhu-l-nās).112 He says in his introduction that he wants people who pray and supplicate to understand the meanings of the expressions they use in their prayers and supplications. Thus, he begins with sayings used in prayers and supplications, then general expressions which are used in Arabic speech though the speaker may not know their meanings. He gives definitions and relates any scholarly disagreements that have arisen concerning a particular word, and adduces poetic citations. In the interest of completeness, he also includes any other information he felt might be useful concerning grammar, unusual words, vocabulary, etc.113 His book is presented, then, as a book of sayings, proverbs, and expressions (amthāl). This genre of literature had a long history before him.114 He organizes al-Zāhir along the same lines as most amthāl literature: he begins by giving the expression, introduced by wa qawluhum, then explains it. However, despite the outward appearance as a book of sayings, Kitāb alzāhir is, essentially, not much more than a book of vocabulary similar to Rāzī’s. His focus, particularly in later chapters, is not on proverbs or expressions, but on individual words. Though he begins each section with an idiom or proverb, in most cases, these sayings are merely containers for the word he intends to discuss. Thus, his section on the expression fulān mubrim is in fact an entry on the word mubrim, not an analysis of an entire prov-

See Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir (intro), 24–9 for a list. Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir, 1:3. 113 Ibid., 1:3. 114 Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir (intro), 33–9. 111 112

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erb.115 The same is true of the entries on expressions such as qawl al-rajul li-lrajul: wayḥaka,116 rajul fājir,117 rajul mulḥid,118 and even lā qabila-llāhu minhu ṣarfan wa-lā ʿadlan. The sections headed by these expressions are in reality dictionary entries for the words wayḥaka, fājir, mulḥid, ṣarf and ʿadl respectively. Though another prominent author on amthāl, al-Mufaḍḍal b. Salama (d. 291/904),119 author of Kitāb al-fākhir, did include, like Ibn al-Anbārī, some entries which also described no more than single-word vocabulary items,120 this type of entry was much less frequent for him. Instead, his main concern was explaining expressions and idioms. In his introduction to his edition of al-Zāhir, Ḍāmin lists many important differences between al-Zāhir and Kitāb al-fākhir,121 many of which stem from the fact that al-Zāhir was far more than a book of sayings—it was a relatively thorough lexicographical work. Kitāb al-Zāhir contained elements not found in al-Fākhir, such as: a section on the Most Beautiful Names and their etymology; a focus on grammatical and morphological points; information about the etymology of various types of proper names; information about terms concerning humans and human characteristics; and the citation of authorities.122 Ibn al-Anbārī’s entry on ʿadn (Eden) demonstrates how he, like Rāzī, used the various material which had been handed down to him, edited it, supported it with literary citations, and united it into a cohesive dictionary entry. He begins the section: wa-qawluhum allāhumma adkhilnā jannata ʿadnin. This heading signals the beginning of a new lemma. As described above, it is not, the organization of the book notwithstanding, an explanation of an expression, but of a single word: ʿadn. No information on allāhumma adkhilnā is to be found here. Following is a list of authorities he cites and the pieces of information transmitted from them: 1) First presented is his own view that ʿadn means “garden (bustān).” An anonymous poetic citation supports this definition; 2) Abū ʿUbayda: ʿadn means to “stay put in a place” (al-iqāma). A maʿdin (mine) is so called because gold and silver stays put Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir, 1:135. Ibid., 1:139. 117 Ibid., 1:142. 118 Ibid., 1:143. 119 Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir (intro), 36. 120 For example, qawluhum khaḍaʿa lahu, 95; qawluhum ikhtalaṭa, 92–3; qawluhum al-īghāz and qawluhum huwa jazl, 149. 121 Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir (intro), 36. 122 Ibid., 60–61. 115 116

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there (presumably until removed by a miner). A verse from al-Aʿshā is cited in support;123 3) al-Ḥasan: ʿUmar b. al-Khaṭṭāb asked Kaʿb al-Aḥbār what ʿadn is and he replied that it is a palace in heaven inhabited by no one but prophets, martyrs, or ṣiddīqs124 of prophets; 4) al-Ḥakam (b. ʿUtayba alKūfī): ʿadn is a palace in heaven only inhabited by those mentioned in 3), or by the one who is muḥakkim fī nafsihi, defined as he who chooses to die rather than become an unbeliever; 5) Ibn ʿUmar: God created four things with his own hand: the throne (al-ʿarsh), the Pen (al-qalam), Adam (ādam) and Eden (ʿadn). The rest were created by his command (wa-qāla li-sāʾir alashyāʾ kūnī fa-kānat).125 Rāzī’s entry on ʿadn contained much of the same information. The scholars he cites and their information is: 1) al-Aṣmaʿī: The Arabs say that camels ʿadanat a place if they stay put there. A mine (maʿdin) is so-called because people stay put there and don’t leave. Someone else said that it is called maʿdin because the gold and silver stay put there; 2) Abū ʿUbayda:: On Qurʾān 9:72, Abū ʿUbayda says that ʿadn in jannāti ʿadn means “eternity,” since the verb ʿadana, when applied to a person, means “to stay, remain in a place.” Yaʿdan and yaʿdin are two correct variations of the word, from which maʿdin is derived. The expression huwa fī maʿdin al-ṣidq means he is well-rooted (ay fī aṣl thābit). The verse by al-Aʿshā cited above by Ibn alAnbārī is also cited. ʿAdana at the end of the verse means “to be serious and dignified” (qad razuna lā yastakhiff). 3) Abū ʿUmar: a verse of poetry contains: ilā ʿādin qad razana, and jannāt ʿadn is derived from this meaning, a place of staying. Maʿdin is also derived from this meaning, since they stay, or remain there.126 Rāzī and Ibn al-Anbārī shared a similar amount of raw material, but each decided to edit according to his own preferences. Rāzī relied more heavily on Abū ʿUbayda’s definition, citing it entirely, whereas Ibn alAnbārī severely edited the entry from Abū ʿUbayda, and opted instead to include information from a wider range of scholars.

123 The same verse is cited in Abū ʿUbayda Maʿmar b. al-Muthannā, Majāz alQurʾān), 1:264. 124 See n. 186 below. 125 Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir, 1:498–9. 126 Rāzī, Zīna, 2:201 (Hamdānī); 104r (ms).

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RĀZĪ’S PREDECESSORS The main scholars whom Rāzī cites by name, and from whom he has drawn a large amount of his material, include al-Farrāʾ (d. 207/822), Thaʿlab (d. 291/904), Abū ʿUbayd, Abū ʿUbayda (d. 209/824–5), al-Mubarrad (d. 286/900), Ibn Qutayba (d. 276/889), and sometimes, just “people (qawm),” “grammarians (naḥwiyyūn),” “sages (al-ḥukamāʾ),” “philosophers (al-falāsifa),” or “exegetes (mufassirūn).”127 Minor sources include Abū Ḥātim al-Sijistānī (d. 255/869) and Quṭrub (d. 206/821). It is not possible to account for all of his material fully. However, by comparing some extant works by authors Rāzī cites with the quotes he gives, it is possible to draw some conclusions concerning his use of sources. AL-FARRĀʾ

As we will see later, al-Farrāʾ is the main figurehead of the Kūfan school of grammar, and Rāzī quotes him frequently (see chapter 6 on grammar). Rāzī’s use of Farrāʾ material appears to be part of a living tradition. That is, some of the material was handed down to Rāzī orally through a line of teachers, as opposed to having been taken from books as was the case with some of his sources (see below). In one case, Rāzī confirms this chain of transmission when he says, in the course of his discussion of the origin of allāhumma (O God!), “Abū ʿAbbās Thaʿlab said, Salama told me, transmitted from Farrāʾ… (qāla Abu-l-ʿAbbās Thaʿlab akhbaranī Salama ʿan alFarrāʾ).”128 “Salama” refers to his grammar teacher, Salama b. ʿĀṣim (d. 240/854), a student of Farrāʾ.129 Much of the material that Rāzī says was handed down to him from alFarrāʾ is corroborated in the latter’s Maʿānī al-Qurʾān. Occasionally, the information Rāzī cites corresponds verbatim with that found in Maʿānī alQurʾān, as when he glosses tarjumūn in Qurʾān 44:20: al-rajm hāhunā al-qatl.130

See Walker, Paul, Early Philosophical Shīʿism, 171, n. 17, for examples of alḥukamāʾʾ (sages), and al-falāsifa (the philosophers). 128 Rāzī, Zīna, 2:15 (Hamdānī); 44v (ms). 129 EI2, ‘Thaʿlab’; Thaʿlab, Abu-l-ʿAbbās Aḥmad b. Yahyā, Majālis Thaʿlab, 1/10; Rāzī, Zīna, 2:16 (Hamdānī), n. 13, citing Ibn Nadīm’s Fihrist. 130 Rāzī, Zīna, 315r; Farrāʾ, Abū Zakāriyya Yaḥyā b. Ziyād, Maʿānī al-Qurʾān, 3:40. 127

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In one case, a rather lengthly passage is reproduced exactly as found in Maʿānī.131 However, in the vast majority of cases, the information in Zīna is not an exact quote of that found in Maʿānī, but a paraphrase. For example, Rāzī cites Farrāʾ’s explanation for two variant readings while discussing Qurʾān 9:12 fa-qātilū aʾimmata-l-kufri innahum lā aymāna lahum, in which aymān was also read īmān by Ḥasan. In both the Rāzī citation and in Maʿānī al-Qurʾān Farrāʾ gives two possible reasons why īmān can be correct. One is that they have no faith and are unbelievers. The other is that the meaning is the same as in the standard reading, however, īmān is the causative form of the verb, and here actually means amān (safety, security). The meaning remains that the leaders of the unbelievers should have no safety from the believers. In Rāzī’s citation: qāla-l-Farrāʾ fa-man qaraʾa īmān bi-l-kasr fa-innahu yajūz min wajhayn yurīdu bihi-l-īmān bi-llāh ay annahum kuffār wa-yakūn al-maṣdar) ramz alamān yuqāl āmantu-l-rajul īmānan.132 In Maʿānī al-Qurʾān : wa-qaraʾa-l-Ḥasan lā īmāna lahum yurīd annahum kafara lā islāma lahum wa qad yakūn maʿna-l-ḥasan ʿalā lā amāna lahum ay lā tuʾminūhum fayakūn maṣdar qawlika āmantuhu īmānan turīd amānan.133 Similar examples abound, as when Rāzī cites Farrāʾ’s definition of mublis while discussing Qurʾān 6:44.134 Rāzī’s quote from Farrāʾ in the course of his discussion of the construction in which a noun and its adjective are combined into an iḍāfa construction is a summary of a much longer discussion in Maʿānī al-Qurʾān.135 Sometimes the information cited by Rāzī is slightly different than that found in Maʿānī al-Qurʾān. Rāzī says that God refers to his religion as a ‘baptism’ ṣibgha in Qurʾān 2:138 because Jews and Christians used to baptise their children by dipping them in water.136 In the published edition of Maʿānī al-Qurʾān, Farrāʾ mentions only the Christians.137 Given, then, that Rāzī gives a direct chain of transmission from Farrāʾ, and given that several pieces of Farrāʾ information does not duplicate verbatim the wording found in Maʿānī al-Qurʾān, a strong case can be made that Rāzī did not take his Farrāʾ citations directly from a written source, but 131 It is in Farrāʾ’s justification for the deletion of the orthographic alif in the phrase bismillāh. Rāzī, Zīna, 2:6 (Hamdānī), 40r (ms); Farrāʾ, Maʿānī, 1:2. 132 Rāzī, Zīna, 159r. 133 Farrāʾ, Maʿānī, 1:425. 134 Rāzī, Zīna, 2:192 (Hamdānī), 102r (ms); Farrāʾ, Maʿānī, 1:335. 135 Rāzī, Zīna, 2:143 (Hamdānī), 86v (ms); Farrāʾ, Maʿānī, 1:330–1. 136 Rāzī, Zīna, 153r. 137 Farrāʾ, 1:82–3.

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rather was given them orally by his own teacher, Thaʿlab (see below). Though he might have also copied from a book in addition to oral reception, his copy would have been a completely different recension of the book from that used by Najātī et al. in their published editions.138

ABŪ ʿUBAYDA Abū ʿUbayda Maʿmar b. al-Muthannā was the author of a very early tafsīr, called Majāz al-Qurʾān, which consisted mostly of glosses of words found in the Qurʾān. Majāz, in this work, did not have the meaning later attributed to it by rhetoricians.139 Rather, it meant “the meaning of,” “a paraphrase of.”140 For this reason, Wansbrough referred to Abū ʿUbayda’s Majāz alQurʾān as an example of “paraphrastic exegesis.”141 Rāzī cites Abū ʿUbayda more frequently than he cites any other scholar: well over 250 times. Rāzī clearly had a copy of Majāz al-Qurʾān at his disposal. Many of his Abū ʿUbayda quotes duplicate verbatim those found in Sezgin’s edition of Majāz, the only difference being not the wording, but the addition or deletion of certain pieces of information. For example, a long passage discussing the morphological structure of raḥmān is almost exactly the same in both Zīna and Majāz, the only differences being that in Majāz a couple of minor particles are added, and the phrase ʿadawī min ʿadā quraysh is added to the names of two poets cited.142 A passage explaining silm in Qurʾān 8:63 is also close to an exact quote from the corresponding passage in Majāz. However, a cross reference found in Majāz is deleted from Zīna (wa-qad farighnā minhu fī mawḍiʿ qabla hādhā), a line of poetry not attributed to anyone in Zīna is attributed to “a Yemenite from before the time of Islam (rajul min ahl al-yaman jāhilī),” Rāzī has muṣālaḥa for Abū ʿUbayda’s musālama, in addition to other minor differences such as the addition or deletion of helping particles (ayḍan, lī), etc.143 For examples of multiple recensions of transmitted works, see Sellheim, Rudolf, “Gelehrte und Gelehrsamkeit im Lande der Chalifen,” 67. 139 Majāz today means “trope,” or figurative and metaphorical language. See Jārim, ʿAlī and Muṣṭafā Amīn, al-Balāgha al-wāḍiḥa, 69ff; EI2, s.v. ‘madjāz.’ 140 Abū ʿUbayda, Majāz, intro. by Sezgin, 18–19; Almagor, Ella, “The Early Meaning of Majāz and the Nature of Abū ʿUbayda’s Exegesis,” 308. In the rest of the article she defends this definition of majāz against that of Wansbrough, who inappropriately read much more into the word than is there. 141 Wansbrough, John, “Majāz al-Qurʾān: Paraphrastic Exegesis.” 142 Abū ʿUbayda, Majāz, 1:21–2; Rāzī, Zīna, 2:22 (Hamdānī); 45r-45v (ms). 143 Rāzī, Zīna, 2:67 (Hamdānī); 63r (ms); Abū ʿUbayda, Majāz, 1:250. 138

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In one passage of a few sentences at the beginning of Majāz, Abū ʿUbayda states that the Qurʾān is in a clear Arabic tongue. In Sezgin’s version, he continues, wa-tiṣdāq dhālik fī āya min al-Qurʾān.144 In Rāzī’s version of the same passage: wa-taṣdīq dhālik fī āya min al-Qurʾān: bi-lisānin ʿarabiyyin mubīn (26:195).145 That is, the version of Majāz al-Qurʾān used by Rāzī has taṣdīq for tiṣdāq and also gives the Qurʾānic verse. Thus, Rāzī’s citations from Majāz clarify certain obscurities in Sezgin’s edition. The reverse is true also, for later in the same passage, Rāzī quotes Abū ʿUbayda saying that the early Muslims to whom the Qurʾān was given were Arabs, and therefore: fastaghnaw bi-ʿilmihim ʿan maʿānīhi (“due to their knowledge they don’t need its meanings”). This slightly unclear passage is made understandable by comparing with the Sezgin version: fa-staghnaw bi-ʿilmihim ʿan al-masʾala ʿan maʿānīhi (“...don’t need to ask about its meanings”).146 Given that Rāzī’s citations of Abū ʿUbayda are usually quotes with slight variations, it is reasonable to conclude that Rāzī was working from a copy of Majāz al-Qurʾān, but a different recension than was available to Sezgin in his edition. Sezgin, in his introduction to Majāz al-Qurʾān, lists five recensions of Majāz al-Qurʾān which were named in the sources (though there were many others besides these). Of these five, the only extant one available to us is that of Abu-l-Ḥasan ʿAlī b. al-Mughīra al-Athram. This recension, in turn, had three recensions: that of Abu-l-Ḥasan ʿAlī b. ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz, that of Thābit b. Abī Thābit ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz, and that of Thaʿlab. Only the first two have come down to us, whereas that of Thaʿlab did not. It is manuscripts in these two extant recensions which Sezgin used to edit Maʿānī al-Qurʾān.147 The differences between the citations found in Rāzī and the recensions used by Sezgin are consistent with the probability that Rāzī used a different recension than Sezgin, most likely that of his teacher Thaʿlab (see below).148

Abū ʿUbayda, Majāz, 1:8. Rāzī, Zīna, 1:116 (Hamdānī); 25v (ms). 146 Abū ʿUbayda, Majāz, 1:8; Rāzī, Zīna, 116 (Hamdānī); 25v (ms). 147 Abū ʿUbayda, Majāz, intro. by Sezgin, 19–20. 148 For variant readings of texts in general in Islamic literature see Rosenthal, Franz, The Technique and Approach of Muslim Scholarship, 30–33; Pedersen, Johannes, The Arabic Book, 35–6; and n. 138 above. 144 145

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ABŪ ʿUBAYD Abū ʿUbayd al-Qāsim b. Sallām was a student of Abū ʿUbayda and, like his teacher, was quoted frequently by Rāzī.149 Ramaḍān ʿAbd al-Tawwāb, in his introduction to al-Gharīb al-muṣannaf, cites 35 works authored by Abū ʿUbayd, of which several have been published, and many others lost.150 Rāzī clearly had at his disposal Abū ʿUbayd’s work, which contains mostly aḥādīth (Prophetic Traditions). Many of Rāzī’s quotes from Abū ʿUbayd duplicate exactly the information found there, but with long isnāds removed. A long passage transmitted by Shaʿbī giving the origin of the Prophet’s use of the phrase bismillāhi-l-raḥmāni-l-raḥīm is duplicated in Kitāb al-zīna almost precisely.151 Similarly, Rāzī gives a number of aḥādīth concerning the importance of grammatically analyzing the Qurʾān (iʿrāb al-Qurʾān) in the same order and with the same transmitters listed as in Faḍāʾil alQurʾān.152 Another work of Abū ʿUbayd’s from which Rāzī most likely cited was his Maʿānī al-Qurʾān, now lost. According to descriptions of it in the sources, Abū ʿUbayd gave information about meanings of Qurʾānic words along with isnāds for those meanings.153 In the vast majority of instances where Abū ʿUbayd is quoted in connection with defining a Qurʾānic word or verse, his quote is preceded by the name of a transmitter, and frequently by mention of the fact that Abū ʿUbayd gave an isnād in his original work, or both.154 Rāzī clearly took his quotes from a source which had full isnāds, but truncated them, just as he did with quotes from Faḍāʾil al-Qurʾān. Furthermore, al-Azharī mentions in his Tahdhīb al-lugha that Abū ʿUbayd did not complete Maʿānī al-Qurʾān past chapter 20.155 It is interesting to note that of the 20 or so instances in which Rāzī cites Abū ʿUbayd in explaining a Qurʾānic verse, only on one single occasion is the verse one that occurs after Ṭāhā (chapter 20). This unusual statistical distribution may very well be See Abū ʿUbayd, Gharīb (intro), 20 for sources. Ibid., 40–56. 151 Rāzī, Zīna, 2:4 (Hamdānī), 39r (ms); Abū ʿUbayd, Faḍāʾil al-Qurʾān, 216. 152 Rāzī, Zīna, 1:117–18 (Hamdānī); 25v-26r (ms); Abū ʿUbayd, Faḍāʾil, 348– 149 150

50.

Abū ʿUbayd, Gharīb (intro), 54–5. Rāzī, Zīna, 2:73 (Hamdānī), 64v (ms); 2:122 (Hamdānī), 79v (ms); 2:139 (Hamdānī), 84v (ms) and 2:147 (Hamdānī), 87v (ms) are but a handful of examples out of many. 155 Abū ʿUbayd, Gharīb (intro), 55; al-Azharī, Abū Manṣūr Muḥammad b. Aḥmad, Tahdhīb al-lugha, 1:20 (al-ṭabaqa al-thālitha). 153 154

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explained by the fact that Rāzī was making heavy use of a source which did not continue past verse 20.

IBN QUTAYBA ʿAbd Allāh b. Muslim b. Qutayba al-Dīnawarī was reported to have written over 65 works on a variety of subjects.156 Rāzī, however, mostly regarded him as an authority on ḥadīth (Prophetic Tradition). Virtually each time he is cited by Rāzī, it is in connection with understanding the meaning of a ḥadīth. Of the Ibn Qutayba works Rāzī had at his disposal was one which he called Dalālāt nubuwwat Rasūl Allāh. Rāzī says that a Prophetic ḥadīth stating that a nation will not be successful if they have a woman in charge of them (lan yufliḥ qawm asnadū amrahum ila-mraʾa) is widely circulating and has been cited by many ḥadīth transmitters, and was also cited by Ibn Qutayba in his book Dalālāt nubuwwat Rasūl Allāh ṣalla-llāhu ʿalayhi wa-sallam.157 Though no such book is mentioned by major biographers or bibliographers such as Ibn Khallikān,158 Ibn Nadīm mentions Dalāʾil al-nubuwwa amongst the works attributed to Ibn Qutayba,159 and sources, including Sakhāwī’s al-Iʿlān bi-ltawbīkh mention that he wrote a book entitled, variously, Aʿlām al-nubuwwa and Dalāʾil al-nubuwwa, probably variant names for one work.160 Another work that Rāzī had at his disposal was Ibn Qutayba’s Gharīb al-ḥadīth. Though he never cites the book by name, many of his Ibn Qutayba citations are found in that work. A quote from Ibn Qutayba concerning the alteration which the holy books had undergone in the hands of ahl al-kitāb161 is an almost exact reproduction of a passage in Gharīb al-ḥadīth.162 A complete ḥadīth which states that hand washing can be called wuḍūʾ, including both matn and isnād, is also duplicated from the same work.163 Ibn

Ibn Qutayba, Abū Muḥammad b. Muslim al-Dīnawarī, Taʾwīl mushkil alQurʾān (intro), 7ff. 157 Rāzī, Zīna, 355r. 158 See his list of Ibn Qutayba’s works, Ibn Khallikān, Aḥmad b. Muḥammad, Wafayāt al-aʿyān, 3:31–2. 159 Ibn Nadīm, Fihrist, 124; 171; The Fihrist of Ibn Nadīm, tr. Dodge. 160 Ibn Qutayba, al-Maysir wa-l-qidāḥ, intro by Khaṭīb, 17; Taʾwīl mushkil alQurʾān (intro by Ṣaqr), 28. 161 “People of the Book,” i.e., Christians and Jews. See EI2, s.v. ‘ahl al-kitāb.’ 162 Rāzī, Zīna, 361v; Ibn Qutayba, Gharīb al-ḥadīth, 1:56. 163 Rāzī, Zīna, 269r; Ibn Qutayba, Gharīb al-ḥadīth, 1:9. 156

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Qutayba is also cited giving the definition of iḥlāl164 during the ḥajj, and the corresponding passage in Gharīb al-ḥadīth shows only minor variations from Rāzī’s version.165 Another Ibn Qutayba work which has an intimate connection with Kitāb al-zīna is Tafsīr gharīb al-Qurʾān. Hamdānī, in his introduction to Zīna, summarizes the relationship between the two works in a footnote, which is provided here, translated, in its entirety Abū Ḥātim, it appears, wrote his book under the inspiration of the first volume of the book Gharīb al-Qurʾān by Ibn Qutayba. It is not farfetched to think that Gharīb al-Qurʾān might have been the starting point for the author of Zīna. Ibn Qutayba begins Gharīb al-Qurʾān by enumerating the Most Beautiful Names of God and those of his attributes mentioned in the Qurʾān. He follows that with “expressions which occur frequently in the Book,” such as jinn, ins, iblīs, shayṭān, nafs, ṣūr, laʿn, shirk, kufr, z.ulm, fisq, fujūr, nifāq, ṣalāt, zakāt, shaʿāʾir, ḥajj, qurʾān, sūra, āya, mathānī, mufaṣṣal, tawrāt, injīl, zabūr, kitāb, asāṭīr al-awwalīn. This section is followed by the interpretation of Sūrat al-Fātiḥa. These expressions are the same expressions which Abū Ḥātim placed in Kitāb al-zīna, and he included in them all the explanations of Ibn Qutayba. Ibn Qutayba’s goal was to explain the difficult words in the Qurʾān, so he treated these words in a brief fashion, then turned to explaining the difficult words. Abū Ḥātim sought to expand the scope of inquiry to include the Most Beautiful Names as well as not only words which occur frequently in the Qurʾān, but also those which occur in the sunna of the Prophet, in law, and other words created by the Muslims. He thus made his book into an independent work covering Arabic Islamic words.166

Thus, at first glance, the organization of the two books appears the same: Both begin with the Most Beautiful Names of God (al-asmāʾ al-ḥusnā), then continue on to define frequently-used vocabulary items. Ibn Qutayba followed with “words which occur frequently in the Qurʾān (wa nutbiʿ dhālik

164 To remove the special garments worn during the ḥajj after completing the required rituals. Rāzī, Zīna, 297r. 165 Rāzī, Zīna, 299r; Ibn Qutayba, Gharīb al-ḥadīth, 1:40. Also compare Rāzī and Ibn Qutayba on the definition of budna: Rāzī, Zīna, 301r; Ibn Qutayba, Gharīb alḥadīth, 1:41. 166 Rāzī, Zīna, ed. Hamdānī (intro), 1:20, n. 2.

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alfāz.an kathura tardāduhā fi-l-kitāb),”167 whereas Rāzī, after discussing all of the Most Beautiful Names of God, lists and defines “Islamic words.” Ibn Qutayba’s goal was to explain difficult Qurʾānic words, whereas Rāzī had a much broader goal: to explain Islamic words in general. Thus, Ibn Qutayba gave only very brief exlanations of some of the asmāʾ al-ḥusnā as a stepping stone into a sūra (chapter) by sūra account of difficult words, whereas Rāzī gave more of the asmāʾ al-ḥusnā, then devoted the rest of his book to a large set of Islamic words. Thus, as Hamdānī points out, the general outline of Gharīb al-Qurʾān may have provided Rāzī with the original germ of an idea for his own book, but, as we will see later, he followed a much more comprehensive and cohesive organizational scheme for his work in Kitāb al-zīna. Hamdānī mentions that Rāzī included in his discussions of the various Qurʾānic words all of the explanations given by Ibn Qutayba (wa-ḍamma ilayhā jamīʿ tafsīrāt ibn Qutayba). As with Ibn Qutayba, his discussions of the Most Beautiful Names all begin with wa min ṣifātihi (“and another one of his attributes is…”). All of Rāzī’s discussions of the Names contain material found in the corresponding discussions in Gharīb al-Qurʾān. However, he does not make it clear that he is quoting from Ibn Qutayba. Unlike with his discussions of ḥadīth, he does not cite Ibn Qutayba as a source for this material. Rather, he adduces it either with no attribution at all, or with a very vague attribution (qāla qawm “people said…”, qāla ahl al-lugha “linguists said…”, etc.). The material shared by Rāzī and Ibn Qutayba but not attributed to the latter could have been taken from Gharīb al-Qurʾān. It may be that Rāzī, knowing that the material did not originate with Ibn Qutayba, declined to attribute it to him: Ibn Qutayba acknowledges in his introduction that he limited himself to presenting only what previous scholars had created, and did not formulate any new material for this particular project (wa-kitābunā hādhā mustanbaṭ min kutub al-mufassirīn wa-kutub aṣḥāb al-lugha alʿālimīn lam nakhruj fīhi ʿan madhāhibihim wa-lā takallafnā fī shayʾin minhu biārāʾinā ghayri maʿānīhim baʿda-khtiyārinā fi-l-ḥarf awla-l-aqāwīl fi-l-lugha waashbahahā bi-qiṣṣati-l-āya).168 Like Rāzī, his contribution to the field was not in creating new material but in organizing it. A second, and more likely possibility, is that Rāzī and Ibn Qutayba both drew their material from one shared source. Most of the entries in the Most Beautiful Names sections in their respective books do not contain all the same information. Rather, there is 167 168

Ibn Qutayba, Tafsīr gharīb al-Qurʾān, 3. Ibid., 4.

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overlap between the two. That is, Rāzī adds further information not found in Ibn Qutayba’s work, and Ibn Qutayba adds information not adduced by Rāzī. The segments that do correspond usually contain the same information but often paraphrased. In their discussions of the meaning of muhaymin,169 both cite Qurʾān 5:8, and say that muhaymin means shāhid (witness, watcher), and both cite Abū Ṣāliḥ as having transmitted the information from Ibn ʿAbbās. They both say that another explanation given is that muhaymin ʿalayhi also means amīnan ʿalayhi. Both give the same information, though the wording may vary somewhat as in Rāzī’s wa-qāla ghayruhu vs. Ibn Qutayba’s wa-ruwiya ʿanhu min ghayr hādhihi-l-jiha. Both follow with the same judgment: that the second analysis seems more correct though the two are very similar to each other (Rāzī: wa-huwa aqrab al-wajhayn wa-in kānā jamīʿan mutaqāribayn fi-l-maʿnā; Ibn Qutayba: wa-hādhā aʿjab ilayya wa-in kāna-l-tafsīrān mutaqāribayn). They then both continue saying that muhaymin could be derived etymologicially from āmana just as mubayṭir is derived from baṭara. Both cite the same line of poetry from al-Nābigha al-Dhubyānī (although Rāzī gives both hemstitches, Ibn Qutayba only the second).170 Many other passages concerning the asmāʾ al-ḥusnā follow the same pattern, that is, they contain similar information, but different wording.171 However, Rāzī is more prolix than Ibn Qutayba, since the latter was aiming specifically for brevity as well as completeness. He states in his introduction: wa-gharaḍuna-lladhi-mtathalnāhu fī kitābinā hādhā an nakhtaṣir wa-nukmil. He then explains that he has left out grammatical explanation, ḥādīths and chains of transmitters for this reason.172 Thus, we find in the passages dealing with the meaning of bāriʾ173 that they both define it as khāliq (creator). Baraʾa means khalaqa and bariyya is khalq. Rāzī alone then reiterates that bāriʾ would therefore mean khāliq. Both continue, saying that the Arabs have deleted the hamza from the word due to frequent usage. They both say then that there are those who claim that it comes from barā “to sharpen,” as in “to sharpen a stick” (maʾkhūdha min baraytu-l-ʿūd). Both propose another “Guardian, watcher.” Rāzī, Zīna, 64v (ms); 1:73 (Hamdānī). Rāzī, Zīna, 2:73–4 (Hamdānī); 64v-65r (ms); Ibn Qutayba, Tafsīr gharīb alQurʾān, 11–12. 171 For example, their discussions of muʾmin, Rāzī, Zīna, 2:70–1 (Hamdānī); 63v-64r (ms); Ibn Qutayba, Tafsīr gharīb al-Qurʾān, 9–10; āmīn, Rāzī, Zīna, 2:127 (Hamdānī); 81r (ms); Ibn Qutayba, Tafsīr gharīb al-Qurʾān, 12–13; qayyūm, Rāzī, Zīna, 2:95 (Hamdānī); 70v (ms); Ibn Qutayba, Tafsīr gharīb al-Qurʾān, 7–8. 172 Ibn Qutayba, Tafsīr gharīb al-Qurʾān, 3. 173 “Creator.” Rāzī, Zīna, 59r (ms); 2:56 (Hamdānī). 169 170

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theory of the etymology of bārī, that it comes from barā, which means “dust,” since man is created from dust. Since it is taken from barā and not baraʾa, there is no hamza in bariyya. Rāzī, however, elaborates with further information not found in Gharīb al-Qurʾān. He cites a proverb in support of that meaning of barā: bi-fīhi-l-barā fa-innahū khaysarā. He explains the proverb, saying that it means, “He has dirt in his mouth, thus he is the loser.”174 Passages such as these, as well as Rāzī’s greater comprehensiveness in general demonstrate that Rāzī and Ibn Qutayba were drawing from a common source, which Ibn Qutayba then edited more rigorously for the sake of brevity.

THAʿLAB Rāzī makes clear in Kitāb al-zīna that he studied personally under the Kūfan grammarian Abu-l-ʿAbbās Thaʿlab. Much of the information he cites in connection with Thaʿlab was taught to him directly by the master. For example, concerning the mīm in allāhumma, Rāzī cites Mubarrad as saying that it is there in place of a missing preceding vocative yā.175 Rāzī quotes Thaʿlab quoting Farrāʾ, through Salama, saying that this explanation is incorrect here. Rāzī asked Thaʿlab why, and he said that sometimes the suffixed mīm and the preceding yāʾ occur simultaneously (qultu wa-lima qāla liʾanna maʿa yāʾ mīm), and if one were a replacement for the other, that would not be the case.176 Several other passages indicate direct oral reception of information from Thaʿlab: samiʿtu Thaʿlaban yaqūl,177 anshadanā Thaʿlab,178 saʾaltu Thaʿlaban ʿan hādha,179 etc.180

MUBARRAD Rāzī also apparently took lessons from Mubarrad, for he cites him directly also. The Baṣran Mubarrad was, in grammatical thought, the archrival of his contemporary Thaʿlab, and though Rāzī studied under both, it was 174

15.

Rāzī, Zīna, 2:56 (Hamdānī); 59r (ms); Ibn Qutayba, Tafsīr gharīb al-Qurʾān,

One of the issues disputed by the Kūfans and Baṣrans. Al-Anbārī, Abū Barakāt, al-Inṣāf fī masāʾil al-khilāf, 1:317–22. 176 Rāzī, Zīna, 2:15 (Hamdānī); 44v (ms). 177 Rāzī, Zīna, 2:25 (Hamdānī); 48r (ms). 178 Rāzī, Zīna, 2:29 (Hamdānī); 49r (ms). 179 Rāzī, Zīna, 212v. 180 Other examples are in Rāzī, Zīna, 253r, 254r, 254v, and 270r. 175

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Thaʿlab’s Kūfan approach to grammar that was imprinted on him (see chapter 6 on grammar below). Quotes from Mubarrad are far fewer than those from Thaʿlab, but Rāzī says in one passage: samiʿtu-l-Mubarrad yaqūl, followed by the passage discussed above in which Mubarrad says that allāhumma is synonymous with yā Allāh, such that the mīm is a substitute for the missing vocative yā.181

GHIYĀTH As seen in the introductory chapter, Ghiyāth preceded Rāzī as head of the Ismāʿīlī daʿwa in Rayy. Niz.ām al-Mulk, author of Siyāsat-nāma., mentions in passing that Ghiyāth wrote a book called Kitāb al-bayān, “and in it he described in the manner of a lexicon the meaning of such terms as ‘prayer,’ ‘fasting,’ and other religious precepts.”182 He wrote it in this way “in order that the Sunnīs should not know it.”183 As Poonawala and Stern point out, the content and organization of Kitāb al-bayān are essentially the same as those of Kitāb al-zīna. Both refrain from expressing an Ismāʿīlī point of view, so that Sunnīs would not realize they were written by an Ismāʿīlī.184 The similarities in method, content, and organization suggest that this book served as an inspiration and source for Rāzī. In summary, Rāzī drew from many different sources, and faced a challenge of compiling the information in new and interesting ways. Franz Rosenthal, in his 1947 Technique and Approach of Muslim Scholarship, studied the 16th century scholar ʿAbd al-Bāsiṭ al-ʿAlmāwī, who said, “Literary activity has seven sub-divisions: (1) The creation of something new. (2) The correction of the shortcomings which exist in a particular work. (3) The indication of the various mistakes (found in a particular work). (4) The explanation of difficulties which excessive brevity has caused in a particular work… (5) The shortening of tedious lengthy passages, without complicating the understanding of the whole work and without omitting passages which are necessary for the understanding of the purpose of the author. (6) The proper rearrangement of badly arranged material in a manner which would Rāzī, Zīna, 2:15 (Hamdānī); 270r (ms). Niz.ām al-Mulk, Book of Government or Rules for Kings: The Siyāsat-nāma or Siyar al-Mulūk, tr. Drake, 215. Also see Poonawala, Ismail, Biobibliography of Ismāʿīlī Literature, 33; Stern, S. M., Studies in Early Ismāʿīlism, 194. 183 Stern., Studies, 194. 184 Ibid. 181 182

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as little as possible disturb (the original arrangement). And (7) the proper arrangement of materials which were badly arranged in the work of a predecessor, in an intelligent manner which would make the new work more suitable for didactic purposes.”185 Rāzī’s aim was not (1), but closer to (7). He may not have thought that previous works were arranged badly. However, he did aim to arrange his material so that it would be more suitable for didactic purposes. Furthermore, it was purely in arrangement of material that he displayed his Shīʿī inclinations, if ever so subtlely, as will be seen later (see chapter 7 and Conclusion). This is not to say that Rāzī did not contribute new material to the field. As shown in chapter 5 on place names, he made a minor contribution which survived into 20th century lexicography. It is interesting to note that this one contribution, in keeping with Rāzī’s most characteristic technique, is a synthesis of disparate pieces of material into a cohesive whole and not information that is truly new. As for innovation of new material, there are a couple of instances in Kitāb al-zīna in which he is credited with a new idea. One is in connection with the word siddīq,186 which he says comes from ṣidq, because a ṣiddīq confirms what a prophet has brought, explaining it, clarifying it, and interpreting it for people. Aaron performed this function for Moses.187 In another passage he postulates a hidden meaning for the word ṣalāt.188 Both passages are prefaced with: qāla Abū Ḥātim Aḥmad ibn Ḥamdān.

Rosenthal, Technique and Approach, 64–5. Translation of ʿAlmāwī text by Rosenthal. 186 One who is of impeccable trustworthiness, and is thus chosen to be second in rank to a prophet. See Rāzī, Zīna, 219v-220v. 187 Rāzī, Zīna, 220v. 188 Ibid., 278r. See 157 below for details and for the Shīʿī implications of his idea. 185

3 KITĀB AL-ZĪNA: CONTENT The content of Kitāb al-zīna will be discussed in two parts. The first consists of a description of Rāzī’s introduction, in which he states some of his ideas and theories on language in general, as well as an attempt to place those within the context of linguistic thought current in his time; the second concerns the actual lexical entries of Kitāb al-zīna and a discussion of their organization.

THE INTRODUCTION Rāzī begins by discussing the superiority of Arabic over other languages. He says that the four best languages are Arabic, Hebrew, Syriac and Persian because scripture was revealed in these languages. Of these four, the superior is Arabic.189 He says that no language has been the object of as much study and fascination as Arabic.190 All types of scripture and scientific works have been translated from other languages into Arabic, yet Qurʾānic scholars have never been interested in translating the Qurʾān into these other languages. Though speakers of other languages have wanted to translate the Qurʾān to their languages, it is impossible to do so due to the completeness and perfection of Arabic, and the inadequacy of the other languages.191 A corollary to the superiority of Arabic is the superiority of Muḥammad: since his scripture was revealed in the greatest of languages, Muḥammad must be the greatest of prophets.192 Other evidence for Arabic’s superiority is that the language has 28 sounds, the exact right number, no more or no less. Other languages, on

189 Rāzī, Abū Ḥātim Aḥmad b. Ḥamdān, Kitāb al-zīna, 1:61 (Hamdānī); 5v (ms); Rāzī also mentions the same idea in Aʿlām al-nubuwwa, 289. 190 Rāzī, Zīna, 1:61 (Hamdānī); 6r (ms). 191 Ibid., 1:62 (Hamdānī); 6r-v (ms). 192 Ibid., 1:63–4 (Hamdānī); 6v-7r (ms).

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the other hand, add to these or remove some of them in their phonology.193 Persian is a good example of this phenomenon, and the one with which Rāzī, as a native speaker of Persian, is most familiar (wa-naʿtabir min dhālik bi-l-lugha al-fārisiyya li-annā ṭubiʿnā ʿalayhā wa-nashaʾnā fīhā).194 Persian both drops some sounds of these original 28 from its phonology, such as ʿayn, ghayn, ḥāʾ and others, and adds non-original sounds, such as p (a sound which Rāzī says is a cross between b and f ), g (a cross between q and k) and ch (a cross between j and k). Due to these additions and deletions from the original 28 letters, Persian is a seriously defective language. Though the examples he gives concern Persian only, the same addition and deletion of sounds, he says, are found in all other languages as well.195 Rāzī acknowledges that it appears that he has created a vicious circle: Arabic is complete because it has 28 sounds, but we declare 28 sounds to be the correct number because that is the number of sounds in Arabic. On what basis can we declare that 28 is the perfect and correct number of sounds? Who is to say that other languages do not have the exact number of original sounds, and that Arabic subtracts from or adds to those? The answer, Rāzī says, lies in arithmetic and numerology, specifically, the ḥisāb al-jummal system, in which each letter in Arabic corresponds with a number.196 After brief arguments about the importance of numbers in facilitating the understanding of things in general,197 he explains that in the ḥisāb aljummal system, the letters are ordered in the abjadī order, and each letter corresponds with a number beginning with 1 for alif, 2 for bāʾ, 3 for jīm, etc., up to yāʾ which corresponds with 10. Following yāʾ, the numbers correspond with the 10’s: 20 for kāf, 30 for lām, etc. Then, after qāf, assigned a value of 100, begin the 100’s: 200 for rāʾ, 300 for shīn, up to the final letter, ghayn, the value of which is 1000. It takes 28 letters, then, to arrive to 1000 in this system, and 1000 is also the highest known number. Any higher number is no more than a combination of other lower numbers. Since 28 is the number of letters by which we arrive at the highest number, the set of

Ibid., 1:64 (Hamdānī); 7r-v (ms). Ibid., 1:64 (Hamdānī); 7r (ms). 195 Ibid., 1:65–6 (Hamdānī); 7v-8v (ms). 196 The Munjid dictionary series, in its entry on each letter of the alphabet, gives the corresponding ḥisāb al-jummal value for each letter. See al-Munjid fi-l-lugha, 1 for a chart of all the letters and their corresponding numerical values. 197 Rāzī, Zīna, 1:69–70 (Hamdānī); 10v-11r (ms). 193 194

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28 letters must be the most complete one to which no others have been added.198 Yet another piece of evidence in favor of Arabic’s superiority is that it is based on rules and patterns, which can be consulted to solve any linguistic difficulties. These rules preserve the language from change and loss. In contrast with Arabic, Persian, which does not have such rules, has lost many of its words, such that some ideas can only be expressed by Persian speakers in Arabic.199 The Arabic system of grammar, created by the grammarians, is also a set of rules which preserve Arabic from deterioration.200 Arabized words also are subject to the inflectional system, and Arabic has specific rules for Arabizing words.201 Rāzī quotes Farrāʾʾ, who says that one of Arabic’s most excellent features is its inflectional system, which contributes to brevity by identifying for the listener the subject of a sentence as opposed to the object. Furthermore, in Arabic, several words might be used for a broad semantic category, each to refer to a particular sub-category. Thus, ḍarb means “a hit,” but laṭm means “a hit on the face,” ṣafʿ “a hit on the back of the neck,” etc.202 Rāzī also encapsulates the history of Arabic grammar, saying that the impetus for it was the corruption which had befallen the language due to the incorporation of non-Arabs into the Arab domain.203 He cites an anecdote in which ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib was inspired to instruct Abu-l-Aswad alDuʾalī (d. 69/688) to set down the rules of grammar after an aʿrābī (Arab nomad) came to him asking for an interpretation of his mistaken reading of Qurʾān 69:37 lā yaʾkuluhū illa-l-khāṭiʾūn “Which none but sinners eat”204 in which he substituted khāṭūn “those who step” for khātiʾūn. “How could this be,” he asked, “since all people step?”205 He continues tracing the history of grammar, saying that after alDuʾalī set down the first rules, a number of later scholars followed and created a system by which incorrect speech may be made correct.206 Paralleling Ibid., 1:70 (Hamdānī); 11r-v (ms). Ibid., 1:71 (Hamdānī); 12r (ms). 200 Ibid., 1:79–80 (Hamdānī); 14r-v (ms). 201 Ibid., 1:77–79 (Hamdānī); 14r (ms). 202 Ibid., 1:76–77 (Hamdānī); 13r-14r (ms). 203 Ibid., 1:71 (Hamdānī); 12r (ms). 204 Translation from Pickthall, Mohammad Marmaduke, The Meaning of the Glorious Qurʾan. 205 Rāzī, Zīna, 1:72 (Hamdānī); 12r-v (ms). 206 Ibid, 1:72–6 (Hamdānī); 12v-13r (ms). 198 199

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the development of grammar was the development of ʿarūḍ, the science of poetics. Established by al-Khalīl b. Aḥmad al-Farāhīdī, it analysed the various poetic metres and established a terminology. Just as the correctness of language can be guaranteed through naḥw, so can the correctness of poetry be guaranteed by the application of the rules of ʿarūḍ.207

THE DOCTRINE OF THE SUPERIORITY OF ARABIC: A HISTORICAL CONTEXT

As Yasir Suleiman shows in The Arabic Language and National Identity, linguistic disputes usually provide a cover for underlying political disputes.208 Language planning, for example, has deeper political aims,209 and cultural movements are oftentimes, at their core, political movements.210 In Rāzī’s time and before, writings on the superiority of Arabic were a response to the Shuʿūbiyya movement,211 which, like other linguistic movements, had its political as well as its linguistic facets. The Shuʿūbiyya movement, says S. Enderwitz, in response to discrimination suffered by non-Arabs under the ʿAbbāsids, called for equality of Arabs and non-Arabs, and denied all privilege to Arabs. The movement had cultural manifestations, in that a new Arabic literary style had developed toward the end of the 2nd/8th century, thus threatening to push out the older Sāsānian literary style used by the class of Sāsānid secretaries inherited by the Arab rulers. More importantly, the status and social privileges of these secretaries were threatened by the new dominance of Arabic. Thus was born the Shuʿūbiyya movement, which consisted of verbal attacks on the Arabs and on their claims to greatness and superiority. Al-Jāhiz. (d. 255/868) saw these attacks as a threat to Islam itself: since Arabic is the language of the Qurʾān and the language which brought Islam to the world, it is only a very short step from

Ibid., 1:80–82 (Hamdānī); 14v-15v (ms). A frequent theme throughout the book is that views on language are usually tied to some political ideology or vision. Chapter 4, for example, shows the linguistic aspects of Turkification under the Ottomans, and how the Arab nationalist response included a prominent linguistic element. 209 Suleiman, Yasir, The Arabic Language and National Identity, 98. 210 For an example, see Suleiman, Arabic Language, 110–113. 211 Ibid., 60. 207 208

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hating the Arabs, the bearers of this language, to hating the religion of Islam itself.212 The political Shuʿūbiyya movement, of course, had a linguistic aspect to it, and Shuʿūbī writers attacked the Arabic language as well as the Arabs.213 Most Shuʿūbī literature has been lost, and therefore what we know of Shuʿūbī attacks on Arabic must be reconstructed from the rebuttals to Shuʿūbiyya,214 the main thrust of which was an emphasis on the superiority of Arabic. Ibn al-Anbārī’s al-Aḍdād was one such rebuttal. In response to the accusation that homonymous antonyms (aḍdād) can lead to confusion, he responds that context makes clear the meaning of aḍdād, and that aḍdād have various origins. Sometimes they both stem from a shared, core meaning, and sometimes they are homonyms from varying dialects which happen to have opposite meanings.215 Ibn Fāris (d. 395/1004) also defends Arabic against its attackers, citing the role of synonymy in enriching its vocabulary, and the part played by the declensional system in reducing dependence on word order, thus enhancing the flexibility of Arabic. Ibn Fāris also declares Arabic more elegant and economical than other languages.216 Rāzī’s elaboration on the superiority of Arabic should be seen as being in the context of the backlash against the Shuʿūbiyya movement. The doctrine of the superiority of Arabic had other corollaries: namely, the use of ishtiqāq as an etymological tool, and the belief in the absence of foreign words in the Qurʾān.

ISHTIQĀQ The idea of ishtiqāq is defined in Ibn al-Anbārī’s introduction to his alAḍdād: it is the idea that things have particular names for a specific historical reason. The human is called insān, for example, because of the human’s propensity to forget (wa-l-insān summiya insānan li-nisyānihi).217 Although we do not know the reasons for all namings, he adds, we can still be certain 212 Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd edition, (EI2) ed. H. A. R. Gibb et al., s.v. ‘Shuʿūbiyya.’ 213 Suleiman, Arabic Language, 60. 214 Ibid.; EI2, ‘Shuʿūbiyya.’ 215 Suleiman, Arabic Language, 61–2, citing Aḍdād, 6–7. 216 Ibid., 62, citing Ibn Fāris’ Ṣāḥibī. He gives no page number, but the passage referenced is on p. 19. 217 Ibn al-Anbārī, Abū Bakr, al-Aḍdād, 7.

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there is in fact a reason, but the knowledge of it has been lost to our generation, but was indeed known to the ancient Arabs.218 Ibrāhīm Anīs, in his preface to Hamdānī’s edition of Kitāb al-zīna, discusses the ishitqāq trend, saying that it reached a pinnacle of absurdity with two works.219 The first is Ibn Durayd’s (d. 323/933) al-Ishtiqāq. Ibn Durayd, best known for his Jamharat al-lugha, strove to find an Arabic origin for every word and proper noun that existed and to expose semantic connections between all words and their respective roots. This activity was apparently a response to the Shuʿūbiyya accusation that Arabic names were arbitrary and not historically rooted.220 Specifically, Goldziher describes how a Persian contemporary of Ibn Durayd, named Ḥamza b. al-Ḥasan alIṣfahānī, wrote a philological work showing the Persian origins of many Arabic place names.221 Though numerous other works were written with the title Kitāb al-ishtiqāq by, for example, al-Akhfash (d. 211/826), Quṭrub, al-Aṣmaʿī (d. 217/831), Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī (d. 170/786), Mubarrad, Zajjāj (d. 310/922) and Ibn Sarrāj (d. 316/928),222 Ibn Durayd’s is the only one that has come down to us. The second work mentioned by Anīs is Ibn Fāris’ dictionary Maqāyīs al-lugha, which demonstrates this school to an extreme. For example, dīn means “obedience,” and a madīna, “city,” is so called because the inhabitants of it follow and obey the ruler therein.223 Rāzī was clearly an adherent of ishtiqāq, for he too attempted to trace all nouns to some primordial root meaning. For example, concerning the word dīn, he says that the original meaning of the verb dāna and its verbal noun dīn, says Rāzī, is “to obey.” He gives numerous poetic citations from the poet Zuhayr (d. 6/627), Ṭarafa (d. 564 A.D.), Kumayt (d. 126/744), and others to strengthen his point, then gives a few idiomatic expressions in which the word dīn means “obedience.” So, one who follows dīn al-islām or dīn al-yahūdiyya is in obedience to the law that has been laid down by the founder of these faiths. Dīn, however, has several other meanings, all of which are supported by poetic citation. They are “reckoning” (ḥisāb), “custom” (ʿāda), “reward” (jazāʾ), and “condition” (ḥāl). All of these meanings Ibid., 7–8. Rāzī , Zīna (Hamdānī), 1:10. 220 Suleiman, Arabic Language, 60–1. 221 Ibid., 237, n. 41. 222 EI2, ‘Ishtikāk.’ . . 223 Ibn Fāris, Aḥmad, Muʿjam maqāyīs al-lugha, 1:428. 218 219

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have come together to give the word dīn its known meaning of “religion.” One who follows a certain dīn, says Rāzī, is in obedience (ṭāʿa) to the laws of the religion, and that is their state or condition (ḥāl), that they make it their custom or habit (ʿāda) to follow the religion hoping that when the reckoning (ḥisāb) comes they will receive their reward (jazāʾ).224 Similarly, Rāzī traces the origin of the word nifāq225 to nāfiqāʾ, which he describes as the burrow of the saharan gerbil, which has two exits: an emergency exit in addition to the regular hole by which the animal exits and enters. If one hole is blocked or threatened, the gerbil can escape through the other.226 This escape from two separate exits, or entrance in one hole and exit from another, is analogous to the action of the hypocrite, who professes Islam while amongst believers and kufr (unbelief) while amongst nonbelievers. Rāzī points out that the word nifāq is a new word brought about by Islām, not known to the pre-Islamic Arabs.227 Rāzī also uses this technique extensively to explain the etymology of numerous place names (see chapter 5 on the etymology of place names below).

FOREIGN VOCABULARY IN THE QURʾĀN According to some Arab linguists of Rāzī’s era and before, if Arabic is a perfect and complete language, used to reveal the most perfect and complete Word of God, the Qurʾān, then it follows that it must be sufficient of itself and must have no need to draw on non-Arabic expressions to express that Word of God. Hence the debate, chronicled by several scholars, concerning the presence of foreign vocabulary in the Qurʾān. Jalāl al-Dīn al-Suyūṭī (d. 911/1505), in his al-Itqān fī ʿulūm al-Qurʾān, nawʿ 38, and in his al-Muhadhdhab fīmā waqaʿa fi-l-Qurʾān mina-l-muʿarrab, sketches the main arguments of the debate. On one side are those who believed that the Qurʾān contained no foreign words. They cited as evidence Qurʾān 12:2 qurʾānan ʿarabiyyan “an Arabic Qurʾān” and 41:41 wa-law jaʿalnāhu qurʾānan aʿjamiyyan la-qālū law-lā fuṣṣilat āyātuhū a-aʿjamiyyun waʿarabiyyun “And if We had appointed it a Lecture in a foreign tongue they Rāzī, Zīna, 142v-144v. See n. 62. 226 The saharan gerbil is described in the exact same way in Burnham, Terry and Jay Phelan, Mean Genes: From Sex to Money to Food, Taming Our Primal Instincts, 138. 227 Rāzī, Zīna, 160r-163r. 224 225

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would assuredly have said: If only its verses were expounded (so that we might understand)? What! A foreign tongue and an Arab?”228 This camp included al-Shāfiʿī (d. 204/820),229 al-Ṭabarī, (d. 310/923), Abū ʿUbayda, Bāqillānī (d. 403/1013),230 and Ibn Fāris.231 Abū ʿUbayda is cited as saying that he who claims that the Qurʾān contains any non-Arabic has commited a grave error (fa-man zaʿama anna fīhi ghayr al-ʿarabiyya fa-qad aʿz.ama-l-qawl).232 Shāfiʿī, in his Risāla, said that no one can fully know a language except a prophet,233 implying that even if there are words in the Qurʾān not known to most Arabs, it is still possible that they are Arabic words, since there are many Arabic words known only to prophets. Ibn Fāris invokes the doctrine of iʿjāz,234 arguing that if the Qurʾān had non-Arabic words in it, then one might imagine that the only reason the Arabs were unable to imitate it is because it contains words they don’t know.235 Ṭabarī, who compiled the great tafsīr bi-l-maʾthūr236 work, Jāmiʿ al-bayān, would have known better than anyone the extent to which the early exegetical statements by the early followers of the Prophet traced the origin of many Qurʾānic words to foreign Translation Pickthall’s. EI2, ‘Shāfiʿī.’ 230 See Jeffery, Arthur, The Foreign Vocabulary of the Qurʾān, 6, n. 3. 231 al-Suyūṭī, Jalāl al-Dīn, al-Itqān fī ʿulūm al-Qurʾān, 2:288; al-Muhadhdhab fīmā waqaʿa fi-l-Qurʾān min al-muʿarrab, 21–2; Zarkashī, Badr al-Dīn, al-Burhān fī ʿulūm alQurʾān, 1:359; Jeffery, Foreign, 6. 232 Suyūṭī, Itqān, 2:288; Muhadhdhab, 22; Zarkashī, Burhān, 1:360; al-Jawālīqī, Abū Manṣūr, al-Muʿarrab; Jeffery, Foreign, 5; Abū ʿUbayda, Majāz al-Qurʾān, 1:17. 233 Suyūṭī, Itqān, 2:289; Muhadhdhab, 22, references Shāfiʿī’s Risāla, p. 42; Jeffery, Foreign, 8; 234 The doctrine of the inimitability of the Qurʾān. See EI2, s.v. ‘iʿdjāz.’ 235 Suyūṭī, Itqān, 2:288 (in my edition Ibn Aws appears to be a typo for Ibn Fāris); Muhadhdhab, 23; Ibn Fāris, Aḥmad, al-Ṣāḥibī, 33; Jeffery translated this sentence incorrectly, unaware that it is a reference to iʿjāz. The Arabic reads: qāla Ibn Fāris law kāna fīhi min ghayr lughat al-ʿarab la-tawahhama mutawihhim anna-l-ʿarab innamā ʿajazat ʿani-l-ityān bi-mithlihi li-annahu atā bi-lughāt lā yaʿrifūnahā. Jeffery’s translation: “Ibn Fāris said that if there is therein anything from a language other than Arabic that would raise a suspicion that Arabic was imperfect as compared with other tongues, so that it had to come in a language they did not know,” Foreign, 7. The correct meaning is that given in the text above. 236 Goldziher, reflecting the Muslim tradition, made a distinction in Richtungen between tafsīr bi-l-maʾthūr, that is, exegesis which contains only information handed down to the composer of the tafsīr from past authorities, and tafsīr bi-l-raʾy, in which the author of a tafsīr work presents his own opinion. See EI2, s.v. ‘tafsīr’; Ayoub, Mahmoud, The Qurʾān and its Interpreters, vol. 1, 22–3. Also see p. 75 below. 228 229

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languages. It is no surprise, then, that it is he who explains away these statements: he says that any statement by Ibn ʿAbbās or others claiming that there are words in the Qurʾān from Persian, Ethiopic, or Nabatean, can be explained by coincidence. That is, the words exist in the other languages but are also Arabic words, for they exist simultaneously in both languages.237 Others argued that the Qurʾān did contain foreign words. Suyūṭī, who falls in this camp, cites Ibn Naqīb, who says that since Qurʾān 14:4 states that prophets are always sent speaking the language of the people they are sent to (wa-mā arsalnā min rasūlin illā bi-lisāni qawmihī), the Qurʾān, which was sent to all peoples, must contain some parts of every language within it.238 He also gives a long quote from a scholar239 who says that in order for God to promise the best of things to believers, he must describe the best things they know, and many finer items that they have heard of have Persian names, and did not circulate enough amongst Arabs for them to have Arabic names. Thus, for the Qurʾān to make promises and threats in the most eloquent and powerful way, it must use words found in non-Arabic languages.240 The middle ground between the two positions is taken by Abū ʿUbayd al-Qāsim b. Sallām. He believed that the foreign words in the Qurʾān were in fact taken from foreign languages, but had been adapted by Arabic to its phonological and morphological rules and were frequently used by Arabs such that they eventually became fully Arabic. Thus, both statements are true: these words are foreign words, and are also Arabic.241 Ibn ʿAṭiyya made a statement to the same effect,242 as did Thaʿālibī.243 The same view was declared by Jawālīqī,244 who in support cites Abū ʿUbayd as listing the 237 Suyūṭī, Itqān, 2:288; Muhadhdhab, 23; Zarkashī, Burhan, 1:361; Jeffery, Foreign, 8; Ṭabarī, Muḥammad b. Jarīr, Tafsīr al-Ṭabarī, a.k.a. Jāmiʿ al-bayān fī tafsīr al-Qurʾān, 1:31–2, where he cites many such exegetical remarks by the Companions. 238 Suyūṭī, Itqān, 2:289; Muhadhdhab, 28; Jeffery, Foreign, 9–10. 239 Juwaynī in my edition of Itqān, Khūyī in Muhadhdhab. 240 Suyūṭī, Itqān, 2:289–90; Muhadhdhab, 29–31; Jeffery, Foreign, 11. 241 Suyūṭī, Itqān, 2:290–1; Muhadhdhab, 31; Zarkashī, Burhān, 1:362; Ibn Fāris, Ṣāḥibī, 33. 242 Suyūṭī, Itqān, 2:288, where no name is mentioned; Muhadhdhab, 23, where the editor mentions the identity of the originator of the quote in a footnote; Zarkashī, Burhān, 1:361–2. 243 Cited in Jeffery, Foreign, 10. 244 Jawālīqī, Muʿarrab, 53.

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numerous Companions who traced Qurʾānic words to the languages other than Arabic. He adds, “Those (people) know more about interpreting (the Qurʾān) than Abū ʿUbayda” (who believes that there are no foreign words in the Qurʾān).245

RĀZĪ ON FOREIGN VOCABULARY IN THE QURʾĀN In a section discussing this matter, Rāzī gives all sides of the argument, just as Suyūṭī would later. He cites Abū ʿUbayd, who says that many of the early exegetes, such as Ibn ʿAbbās, Mujāhid and Saʿīd b. Jubayr, say that Qurʾānic words such as ṭāhā,246 ṭūr,247 and yamm (sea) are borrowings from Syriac. He lists other words which are said to be from Greek (al-rūmiyya),248 Persian, Ethiopic, and others.249 He presents the other side of the argument, citing the above quote from Abū ʿUbayda, that he who claims that the Qurʾān contains any nonArabic words has commited a grave error (fa-man zaʿama anna fīhi ghayr alʿarabiyya fa-qad aʿz.ama-l-qawl), and cites him on the coincidence theory, also described above. Then, he gives Abū ʿUbayd’s moderating position, descibed above, and adds that Abū ʿUbayd said that many of the names of the prophets are Arabized from Hebrew and Syriac, as are several other non-proper nouns.250 Rāzī does not pronounce judgment here on either side of the debate. However, in his discussions of words which have been said by exegetes to have a foreign origin, he usually traces the word to an Arabic root, effectively denying the possibility of a foreign origin for the word. On ṣirāṭ, he says that Ibn ʿAbbās, Mujāhid, Saʿīd b. Jubayr, and others have said that ṣirāt (path) is a borrowing from Greek, as are qisṭās251 and firdaws (para-

245 246

4d.

Ibid. One of the sets of “mysterious letters” in the Qurʾān. See EI2, s.v. ‘k.urʾān,’

“Mountain.” See EI2, s.v. ‘ṭūr.’ See Jeffery, Foreign, 16–17 for a discussion of Byzantine Greek. 249 Rāzī, Zīna, 1:135–7 (Hamdānī); 32v (ms); the same Abū ʿUbayd quote is in Jawālīqī, 53. 250 Rāzī, Zīna, 1:139–40 (Hamdānī); 33r (ms). 251 Found in Qurʾān 17:35 and 26:182, qisṭās is interpreted by commentators as “measure,” or “scale.” See Ṭabarsī, Abū ʿAlī al-Faḍl b. al-Ḥasan, Majmaʿ al-bayān fī tafsīr al-Qurʾān, on 17:35, 6:196. 247 248

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dise).252 Later, however, after explaining that ṣ, z, and s are frequently interchangeable in Arabic, he says that a ṣirāṭ is so called because it “swallows” people (yastariṭuhum, which Rāzī glosses as yablaʿuhum), or “takes them away” (yadhhab bihim). Istaraṭa means “to swallow,” as evidenced by the word saraṭrāṭ, “food which can be swallowed without chewing.”253 A similar process is observed in his discussion of rabbāniyyūn.254 Rāzī cites Abū ʿUbayd as saying that the word is not Arabic, but probably Hebrew or Syriac. He then cites Abū ʿUbayda as acknowledging that many scholars claim that the word is a foreign borrowing, possibly Syriac. However, Rāzī, with the assistance of quotations from Abū ʿUbayda, traces the meaning of the word to an Arabic root, r-b-b, which is synonymous to j-m-ʿ “to gather, gathering” such that all words derived from r-b-b have some relation with “to gather, gathering.” Rabbiyyūn means “a large group,” according to Abū ʿUbayda, and a ribāba is “a cloth into which arrows are gathered for the game of maysir.”255 Ribāb refers to a collective of tribes. Farrāʾ, is also cited saying that rabbāniyyūn means a group of thousands, and that it is derived from ribba, which means “a large group.” Ibn Qutayba gave a similar etymology. Mubarrad did not agree with this etymology, but said that rabbāniyyūn are those who are knowlegeable about the religion of the Lord (innamā huwa mansūb ila-l-ʿilm bi-dīn al-rabb jalla wa-ʿazza). Rāzī, in keeping with his method, combined the two views, saying that the word means “a large group whose name is derived from rabb (Lord),” or, “who are affiliated with the Lord” (fayakūnūn jamāʿa mansūbīn ila-l-rabb).256 Even tawrāt “Torah,” he says, comes from the Arabic wariya, “to inflame,” so called because it is as if the Torah set on fire the signposts of their religion so that its law will become visible to them.257

THE EXCELLENCE AND IMPORTANCE OF POETRY A long exposition on the history, importance and excellence of poetry in Arabic follows. Poetry, says Rāzī, is the dīwān of the Arabs: it preserves their

Rāzī, Zīna, 2:215 (Hamdānī); 107v (ms). Ibid., 2:217 (Hamdānī); 108v (ms). 254 See n. 64 above. 255 A form of gambling engaged in by the pre-Islamic Arabs and condemned by the Qurʾān. See EI2, s.v. ‘maysir.’ 256 Rāzī, Zīna, 228r (ms). 257 Ibid., 260r. 252 253

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language such that they may refer to it to settle linguistic disputes.258 He then defines “poetry” (shiʿr), and discusses a number of key terms used to describe it.259 Quoting Muḥammad b. al-Sallām, he gives the history of poetry, starting with the very earliest poets. Though people might have spontaneously recited poetry in the early days, the first long poems were created around the time of ʿAbd al-Muṭṭalib or Hāshim b. ʿAbd Manāf.260 He names some of the earliest poets and gives samples of their poetry,261 and discusses two important early poets, Muhalhil b. Rabīʿa al-Taghlabī and Imruʾ al-Qays.262 Rāzī then describes the divine purpose behind poetry: it was to act as a repository for the language until such time as the Arabs would need to reclaim it after the coming of Muḥammad.263 He then cites anecdotes in which poetry settled a dispute between ʿAlqama and ʿĀmir b. al-Ṭufayl,264 and converted an insult into a badge of honor.265 Rāzī then discusses the position of the poet. In pre-Islamic times, the status of the poet was as high as that of prophets among other peoples. But when Islam came, their position was lowered because the Qurʾān attacked poets and they were consequently reviled.266 Previous to Islam, however, they were the highest and wisest members of their societies.267 The profession was somewhat demeaned, however, when kings, seeing how poetry had the power to inspire and move, hired poets for their own ends, and poets then created sycophantic poetry instead of the wisdom for which they were known.268 When the Qurʾān was revealed, the Prophet was accused by his opponents of being a poet. Thus, Qurʾān 36:69 denies any possibility that the Prophet ever uttered poetry. The Qurʾān, maintains this verse, is completely different from poetry, since it is not mixed with untruth as is poetry.269

Ibid., 1:83 (Hamdānī); 15v (ms). Ibid., 1:83–5 (Hamdānī); 15v-16v (ms). 260 Ibid., 1:85–6 (Hamdānī); 16v (ms). 261 Ibid., 1:86–90 (Hamdānī); 16v-17r (ms). 262 Ibid., 1:90–1 (Hamdānī); 17v (ms). 263 Ibid., 1:92 (Hamdānī); 18r (ms). 264 Ibid., 1:93–4 (Hamdānī); 18r-v (ms). 265 Ibid., 1:94–5 (Hamdānī); 18v-19r (ms). 266 Ibid., 1:95 (Hamdānī); 19r (ms). 267 Ibid., 1:96–7 (Hamdānī); 19v (ms). 268 Ibid., 1:98 (Hamdānī); 20r (ms). 269 Ibid., 1:98 (Hamdānī); 20r (ms). 258 259

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THE PROPHET’S MIRACLE Besides the verse Rāzī cites, Qurʾānic verses such as 69:41, “It is not poet’s speech–little is it that ye believe!”270 are evidence that the Prophet, due to the unusual nature of the lyrical Qurʾānic verses that he was uttering, was accused of being a mere poet. Poets, it was believed, were possessed by jinn.271 Therefore, a second aspect of the denial of Muḥammad’s being a poet is the denial that he is possessed, as an ordinary poet might be, as in 81:22 “And your comrade is not mad” (majnūn, “possessed”). Denial of being possessed would also be tantamount to denial of being a soothsayer (kāhin), since soothsayers in pre-Islamic Arabia were also thought to be possessed. Hence the denials found in the Qurʾān of the accusation that Muḥammad was a soothsayer, as in 52:29 “Therefor warn (men, O Muhammad). By the grace of Allah thou art neither soothsayer nor madman.” The reason the Prophet was accused of being a soothsayer is because many early Qurʾānic verses bore a striking resemblance to the types of utterances for which soothsayers were known: difficult to understand oaths upon female beings, occurring one after another in rhyme, which strengthen a following assertion.272 An example of this style in the Qurʾān can be found in 37:1–4 and 100:1–6. The reason that Muḥammad was accused of being a poet is harder to ascertain, since the Qurʾān had very little resemblance to poetry. Its themes bore no resemblance whatsoever to the themes found in pre-Islamic poetry, and it was not in meter.273 Michael Zwettler’s solution to this puzzle is that the Prophet was using the variety of Arabic that had been cultivated by poets, and which was not used in any vernacular context, but only in poetic utterances. It was his use of this poetic idiom in a non-poetic context which gave rise to the accusation that he was a poet. One feature the Prophet used in Qurʾānic utterances that was not used in speech, according to Zwettler, was iʿrāb (declension).274 Zwettler claims that at the time of the Prophet, Arabs had long ceased to use declensional endings in speech, but iʿrāb was preserved only by poets. It was the Prophet’s use of iʿrāb which was the 270 271

al., 41.

This and all Qurʾān translations to follow are from Pickthall. See Arabic Literature to the End of the Umayyad Period, ed. A. F. L. Beeston et

272 See Watt, W. Montgomery and Richard Bell, Introduction to the Qurʾān, 77–8 and Arabic Literature, 206–7. 273 See Zwettler, Michael, The Oral Tradition of Classical Arabic Poetry, 158. 274 Ibid., 159–161.

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cause of wonder amongst so many Arabs concerning his new style of utterance found in the Qurʾān, and also the reason for its inimitability, since only poets were well-versed in applying case endings to words, and even they had a difficult time at it if it was not done in the context of a metered poem.275 Zwettler’s argument here is a small part of his overall application of the Lord-Parry oral-formulaic theory to early Arabic poetry.276 Rāzī then describes the Prophet’s relations with poets. Although Qurʾān 26:224 wa-l-shuʿarāʾu yattabiʿuhumu-l-ghāwūn “As for the poets, the erring follow them”277 attacks poets, it is followed by 26:227 illa-l-ladhīna āmanū wa-ʿamilu-l-ṣāliḥāti “Save those who believe and do good works,”278 which excluded believing poets. Thus, the Qurʾān only attacks poets who use their poetry against the believers.279 Since poetry contains much of value, the Prophet often enlisted the assistance of poets in his cause.280 The next pages are devoted to describing the Prophet’s relations, both good and bad, with various poets, and include anecdotes and samples of their poetry.281 Then follows mention of several of the Prophet’s Companions who were also poets, with samples of their poetry.282 These Companions’ use of poetry, Rāzī says, as well as the fact that insulting rulers in poetry is a punishable offence, is testament to the power of poetry.283 When Islam came and the Qurʾān was revealed, the status of poets was lowered, and Islam took its place as a source of wisdom. The art of poetry then died, yet people still needed poetry to settle linguistic disputes.284 Since large numbers of non-Arabs were entering Islam, there was a need to learn the language, and therefore to enlist the assistance of poetry in solving linguistic dilemmas.285 Since the Prophet urged the study of the Qurʾān, it became necessary to look to classical poetry to understand diffi-

Ibid. Schoeler, whose ideas will be seen below, strongly rejects Zwettler’s proposition that the Lord-Parry hypothesis can be applied to early Arabic poetry. 277 Translation Pickthall’s. 278 Translation Pickthall’s. 279 Rāzī, Zīna 1:99–100 (Hamdānī); 20r-v (ms). 280 Ibid., 1:100 (Hamdānī); 20v (ms). 281 Ibid., 1:100–109 (Hamdānī); 20v-23r (ms). 282 Ibid., 1:109–112 (Hamdānī); 23r-24r (ms). 283 Ibid., 1:112–4 (Hamdānī); 24r (ms). 284 Ibid., 1:115–6 (Hamdānī); 25r (ms). 285 Ibid., 1:116–7 (Hamdānī); 25r-v (ms). 275 276

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cult words. Thus, collections of this poetry became popular and the poets of the era became famous.286

THE REVIVAL OF POETRY This revival of classical poetry described by Rāzī raises the question as to how the pre-Islamic poetry reached the later commentators, and what sort of shape was it in upon its arrival to them. Each poet in pre-Islamic times was said to have had a rāwī, that is, an apprentice whose job it was to remember that poet’s poetry and to recite it to those who might wish to hear it. But the rāwī was also a disciple, learning the art of composing poetry from his master.287 In the view of Alan Jones, the role of the rāwī is expanded beyond this. The rāwīs, he suspects, were a class of reciters affilitated with a tribe and were able to recite all of the tribe’s poetry, as well as its history and geneaology. They thus became the repository of the tribal memory. From this class developed a subclass of rāwīs who specialized in the recitation of poetry, and could recite all types of poetry. This was the state of affairs when Islam entered the scene and caused a great upheaval in tribal society.288 During the subsequent period, much poetry was lost. According to Ibn Sallām al-Jumaḥī (d. 232/846), author of Ṭabaqāt fuḥūl al-shuʿarāʾ, the Arabs during this period were preoccupied with conquest and war, and were not focusing on the preservation of poetry. When matters had become more calm, they saw that much of their old poetry had been lost, and that many of those who knew it had been killed in wars. Often they would fabricate poetry to embellish the small amount that they had remaining.289 In the early ʿAbbāsid period, we see the appearance of individuals who specialize in the transmission of pre-Islamic poetry. These transmitters are listed by Ibn al-Nadīm and include such names as Ibn al-Aʿrābī, Abū ʿAmr al-Shaybānī, Khālid b. Kulthūm al-Kūfī, al-Ṭūsī and Muḥammad b. Ḥabīb. Also, some of these specialized in the poetry of Imruʾ al-Qays, and Abū Saʿīd al-Sukkarī (d.275/888) was the best relater thereof, as well as of the poetry of Zuhayr. Famous for preserving the works of numerous poets, he also transmitted the poetry of Jarīr, Aʿshā, al-Akhṭal, Farazdaq, Labīd b. Rabīʿa and Faqʿasī as well as both Nābighas (al-Jaʿdī and al-Dhubyānī). AlIbid., 1:118 (Hamdānī); 25v-26r (ms). Arabic Literature, 29. 288 Jones, Alan, Early Arabic Poetry, 12–14. 289 Arafat, Walid, Dīwān of Ḥassān ibn Thābit, 27ff. 286 287

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together, Ibn Nadīm lists 56 different poets whose work he preserved, and gives us the names of 25 tribes whose tribal poetry he also transmitted.290 But even in the early Islamic period, suspicions abounded that much of the poetry that was circulating and purported to be pre-Islamic was in fact fabricated and not authentic pre-Islamic verse at all. Particularly suspect was poetry transmitted in the name of Ḥassān b. Thābit (d. 40/659),291 the poet who accompanied the Prophet in many a battle. Walid Arafat lists for us those early critics who doubted the authenticity of the poetry attributed to Ḥassān, beginning with his own grandson Saʿīd, and continuing on through Ibn Hishām (d. 213/828), the transmitter through whom we receive Ibn Isḥāq’s sīra (biography) of the Prophet. Ibn Hishām rejected about one fourth of the poems found in the sīra, saying they were inauthentic. Then Ibn ʿAbd al-Barr, author of al-Istīʿāb, said that much of Ḥassān’s poetry was forged. Also Ibn Ḥabīb, who collected a dīwān of Ḥassān’s poetry omitted 29 poems, probably because he felt they were not authentic. And finally the aforementioned Ibn Sallām attacked Ibn Isḥāq for including worthless (i.e. fabricated) verse in his sīra.292 A. J. Arberry discusses at length the controversy as to whether any pre-Islamic (jāhilī) poetry is authentically pre-Islamic, or was fully fabricated only after the advent of Islam. Some scholars have doubted that jāhilī poetry was truly composed during the jāhilī period, and suspect that it was in fact written much later. Foremost amongst the skeptics are Ṭahā Ḥusayn and D. S. Margoliouth, each of whom published, working separately in 1925, a work arguing that all of what we call pre-Islamic or jāhilī poetry was created well after the advent of Islam.293 Arberry is skeptical of the skeptics’ arguments, and rebuts many of their main points. One of Margoliouth’s arguments is that after the coming of Islam, the majority of people had converted to the new religion, and it would be very unlikely that these new converts would orally preserve heathen literature. And they could not have preserved it in writing, since the Qurʾān states (68:37 & 68:47) that the Arabs to whom it was addressed had no book. Arberry’s answer to this argument is that in fact the Bedouins who converted to Islam were quite superficial in their belief and never deeply and fully Ibn Nadīm, Fihrist 299ff.; 345ff; The Fihrist of Ibn Nadīm, tr. Dodge. See EI2, ‘Ḥassān b. Thābit.’ 292 Arafat, Dīwān, 23ff. 293 For this entire discussion, see Arberry, A. J., The Seven Odes: The First Chapter in Arabic Literature, 228ff. 290 291

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taken with the new religion. For this reason, it would not be difficult to believe that they clung to many of their tribal ways of living and thinking, and to their poetry as well. As for the Qurʾānic verse concerning the “book” (kitāb), Arberry points out that kitāb in the Qurʾān means “scripture,” not “written book.” Margoliouth further argues that there is no trace of pagan religion or mention of local tribal gods in what we now regard as pre-Islamic poetry. To this Arberry responds that shortly after the coming of Islam, it would not have been prudent of the Arabs to keep references to their pagan practices in their poetry, and it is very likely that these were purged from the poems. Furthermore, it is likely that the pre-Islamic Arabs, to give their poetry a wider appeal, would ensure that any references to the divine are to the one universal God as opposed to their local, tribal gods. Margoliouth further argues that none of the pre-Islamic poetry, which allegedly emanated from various tribes, shows any sign of dialectal variation. One would assume that if each tribe had its own dialect, we would see traces of those dialects in the poetry that was composed by different tribes. To this Arberry responds with the popular theory that in pre-Islamic Arabia there existed, alongside the various colloquial dialects, a form of Arabic that was used for composing poetry and that was common to all Arabs. Jones discusses this idea in some depth, and accepts the theory of Rabin, which states that a form of Arabic, classical Arabic, which originated in Najd, existed in Arabia. Najd was a place where Arabs of both the East and the West met and interacted, and eventually out of their intercourse emerged a dialect which was a mix between the dialects of the two. This dialect came to be thought of as a high linguistic register, used for the composition of poetry. Other registers, which lay somewhere between the high register of poetry and the low register of spoken Arabic, were used by preachers, storytellers and soothsayers. The two registers represented a diglossic situation, similar to that found in the Arab world today, in which a literary language existed side by side with a colloquial, and it is in this literary language that pre-Islamic poetry was composed.294 Thus, in the view of Arberry, Ṭahā Ḥusayn and Margoliouth are not convincing in their reasoning that all of pre-Islamic poetry is a later fabrication. Michael Zwettler, in The Oral Tradition of Classical Arabic Poetry, finds that many of these difficulties can be resolved if we view classical Arabic 294

Jones, Early Arabic Poetry, 10ff.

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poetry as the result of an oral tradition, as defined by the Lord-Parry oralformulaic theory. Orally transmitted poetry, such as that of Homer, is characterized by several attributes which it does not share with written or composed poetry, namely, the abundant use of formulae, lack of necessary enjambment, and thematic content. A formula is defined as a word or phrase which is used repeatedly either in numerous poems by one poet, or by several different poets.295 Zwettler estimates that an examination of Imruʾ al-Qays’ muʿallaqa,296 to take just one example, shows it to contain 38.9% formulaic language, approximately the same as other orally transmitted poetry in other world traditions.297 A second characteristic which defines orally transmitted poetry is that it contains little or none of what is known as necessary enjambment, that is, a thought is never left incomplete at the end of a line and completed in the next. It is frequent, however, that a thought is expanded upon in a following line, even though it be complete without the addition. This process is called unperiodic enjambment. Hence, the style of oral poetry is what is known as an “adding style.”298 Zwettler shows how numerous Arab critics distinguished between the two types of enjambment and in general found the necessary to be far less desirable than the unperiodic. Ibn Manz.ūr, for example, said that the more dependent a line is on the line previous to it, the more undesirable the enjambment. 299 These critics derived their rules from what they observed with the greatest frequency in classical Arabic poems, so it is fair to suggest that their prescriptions reflect a statistical reality of the pre-Islamic poetic corpus.300 On the other hand, unperiodic enjambment is

295 See New Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics, ‘Formula’ and ‘OralFormulaic Theory,’ and Zwettler, Oral Tradition, 6–7. 296 The Muʿallaqāt were a collection of odes from Pre-Islamic times, and were said to have been written in gold and hung on the Kaʿba. Their authenticity has been called into doubt. EI2, s.v. ‘Muʿallak.āt.’ 297 Zwettler, Oral Tradition, 62. For his full analysis see Zwettler, Oral Tradition, 59–64. Schoeler strongly disputes this number. See Schoeler, Gregor, The Oral and the Written in Early Islam, 98–101, 106–7. 298 New Princeton Encyclopedia, ‘Oral Poetry,’ 863–4. 299 Zwettler, Oral Tradition, 67–8, citing the Bulāq edition of Lisān al-ʿArab, 17:128–9; For his discussion on Arab critics and their views on enjambment (taḍmīn) see Zwettler, Oral Tradition, 65–9. 300 Ibid., 65.

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common, for a poet might add a further thought to a line by making the next line adverbial or connected by a conjunction.301 A final characteristic of orally transmitted poetry is that it contains a great deal of thematic material.302 The thematic nature of the qaṣīda is welldocumented303 and has been analyzed in great detail by R. Jacobi, who found much more complex and nuanced categories of theme than the simple nasīb, takhalluṣ and madīḥ that many may be familiar with.304 Zwettler believes that since Arabic poetry conforms to the main conditions present in poetry that is extemporaneously composed and orally transmitted, it is probably an orally transmitted poetry. In Schoeler’s view, Zwettler is commiting a logical fallacy. The fact that oral poetry has been shown to have these characteristics does not guarantee that any poetry which does so is undoubtedly oral.305 But for Zwettler, looking at it as such solves several of the aforementioned problems.306 For example, the text of an oral poem is not fixed. It varies from performance to performance. There will never be such a thing as an “original version” of a poem and then “corruptions” of it. Since the poem is composed anew each time it is performed, all versions of it are equally valid.307 This interpretation would explain the numerous variations and variants found in recensions of pre-Islamic odes, such as the 12 which Zwettler has identified for Imruʾ al-Qays’ muʿallaqa alone and the many other variants of numerous other pre-Islamic poetic works.308 Schoeler disputes this interpretation, claiming that variants in pre-Islamic poems were due to reworking and revising the poems on the part of the authors themselves, as well as their transmitters.309 Secondly, Margoliouth’s observation that the purported corpus of preIslamic poetry contains no pagan references and appears wholly palatable to

Ibid. 70–2. New Princeton Encyclopedia, ‘Oral Poetry,’ p. 864. 303 See, for example, Allen, Roger, Introduction to Arabic Literature, 77; Arabic Literature, 43ff.; EI2, s.v. ‘k.aṣīda.’ 304 Zwettler, Oral Tradition, 79–80. 305 Schoeler, Oral, 91. 306 See Jones, Early Arabic Poetry, 16–18 for some of his views regarding some of Zwettler’s conclusions. 307 New Princeton Encyclopedia, ‘Oral Poetry,’ p. 864; Zwettler, 10, 220–1. 308 Zwettler, Oral Tradition, 189–94. 309 Schoeler, Oral, 101–104. 301 302

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the Islamic mindset can be explained by the dynamic nature of oral poetry: a performer might adapt a poem to the tastes of a particular audience.310 Approaching pre-Islamic poetry as oral poetry may also give us insight into the nature of the rāwī. An oral poet must undergo a training phase in which he learns the technique of poetic composition and the formulas and themes used. He may then branch out on his own. This appears to be the same course of apprenticeship that the rāwī undertakes.311 Rāzī believed that some poetry purported to be pre-Islamic was indeed falsified. However, he believed that such poetry, although not written by a true classical poet, can still be used to explain the meanings of words, since the later poets studied the style and vocabulary of the early poets, and their style is thus faithful to that of their predecessors.312 Rāzī’s long section on poetry serves the function of demonstrating the superiority of Arabic to all other languages. Rāzī compares Arabic with Persian, which he says has nothing resembling the poetry of the Arabs. He relates an anecdote in which the poet al-Aʿshā was introduced to the Persian king Chosroe as a singer (surūdgū), since the Persians did not know what poetry is and had no word for it.313 Poetry, he says, is a much richer art than singing, and Aʿshā was much more than a mere singer.314 Scholars, he concludes, have long used poetry to explain difficult Qurʾānic words, and according to Abū ʿUbayda, poetry may be used to explain Qurʾānic language or vocabulary, but should not be used to arrive at decisions concerning matters of law.315

CREATION Another section in Rāzī’s introduction, transmitted from Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq, discusses creation and the role played in it by letters. The first act of God was to imagine (al-tawahhum), and the objects he imagined were the letters. Thus, the first creation willed by God was the letters (al-ḥurūf) of which speech is constructed, and by which all things are known. The total letters created by Him were 33, of which 28 are the Arabic letters, and 5 are muZwettler, Oral Tradition, 220–1. See above; Ibid., 85–88. Schoeler maintains that the rāwī was a transmitter far more than he was an apprentice poet. Oral, 102–3. 312 Rāzī, Zīna, 1:120–1 (Hamdānī); 26v-27r (ms). 313 Ibid., 1:122–3 (Hamdānī); 27v (ms). 314 Ibid., 1:124–5 (Hamdānī); 28r-28v (ms). 315 Ibid., 1:125–7 (Hamdānī); 28v-29r (ms). 310 311

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tated from those. From the 28 Arabic letters plus the 5 mutant ones, all languages can be constituted.316 Thus, the first creation of God was tawahhum, which had no physical existence. The second was the letters, which had no weight or color and could not be seen, but did have an audible sound. He emphasizes that these letters are used in human speech and are not the same letters that he Himself uses to speak, since the letters used in his speech are eternal, whereas the ones used in human speech are created.317 He then clarifies that the act which began the process of creating letters, the tawahhum, is separate from the letters themselves, and the letters, when combined in words to name objects, are not to be equated with the objects themselves. The name, he says, is not the same as the named object.318 Also, the letters, when standing alone, have no meaning in and of themselves. They signify nothing other than themselves. It is only when God combines them into words, thus creating a new meaning, that they signify an object.319 Rāzī also distinguishes between the tawahhum of humans and the divine tawahhum. Tawahhum, as well as irāda and mashīʾa, when peformed by God, are not performed with any instruments as they are with humans, who use thought, vision, and heart. God performs these actions without the use of such instruments. We use words such as tawahhum, irāda, and mashīʾa not because these actions when performed by humans are the same as when performed by God, but because they are the closest vocabulary available in our language to describe what we cannot understand. The process of creation is thus: first, the tawahhum, then irāda and mashīʾa, then the created thing takes shape.320 Some of the Neoplatonic implications of this discussion will be explored in the concluding chapter.

ORGANIZATION OF THE BOOK After the introduction, Rāzī begins the glossary portion of the book. The organization of the material is most easily shown if the work is divided into broad sections. These sections are 1) The Most Beautiful Names; 2) things related to creation and God; 3) creatures; 4) divine reward and punishment; Ibid., 1:66 (Hamdānī); 8v-9r (ms). Ibid., 1:67 (Hamdānī); 9r-9v (ms). 318 Ibid., 1:67 (Hamdānī); 9v (ms). 319 Ibid., 1:67 (Hamdānī); 9v (ms). 320 Ibid., 1:68 (Hamdānī); 9v-10r (ms). 316 317

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5) the earthly plane; 6) faith, belief and sects; 7) prophets and their supporters and followers; 8) revelation; 9) religious duties and rituals; 10) other terms in the Qurʾān, particuarly legal terms; 11) linguistics; 12) family terms; 13) miscellaneous. It will be seen later how a section frequently flows into another such that the entire organization of the work constitues a grand narrative. This division is designed to show the overall cohesiveness of the organization of the book. One topic leads to another. For example, first Rāzī discusses God, then terms related to the heavenly realm, then descends to the earthly realm, then discusses humans, then terms concerning the obligations incumbent upon humans, which leads to terms about faith and belief.321 1) First, Rāzī begins with the Most Beautiful Names of God. Allāh (and Allāhumma), al-raḥmān, al-raḥīm, al-rabb, al-aḥad and al-wāḥid, al-ṣamad, alfard, al-watr, al-awwal wa-l-ākhir, al-z.āhir wa-l-bāṭin, al-dāʾim, al-khāliq and alkhallāq and al-qādir, al-bārī, al-muṣawwir, al-salām, al-muʾmin, al-muhaymin, alʿazīz, al-jabbār, al-mutakabbir, al-subbūḥ, al-quddūs, al-ḥayy-l-qayyūm, al-ghafūr and al-ghaffār and al-ghāfir, al-malik and al-mālik and al-malīk, al-ḥakīm, al-wāsiʿ and al-karīm, al-wahhāb and al-wāhib and al-jawād and al-ghaniyy, al-laṭīf and alkhabīr, al-jalīl and al-ʿaliyy and al-ʿaz.īm and al-mutaʿālī, al-shakūr and al-ḥamīd, al-majīd and al-mājid, al-wadūd, al-bāʿith, al-wārith, al-ḥanān, al-mannān, al-dayyān, al-raʾūf and āmīn. 321 The sections of the book are categorized here differently than by Abbas Hamdani in his review of Zīna. His divisions, which overlap with those used here are: 1) introductory; 2) grammar and poetry; 3) divine attributes; 4) religious terminology and Qurʾānic allusions; 5) geography; 6) miscellaneous terms; 7) Muslim schools and sects; 8) religious terminology; 9) law and legal terminology; 10) miscellaneous. See Hamdani, “Kitab al-Zinat.” ʿUshayrī worked from the Iraqi manuscript, which had some material out of order. His divisions are as follows: 1) God, names and descriptions (al-dhāt al-ilāhī: asmāʾuhā wa-ṣifātuhā); 2) the unseen world (ʿālam al-ghayb); 3) the Last Day (al-yawm al-ākhir); 4) the natural world (al-ʿālam al-ṭabīʿī); 5) religion and religious dispensations (al-dīn wa-l-risālā al-dīniyya); 6) religious obligations in Islam (al-farāʾiḍ al-dīniyya); 7) legal terms (al-muṣṭalaḥāt al-fiqhiyya); 8) names of the various sects (alqāb al-firaq alislāmiyya); 9) humans and human knowledge (al-insān wa-l-maʿrifa al-insāniyya); 10) pre-Islamic society and culture (al-mujtamaʿ al-jāhilī wa-thaqāfatuhu); 11) linguistic terms (al-muṣṭalaḥāt al-lughawiyya). See ʿUshayrī, Muḥammad Riyāḍ, al-Taṣawwur allughawiyy ʿind al-Ismāʿīliyya, 83ff; Rāzī, Zīna, intro by Hamdānī, 36.

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2) After these names of God, he begins with “the meanings of words which are mentioned in Arabic be they general words describing things that occur in the world, or specifically Islamic legal terms (thumma maʿānī asmāʾ tudhkar bi-l-lugha al-ʿarabiyya mimmā hiya fi-l-ʿālam wa-mimmā jāʾat fi-lsharīʿa).”322 The first of these Arabic words is amr. The Neoplatonic implications of Rāzī’s following the names of God with amr will be discussed in the concluding chapter. This section consists mostly of words related to God and creation. Following al-amr is al-khalq, al-qadar and al-maniyya and al-zawʾ, al-qaḍāʾ, al-dunyā and al-ākhira, al-qalam, al-lawḥ, al-kursiyy, al-ʿarsh. 3) The next section concerns the names of the various creatures in the unseen world and words related to them: al-malāʾika, al-jinn and al-ins, alshayṭān and words related to him: al-mārid, al-rajīm, al-ghūl, al-saʿlāh, al-waswās al-khannās, al-ṭayf and al-ṭāʾif and al-khayāl, al-khubbal, al-ʿifrīt, iblīs, al-malʿūn and al-laʿīn. 4) The next section contains words concerning reward and punishment, Heaven and Hell: al-firdaws, jannat ʿadn, jannat al-khuld, darajāt, ṭūbā, alkawthar, Hell and the words for it: al-nār, laz.ā, al-saʿīr, al-ḥuṭama, al-jaḥīm, jahannam and al-hāwiya, as well as saqar. Other terms in this section are al-ṣirāṭ, al-aʿrāf, al-thawāb, al-ʿiqāb and al-ʿuqūba, al-ithm and al-wizr, and al-qiyāma. 5) The next section consists of items found on the worldly plane, be they in the sky or on earth: al-samāʾ and al-arḍ, al-hawāʾ, al-falak, al-burūj, alnujūm and al-kawākib, al-shams, al-qamar, al-ʿālam, al-aqālīm and al-jazāʾir. The next subsection is entitled al-amṣār, al-mudun, al-balda, al-qurā, al-ṣiqāʿ, al-kūr and al-biqāʿ. After defining and discussing each of these words, Rāzī then includes a section on the etymology of various place names. (See Chapter 5 on this section). 6) The next section concerns faith and unbelief, and begins with words related to the rational faculties which cause a person to have faith: alḥayawān and al-ḥayāt, al-rūḥ and al-nafs and al-rīḥ and al-nafas, al-ʿaql, al-ʿilm and al-jahl and al-jāhiliyya, al-maʿrifa and al-inkār, al-adab and al-maʾduba, alḥikma and al-ḥakīm, al-hudā and al-ḍalāl, al-islām and al-īmān, al-dīn, al-sharīʿa and al-minhāj, al-milla, al-umma, al-fiṭra, al-ṣīgha, al-ʿazīma, ahl al-dhimma, al-kufr, al-munāfiq, al-shirk, al-ilḥād, al-z.ulm, al-fisq, al-fujūr, al-yahūd, al-naṣārā, al-ṣābiʾūn, al-majūs, aṣḥāb al-ahwāʾ wa-l-madhāhib, aṣḥāb al-bidaʿ, al-sunna wa-l-jamāʿa, and al-munāṣib and al-nāṣib. Then follows a large subsection on the various Islamic sects, called dhikr alqāb firaq al-islām al-qadīma wa-l-jadīda. The section

322

Rāzī, Zīna, 1:56 (Hamdānī); 2r (ms).

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discusses the names and beliefs of approximately 60 Islamic sects. (See chapter 7 on this section). 7) Then a section on terms related to prophethood, prophets, prophetic companions and helpers, and other individuals entrusted with spreading or interpreting a prophetic message: al-nabiyy, al-mursal and alrisāla, al-bashīr and al-nadhīr, al-khalīl, al-imām, al-naqīb, al-ʿarīf, al-ḥawāriyy, alṣiddīq and al-fārūq, al-shahīd, al-muḥaddith and al-murawwiʿ, al-ḥunafāʾ, al-awwāh and al-tawwāb and al-awwāb and al-munīb, al-muhājirūn and al-anṣār and alaʿrābī, al-rabbāniyyūn, al-aḥbār, al-qissīsūn and al-ruhbān, al-awliyāʾ and al-mawālī and al-walāya and al-muwālāh, al-āl and al-ahl and ahl al-bayt, al-ʿitra, aldhurriyya, al-sulāla, al-asbāṭ, then al-shaʿb, al-qabīla, al-ʿimāra, al-baṭn, al-fakhidh, al-faḍīla and al-ʿashīra. 8) The next section concerns vocabulary of revelation, the Qurʾān and other holy books: al-kitāb, al-qurʾān, al-furqān, al-waḥy and al-khaṭṭ and alkitāba and al-nuṣba and al-ishāra and al-ilhām, al-tanzīl, al-qaṣaṣ, al-rūḥ, almathānī, umm al-kitāb, al-mufaṣṣal, al-muḥkam and al-mutashābih and al-rāsikhūn fi-l-ʿilm, al-nāsikh wa-l-mansūkh, al-taʾwīl, al-sūra, al-āya, al-kalima, al-ḥarf, altawrāh, al-injīl, al-zubūr, al-mudārasa, al-qirāʾa wa-l-tilāwa and al-asāṭīr. 9) From revelation, the believer knows what his or her obligations are. Thus, the next section concerns religious obligations and optional acts: alfarīḍa, al-sunna, al-taṭawwuʿ wa-l-nāfila. Then vocabulary concerning the last four of the five pillars is discussed, beginning with prayer (which begins with washing): al-ṭahāra and al-ightisāl and al-janāba, al-wuḍūʾ, al-istinjāʾ and almaḍmaḍa and al-istinshāq, al-mutayammim, al-adhān and al-iqāma, awqāt al-ṣalāt: al-fajr, al-z.uhr and al-ūlā and al-zawāl, al-ʿaṣr, the two ʿishāʾʾs, that is, almaghrib and al-ʿishāʾ. These are followed by al-ʿatama, al-ṣalāt, al-rukūʿ, alsujūd, al-tashahhud and al-taḥiyyāt, al-qunūt, al-shafʿ and al-watr, al-takbīr and altasbīḥ and al-tahlīl and al-tahajjud, al-khushūʿ and al-taḍarruʿ and al-khashya and al-khuḍūʿ, al-ibtihāl and al-mubāhala, al-masjid and al-muṣallā, al-miḥrāb and alqibla. These are followed by words related to fasting and Ramaḍān: al-ṣawm, ṣawm al-bīḍ and ṣawm al-sarāʾir, al-iʿtikāf, al-fiṭr, al-aḍḥā, al-ʿīd. Then follow words related to alms: al-zakāt and al-ṣadaqa, words related to the stages of the lifespan of camels, al-jawālī. Then comes the ḥajj: al-ḥajj, al-ʿumra, makka, al-kaʿba, wujūh al-ḥajj, al-iḥrām and al-iḥlāl, al-talbiya, al-ihlāl and al-ḥajj, almanāsik and al-mashāʿir and al-mawāsim, al-qurbān and al-hudā and al-budna, ashʿār al-hady and al-mashʿar al-ḥarām, jamʿ and al-muzdalifa, al-jimār, al-istislām, al-saʿy and al-raml, al-ṣafā wa-l-marwa and al-maqām, minā wa ʿarafa, yawm altarwiya wa-l-naḥr wa-l-tashrīq, bīr zamzam. 10) Then a section with various words and terms found in the Qurʾān, many of them legal terms: al-mīrāth and al-farāʾiḍ and al-maʿṣiya and al-kalāla

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and dhawu-l-arḥām and azwāʾ, al-kalāla, al-nikāḥ, al-iḥṣān, al-ṭalāq, al-rajʿa, alīlāʾ, al-z.ihār, al-khalʿ and al-mubārāh and al-mukhtār and al-munāshaza and mulāʿana, al-ʿatq, al-ḥadd and al-jimār, al-khasf, al-ʿafw, al-ṣarf and al-ʿadl and alwasaṭ, al-ṣabr, al-baṣīra, al-sakīna, al-yaqīn and al-malakūt, and the difference between īmān and yaqīn, al-fitna and al-balāʾ, and al-bilya, and al-faraj. 11) A small section on linguistic terms follows: al-mathal and al-maʿnā, ʿibārat-al-ruʾyā, al-ʿarabī and al-ʿajamī, al-laḥn, al-rafʿ and al-naṣb and al-jarr, aljazm, al-hamz, al-iḍāfa, al-tarkhīm and al-idghām. 12) Then come some family terms: al-ab and al-umm, al-ibn and al-ibna, al-akh and al-ukht, al-ʿamm and al-khāl, al-yatīm. 13) The final section can only be described as miscellaneous words found in the Qurʾān and ḥadīth. It begins with the names of a few forbidden things: al-khamr and al-nabīdh and al-musakkir, al-maysir, al-aṣnām and al-anṣāb and al-awthān, al-azlām, then al-rijs and al-rijz and al-najas, al-siḥr and al-sāḥir, hārūt and mārūt, al-dajjāl and al-masīḥ, al-kāhin, al-ʿāʾif and al-qāʾif and al-zājir, al-jabt and al-ṭāghūt, al-baḥīra and al-waṣīla and al-sāʾiba and al-ḥām.

4 THE ENTRY ON KALIMA This chapter will demonstrate some important characteristics of Rāzī’s method. Certain techniques unique to him are used consistently throughout Kitāb al-zīna. As Paul Walker puts it, one “standard feature of Ismaili literature” is “a driving need, not merely to prove points philosophically or to dispute issues dialecticaly, but to trace constructively those harmonies and analogies in the cosmic structure that envelop all things in one grand display of God’s perfect wisdom.”323 Rāzī takes this driving need to an extreme and collects all that is known on any given topic and combines the information into a cohesive, unified whole, often synthesizing disparate ideas in creative ways not previously conceived. A second technique is that he presents the information in such a way that it is consistent with his Ismāʿīlī views, yet he never declares these views outright. Secondly, using Zīna as a point of departure, the dispute among linguists regarding the meanings of the words kalim and kalām, as well as other linguistic issues, will be examined.324 These two goals will be met by examining Rāzī’s entry on kalima.

RĀZĪ ON KALIMA In his entry on kalima, Rāzī discusses various aspects and definitions of the word. His entry contains the following ideas:325 1. The plural of kalima is both kalim and kalimāt. The difference between kalim and kalām is that kalim, being a plural of kalima, always refers to a specific, countable number of words. For example, al-kalim al-ṭayyib “good words,” mentioned in Qurʾān 35:10, refers to the four words lā ilāha illa-llāh 323 Walker, Paul, Early Philosophical Shiism: The Ismaili Neoplatonism of Abū Yaʿqūb al-Sijistānī, 68. 324 See chapter 6 below for a fuller discussion of grammatical issues. 325 Rāzī, Abu Ḥātim Aḥmad b. Ḥamdān, Kitāb al-zīna fi-l-kalimāt al-islāmiyya, 258r-259v.

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“There is no god but God.” Kalām, on the other hand, refers to the genus of words in general, and can refer to a large number or small number of them. 2. A kalima must consist of two or more letters. If it consists of only two, it is incomplete, and if it consists of more than three, then it is mazīd. The word consisting of three is a perfect word, since verbs are three letters and verbs are the most complete types of speech utterances. This statement recalls the Kūfan school of grammar’s contention that the verb is the most basic word from which maṣdars (verbal nouns) are derived, in contrast with the Baṣran view that the maṣdar is the basis from which verbs are derived.326 In another passage in a different section of Kitāb al-zīna, he contradicts himself saying that the smallest a word can be is one letter (ḥarf).327 It will become clear below why he chose to say here that a kalima must be greater than two letters in length. 3. Kalima has numerous meanings. It can refer to a chapter from the Qurʾān (sūra), a speech (khuṭba), or an entire poem, though it be very long (qaṣīda). It can also refer to a line of poetry (bayt), which is why al-Aṣmaʿī is quoted as saying that the best kalimas (lines of poetry) that end in the letter kāf are one by Zuhayr and one by Aws. It can also mean kitāb, so Qurʾān 3:39 bi-kalimatin min Allāh “a word from Allah” means “God’s book.” 4. Yet a further meaning is found in the context of kalima ṭayyiba “goodly saying” mentioned in Qurʾān 14:24. It means the believer himself, so called because he says the words lā ilāha illa-llāh, whereas the kalima khabītha “bad saying” is 14:26 is shirk. So, the believer is also a kalima, and the unbeliever can also be called a kalima. 5. Jesus is also called “word,” as in Qurʾān 4:171 “The Messiah, Jesus son of Mary, was only a messenger of Allah, and His word which He conveyed unto Mary...”328 6. Rāzī includes a section on cosmology, beginning with a Bible quote, and discusses how the world was created from a word. 7. The word is the cause of creation, says Rāzī, but he refuses to probe this idea further, saying only that there is much that can be said about this topic.

Anbārī, Abū Barakāt, al-Inṣāf fī masāʾil al-khilāf, 1:217–24. Rāzī, Zīna, 259v. 328 Qurʾān translations are from Pickthall, Mohammad Marmaduke, The Meaning of the Glorious Qurʾan. 326 327

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Each of these aspects of the word kalima will now be examined against the backdrop of Arabic linguistic thought and Rāzī’s place in the overall picture will be examined. 1. Early theorizing about kalima, kalim, kalām and kalimāt arose out of exegetical necessity, as all four forms are found in the Qurʾān. Early exegetes who were content to merely gloss words usually described kalim as a plural of kalima.329 Lexicographers and later commentators were in agreement.330 A question that might be raised is, “If both kalim and kalimāt are plurals of kalima, then why do both appear in the Qurʾān, and what is the reason for choosing one of the two over the other in any given passage?” In the same vein, one might ask, “How does the word kalām fit into this scheme, and could it have been used instead of either kalim or kalimāt? In fact, in variant readings where kalām is used instead of kalim, such as those found for 35:10331 and 4:46,332 and where kalim is used instead of kalām, as in 48:15,333 what is the reason for preferring one of the readings and rejecting the other? Or, if both readings are acceptable, what is the basis for allowing both kalim and kalām as acceptable variants? And where kalām is used in the Qurʾān, what is the reason for choosing it over kalim?” In other words, commentators both early and late felt forced to explain why the Qurʾān chose to use kalim sometimes, kalimāt other times, and yet other times chose kalām. Al-Farrāʾfor example, said that he rejects the reading kalām in 35:10, a very rare variant, and that kalim is the correct reading. Kalim, he says, is the plural of kalima, implying that it is synony329

4:46.

For example, Ṭabarī, Tafsīr al-Ṭabarī a.k.a. Jāmiʿ al-bayān fī taʾwīl al-Qurʾān on

For example, al-Farrāʾ, Abū Zakariyya Yaḥyā b. Ziyād, Maʿānī al-Qurʾān, 2:367 on 35:10, where he cites a line of poetry which demonstrates that dropping the final hāʾ is an accepted way of forming a plural; Zamakhsharī, Jār Allāh, Tafsīr al-kashshāf, 1:506 and al-Andalusī, Abū Ḥayyān, al-Baḥr al-muḥīṭ, 7:290 on 4:46. Also, Khalīl b. Aḥmad al-Farāhīdī, Kitāb al-ʿayn, ‘k-l-m’; al-Azharī, Abū Manṣūr Muḥammad b. Aḥmad, Tahdhīb al-lugha, ‘k-l-m’; Ibn Fāris, Aḥmad, Muʿjam maqāyīs al-lugha, ‘k-l-m’; and Ibn ʿAbbād, al-Ṣāḥib Ismāʿīl, al-Muḥīṭ fi-l-lugha, ‘k-l-m’; all give kalim as a plural of kalima. 331 Farrāʾ, Maʿānī, 2:367. 332 Zamakhsharī, Kashshāf, 1:506. 333 See Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, and Ṭabarsī, Abū ʿAlī al-Faḍl b. al-Ḥasan, Majmaʿ al-bayān fī tafsīr al-Qurʾān, on 48:15, 9:143. Also see Ṣafāqisī, Sīdī ʿAlī al-Nūrī, Ghayth al-nafʿ fi-l-qirāʾāt al-sabʿ, 266, and Anṣārī, Abū Jaʿfar Aḥmad, al-Iqnāʿ fi-l-qirāʾāt al-sabʿ, 462 on this same verse. 330

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mous with kalimāt. The evidence of its preferability over kalām is that kalimāt is used so frequently in the Qurʾān. Also, kalām is a noun referring to the act of speaking (maṣdar), and only kalim means “words.”334 Traces of this early type of lexicographical activity appeared in later tafsīrs, as we also find al-Zamakhsharī (d. 538/1144) and al-Biqāʿī (d. 885/1480) explaining the use of the word kalimāt as opposed to kalim in 31:27 “And if all the trees in the earth were pens, and the sea, with seven more seas to help it, (were ink), the words (kalimāt) of Allah could not be exhausted.” Both say that kalim is a plural of paucity (jamʿ al-qilla), whereas kalimāt is plural of abundance (jamʿ al-kathra),335 and one might object to the choice of the plural of paucity in this context when the use of the plural of abundance would make the point much more poignantly. Both point out that it is in fact the plural of paucity which makes the point more forcefully: If even the few of God’s words would exhaust all the seas and trees, then, a fortiori, the many (kalim) are that much more numerous.336 Such early exegetical glosses would later transform into broad theories on the nature of kalām and kalim. Later linguists not only used the Qurʾān for evidence, but also noted that Sībawayh’s use of these words in his own writing was quite consistent, and made observations about his work a part of their theory. Two separate theories, or sets of ideas, concerning the nature of kalām and kalim, were developed by two separate intellectual lineages working independently. The first was that adopted by Rāzī, but the second was the one which found broad acceptance by later linguists. The first theory developed out of the observation made by al-Farrāʾ in Maʿānī al-Qurʾān, described above, concerning the difference between kalim and kalām. Kalām, to reiterate, is a maṣdar, that is, it refers to the act of speaking, whereas kalim is the plural of kalima “word.”337 Then, when Rāzī discusses the meaning of kalima, he explaines the difference between kalām and kalim, saying that kalām refers to the genus of speech in general, be it a large amount or a small amount, whereas kalim is limited and narrow (maḥṣur maḥdūd) as opposed to kalām, which refers to the Farrāʾ, Maʿānī, 2:367. The plural of paucity (jamʿ al-qilla) is a set of plural patterns used to refer to 3 to 10 of the counted object, whereas the plural of abundance (jamʿ al-kathra) is used for larger numbers. See Jārim, ʿAlī and Muṣṭafā Amīn, al-Naḥw al-wāḍiḥ, li-lmadāris al-thānawiiyya, 2:154–60. 336 al-Biqāʿī, Burhān al-Dīn Ibrāhīm, Nazm al-durar fī tanāsub al-āyāt wa-l-suwar, . 6:30 and Zamakhsharī, Kashshāf, 3:486, both on 31:27. 337 See Farrāʾ, Maʿānī, 2:367 and 3:66. 334 335

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entire class of speech acts. Also, he alludes to, without describing directly, the idea that this distinction resulted from a reading of al-Kitāb, developed in full by Sīrāfī as described below. He says that the noun is a kalima, the verb is a kalima, and the particle is a kalima, so they are all kalim.338 Ḥasan b. ʿAbd Allah al-Sīrāfī (d. 368/979), Baṣran grammarian and author of a commentary on Sībawayh’s Kitāb,339 attempts to explain why Sībawayh used kalim in the first chapter of his book, “hādhā bāb ma-l-kalim min al-ʿArabiyya” “This is the chapter on what words (kalim) are in Arabic,” as opposed to using the word “kalām.”340 He gives a fuller and betterdeveloped version of the ideas found in the works of Farrāʾ and Rāzī. He says that Sībawayh chose the word kalim in the title of this chapter and not kalām because kalām refers to a large amount, whereas kalim is the plural of kalima. Kalām is a word refering to an action (maṣdar), whereas kalim is a substantive noun (ism dhāt).341 Lexicographer al-Jawharī (d. 393/1002–3), author of Tāj al-lugha waṣiḥāḥ al-ʿArabiyya (al-Ṣiḥāḥ), who counts al-Sīrāfī as one of his teachers, makes use of these same approaches in al-Ṣiḥāḥ but gives even more detail.342 He defines kalām as a noun of genus (ism jins) which refers to a large amount or small. He gives the same example that al-Rāzī does to demonstrate that words can be made plural by dropping a final tāʾ (nabiqa/nabiq). He says that Sībawayh used the word kalim in his chapter title because he was referring to three specific things: a noun, a verb, and a particle, and therefore did not use a word (kalām) which might be used to refer to only one thing as well as many. He also quotes al-Farrāʾ, who said that kilma is a variant of kalima. Grammarian Ibn Jinnī (d. 392/1002), like al-Jawharī, also explains Sībawayh’s choice of kalim over kalām. Kalām, he says, is a maṣdar, and thus refers to speech acts in general and cannot refer to a specific number of items. Kalim, however, is a plural. He again gives Rāzī’s and al-Jawharī’s exRāzī, Zīna, 258r. See below for Sībawayh’s use of the word. See Ḍayf, Shawqī, al-Madāris al-naḥwiyya, 145–6; Yaʿqūb, Imīl Badīʿ, alMuʿjam al-mufaṣṣal fi-l-lughawiyyīn al-ʿarab, 1:180–1. 340 Sībawayh, ʿAmr b. ʿUthmān, al-Kitāb, 1:12, n. 1. 341 These are the two categories of non-derived noun (ism jāmid) recognized by the grammarians: ism dhāt and ism maʿnā, the latter also known as maṣdar. The first means a “substantive, tangible thing.” The second is the maṣdar, an action. See Jārim, Naḥw, li-l-madāris al-thānawiyya, 2:57. 342 al-Jawharī, Abū Naṣr Ismāʿīl, al-Ṣiḥāḥ: tāj al-lugha wa ṣiḥāḥ al-ʿArabiyya, 5:406–7, ‘k-l-m.’ 338 339

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ample of a plural being made by dropping the final hāʾ (nabiqa/nabiq). Sībawayh, in his chapter title, referred to three things: nouns, verbs and particles. He therefore used a plural word which is used to refer to a specific number of items, three or more, in this case three. He did not use a word which is not meant for a plural number of items (fa-jāʾa bi-mā yakhuṣṣ al-jamʿ wa-huwa al-kalim wa-taraka mā lā yakhuṣṣ al-jamʿ).343 These writers’ ideas allow us to reconstruct a theory of kalima which was propounded by al-Farrāʾ and his followers: Kalām refers to the speech act, and can refer to a large amount of that act or small. Rāzī makes an important contribution here to our understanding of this view of kalima, for it is he who mentions that kalām is a broader term than kalim. Kalim, being a plural, must refer to three or more, whereas kalām can refer to any amount of speech, even one word. This aspect of the theory, as will be seen, is an important one. It is most likely that this theory, or, as it might more accurately be called, approach, was developed over time and expanded from the simple statement by al-Farrāʾ to the elaborate exposition of Ibn Jinnī, and also is no doubt found in numerous lost or unpublished works. A second approach to defining kalām and kalim was inspired by the Kitāb of Sībawayh (d. 796/180). Sībawayh, some noticed, was consistent in using the word kalām to mean “a group of words combined which together express a meaning.” He says, for example, that if we use a verb where we would normally place a noun, then we do not have kalām, that is, it has no meaning (a-lā tarā annaka law qulta inna yaḍrib yaʾtīnā wa-ashbāh hādhā lam yakun kalāman).344 Secondly, he also uses qawl and kalām in distinct ways. Qawl refers to a paraphrase of the words or position of others, whereas the kalām of someone is an exact quote of their words. Specifically, he says that the word qultu is followed by kalām and not by a qawl.345 In other words, qāla is followed by an exact quote (kalām), which is why inna is used after it and not anna, but if a paraphrase of ideas follows it, then anna is used.346 Some scholars adopted this usage. Ibn Fāris, for example, author of Maqāyīs al-lugha and al-Ṣāḥibī, tells us that some define kalām as “letters combined to form a meaning or express an idea” (al-kalām ḥurūf muʾallafa dālla ʿalā maʿnā), though he fails to name the formulators of this definition. He says that a Baghdād scholar claimed that there are two types of kalām, Ibn Jinnī, Abu-l-Fatḥ ʿUthmān, Khaṣāʾiṣ, 1:25. Sībawayh, Kitāb, 1:14. 345 Ibid., 1:122. 346 Ibid., 3:142–3. 343 344

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not used and used (muhmal and mustaʿmal). Muhmal, the Baghdādi told him, is a word which is not used in Arabic, either because it cannot exist since it contradicts Arabic phonotactic constraints, or because it is possible but not used. The second type, responded Ibn Fāris, cannot be kalām as the Baghdādī claims, since kalām must carry a meaning.347 If the practice of later, widely-circulated and frequently consulted dictionaries and tafsīrs is a guide, then it would appear that this approach to kalām and kalim was a much more popular one than the first. For example, al-Azharī, in his Tahdhīb al-lugha tells us that kalām, no matter how many letters it contains, must carry a meaning.348 Ibn Jinnī’s discussion of the difference between kalām and qawl is welldeveloped and intricate. Kalām, he says, is an utterance which stands independently and carries a meaning. It is also known as jumal. Qawl, on the other hand, can be any utterance, be it meaningful or not. All kalām is a qawl, but not all qawl is kalām. He also points out that qawl is used for paraphrasing and for describing beliefs and ideas as opposed to reproducing exact words. It is for this reason that the Qurʾān is called God’s kalām and not God’s qawl. Since the Qurʾān is an unchangeable set of words, it is called kalām, a word which refers to meaningful utterances, and which is used to quote another exactly. It is not called the qawl of God, since qawl is used to relate general ideas without duplicating exact words, and can also refer to utterances which have no meaning.349 Similarly, lexicographer (d. 458/1066) Ibn Sīdah, in al-Muḥkam wa-lmuḥīṭ al-aʿz.am, says that kalām differs from qawl in that kalām is selfsufficient. It is a sentence which carries a meaning by itself, whereas qawl is not independent, and constitutes only a part of a sentence. Repeating the argument of Ibn Jinnī, he says that the difference between qawl and kalām is illustrated by the fact that the Qurʾān is said to be the kalām of God, and not the qawl of God, because kalām is a repetition of exact words. The Qurʾān is narrowly and closely-defined, that is, a very exact and specific sequence of letters, and cannot be changed or altered in even one letter. Thus it is called kalām, which refers to specific sounds which, when combined, have a particular meaning. A kalima, he adds, cannot have any effect on a person’s emotions. Only kalām, which is longer than kalima, being a

Ibn Fāris, Aḥmad, al-Ṣāḥibī, 47. Azharī, Tahdhīb, s.v. ‘k-l-m.’ 349 Ibn Jinnī, Khaṣāʾiṣ, 1:17–19. 347 348

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number of kalimāt brought together, can create joy or sadness in a listener.350 These views on kalām found wide circulation among scholars of language in subsequent centuries. Al-Ṭabarsī, in his Majmaʿ al-bayān, for example, cites Sībawayh in saying that kalām must carry a meaning, and that kalām muhmal is not kalām since it has no meaning.351 Abū Qāsim al-Balkhī, he says, made the same assertion.352 The grammarian Ibn Ḥājib (d. 646/1249) made the same distinction between qawl and kalām,353 and al-Fayyūmī (d. 759/1358), in al-Miṣbāḥ almunīr, says that kalām must be meaningful.354 He mirrors Ibn Fāris when he rejects the idea of Rāfiʿī, whom he cites as saying that kalām is divided into meaningful and not meaningful, pointing out that the grammarians limited the definition of kalām to include only that which carries meaning.355 Also, the first two substantial lines of the Alfiyya of Ibn Mālik (d. 672/1274), after the introductory lines, make this same distinction between qawl and kalām, and state that kalām must have a meaning: kalāmunā lafz.un mufīdun ka-staqim…wa-smun wa-fiʿlun thumma ḥarfuni-l-kalim wāḥiduhū kalimatun wa-l-qawlu ʿamm…wa-kilmatun bihā kalāmun qad yuʾamm [Our speech (kalām) consists of meaningful utterances such as “Be straight!” (istaqim); and noun, verb and particle are the types of words (kalim); Its singular is kalima, and qawl is (a) more general (term); and sometimes kalām is meant when kilma is used].356 Modern grammarians have kept this view of kalām alive. Muṣṭafā alGhalāyīnī (d. 1944) defines kalām as “a sentence which expresses a complete meaning and which is sufficient unto itself (al-kalām huwa-l-jumlatu-lmufīda maʿnan tāmman muktafiyan bi-nafsihi),” and says that if the sentence does not have a meaning when standing alone, then it is not called kalām.357 Also, the first lesson of the elementary school grammar text al-Naḥw al350

m.’

Ibn Sīdah, ʿAlī ibn Ismāʿīl, al-Muḥkam wa-l-muḥīṭ al-aʿz.am, 7:49–50, s.v. ‘k-l-

However, I have not seen this particular idea expressed in Sībawayh’s Kitāb. Ṭabarsī, Majmaʿ, 1:128, on 2:37. 353 Ibn Ḥājib, Jamāl al-Dīn, al-Kāfiya fi-l-naḥw, 3. 354 al-Fayyūmī, Aḥmad b. Muḥammad, al-Miṣbāḥ al-munīr fī gharīb al-sharḥ alkabīr li-l-Rāfiʿī, 539, s.v. ‘k-l-m.’ 355 Ibid. 356 Ibn ʿAqīl, Bahāʾ al-Dīn ʿAbd Allāh, Sharḥ Ibn ʿAqīl ʿalā alfiyyat Ibn Mālik, 1:13. 357 Ghalāyīnī, al-Shaykh Muṣṭafā, Jāmiʿ al-durūs al-ʿarabiyya, 1:12. 351 352

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wāḍiḥ defines a linguistic construction which forms a meaning as a “complete sentence (jumla mufīda),” then adds, “it is also called kalām (wa-yusammā ayḍan kalāman).”358 Aḥmad Riḍā, in his mid-20th century dictionary Matn allugha, says that kalām is qawl, or it is qawl which stands independently. Unlike most of his contemporaries, he attempts to include the definition of kalām given by al-Farrāʾ and al-Rāzī, adding that the word can apply to the few or the many.359 These, then, are two views of kalām and kalima, incompatible with each other. In the first view, that put forth by al-Farrāʾ, al-Sīrāfī, al-Rāzī and al-Jawharī, kalām has a wider meaning than kalim, which is a more limited term. Kalām, says Rāzī, can refer to all instances of speech, be it a large amount or a small, and kalim is a limited, narrowly-defined term (maḥṣūrun maḥdūd).360 Therefore, according to al-Jawharī and Ibn Jinnī, Sībawayh used kalim in the title of his first chapter and not kalām, since kalām can refer to fewer than three, whereas kalim refers to three or more.361 According to the second theory, however, kalām has a narrower meaning than kalim. According to al-Ṭabarsī (d. 548/1154), kalām is a subset of kalim, since all kalām is also kalim, but kalim can refer to items that cannot be called kalām. Thus, it is kalim which has a broader meaning than kalām, and kalām is the more narrowly-defined term.362 That these two views are not mutually compatible is evidenced by Ibn Jinnī’s explicit attempt to reconcile the two. Ibn Jinnī, as noted above, puts forth in al-Khaṣāʾiṣ both theories of kalām. He then posits the objection of a hypothetical detractor who notices the contradiction between the two: “You said earlier that kalām refers only to complete sentences and not individual units of a sentence (qaddamta fī awwal kalāmika anna-l-kalām wāqiʿ ʿalal-jumal dūna-l-āḥād), then you say here that it is a noun of genus (ism jins), that is, a maṣdar, and a maṣdar refers to the entire genus as well as individual units thereof. If that is the case, then you contradict yourself by saying that kalām can only refer to complete sentences composed of multiple lexical units, but not to those individual units themselves.”363

Jārim, Naḥw, li-l-madāris al-ibtidāʾiyya, 1:12. Riḍā, Aḥmad, Muʿjam matn al-lugha, 5:98, ‘k-l-m.’ 360 Rāzī, Zīna, 258r. 361 See above. 362 Ṭabarsī, Majmaʿ, on 48:15, 7:143. 363 Ibn Jinnī, Khaṣāʾiṣ, 1:26. 358 359

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Ibn Jinnī responds to the potential objection, saying that kalām is a noun for the genus of sentence (jumal). Therefore, if we say that kalām refers to the few or to the many, we mean that it can refer to one or several complete sentences. A maṣdar can refer to one instance of an act or several instances of it, so kalām can refer to one instance of a complete sentence or several.364 To reconcile the two views, Ibn Jinnī was forced to misrepresent the view of al-Farrāʾ and those that followed him. It is clear from reading Jawharī’s Ṣiḥāḥ that kalām, being a more general term, can refer to one word or more, and that kalim refers to three or more. It is for this reason alone that Sībawayh chose the expression that refers to three or more words. Ibn Jinnī, however, to bring this view in line with the other, depicts kalām as referring to one or more acts of speech which must necessarily be complete sentences, even though Jawharī clearly meant that kalām can refer to one or more individual words. Perhaps the most elegant attempt to reconcile the two views was provided by the modern grammarian ʿAbbās Ḥasan, author of al-Naḥw al-wāfī, a four-volume 20th century encyclopedic work on Arabic grammar. He adheres to the idea that kalām must be meaningful, but also concedes that it can be a more general term than kalim, since some kalām is kalim, and some kalim are kalām. The two overlap, but both terms have referents that the other does not have. Kalim is three or more words, and kalām is anything meaningful. Therefore, if three or more words are put together but do not express a complete meaning, they are kalim but not kalām, in which case kalim is a broader term than kalām. However, if less than three words are brought together and express a complete meaning, they are kalām but not kalim, so here kalām is the more general term. And the overlap occurs when three or more words are combined in such a way that they have a complete meaning, in which case the result is both kalim and kalām.365 2. A second issue Abū Ḥātim explores is the question of the minimum number of letters needed to form a word. Sībawayh dealt with the topic extensively in his Kitāb, so grammarians who dealt with the issue mostly followed in his footsteps. Sībawayh said that the minimum number of letters needed to form a word is one. Several one-letter particles exist, for example. Nouns, he explains, cannot be one letter long unless they are pronouns, since a one-letter 364 365

Ibn Jinnī, Khaṣāʾiṣ, 1:27. Ḥasan, ʿAbbās, al-Naḥw al-wāfī, 1:19–20.

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word cannot stand independently. Rather, they must be attached to another word, as in the case of a pronominal suffix. Verbs can consist of only one letter, but only in limited circumstances, and when those circumstances are removed, the verb goes back to being more than one letter.366 Two-letter words, he continues, are also possible. The most common kind of particle, for example, is the two-letter one. Two-letter nouns are rare, and verbs are two letters in certain limited circumstances. The most common two-letter word is the particle (ḥarf ).367 The most common type of word, he says, is the three letter word.368 There are four- and five-letter words, and it is possible to reach six- or seven-letter words by adding to a root. But anything less than three letters long has something deleted, and anything more than five has something added.369 Al-Mubarrad follows Sībawayh and makes his same argument, emphasizing that one-letter words exist but cannot stand alone. They must be attached to another word.370 Nouns and verbs that are two letters do exist but were originally three letters from which one letter was deleted.371 Al-Azharī, again, in his Tahdhīb al-lugha states that the word kalima can apply to one letter only,372 and Ibn Jinnī quotes Sībawayh’s statement in the context of his overall argument that kalām refers to complete, meaningful sentences.373 As for Rāzī, he agrees that the most complete word is the three-letter word, but disagrees that a word can be comprised of only one letter. The smallest number of letters that can be combined to form a word is two. This restriction, we shall see in a moment, is necessary because it fits well with his Ismāʿīlī philosophy. However, it does not appear that grammarians and lexicographers agreed with this definition. As seen above, most, beginning with Sībawayh, believed that a kalima could consist of only one letter. Exceptions to this view seem rare. Ṭabarsī said that the mutakallimūn (theologians) claim that kalām consists of two letters or more.374 Sijistānī, Sībawayh, Kitāb, 4:216–9. Ibid., 4:219–220. 368 Ibid., 4:229. 369 Ibid., 4:230. 370 Mubarrad, Muqtaḍab, 1:76. 371 Ibid., 1:83, 94, 372 Azharī, Tahdhīb,‘k-l-m.’ 373 Ibn Jinnī, Khaṣāʾiṣ, 1:27–8. 374 Ṭabarsī, Majmaʿ, on 2:37, 1:128. 366 367

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also, in Kitāb al-iftikhār, mentions in the context of describing a cosmological doctrine that a single letter cannot form a word that has a meaning. Specifically, in discussing kūnī and qadar, he says that each of the seven major prophets had one of the seven letters of the expression attached to him, and Adam, being the first, had one single letter, kāf, attached to him. No accompanying explanation of its meaning was provided to Adam, just as a single letter forms no meaningful word.375 It is interesting that Sijistānī claims that a word must consist of two or more letters in support of an Ismāʿīlī cosmological doctrine, for al-Rāzī also uses the idea in support of his cosmology, yet in a completely different manner. He says that the universe was created with a kalima, kun, which is made up of two letters, and two is the minimum number of letters of which a kalima can be comprised. If it were only one letter, it would not be called kalima.376 3. Rāzī’s statement that kalima has many meanings arose, historically speaking, out of exegetical necessity. Referring to his above allusion to Sībawayh, he says that kalima can mean “noun” or “verb.” It can also refer to a chapter from the Qurʾān (al-sūra), a speech (al-khuṭba), a poem (al-qaṣīda), or a line of poetry (al-bayt). That kalima could refer to extended speech was noticed early by Qurʾān commentators, who believed that kalima in verses such as 6:115 “Perfected is the Word of the Lord in truth and justice” (wa tammat kalimatu rabbika ṣidqan wa ʿadlan) means “Qurʾān.”377 Similarly, kalima in 18:5 “Dreadful is the word that cometh out of their mouths” (kaburat kalimatan takhruju min afwāhihim) refers to the phrase ittakhadha-llāhu waladan, mentioned in the previous verse. Furthermore, kalimatin sawāʾin in 3:64 has been interpreted by some exegetes as meaning “the phrase lā ilāha illa-llāh (there is no god but God).”378 In each of these instances, as well as many others in the Qurʾān, kalima refers to more than one word. It refers rather to a cohesive, prolonged utterance which expresses one idea. Thus, many commentators pointed out that kalima can have the meaning of “long, extended utterance.” For exam-

375 Halm, Heinz, Kosmologie und Heilslehre der Frühen Ismāʿīlīya: Eine Studie zur Islamischen Gnosis, 210 and al-Sijistānī, Abū Yaʿqūb, Kitāb al-iftikhār, 125. 376 Rāzī, Zīna, 259v. 377 Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, on 6:115, 5:318. 378 Ibid., on 3:64, 3:301.

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ple, according to Ṭabarī, a poem can be called kalimat fulān.379 The reason is, according to Zajjāj (311/923), that all of the elements of the phrase work together to create one single meaning, and if one part is deleted then the meaning is changed. Thus, the words together are referred to as a kalima.380 Ṭabarsī also mentions that kalima can mean “poem.”381 He cites Zajjāj and adds that Ḥassān b. Thābit used to use the word kalima to refer to the poetry of someone.382 Other later exegetes, such as Zamakhsharī and alAndalusī also explained these verses by saying that kalima can mean qaṣīda (poem).383 That kalima can mean qaṣīda appears to have been a popular and widespread idea, if its popularity with the large number of exegetes mentioned above is any indication. It also found its way into the work of major lexicographers, such as al-Jawharī, al-Azharī and Ibn Fāris.384 However, Rāzī gives many more possible meanings for kalima. He mentions, for example, that kalima can mean a khuṭba, “speech,” an idea which would seem to follow logically from the ideas mentioned above, that kalima can refer to any longer utterance which expresses one single unified idea. However, few commentators seem to state this definition outright. Ṭabarsī is one of the few, who says that when we say, “the priest said in his kalima,” we mean, “in his speech (khuṭba).”385 The idea that kalima can be a line of poetry (bayt) is also not mentioned by the mainstream of Qurʾān commentators and lexicographers, but is nonetheless elaborated upon by al-Rāzī, who cites al-Aṣmaʿī, who said that the best kalima that ends in the letter kāf in Arabic is that of Zuhayr and that of Aws. He then cites a line of poetry by each poet, both ending in kāf.386 As for the idea that kalima can mean “chapter of the Qurʾān,” the commentaries and dictionaries do not appear to support or allude to it, and Rāzī himself does not explain it further in his section on kalima.

Ibid., on 6:115, 5:318. Andalusī, al-Baḥr al-muḥīṭ, on 3:64, 2:506; and on 18:5, 6:95. 381 Ṭabarsī, Majmaʿ, on 2:36, 1:128, and on 18:5, 6:243. 382 Ibid., on 3:64, 2:242. 383 Zamakhsharī, Kashshāf, on 18:5, 2:676 and al-Andalusī, al-Baḥr al-muḥīṭ, on 2:36, 1:312. 384 Jawharī, Ṣiḥāḥ, ‘k-l-m’; al-Azharī, Tahdhīb, ‘k-l-m’; Ibn Fāris, Maqāyīs, ‘k-l-m.’ 385 Ṭabarsī, Majmaʿ, on 2:37, 1:128. 386 Rāzī, Zīna, 358v. 379 380

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The only sign of a controversy regarding kalima appears to be over the question of whether kalima in Qurʾān 3:39 can be glossed as kitāb (book). Abū ʿUbayda thought so. Expanding on the idea that a prolonged utterance, such as a qaṣīda, can be called kalima, he said that kalima in this verse means “a book.” That John was sent “to confirm a word from Allah” (muṣaddiqan bi-kalimatin min Allāh) means “to confirm a book from God.”387 Rāzī cites this verse specifically and then cites Abū ʿUbayda by name, quoting his idea on this verse. This interpretation of 3:39 was starkly rejected by most mainstream commentators. Ṭabarī, for example, did agree that kalima in some contexts could mean “the Qurʾān.”388 In this particular verse, however, he rejected the idea that kalima means anything other than “Jesus, son of Mary.” He said that some Baṣran linguists who specialize in Arab dialects claim that kalima here means kitāb (book), just as kalima can sometimes mean “poem.” But, he concludes, this idea is based in ignorance and rooted in interpreting according to one’s own opinion (jahlan minhu bi-taʾwīl kalima wa-jtirāʾan ʿalā tarjamat al-Qurʾān bi-raʾyihi).389 Zamakhsharī, similarly, said that here kalima means Jesus, but he acknowledged that kalima can sometimes mean kitāb, and that some people interpret it this way in this verse.390 This interpretation of this verse was rarely accepted by commentators.391 It is unclear why this particular interpretation, apparently formulated by Abū ʿUbayda, was so vehemently rejected, and what may have been its significance, if any, in the ideological realm. Rāzī was drawing from numerous ideas that he had available to him, and many of these fell out of the mainstream of thought, and failed to find wide acceptance. It is also clear from the information that Rāzī adds which does not appear to be attested by other sources that he drew from sets of ideas which are now lost to us. The idea that these ideas were, at least in some circles, well-known and found some degree of acceptance is strengthened by the fact that he cited them without further elaboration or attribution.

Abū ʿUbayda Maʿmar b. al-Muthannā, Majāz al-Qurʾān, on 3:36, 1:91. Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, on 6:115, 5:318. 389 Ibid., on 3:39, 3:253. 390 Zamakhsharī, Kashshāf, on 3:39, 1:353. 391 Ayoub, Mahmoud, The Qurʾān and its Interpreters, 2:109, also citing al-Fakhr al-Rāzī. 387 388

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4. Kalimatan ṭayyibatan in Qurʾān 14:24 “a goodly saying”392 has been glossed by commentators in a variety of ways. Common, for example, is that idea that kalima ṭayyiba means “faith” (īmān), or the saying lā ilāha illallāh.393 A second possible explanation for kalima in this verse is that it means the muʾmin (believer) himself, and in 14:26 kalimatin khabīthatin “a bad saying”394 the kāfir (unbeliever). This explanation is given by Ṭabarī and Andalusī.395 Rāzī mentions it here in the context of showing the large variety of meanings that are contained in the one word kalima. 5. That kalima can mean “Jesus” is widely agreed upon by commentators, and Rāzī mentions it here. As he points out, the Qurʾān itself refers to Jesus as “God’s word” in 4:171 “The Messiah, Jesus son of Mary, was only a messenger of Allah, and His word which He conveyed unto Mary.” Thus, commentators generally explained 3:39 “John, (who cometh) to confirm a word from Allah” by saying that kalima here also referred to Jesus.396 Ṭabarsī says that all commentators agree on this definition for kalima in this verse with the exception of Abū ʿUbayda, whose lone dissent is described above.397 6. Rāzī’s section on cosmology here is rather unusual and omits several elements found commonly in Ismāʿīlī cosmologies. The probable reason is that he did not want to display strong Ismāʿīlī views so that his book would appeal to a wider audience. It also contains elements that do not appear in other Ismāʿīlī cosmologies. Rāzī quotes the Bible John 1:1 “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God.” It is with the Word, says Rāzī, that God created all things, as mentioned in Qurʾān 16:40 “And Our word unto a thing, when We intend it, is only that We say unto it: Be! and it is.” The Word, he says, is God’s command. He then created knowledge and power (al-ʿilm wal-qudra), together at the same time, then created will and destiny (al-mashīʾa wa-l-qadar wa-l-qaḍāʾ) then created all things. The Word, he says, has four Pickthall’s translation. Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, on 14:24, 7:437; Ṭabarsī, Majmaʿ, on 14:24, 6:57; Andalusī, alBaḥr al-muḥīṭ, on 14:24, 5:410. 394 Translation is Pickthall’s. 395 Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, on 14:24, 7:437 and on 14:26, 7:446; Andalusī, al-Baḥr almuḥīṭ, on 14:24, 5:410. 396 Mujāhid b. Jabr, Tafsīr, 251; Farrāʾ, Maʿānī, 1:212; Ṭabarī, Tafsīr, 3:251–3; Zamakhsharī, Kashshāf, 1:353; Ṭabarsī, Majmaʿ, on 3:39, 2:222; Andalusī, al-Baḥr almuḥīṭ, 2:466. 397 Ṭabarsī, Majmaʿ, on 3:39, 2:222. 392 393

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parts: righteousness, truth, power, and mercy. He quotes from Qurʾān 6:115: “Perfected is the Word of thy Lord in truth and justice,” then adds “and wisdom with the first word.” From this first word were created seven more perfect, secret words one after another, making a total of eight. Hence Qurʾān 69:17 “and eight will uphold the Throne of thy Lord that day, above them.” These eight words are hidden behind veils and cannot be known. The first word is called kalima because it hides the Great, Hidden name, and the seven words each are veils for each other.398 The idea that the universe was created from one word, kun, and that that word is the kalima mentioned in 16:40, is fairly standard in most accounts of Ismāʿīlī cosmology. One early version says that God at first created light, then said to the light “kun!” (“Be!”). It then began existing, and all things were created with those two letters, the kāf and nūn.399 Similarly, Abū Yaʿqūb al-Sijistānī, who created a version of cosmology rooted in Neoplatonic principles,400 also began with the premise that the world was created with a command, and that the command was the two letters kāf and nūn, mentioned in 16:40.401 After this point, however, Rāzī seems to deviate from the basic concepts of Ismāʿīlī cosmology. Completely omitted is the commonly accepted idea, found in many versions of Ismāʿīlī creation, that God added a wāw and yāʾ to kun, thus creating kūnī, and that he then ordered kūnī to create for herself an assistant, so she created qadar. Kūnī created all things and qadar determined them.402 In the Neoplatonized system they represent the seven heavenly letters which correspond to the seven prophets.403 Also omitted is any mention of jadd, fatḥ, and khayāl. In the earlier form of Ismāʿīlism revealed by Stern, they were among the spiritual beings created by the seven cherubim.404 In Neoplatonized Ismāʿīlism, they became names for the three archangels Gabriel, Mīkāʾīl and Isrāfīl.405 Rāzī, Zīna, 259r. Stern, S. M., Studies in Early Ismāʿīlism, 7–8 and Walker, Early Philosophical Shiʿism, 47. 400 Discussed in detail in Walker, Early Philosophical Shiʿism. 401 Sijistānī, Iftikhār, 100–2. 402 Stern, Studies, 8 and Walker, Early Philisophical Shiʿism, 47. 403 Walker, Early Philosophical Shīʿism, 30; Sijistānī, Iftikhār, 123ff; Khazāʾin aladilla, reproduced in Halm, Kosmologie, 215. 404 Stern, Studies, 9 and 21. 405 Sijistānī, Iftikhār, 116ff; Walker, Early Philosophical Shīʿism, 119; Khazāʾin aladilla, reproduced in Halm, Kosmologie, 214. 398 399

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Rather, Rāzī introduces three concepts that seem to have little or no precedent in most Ismāʿīlī literature on cosmology. First, he states that God created knowledge (ʿilm) and power (qudra) at the same time, neither having been created before the other.406 Why this statement, attributed to Jaʿfar b. Muḥammad, is inserted in the middle of his discussion of creation is unclear, since there does not appear to be any debate within the mainstream of Ismāʿīlism concerning the matter. Though it bears echoes of the debate concerning free will and predestination, specifically the issue of whether qudra over an act is created at the same time as the act,407 and though Sijistānī mentions that God created the universe “out of His munificence or goodness (jūd), knowledge (ʿilm), will (irāda) and power (qudra),”408 this appears to be a somewhat obscure reference. Secondly, Rāzī states that a kalima is made up of four parts: ḥaqq, ṣidq, ʿizz and raḥma and he cites 6:115 in support.409 Thirdly, he states that after creating this original word (kun), he created seven perfect words that no one can know. He created them one after another until they became eight. As mentioned above, he cites in support Qurʾān 69:17 “and eight will uphold the Throne of the Lord that day, above them.”410 This verse is mentioned in no other Ismāʿīlī cosmological doctrines that I have had access to. The seven words conceal the stored, hidden name (al-ism al-maknūn al-makhzūn), and each of the seven words conceal each other.411 This doctrine is probably a somewhat cryptic allusion to the non-Neoplatonized Ismāʿīlī doctrine which states that after creating kūnī and qadar, God created seven cherubim which have names that can only be understood by the friends of God and the loyal believers.412 The reason Rāzī presents a cosmology that is at such variance with what appears to have been agreed upon by other Ismāʿīlī philosophers is that he was attempting to present a philosophy that did not appear blantantly Ismāʿīlī to the untrained observer, but was still rooted in Ismāʿīlī

Rāzī, Zīna, 259r. See Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd edition (EI2), ed. H. A. R. Gibb et al., s.v. ‘Muʿtazila.’ 408 Sijistānī, Iftikhār, 87. Translation is borrowed from Poonawala’s Introduction, xvi. 409 Rāzī, Zīna, 259r. 410 Ibid. 411 Ibid., 259r-v. 412 Stern, Studies, 9 and 20. 406 407

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thought. He accomplished a similar feat in his section on heresiography (see chapter 7 below). 7. Rāzī’s final statement on kalima is a one-sentence allusion to the vast literature and controversy concerning the creation of the universe. Some scholars, he says, believe that God’s word is the cause of all of creation and that creation is caused by the word. The topic is an involved one, he says, so he chooses not to elaborate further.413 This statement, of course, is a reference to the common Ismāʿīlī idea described above: that the universe was created with a single word, kun. In conclusion, Rāzī’s section on the word kalima reveals much and gives us some insight into his method, one that is consistent throughout Kitāb al-zīna. First, Rāzī had a unique method of combining many different ideas and unifying them. Many of his definitions of words contained this type of unitive thought. In this entry, for example, he used all that had been discovered or theorized about the word kalima from many different fields of thought, tafsīr, philosophy and philology and combined them into one entry. Oftentimes, we see him combine several ideas about one word and reconcile them so that they all strengthen whatever idea he is attempting to emphasize. In addition, Rāzī does not overtly express his Ismāʿīlī views, but, as seen in his cosmological discussion, as well as in his heresiographical section, he never completely suppresses them. He gives emphasis to whatever facts that he can find that support his Ismāʿīli ideas, and, if necessary, ignores what is commonly accepted so as not to run counter to the Ismāʿīlī world view. Here, he contradicts the common wisdom that a word must be two letters or more.

413

Rāzī, Zīna, 259v.

5 RĀZĪ THE ETYMOLOGIST: ON THE ORIGIN OF PLACE NAMES PROLOGUE By the time Arabic dictionary writing reached its maturity in the 4th/10th century, lexicographers were relying less on fieldwork, that is, using desertdwellers as informants, and more on definitions handed down to them from their teachers. Lexicography became a field in which knowledge was passed along from generation to generation, and adapted and expanded as needed. Some ideas were rejected, others added to or modified. In the following pages, an example of the process whereby this type of transmission takes place will be examined. As Ignaz Goldziher shows in his 1952 Die Richtungen der Islamischen Koranauslegung, early tafsīr bi-l-maʾthūr (exegesis of transmitted information) soon gave way to tafsīr bi-l-raʾy (exegesis by speculation), in which exegetes were no longer satisfied with transmitting information handed down to them by their ancestors, but engaged in original speculation concerning the meaning and significance of Qurʾānic verses. The earliest commentators to do so were Muʿtazilīs, who interpreted the Qurʾān to agree with their school of thought.414 The history of Arabic lexicography paralleled that of tafsīr such that the simple listing of definitions and vocalizations supported by the occasional poetic citation, embodied in al-Khalīl b. Aḥmad’s Kitāb alʿayn,415 later gave way to often creative speculation concerning the etymology of lexical items, exemplified by Ibn Fāris’ Maqāyīs al-lugha416 and others.

414 For a discussion of this point see Goldziher, Ignaz, Die Richtungen der Islamischen Koranauslegung, 99ff.; 121ff. (Ar.). Also see n. 236. 415 Kitāb al-ʿayn was the first Arabic dictionary that attempted to collect all of the words of the language and define them, as opposed to previous lexicographical works which were devoted to some particular topic or some particular type of word. It was also the first to list words by root. See Naṣṣār, Ḥusayn, al-Muʿjam al-

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ISHTIQĀQ The primary tool used by authors of dictionaries and glossaries for such speculation was ishtiqāq, an approach which asserts that words which share three letters in common in the same order are usually derived from each other, or from a common root, which is made up of those three letters. Several books were said to have been written on ishtiqāq, according to Ibn al-Nadīm and al-Suyūṭī. Suyūṭī, in al-Muzhir417 tells us that Quṭrub (d. 206/821),418 al-Aṣmaʿī (d. 216/831),419 Abu-l-Ḥasan al-Akhfash (d. 230/815),420 Abū Naṣr al-Bāhilī,421 al-Mubarrad (d. 286/899),422 al-Mufaḍḍal ibn Salama (d. 290/903),423 Zajjāj (d. 311/923),424 Ibn al-Sarrāj (d. 316/929),425 Ibn Durayd,426 al-Naḥḥās (d. 337/948–9),427 Ibn Khālawayh (d. ʿarabī: nashʾatuhu wa-taṭawwuruhu, 218ff and Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd edition (EI2), ed. H. A. R. Gibb et al., s.v. ‘Khalīl b. Aḥmad.’ 416 Maqāyīs al-lugha represented a new phase in Arabic lexicography, since Ibn Fāris’ goal was not only to gather all of the words of the language, but also to trace all words that share a root to some common, basic meaning. See Naṣṣār, Muʿjam, 435ff and EI2, s.v. ‘Ibn Fāris.’ 417 al-Suyūṭī, Jalāl al-Dīn, al-Muzhir fī ʿulūm al-lugha wa anwāʿihā, 1:351. 418 Abū ʿAlī Muḥammad b. al-Mustanīr. Baṣran grammarian and enthusiastic student of Sībawayh, and author of a Kitāb al-aḍdād. EI2, s.v. ‘K.uṭrub’; Ibn Nadīm, Fihrist, 83. 419 ʿAbd al-Malik b. Qurayb. Early philologist and glossarist from Baṣra. Author of Kitāb al-khayl, al-Mudhakkar wa-l-muʾannath and Ma-khtalafat alfāz.uhu wattafaqat maʿānīhi. Yaʿqūb, Imīl Badīʿ, al-Muʿjam al-mufaṣṣal fi-l-lughawiyyīn al-ʿarab, 1:408; Ibn Nadīm, Fihrist, 87. 420 Saʿīd b. Masʿada, al-Akhfash al-Awsaṭ. Student of Sībawayh and transmitter of his Kitāb. Yaʿqūbʿ, Lughawiyyīn, 267–8; Ibn Nadīm, Fihrist, 82. 421 Author of a Kitāb al-maʿānī. See Ibn Khallikān, Aḥmad b. Muḥammad, Wafayāt al-aʿyān, 4:449. 422 Muḥammad b. Yazīd al-Azdī. Influental Baṣran grammarian and author of Kitāb al-kāmil fi-l-adab. See EI2, s.v. ‘Mubarrad’; Ibn Nadīm, Fihrist, 93. 423 al-Mufaḍḍal b. Salama b. ʿĀṣim. Kūfan grammarian and author of the Fākhir, edited by Storey and published in Cairo, 1402/1982. See Yaʿqūbʿ, Lughawiyyīn, 2:284; Ibn Nadīm, Fihrist, 116. 424 Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm b. al-Sarrī b. Sahl, a Baṣran grammarian and student of Mubarrad’s, and author of Maʿānī al-Qurʾān and Sharḥ abyāt Sībawayh. For sources see Yaʿqūb, Lughawiyyīn, 1:12; Ibn Nadīm, Fihrist, 96. 425 Muḥammad b. al-Sarrī b. Sahl. A music scholar and grammarian, and student of Mubarrad’s. Author of al-Uṣūl. See Yaʿqūb, al-Lughawiyyīn, 2:126; Ibn Nadīm, Fihrist, 98.

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370/980),428 and al-Rummānī (d. 384/994),429 all wrote monographs on ishtiqāq. Ibn Nadīm lists ishtiqāq works among the works authored by most of these, and also among those authored by Aḥmad b. Ḥātim, who wrote Kitāb ishtiqāq al-asmāʾ.430 Of all these ishtiqāq works, only Ibn Durayd’s survives.431 Nonetheless, fragments of the contents of these ishtiqāq works have been preserved by other writers, and from these a picture of the theory of ishtiqāq is discernible. Zajjāj, Suyūṭī tells us, describes in his book the fundamental principles behind ishtiqāq: For any pair of words that have a few letters in common, it can be asserted that one was derived from the other, even though one of the words might have fewer letters than the other. Thus, raḥl (saddle) is derived from the word raḥīl (travel), thawr (bull) is so-called because it plows (yuthīr) the earth, and a garment is called thawb because it returns (thāb) to being a garment after having been yarn.432 Also from his book, al-Ishtiqāq, comes the example of the root sh-j-r. All words with this root in common have something to do with “branching out.” For example, shajara means “to pierce or stab with a spear,” such that the spear resembles the branch of a tree (when protruding from its victim). Shajr means “palate of the mouth” because it is connected to the throat, that is, it branches out from it. Tashājara, of a group of people, means “to quarrel, dispute,” that is, they all differ (in their opinions) just as the branches of a tree differ.433 Similarly, the word wabīl in Qurʾān 73:16 means “rough, heavy,” and it is from this root meaning that we get the word wābil, of rain, “torrential, heavy.”434 426 Abū Bakr Muḥammad b. al-Ḥasan al-Azdī. Lexicographer most famous for his Jamharat al-lugha. EI2, s.v. ‘Ibn Durayd.’ 427 Aḥmad b. Muḥammad b. Ismāʿīl al-Naḥḥās. A grammarian and philologist, student of Mubarrad and Zajjāj, and author of numerous treatises. Yāqūt alḤamawī al-Rūmī, Muʿjam al-udabāʾ, #160, 1:617–621. 428 Ḥusayn b. Aḥmad. Grammarian and lexicographer, and student of Ibn Durayd and Sīrāfī. His thought combined elements of the Baṣran and Kūfan schools. Author of Kitāb laysa and Kitāb iʿrāb thalāthīn sūra min al-Qurʾān al-karīm. See EI2, s.v. ‘Ibn Khālawayh’; Ibn Nadīm, Fihrist, 134. 429 Abu-l-Ḥasan ʿAlī b. ʿĪsā b. ʿAlī b. ʿAbd Allāh. Baṣran grammarian and student of Ibn Sarrāj. See EI2, s.v. ‘Rummānī’; Ibn Nadīm, Fihrist, 101. 430 Ibn Nadīm, Fihrist, 88. 431 al-Ishtiqāq, edited and published by ʿAbd al-Salām Hārūn in 1378/1958. 432 al-Suyūṭī, Jalāl al-Dīn, al-Muzhir fī ʿulūm al-lugha wa anwāʿihā, 1:354. 433 Ibid., 1:351–2. 434 Yāqūt al-Ḥamawī al-Rūmī, Muʿjam al-buldān, 5:393.

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Ibn Durayd was also concerned with ishtiqāq and wrote a book on it.435 Suyūṭī relates, for example, that he quotes Abū ʿUthmān quoting alAkhfash saying that the word dukkān “a flat surface for sitting” is from the word dakdak, “land which has both rough and flat parts to it.” And from this we also get the word dakkāʾ, “a female camel with a flat hump.”436 Often he was not given the correct etymology of words from those he asked, but insisted and continued to ask scholars until he was given an appropriate ishtiqāq. For example, he went to Abū Ḥātim (al-Sijistānī) and Rayyāshī to ask about the origin of the word thādiq, the name of the horse of Munqidh ibn Ṭarīf.437 Both derided him for bothering them with the question, so he continued to ask others until Abū ʿUthmān al-Ashnāndānī gave him the answer he was seeking: that the word is derived from thadaqa, of rain, “to fall heavily.”438 Ibn Durayd, according to this depiction, believed strongly in ishtiqāq, yet he was not as dogmatic about ishtiqāq as some, allowing that some words, such as iqlīm (clime, region) and Ḥimṣ (a city in Syria), could be of foreign origin.439 Ibn Fāris, too, in his Ṣāḥibī, asserts that words are derived from common roots, giving as an example words derived from the root (j-n-n), all of which invariably have some connection to the idea of “covering, concealing.” A janīn (fetus) is so-called because it is concealed in the belly of its mother, and junna means “shield.”440 Ibn Fāris puts theory into practice in his Maqāyīs al-lugha, in which most groups of words which share an apparent root are traced back to some shared semantic feature. For most such groups, even those which have no apparent semantic overlap, he shows how that shared root has one encompassing meaning which includes all the words derived from it. The root meaning of the root j-y-sh, for example, is “agitation, boiling.” Hence the verb jāsha, of a pot, “to boil.” Similarly, the word jaysh, “army,” is derived from the fact that an army is a group of agitated people.441

See n. 431 above. Also mentioned by Ibn Nadīm. See Fihrist, 97. Suyūṭī, Muzhir, 1:353. 437 Ibid.; Fayrūzābādī, Muḥammad ibn Yaʿqūb, al-Qāmūs al-muḥīt, ‘th-d-q,’ 1125. 438 Suyūṭī, Muzhir, 1:353. 439 Ibn Durayd, Abū Bakr Muḥammad ibn al-Ḥasan, Jamharat al-lugha, 1193 and 543. 440 Ibn Fāris, Aḥmad, al-Ṣāḥibī, 35; Suyūṭī, Muzhir, 1:345. 441 Ibn Fāris, Aḥmad, Muʿjam maqāyīs al-lugha, ‘j-y-sh,’ 1:255. 435 436

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In summary, lexicographers who practice ishtiqāq speculate about the etymology of words, tracing the origin of a word to a commonplace Arabic noun or verb, and speculate about the general meaning of roots. Ishtiqāq refers to a historical process, not a creative one. Ibn Fāris warns us that though it can be used to explain the origin of words, we cannot use the technique to derive new words that have not been attested in the language previously. All Arabic roots and words to be derived from them have already been created by the ancient Arabs.442 That is, ishtiqāq was used by the ancient Arabs to create words, and it is used by Ibn Fāris’ generation to explain them. But it is not permissible for the later Arabs, that is, those in Ibn Fāris’ generation, to create previously non-existent new words from Arabic roots as the ancients had done. Many of those who were fervent adherents of ishtiqāq methodology also were of the belief, described in chapter 3, that the Qurʾān did not contain non-Arabic words, and believed in the superiority of the Arabic language over all other languages. Ibn Fāris, for example, praises Arabic as superior to all other languages because of its richness of vocabulary, rich rhetorical devices and untranslatability,443 and he strongly criticizes Abū ʿUbayd for his moderate view that certain words were Arabized from other languages and thus became Arabic.444 Thus, words which are borrowed and Arabized (muʿarrab) according to Jawālīqī are, according to Ibn Fāris, derived from other common Arabic words. The word ibrīq (pitcher), according to Jawālīqī, is an Arabized Persian word,445 but for Ibn Fāris it is derived from the Arabic word bariqa, which is said of a container when the solid grease inside it melts.446

ISHTIQĀQ AND PROPER NOUNS For the adherents of ishtiqāq, proper nouns were also subject to ishtiqāq. According to Ibn Diḥya in Sharḥ al-taḥṣīl and in al-Irtishāf, most proper nouns are derived from another Arabic word, whereas most common nouns are not.447 Mubarrad, also, in his Muqtaḍab, said that among the types of nouns (ism) are those that are not derived from another word, such as Ibn Fāris, Ṣāḥibī, 36; Suyūṭī, Muzhir, 1:346. Ibn Fāris, Ṣāḥibī, 19–22. 444 Ibid., 32–33. See p. 38 for more on Ibn Fāris’ views. 445 al-Jawālīqī, Abū Manṣūr, al-Muʿarrab, 71. 446 Ibn Fāris, Maqāyīs, 1:119. 447 Suyūtī, Muzhir, 1:350. 442 443

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ḥajar (stone) and jabal (mountain), and those which are, such as adjectives (naʿt). For example, a person who is ṭawīl (tall) is one who performs the verb ṭāla (to be tall). Some common nouns and proper nouns are also in this latter category. Muḍar, for example, is derived from the verb (maḍara), of milk, “to go sour.”448 Ibn al-Sarrāj, however, in his book on ishtiqāq, warned against giving Arabic etymologies for non-Arabic words, saying that to do so would be like calling a bird the offspring of a fish.449 Despite his warning, the proponents of ishtiqāq consider most Arabic place names to be derived from common Arabic nouns or verbs. In general, they rejected the proposition that Arabic contained words borrowed from other languages, and sought an etymology for as many proper nouns as possible in which the word in question is derived from some other Arabic word. Ibn Durayd, for example, in al-Ishtiqāq, shows how the names of Arab tribes and some of their prominent members are all derived from common Arabic words. Quṣayy, for example, was so called because he went away from (qaṣā ʿan) his people and lived with his brother in the tribe of Banū ʿUdhra.450 Khazraj means “a blowing wind,”451 and the name of Banū Kilāb comes from the verbal noun of the verb kālaba452 “to anger or annoy, to show belligerence toward.”453 Al-Zajjāj also gave etymologies for place names in which the names were derived from everyday nouns and verbs. Though his book on ishtiqāq is lost, many of his etymologies of proper nouns are preserved for us by Yāqūt in Muʿjam al-buldān. The region Tihāma,454 he says, is also called Ghawr because the word ghawr refers to something low, depressed, or the bottom of something.455 And Bayt al-Maqdis, “Jerusalem” is derived from the verb qaddasa, to “purify.”456 Abū Bakr Ibn al-Anbarī (d. 328/940), author of al-Zāhir fī maʿānī kalimāt al-nās and Rāzī both applied ishtiqāq with regard to the etymology of al-Mubarrad, Muḥammad b. Yazīd, al-Muqtaḍab, 3:185. Jawālīqī, Muʿarrab, 52 and Suyūṭī, Muzhir, 1:351. 450 Ibn Durayd, Ishtiqāq, 19. 451 Ibid, 437. 452 Ibid, 20. 453 Fayrūzābādī, al-Qāmūs al-muḥīṭ, ‘k-l-b,’ 169; Riḍā, Aḥmad, Muʿjam matn allugha, ‘k-l-b,’ 5:89. 454 Tihāma is the coastal area along the Red Sea in the Arabian Peninsula from ʿAqaba to Bāb al-Mandab in the south. See EI2, ‘Tihāma.’ 455 Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-buldān, 4:245. 456 Ibid., 5:193. 448 449

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place names. Both give a fanciful set of etymologies for a number of cities and regions. An examination of some of their speculations reveals that the two transmitted these etymologies from a third, now unknown source. The ideas found in this source, though adopted by Rāzī and Ibn al-Anbārī, do not appear to have been used by any other later well-known lexicographer or compiler of glossaries, possibly due to their fanciful nature.They include: 1. Miṣr (which as a proper noun means “Egypt,” and as a common noun means “inhabited province, city”). Rāzī gives three possibilities for the origin of miṣr. The first is that a) it is derived from the noun miṣr, which means a barrier between two things. A province is called a miṣr since the boundaries between one province and another are well-defined.457 This origin of miṣr is well-attested in later mainstream lexicographical and other types of works, such as Ibn Fāris’ Maqāyīs al-lugha.458 The second theory offered is much more unusual. It states that b) the word is derived from maṣūr, which means, of a milking animal, “having little milk left to milk,” such that the milk comes out in a slow trickle. The word miṣr for “populated province” is derived from this since people trickle in and trickle out of a province, one by one (fa-kaʾanna maʿna-l-miṣr min dhālik ay yasīr ilayhi al-nās wa-yatawallawna awwalan fa-awwalan).459 The third possibility, says Rāzī, related to the second, is c) that miṣr is derived from the verb maṣara, “to put one’s fingers together to squeeze the udder of an animal to milk it” (wa-l-miṣr ḍamm al-iṣbaʿayn bi-l-nāqa wa-l-shāh idhā ḥulibat). The noun miṣr “province” is derived from the fact that people come together therein, just as fingers come together in the milking of an animal (wa-yakūn min inḍimām al-nās baʿḍuhum ilā baʿḍ).460 Ibn al-Anbārī combines etymologies b) and c), saying that maṣara is “to squeeze the udders of an animal to milk it and receive only a trickle of milk.” Miṣr, he says, is derived from the fact that people trickle in and out of a province. He attributes this etymology to Quṭrub, which attribution Rāzī does not include.461 These last two etymologies, b) and c), are true rarities, for they are not attested by any of the well-known lexicographers, such as al-Jawharī or Fayrūzābādī.

Rāzī, Zīnā, 119v. Ibn Fāris, Maqāyīs, 2:513. 459 Rāzī, Zīnā, 119v. 460 Ibid., 119v and 120r. 461 Ibn al-Anbārī, Abū Bakr, al-Zāhir fī maʿānī kalimāt al-nās, 2:105. 457 458

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2. Baṣra462 Rāzī’s and Ibn al-Anbārī’s discussion of Baṣra is not unusual, for they, like many others, say that baṣra means “rough ground” or something of the like.463 Both, however, use approximately the same wording, saying that baṣra is rough ground, and arḍ baṣra is that which has white rock that cuts into the hooves of animals (who walk over it). Baṣra can also refer to ground which has qaṣṣa in it, and qaṣṣa means “plaster, gypsum” (wa-l-baṣra hiya-l-arḍ al-baṣira wa-hiya-l-arḍ al-ghalīz.a wa-arḍ baṣra dhāt ḥijāra bīḍ taqṭaʿ ḥawāfir al-dawābb).464 Each includes small pieces of information from their source that the other omits. Ibn al-Anbārī attributes these definitions of baṣra, like those for miṣr, to Quṭrub, where Rāzī, again, omits Quṭrub’s name. He also adds another definition that Rāzī does not include: baṣra also means “loose stones.”465 Rāzī adds that baṣr is one stone of the white stones that make up baṣra. He also suggests another etymology for baṣra, one not given by Ibn al-Anbārī, that it is derived from the verb baṣara yabṣuru, “to see.”466 These discussions of baṣra are not unique in Arabic lexicography, and are found in numerous other lexicographical works, both previous and subsequent.467 Unique to Rāzī and Ibn al-Anbārī, however, is that they adduce a line of poetry by the poet Ṭirimmāḥ (d. cir. 105/723): muʾallilatun tahwī jamīʿan kamā hawā mina-l-nabaqi fihr al-baṣrati-lmutaṭakhṭakhī.468 This line is not cited by any later lexicographers except by those who transmit from Ibn al-Anbārī. Specifically, Yāqūt in Muʿjam albuldān reproduces Ibn al-Anbārī’s discussion of baṣra and attributes it to him, then includes the line of poetry.469 Ṣāghānī (d. 650/1252), in his ʿUbāb al-zākhir also reproduces the same information, again attributes it to Ibn alAnbārī and adduces the Ṭirimmāḥ verse.470 Since Ṣāghānī’s information

See EI2, s.v. ‘Baṣra.’ See al-Khalīl b. Aḥmad al-Farāhīdī, Kitāb al-ʿayn, 7:118–9; Ibn Durayd, Jamhara 312; Ibn Fāris, Maqāyīs, 1:133. 464 Rāzī, Zīna, 121r; Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir, 2:106. 465 Ibn al-Anbarī, Zāhir, 2:107. Also in al-Bakrī, Abū ʿUbayd ʿAbd Allāh ibn ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz, Muʿjam ma-staʿjam min asmāʾ al-bilād wa-l-mawāḍiʿ, 1:234. 466 Rāzī, Zīna, 121r. 467 See n. 463. 468 Rāzī, Zīna, 121r; Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir, 2:107; al-Ṭirimmāḥ ibn Ḥakīm, Dīwān, 127. 469 Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-buldān, 1:510. 470 al-Ṣāghānī (a.k.a. Ṣaghāni), Abu-l-Faḍl Ḥasan ibn Muḥammad, al-ʿUbāb alzākhir wa-l-lubāb al-fākhir, 3:145. 462 463

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duplicates Yāqūt’s exactly, it is more likely that he gleaned it from Yāqūt directly and not from reading Ibn al-Anbārī. 3. Yamāma471 Both glossarists have three explanations for the etymology of yamāma.472 The first is that it is a) derived from the name of the bird yamāma, which is a type of pigeon. Rāzī adduces a line of poetry by Faḍl ibn ʿAbbās that Ibn al-Anbārī omits. The second is b) that it is from the word amām, “in front,” and the hamza is converted to a yāʾ, and a tāʾ marbūṭa is added. Both explain that a tāʾ marbūṭa can sometimes be added to a word without the meaning changing, and adduce a line of poetry without attribution for support, though Rāzī cites several examples not given by Ibn al-Anbārī. The third explanation for the etymology of yamāma is that it is c) derived from the verb yammama, “to go toward something.” Ibn al-Anbārī elaborates at greater length on this verb than Rāzī, giving its variations (amma and tayammama), and citing Qurʾān 5:2 and two unattributed lines of poetry. 4. Ḥijāz473 Ibn al-Anbārī and Rāzī each give two unusual etymologies for ḥijāz.474 The first is that it comes from the name of the rope (ḥijāz) with which one ties down a camel (ḥajaza). The second is that the region Ḥijāz is so-called because it has mountains wrapped, or tied around it (iḥtajaza bi-ljibāl), taken from the word iḥtajaza, which means, of a woman, “to tie her garment around herself.” Ibn al-Anbārī says that both originate with Quṭrub.475 These etymologies are truly unique, for they were never adopted by later lexicographers, such as Ṣāḥib Ibn ʿAbbād, author of al-Muḥīṭ fi-llugha, Jawharī, author of al-Ṣiḥāḥ, al-Azharī, author of Tahdhīb al-lugha, Ibn Fāris, author of Maqāyīs al-lugha, Ibn Sīdah, author of al-Muḥkam fi-l-lugha, Ibn Manz.ūr, author of Lisān al-ʿArab, Fayrūzābādī, author of al-Qāmūs almuḥīt, and Zabīdī, author of Tāj al-ʿarūs. Though many acknowledged that ḥijāz is the rope with which a camel is tied up,476 none recognized this A region in the eastern part of the Arabian Peninsula and the home of Musaylima, the false prophet. See EI2, s.v. ‘yamāma’; Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-buldān, s.v. ‘yamāma,’ 5:505–510. 472 Rāzī, Zīna, 121v; Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir, 2:108. 473 The north-west part of the Arabian Peninsula, where Mecca is located. See 2 EI , s.v. ‘Ḥidjāz.’ 474 Rāzī, Zīna, 122r; Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir, 2:109. 475 Ibn al-Anbārī, Abū Bakr, Sharḥ al-qaṣāʾid al-sabʿ al-ṭiwāl al-jāhiliyyāt, 534. 476 See for example Ibn Durayd, Jamhara, 437; al-Jawharī, Abū Naṣr Ismāʿīl, alṢiḥāḥ: tāj al-lugha wa ṣiḥāḥ al-ʿArabiyya, 3:16; al-Azharī, Abū Manṣūr Muḥammad ibn Aḥmad, Tahdhīb al-lugha, 4:123 471

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meaning as being the origin of the proper noun Ḥijāz. Many seemed to prefer the explanation that it is derived from the meaning ḥijāz “barrier,” since the Ḥijāz serves as a barrier between Najd and Ghawr.477 5. Baḥrān/Baḥrayn478 Both Rāzī and Ibn al-Anbārī are, again, in agreement that there are two etymologies for baḥrayn.479 The first is that it is a) derived from baḥara or baḥḥara “to make a cut in the ear of a sheep.” Ibn al-Anbārī gives much more detail concerning this definition, citing a Qurʾānic verse which contains the word baḥīra “an animal with a split ear” (5:103), and explaining some of the lexical items found therein (sāʾiba, waṣīla, ḥāmī).480 The second is that b) it comes from the verb baḥira, of a camel, to drink water voraciously then get sick as a result (baḥara al-baʿīr yabḥar baḥran idhā awlaʿa bi-l-māʾ fa-aṣābahu minhu dāʾ). Neither is given by other writers as an etymology for Baḥrayn, but a) is known by other later compilers of lexicons.481 Some variations of b) are occasionally found in other dictionaries,482 though Ibn Manz.ūr says that the correct word for the illness in which a camel is unquenchably thirsty is najar or bajar, and not baḥar.483 Rāzī and Ibn al-Anbārī, however, word their definitions in exactly the same way. Cf. Ibn Durayd, Jamhara, 437; Jawharī, Ṣiḥāḥ, 3:16; Azharī, Tahdhīb, 4:122. Today this refers to the island in the Persian Gulf, but in Rāzī’s time it referred to the entire coastal region along the east side of the Arabian Peninsula. See Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-buldān, s.v. ‘Baḥrayn,’ 1:411–15, esp. 412. 479 Rāzī, Zīna, 122r; Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir, 110–11. 480 According to the commentators, these are animals which played a role in various customs of the pre-Islamic Arabs. The sāʾiba is a female camel allowed by its owner to roam free as a customary celebration of returning from travel or of healing from illness. It may not be used for meat or riding. The waṣīla is a female sheep born in the same litter as male sheep, which results in the male not being sacrificed to the gods as would be customary if the male were born alone. The ḥāmī is, depending on the account, a male camel which has sired ten offspring, or one who impregnates the offspring of his own offspring. He is customarily allowed to roam free and not used for riding or carrying. See Tanwīr al-miqbās min tafsīr Ibn ʿAbbās on 5:103, 134 and al-Ṭabarsī, Abū ʿAlī al-Faḍl b. al-Ḥasan, Majmaʿ al-bayān fī tafsīr al-Qurʾān, on the same verse, 3:330–1. 481 See for example Ibn Fāris, Maqāyīs, 1:108; Azharī, Tahdhīb, 5:37; Khalīl, ʿAyn, 3:220; al-Zabīdī, Abu-l-Fayḍ Muḥammad Murtaḍā, Tāj al-ʿarūs min jawāhir alQāmūs, 3:28; Ibn Sīdah, ʿAlī ibn Ismāʿīl, al-Muḥkam wa-l-muḥīṭ al-aʿz.am, 3:321. 482 Ibn Fāris, Maqāyīs, 1:108; al-Munjid fi-l-lugha, b-ḥ-r; Ibn Manzūr, Jamāl al-Dīn . Muḥammad, Lisān al-ʿArab, b-ḥ-r, 4:43. 483 Ibn Manzūr, Lisān, b-ḥ-r, 4:45. . 477 478

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6. Shaʾm484 Ibn al-Anbārī and Rāzī give two similar explanations for the origin of shaʾm.485 The first is that it is a) derived from shuʾmā, “left hand” (wa-amma-l-shām fa-yakūn mina-l-yad al-shuʾmā wa-hiya-l-yusrā). Thus, Rāzī adds, shaʾama means “to depart away from an area going to the left (i.e. to their north)” (wa-shaʾamta-l-qawm dhahabta ʿan shimālihim). Ibn al-Anbārī, but not Rāzī, supports this definition with a poetic citation. The second is that it is b) from shuʾm, the verbal noun of shaʾama (wa-yakūn ayḍan min shaʿamta-l-qawm). As Rāzī points out, these two etymlogies are in fact one and the same. They both say that shaʾm is so called because it is to the left of the qibla.486 Though many other lexicographers have given the same ishtiqāq for shaʾm,487 only Rāzī and Ibn al-Anbārī divide it into two separate etymologies, saying that the word is derived either from “left hand” or from the verbal noun shuʾm. 7. Ḥims means, of swelling, “to subside.” This definition is given in numerous dictionaries,488 but for Rāzī and Ibn al-Anbārī, this word is also the origin of the name of the Syrian city Ḥimṣ.489 8. ʿIrāq Three ishtiqāqs are given for ʿirāq.490 a) It is taken from the ʿirāq of a water bag, which is the threading found at the bottom of it. ʿIraq is so called because it is at the bottom of Najd. Though many later dictionaries included this definition for ʿirāq,491 none except Bakrī’s Muʿjam mastaʿjam relate the threading to the proper noun ʿIrāq, and then Bakrī relates the two in different ways than Rāzī and Ibn al-Anbārī, saying that it comes from the fact that ʿIrāq is in the middle between the countryside and the desert, just as that threading is in the middle of the water bag.492 b) It is derived from ʿirāq, the plural of ʿaraqa, “a flock of birds.” Again, Ibn al484

‘Shām.’

Greater Syria, today’s Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, Palestine. See EI2, s.v.

Rāzī, Zīna, 122r; Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir, 2:109. i.e., Mecca, or, more specifically, the direction a worshipper must face when performing prayer. EI2, s.v. ‘k.ibla.’ 487 Khalīl, ʿAyn, 7:295; Ibn Fāris, 1:637; Fayrūzābādī, al-Qāmūs al-muḥīt, sh-ʾ-m, 1453; Ibn Manz.ūr, Lisān, sh-ʾ-m, 12:315, Zabīdī, Tāj, 8:353, Bakrī, Muʿjam mastaʿjamʿ, 3:57. 488 Ibn Fāris, Maqāyīs, 1:319; Ibn Durayd, Jamhara, 78; al-Khalīl, ʿAyn, 3:127. 489 Rāzī, Zīna, 122v; Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir, 2:112. 490 Rāzī, Zīna, 121v-122r; Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir, 2:105–106. 491 Khalīl, ʿAyn, 1:153; Ibn Durayd, Jamhara, 769; Ibn Fāris, Maqāyīs, 2:250; Zabīdī, Tāj, 7:9. 492 Bakrī, Muʿjam ma-staʿjam, 3:193. 485 486

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Anbārī and Rāzī stood alone in relating this definition to the proper noun. c) It comes from the word ʿirāq, plural of ʿirq, “area close to the sea with swamps and trees” (wa-innamā hiya mawāḍiʿ summiyat ʿirāqan li-qurbihā mina-lbaḥr wa-fīhā sibākh wa-shajar).493 Among glossarists and lexicographers, Rāzī and Ibn al-Anbārī are the only two who use precisely this wording, though others give a similar definition.494 Besides these, Rāzī adds the possibility that the word is non-Arabic, Arabized from īrān shahr.495 Ibn al-Anbārī and Rāzī’s etymologies of these place names correspond closely, yet each gives additional details, citations and attributions that the other does not. Neither reveals what his source is for the information, but frequently Ibn al-Anbarī begins his entry with phrases that suggest that he is transmitting the theories of a predecessor (yuqāl, qīla, fīhi qawlān, fīhā thalāthatu aqwāl). Yet it is not possible that Rāzī is his source, since he includes much information that is absent from al-Zīna. Therefore, both seem to be drawing from some third source, apparently authored by Quṭrub. In addition to these, Rāzī gives unusual etymologies for two other geographical terms that are clearly of his own invention: 9. iqlīm (region) and jazīra (island) These two words are, according to Rāzī, derived from analogy to the game of maysir,496 in which seven arrows are drawn to decide which participant receives how many portions of a slaughtered animal. The arrows drawn can be called qidḥ/qidāḥ or sahm/sihām (arrow), and sometimes qalam/aqlām (pen), since all three items have the same long, narrow shape. The frequent interchangability of the three words is evidenced by Qurʾān 3:44 idh yulqūna aqlāmahum ayyuhum yakfulu maryama, where aqlām means sihām. In the game of maysir, there are seven arrows drawn which have shares attached to them,497 just as the world is divided into seven aqālīm recognized by classical geographers.498 So iqlīm is derived from the word qalam on this basis.499 Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir, 2:106; Rāzī, Zīna, 121v-122r. Many say that ʿirāq means the coastal area. Cf. Khalīl, ʿAyn, 1:154; Ibn Fāris, Maqāyīs, 2:250, Zabīdī, Tāj, 7:9; Bakrī, Muʿjam ma-staʿjam, 3:193. 495 Ibn Durayd, Jamhara, 769; Jawālīqī, Muʿarrab, 279. 496 See n. 255. 497 There are ten altogether, but three have no shares attached, so that the person who draws them wins nothing. The other seven each have one share, two shares, three shares, and so on up to seven shares. See Ibn Qutayba, Abū Muḥammad b. Muslim al-Dīnawarī, al-Maysir wa-l-qidāḥ, 46. 498 See EI2, s.v. ‘iklīm.’ . 499 Rāzī, Zīna, 118v. 493 494

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Jazīra is also derived from terms having to do with maysir. The slaughtered and butchered animal used is known as jazūr, from the word jazara “to cut.” The jazūr is divided up into twelve parts altogether,500 and so from this root is derived jazīra, “island,” not only because a jazīra “island” is cut off from other land kaʾannahā buqʿa qad juzirat ay fuṣilat, but because the world is divided, according to Rāzī’s world view, into twelve jazāʾir, or regions of Ismāʿīlī daʿwa (missionary activity).501 So iqlīm and jazīra are derived from the fact that there are twelve regions of daʿwa (jazāʾir) distributed among seven ‘climes’ (aqālīm), just as there are twelve parts of the slaughtered animal (jazūr) distributed among the seven winning arrows.502 Rāzī did not derive these last two etymologies from the source he shared with Ibn alAnbārī, but created them drawing on his Ismāʿīlī philosophy. This etymology of iqlīm is attributed to Rāzī in later sources that mention it.503

IDENTITY OF RĀZĪ’S AND IBN AL-ANBĀRĪ’S SOURCE Neither Rāzī nor Ibn al-Anbārī mentions what his source is for his etymological material. It may be worthwhile to note, however, that both were trained in the Kūfan school of grammar and both were students of Thaʿlab,504 whom Rāzī quotes frequently.505 It is also noteworthy that in one of Thaʿlab’s few extant works, he uses the same phraseology to define ʿirāq that Ibn al-Anbārī and Rāzī use (wa-huwa mawḍiʿ fīhi sabkha tanbut alshajar wa-yuqāl innamā summiyat al-ʿIrāq li-ʿirāq al-baḥr wa-ahl al-ḥijāz yusammūn mā kāna qarīban min al-baḥr ʿirāqan kamā yusammūn hāhunā al-sayf jamʿahā asyāf 500 According to Rāzī, who says the beast is divided into ithnā ʿashar naṣīban wafaṣlan. It is unclear what the faṣl is, except that perhaps it is the parts given back to the butcher, which Rāzī reckoned as two. It could also be a scribal error for faḍl. See Ibn Qutayba, Maysir, 88–89 and EI2, s.v. ‘maysir.’ Actually, the beast is divided into ten. See EI2, s.v. ‘maysir,’ and Ibn Qutayba, Maysir, 88, who says that the beast is divided into ten parts, but then names eleven. The editor believes this to be a mistake so that al-dhirāʿ juzʾān should be al-dhirāʿān juzʾ, n. 4. 501 Rāzī, Zīna, 118v-119r; Daftary has found that all Ismāʿīlī authors divide the world in this way. Ismāʿīlīs, 228 502 Rāzī, Zīna, 118v-119r. 503 See details below. 504 See EI2, s.v. ‘Anbārī, Abū Bakr’ and ‘Thaʿlab’; Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-udabaʾ, #903, ‘Muḥammad ibn al-Qasim ibn al-Anbārī,’ 5:410. Also Rāzī, Zīna, (ed. Hamdānī, intro), 1:26–7. 505 See chapter 6 for details on Rāzī’s activity as a Kūfan grammarian and student of Thaʿlab.

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wa-huwa mā qaruba mina-l-baḥr).506 The inclusion of the word sabkha (swamp) as part of the definition of ʿirāq is used by Rāzī and Ibn al-Anbārī507 but by none of the later well known lexicographers and glossarists, and that of sayf (sword) by Rāzī alone.508 Also, one of their unique etymologies for Ḥijāz, that it is so-called because it is surrounded by mountains (summiyat al-ḥijāzu ḥijāzan li-ḥtijāzihā bi-ljibāl), was also given by Thaʿlab in his explanation of the poetry of Ibn Dumayna.509 This correspondence between Rāzī and Ibn al-Anbārī on the one hand and Thaʿlab on the other strongly suggests that the Kūfan grammar master was the author of their source.

ADOPTION BY LATER LEXICOGRAPHERS These etmologies offered by Rāzī and Ibn al-Anbārī were, on the whole, not adopted by later writers who attempted to explain the origins of these words. Had it not been for Yāqūt al-Ḥamawī, who read Ibn al-Anbārī’s Zāhir, they would have been completely neglected by all later lexicographers. Yāqūt quotes Ibn al-Anbārī as a source for these ishtiqāqs, and says at one point ‘I found that Ibn al-Anbārī said…’ (thumma wajadtu Ibn al-Anbārī qāl…).510 Here is a summary of how these ishtiqāqs were used by later writers: Miṣr None of the well-known Arabic lexicographers adopted any of Rāzī’s explanations for the origin of miṣr.511 Strangely, however, they did find their way into a Qurʾān commentary. Abū Ḥayyān al-Andalusī (d. 745/1344) wrote in his tafsīr, in reference to Qurʾān 2:61 ihbiṭū miṣran, that miṣr is derived from maṣara, of a sheep, ‘to milk it to the last drop.’512 Yamāma Yāqūt gives all three of Rāzī’s and Ibn al-Anbārī’s explanations for Yamāma, and attributes them to Ibn al-Anbārī. He adds that alZajjājī (d. 339/950) disapproves of the last of the three (that yamāma is derived from amām), since changing a hamza to a yāʾ is not a known process in Arabic.513 Al-Zabīdī, in Tāj al-ʿarūs quotes Ibn al-Anbārī in giving the first Thaʿlab, Abu-l-ʿAbbās Aḥmad b. Yahyā, Majālis Thaʿlab, 488. Rāzī, Zīna, 121v-122r; Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir, 2:105–6. 508 Rāzī, Zīna, 121v-122r 509 Thaʿlab, Abu-l-ʿAbbās Aḥmad b. Yaḥyā, Dīwān Ibn al-Dumayna, 108. 510 Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-buldān, 5:505, ‘yamāma.’ 511 For the list of the best-known lexicographers, see p. 83. 512 Andalusī, al-Baḥr al-muḥīṭ, 1:381. 513 Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-buldān, 5:505. 506 507

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explanation for yamāma, that it means ‘dove.’ He also adds that al-Zajjāji agreed with this definition,514 a conclusion he must have drawn by extrapolation: since Ibn al-Anbārī said that al-Zajjājī disagreed with the third, he implied that he agreed with the other two. Ḥijāz No other later lexicographer from among the authors of the most widely-read dictionaries515 adopted either of Rāzī’s and Ibn al-Anbārī’s explanations of the origins of ḥijāz. Shaʾm Yāqūt gives the two explanations of Shaʾm used by Ibn alAnbārī and Rāzī, and attributes them to Ibn al-Anbārī.516 ʿIrāq The Ibn al-Anbārī/Rāzī etymology for ʿIrāq is used by Yāqūt in Muʿjam al-buldān, but attributed not to Ibn al-Anbārī like that of Yamāma and several others,517 but to al-Zajjājī (d. 339/950).518 On some occasions Yāqūt quotes Zajjājī, who gives the same information as Ibn al-Anbārī. Yāqūt studied some work of Zajjājī’s in addition to having read Ibn al-Anbārī, or read only Zajjājī’s work, and took the Ibn alAnbārī quotes from it. Yāqūt often quotes this work of Zajjājī in which Zajjājī frequently gives corrections to Ibn al-Anbārī, saying that he is mistaken on some point. Besides his disputing Ibn al-Anbārī’s etymology of Yamāma, Zajjājī also said that he must be wrong about the meaning of the name of the Iraqi town Ubulla,519 mentioning Ibn al-Anbārī by name, which shows that Zajjājī was reading al-Zāhir and not Ibn al-Anbārī’s source. Zajjājī also attacked Ibn al-Anbārī by name for saying that nabī means “road.”520 Iqlīm Yāqūt quotes a lengthy passage by the astronomer and mathematician Abū Rayḥān al-Bīrūnī (362/973–440/1048) which contains Rāzī’s etymology of the word iqlīm.521 Bīrūnī was most frequently concerned with questions of geometry, geography and astronomy, but in this passage took Zabīdī, Tāj, 9:114, ‘y-m-m.’ See p. 83 for this list. 516 Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-buldān, 3:354. 517 e.g., Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-buldān, 5:210 ‘Makka,’ 1:510 ‘Baṣra,’ 1:99 ‘Ubulla,’ 4:557 ‘Kūfa,’ 3:354 ‘Shaʾm,’ 4:457 ‘Qinnasrīn.’ 518 Ibid., 4:105 ʿIrāq.’ ʿAbd al-Qāsim ʿAbd al-Raḥmān al-Zajjājī, the author of Kitāb al-jumal, was a grammarian and a Muʿtazilī who attempted to combine the ideas of Kūfan and Baṣran schools of grammar. See EI2, s.v. ‘Zadjdjājī.’ 519 Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-buldān, 1:99 ‘Ubulla.’ 520 Ibid., 5:301; Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir, 2:112. 521 Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-buldān, 1:41–2. 514 515

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on the question of the origin of the word iqlīm. This passage is not found in any of Bīrūnī’s extant works, although some of the arguments found in it are mentioned in passing in his al-Qānūn al-masʿūdī.522 Yāqūt, however, had access to an autograph copy of Birūnī’s Kitāb taqāsīm al-aqālīm,523 a 20-sheet treatise Bīrūnī lists among his own writings.524 In this work the etymology of iqlīm may possibly have been discussed and Rāzī quoted. Other than these instances, Rāzī’s and Ibn al-Anbārī’s etymologies for geographical names did not survive in Arabic lexicography. They may have been deemed too fanciful by later writers, who were not so bent on discovering an Arabic root for every conceivable word. Rāzī’s idea about the word iqlīm survived to modern times when a 20th century lexicographer, Aḥmad Riḍā, (d. 1953) author of Matn al-lugha says that the word is Greek, but that some say it is Arabic from the verb qalama, “to cut.” He attributes the idea to Abū Ḥātim al-Rāzī by name.525 This, then, is Razi’s one enduring contribution to the world of Arabic lexicography: his speculative etymology of the word iqlīm.

Bīrūnī, al-Qānūn al-masʿūdī, 540, where he mentions only that iqlīm means “area” (nāḥiya) or “rural area” (rustāq) in the language of the Jarāmiqa, a non-Arab people living in Mosul. The relevant passage from Qānūn is reproduced in al-Bīrūnī, Abū Rayḥān Muḥammad b. Aḥmad, Ṣifat al-maʿmūra ʿala-l-arḍ, p. 5. This discussion is developed in much greater detail in Muʿjam al-buldān, where Yāqūt quotes Ḥamza b. al-Ḥasan al-Iṣfahānī as having given these interpretations of iqlīm. In this passage he also quotes Abu-l-Faḍl al-Harawī and Rāzī. 523 Yāqūt, Muʿjam al-udabāʾ, 5:123. He also had access to several other of Bīrūnī’s works. For a discussion of Yāqūt’s use of material from Bīrūnī’s works, see Wiedemann, Eilhard, Aufsätze zur arabischen Wissenschafts-Geschichte, 1:776. 524 al-Bīrūnī, Abū Rayḥān Muḥammad b. Aḥmad, Risāla li-l-Bīrūnī fī fihrist kutub Muḥammad ibn Zakariyyāʾ ar-Rāzī, 33, where he states that among his numerous writings is a book about the diasgreements that exist concerning the division of the earth into aqālīm (Kitāb fi-l-ikhtilāf al-wāqiʿ fī taqāsīm al-aqālīm). 525 Riḍā, Matn al-lugha, 1:190 ‘iqlīm.’ 522

6 RĀZĪ THE GRAMMARIAN The following chapter will examine Rāzī’s thinking as a grammarian. Although he was not primarily concerned with grammar, he studied under the Kūfan grammarian Thaʿlab (d. 291/904), as evidenced by his statement that he himself heard Thaʿlab expound upon a point (samiʿtu Thaʿlaban yaqūl).526 Therefore, it will be interesting to ascertain if any conclusions can be drawn concerning his place in the history of Arabic grammatical thought, and if Kitāb al-zīna might provide any insight into the development of the Arabic linguistic tradition. Rāzī was a member of the grammatical school known as the Kūfan, as it existed in his era. The works of two of his contemporaries and compatriots in that school, Thaʿlab (his teacher) and Abu Bakr Ibn al-Anbārī, reveal that his thinking was consistent with theirs. This school had a number of characteristics which separated it from the Baṣran school, as well as from an earlier incarnation of the Kūfan school, namely, that represented by alFarrāʾ (d.207/822). Also, a passage in Kitāb al-zīna sheds some light on the nature of Kūfan technical vocabulary of his era as contrasted with that of al-Farrāʾ.

CONCERNING TERMINOLOGY In this chapter, many Arabic grammatical terms will be left untranslated. Since terms and categories as used today are very specifically defined and agreed upon by Arabic grammarians, there is no better word to describe the concept of tamyīz as understood today than tamyīz, and the same is true for badal. There is no reason to translate these terms into English. Thus, one might talk about Farrāʾ’s understanding of the tamyīz concept, even though he himself never referred to it as tamyīz.

Noted by Hamdānī. See Rāzī, Abū Ḥātim Aḥmad b. Ḥamdān, Kitāb al-zīna fi-l-kalimāt al-islāmiyya al-ʿarabiyya, ed. Hamdānī, intro., 1:26–7. 526

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THE HISTORY OF ARABIC GRAMMAR The story of the two Arabic schools of grammar as depicted in Arabic sources, and described by Shawqī Ḍayf in his al-Madāris al-naḥwiyya and other works suggests that early grammarians of Baṣra would set the foundation for the Baṣran school of grammar. Ibn Abī Isḥāq (d. 117/735), ʿĪsa ibn ʿUmar al-Thaqafī (d. 149/766) and Yūnus ibn Ḥabīb (d. 182/798) were early Baṣran linguists who thought about language and grammar rules.527 Khalīl b. Aḥmad, who analyzed poetry and phonetics and invented the symbols used for short vowels, also laid down the first systematic set of grammatical rules.528 His student, ʿAmr b. ʿUthmān (d. 180/796), known as Sībawayh, wrote the first comprehensive book of Arabic grammar, upon which all later grammatical work was only a commentary.529 This grammatical work laid the foundation for the Baṣran school of grammar. But while the Baṣrans were busy with grammar, the Kūfans were occupied with Qurʾān reading and jurisprudence.530 The roots of the Kūfan school of grammar were laid down when Akhfash al-Awsaṭ (d. 211/826), a student of Sībawayh, disagreed with the master on a number of points.531 A full-fledged school was founded by al-Kisāʾī (d. 189/805) and al-Farrāʾ, and most of the views of the Kūfan school can be traced to the latter.532 It was thus the Baṣrans who began the study of grammar, and the Kūfan school grew out of differences with them. The two schools had much in common in their conceptions of grammar, but were nonetheless two distinct schools with two distinct approaches.533 Recent investigations by some western scholars have shown that the history of Arabic grammar may not be so simple, however. Jonathan Owens, in Early Arabic Grammatical Theory: Heterogeneity and Standardization shows how in many cases Sībawayh and Farrāʾ had more in common with each other than with their respective successors.534 Both of them used a Ḍayf, Shawqī, al-Madāris al-naḥwiyya, 23–7; 28–9. Ibid., 30–38. 529 Ibid., 57–63. 530 Ibid.,153–4. 531 Ibid., 94–100. 532 Ibid., 158. 533 Ibid., 158–9. 534 Owens, Jonathan, Early Arabic Grammatical Theory: Heterogeneity and Standardization, 103–126. 527 528

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system of terminology that was characterized by a lack of precision, while their successors, both Baṣran and Kūfan, were more precise in their use of terms.535 In some cases, Farrāʾ’s thinking represents a transitional stage between the thinking of Sībawayh and the thinking of later grammarians, as is the case with the concept of tābiʿ. Farrāʾ was the first to use the term to refer generally to case agreement between successive words, and it later became standardized to refer to five specific classes of noun complements.536 Similarly, his conceptualization of the tamyīz construction represented a transitional stage between the thinking of Sībawayh and that of later grammarians.537 Versteegh, in Arabic Grammar and Qurʾānic Exegesis in Early Islam, examined early Qurʾānic commentaries for signs of grammatical ideas, and concluded that there were in fact two different approaches to grammar, one that could be called Kūfan, and one Baṣran.538 However, the Kūfan school is the older one, and was developed out of the study of the Qurʾān and Qurʾānic readings.539 It was Sībawayh, not the Kūfans, who was the innovator. With his Kitāb he introduced a wholly new grammatical tradition, one important aspect of which was the granting of technical names to linguistic concepts.540 In the time of Sībawayh and Farrāʾ, there may have been two different approaches to grammar, but no true schools to speak of, and no sense of belonging to one distinct school as opposed to another. All that changed with Mubarrad (d. 298/900), who founded a school, or a movement which declared the hitherto obscure Kitāb of Sībawayh to be its main text, and which had an awareness of itself as a distinct madhhab (school of thought).541 Later writers projected onto Sībawayh a pedigree that granted him legitimacy by tracing his thought to the very earliest of grammarians.542 Though the two schools had numerous ideological differences, later grammarians who wrote on the history of grammar retrojected Baṣran ideas onto the Kūfan school. That is, the two schools had different categories and conceptions, but later, pro-Baṣran grammarians imposed Baṣran categories Ibid. 96–7. Ibid., 83–100. 537 Ibid., 127–34. 538 Versteegh, C. H. M., Arabic Grammar and Qurʾānic Exegesis in Early Islam, 535 536

192.

Ibid., 195–8. Ibid., 198. 541 Ibid., 13–14, 194. 542 Ibid., 160ff. 539 540

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on Kūfan thought, making the two schools conceptually identical, the only difference between them being terminological.543 Similarly, Rafael Talmon noticed that many of the views that Sībawayh opposed were found in Farrāʾ’s Maʿānī al-Qurʾān, and thus concluded that this book represents the state of grammatical thought prior to Sībawayh. Thus, he too concludes that there was an older school of grammar which preceded Sībawayh, a school which might be called “The Old Iraqi School.”544 He examines this school in depth in Eighth-Century Iraqi Grammar. Kinberg argues, however, that Farrāʾ was not an unquestioning follower of this old school, but rather deviated from it in some respects.545

THE LATTER-DAY KŪFANS However distinct the two schools may have been in the early days of Sībawayh and Farrāʾ, we find that approximately a century later there remain two distinct schools of grammar, but with many of their differences smoothed over. The Kūfan school of Thaʿlab has more in common with the contemporary Baṣran school than it does with the thinking of its purported founder, al-Farrāʾ. It is to this later version of the Kūfan school that Rāzī belongs. Available writings from the Kūfans of this period, such as Thaʿlab’s Majālis, Ibn al-Anbārī’s al-Zāhir, Sharḥ al-qaṣāʾid al-sabʿ and Kitāb almudhakkar wa-l-muʾannath, Rāzī’s Zīna, and others are not strictly grammatical in nature, but they make grammatical comments in passing such that it is possible to reconstruct some of their theories of language. These three writers show remarkable consistency in their linguistic thinking, and from their works it is possible to discern some important characteristics of their Kūfan way of thinking. These characteristics include: 1. In their conception of grammar, they did not differ greatly from the Baṣran school. The differences appear to be mostly terminological ones, but sometimes they were conceptual also. By comparison, the differences between Farrāʾ and Sībawayh, as Owens shows, ran far deeper and were differences of categories and not just terminology. They also had a strong command of the terms and of the categories of the Baṣrans.

Ibid., 193. Kinberg, Naphtali, A Lexicon of al-Farrāʾ’s Terminology in his Qurʾān Commentary with Full Definitions, English Summaries, and Extensive Citations, 9. 545 Ibid., 10–17. 543 544

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2. The Kūfan/Baṣran division was a real one, for these writers identified themselves as members of a particular grammatical madhhab to which they felt allegiance and which was in opposition to the Baṣran school. 3. They perceived Farrāʾ and Kisāʾī as their predecessors and founders, but differed with them in many fundamental ways. One important difference, explored here, is in the area of terminological precision.

CATEGORIES AND TERMINOLOGY In most cases, the differences between these Kūfans and the Baṣrans were mostly terminological. The Kūfans used a different set of terms in discussing grammar, but each term had a Baṣran equivalent. Versteegh provides a list of these terms, from which the following table is adapted:546 Kūfan term tarjama fiʿl; qaṭʿ naʿt khafḍ nasaq jaḥd tabriʾa mā lam yusamma fāʿiluhu al-dāʾim mufassir jazāʾ yajrī ʿimād mustaqbal

Baṣran equivalent badal ḥāl ṣifa jarr ʿaṭf nafy lā al-nāfiya li-l-jins mabnī li-l-majhūl ism fāʿil; ism mafʿūl tamyīz sharṭ yanṣarif ḍamīr al-shaʾn muḍāriʿ

Thaʿlab, throughout his Majālis, uses the Kūfan terms consistently, though on occasion he uses the equivalent Baṣran term, as when he says that if min qabli ends in kasra it is in an iḍāfa construction with the word following, but when it ends in ḍamma (min qablu) then the following word is a 546

Versteegh, Arabic Grammar, 12.

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badal.547 He sometimes uses the equivalent Baṣran terms when quoting a Baṣran, as when he cites the Baṣran view that iyyāka in ḍarabtuka iyyāka is a badal.548 Ibn al-Anbārī also uses these terms in Kitāb al-mudhakkar wa-lmuʾannath as well as in al-Zāhir.549 However, he too will use an occasional Baṣran term such as ḥāl and ṣarf.550 Though he uses the Kūfan word nasaq innumerable times to refer to coordination, he also uses on occasion use the Baṣran term ʿaṭf.551 On the few occasions when Rāzī discusses grammar he, too, uses the Kūfan terms. He devotes a section to the three main cases of Arabic grammar, and calls them rafʿ, naṣb and khafḍ.552 Also, in discussing Qurʾān 2:102, he says that if Hārūt and Mārūt are the names of the two angels, then they are a tarjama, by which he means badal, for al-malakayn.553 Naʿt or the verb naʿata derived from it is frequently used to mean “adjective,” where the Baṣrans would have said ṣifa.554 Most of the times Rāzī uses a Baṣran term it is within a quote from another linguist. He cites Abū ʿUbayda, for example, in saying that jahannam, a name for Hell, is not given declensional endings (lā yanṣarif),555 and cites a verse in which the poet did not give it such endings (fa-lam yaṣrifhu).556 Abū ʿUbayda is again quoted saying that in Qurʾān 18:50 Iblīs is not declined because it is a non-Arab name (huwa ism aʿjamī fa-li-dhālika lam yaṣrifhu),557 and that the names Yaʾjūj and Maʾjūj are not declined (lā yanṣarifān).558 He uses the term jarr instead of his usual khafḍ in a quote from Thaʿlab, Abu-l-ʿAbbās Aḥmad b. Yaḥyā, Majālis, 1:103. Ibid., 1:133. 549 See Owens, Early Arabic Grammatical Theory, 197. 550 Ibid., 197–8. 551 Ibn al-Anbārī, Abū Bakr, Sharḥ al-qaṣāʾid al-sabʿ al-ṭiwāl al-jāhiliyyāt, 174, 340; al-Aḍdād, 424. 552 Zīna, 330v. At another point, when inventorying the history of linguistics, he says that linguists found that case endings, rafʿ, naṣb and khafḍ make language clearer. Ibid., 13v. Also, Abu-l-Aswad al-Duʾalī described the rules of rafʿ, naṣb and khafḍ in Arabic for ʿAlī. Ibid., 1:72 (Hamdānī), 12v (ms); and the preposition li- is referred to as lām al-khafḍ. Ibid. 2:14 (Hamdānī), 44r (ms). 553 Ibid., 351v. See p. 118 below. 554 For example, Zīna, 216v; 2:39–40 (Hamdānī), 53v (ms); 2:142–3 (Hamdānī), 85v, 86r & v (ms); 287r. 555 Ibid., 2:212 (Hamdānī); 106v(ms). 556 Ibid., 2:212 (Hamdāni); 107r (ms). 557 Ibid., 2:193 (Hamdānī); 102r (ms). 558 Ibid., 352r. 547 548

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Muḥammad b. Sallām.559 In another instance, he cites Quṭrub and uses kāna munṣarifan. In the same passage, he uses either the Baṣran term jarr to refer to a phonetic and not a grammatical ending, or uses the Kūfan term yajrī for ṣarf, depending on the reading of the manuscript.560 In this passage, Quṭrub says that the name Ādam is on the af ʿal pattern, and therefore lā yajrī (or lā yujarr).561 On at least one occasion, he uses the Baṣran term without quoting anyone, when he says that miṣr, when used as a proper noun is not declined, and when used as a common noun, is declined (fa-idhā aradta miṣran biʿaynihā lam taṣrifhu li-annahu ism madīna, wa-idhā aradta miṣr min al-amṣār ṣaraftahu).562 On other occasions, Rāzī uses the Baṣran word but not with the correct meaning. Most commonly, he uses terms for grammatical endings to refer to non-grammatical vowels. For example, one theory that some people hold (qāla qawm) is that the mīm in allāhumma is a mīm of plural, and therefore is given the a vowel just like the nūn in the masculine plural. The a vowel here he calls naṣb (nuṣibat kamā nuṣibat nūn al-jamʿ).563 Quoting Khalīl b. Aḥmad, he uses majzūm to mean sākin, “without vowel.”564 In one revealing passage, discussed below, Rāzī combines several synonymous terms for badal, saying that a naʿt, besides being an adjective, can also be a badal, a tābiʿ, a tarjama, or an ʿibāra.565 In some cases, there are some terms that appear to be the result of conceptual differences between the two schools. However, by the time of Thaʿlab these conceptual differences had all but disappeared, and the Kūfan name is the only trace left of what was once a full conceptual difference. This is not to say that there were no disagreements with the Baṣrans. There were, but they applied to minor points of analysis as described by al-Anbārī in al-Inṣāf fī masāʾil al-khilāf. Major syntactic categories upon which Sībawayh and Farrāʾ disagreed were later agreed upon by the two schools. Below, the example of khurūj will illustrate how this fixed terminology used by the lat-

Ibid., 1:72–3 (Hamdānī); 12v (ms). My manuscript has yajrī, with yujarr written in small letters above. Hamdānī has yujarr. 561 Rāzī, Zīna, 1:134 (Hamdānī); 32r (ms). 562 Ibid., 120v. Though Rāzī cites no source for this quote, it was taken from the source discussed in chapter 5. 563 Ibid., 2:17 (Hamdānī); 44v (ms). 564 Ibid., 2:17 (Hamdānī); 45r (ms). 565 Ibid., 2:39 (Hamdānī); 53v (ms). 559 560

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ter-day Kūfans evolved from Farrāʾ’s discussions of processes, and represents merely terminological differences with the Baṣrans.

SCHOOL SPIRIT AMONG THE KŪFANS Two other important characteristics of this latter-day Kūfan school are that its members perceived Farrāʾ and al-Kisāʿī as their predecessors and grammatical forefathers, and they felt themselves to be adherents to a particular, correct madhhab (school of thought), a madhhab which stood apart from and in contrast to the Baṣran madhhab. The occasionally polemic tone of their arguments indicates that they felt that their views needed to be defended. Thaʿlab clearly perceived Farrāʾ and Kisāʾī as his main predecessors and grammatical masters. He cites Farraʾ more times than he cites any other grammarian (63), with Kisāʾī a close second (43 mentions), but only 14 and two for Sībawayh and Khalīl, respectively.566 Though he and his school perceive Farrāʾ as their founder, we shall see below how their approach differed in fundamental ways from that of Farrāʾ. Owens has examined the works of Thaʿlab and Ibn al-Anbārī, and drawn some conclusions concerning their sense of affiliation with a particular school as compared with that of Sībawayh and al-Farrāʾ. Sībawayh did mention certain groups, such as the Kūfans and the Madīnans, but showed no evidence of affiliation with any particular madhhab.567 Farrāʾ mentions three schools in his Maʿānī al-Qurʾān, the Ḥijāzīs, the Kūfans and the Baṣrans, but like Sībawayh, does not appear to have any leanings towards one over the other.568 Thaʿlab clearly felt an allegiance to one school of thought over another, as evidenced by his mentions of “our friends.”569 It is also clear that the school he was aligned with was one other than the Baṣran school, for he frequently contrasts Baṣran views with the views of his friends. His friends, for example, believe that kamā places a following verb in the subjunctive, as does kay, whereas the Baṣrans say that it does not operate like kay.570 His friends, similarly, reject a sentence such as anta zaydan ḍarūb, whereas the Baṣrans allow it.571 Also, the Baṣrans interpret fa-ṣāʿidan in jāʾanī thalāthatun Owens, Early Arabic Grammatical Theory, 207. Ibid., 203–4. 568 Ibid., 204–5. 569 Ibid., 208. 570 Thaʿlab, Majālis, 1:127. 571 Ibid., 1:196. 566 567

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fa-ṣāʿidan as meaning, in its underlying form, ṣaʿida ṣāʿidan, whereas he and his friends say (wa naḥnu naqūl) that it is similar to wa-ḥifz.an in Qurʿān 37:7 and 41:12, that is, a mafʿūl li-ajlihi.572 He cites Baṣran views and registers his disagreement with them, but rarely does he give them less than a fair hearing. On a few occasions he chastises the Baṣrans. He says, concerning Qurʾān 3:159, that the Baṣrans say that mā in fa-bi-mā raḥmatin mina-llāhi is a tawkīd (emphasis). When asked how it could be a tawkīd, they say, “We don’t know” (fa-idhā suʾilū kayfa hiya tawkīd yaqūlūn: lā nadrī).573 Ibn al-Anbārī mentions the Kūfan and the Baṣran schools by name, and, like Thaʿlab, cites Baṣran views in a largely civil way. He mentions them on several occasions without commenting on or disputing them. After giving a line of poetry that he says is cited by the Baṣrans, he says that they explain the accusative case ending on nujūm as being a result of its status as object of a participle (wa-yaqūlūn: naṣb nujūm al-layl wa-l-qamar bi-kāsifa).574 Also, the views of the two schools concerning the accusative case of jarran in halumma jarran are given one after the other, and both are given an equally detailed treatment. When giving the views of the Kūfans and the Baṣrans, both groups are referred to in the third person (qāla al-kūfiyyūn … wa-l-maʿnā ʿindahum…; wa-qāla al-baṣriyyūn … wa-l-maʿnā ʿindahum).575 Similarly, giving a variety of views on the reason that baʿdu ends in a ḍamma, he provides a respectful treatment of the Baṣran position (to distinguish it from other locative words, which usually end in fatḥa. Its distinction is the result of it being different from them, since it does not have a muḍāf ilayhi attached to it as locatives usually do). Examples are given and poetry is cited, but there is no animosity expressed toward the Baṣrans here.576 The views of the two

572 Ibid., 1:178. Most commentators and analysts explained ḥifz in these two . verses as mafʿūl muṭlaq (of a deleted verb), but according to Ṭabarī, the Kūfans believed ḥifz.an to be mafʿūl li-ajlihi. Al-Ṭabarī, Muḥammad b. Jarīr, Tafsīr al-Ṭabarī a.k.a. Jāmiʿ al-bayān fī taʾwīl al-Qurʾān on these verses, 11:93 and 10:470. Also see, discussing these verses, Ibn al-Naḥḥās, Abū Jaʿfar Aḥmad, Iʿrab al-Qurʾān, 3:278 and 4:37; al-Ṭabarsī, Abū ʿAlī al-Faḍl b. al-Ḥasan, Majmaʿ al-bayān fī tafsīr al-Qurʾān, on 37:7, 8:227; al-Karbāsī, Muḥammad Jaʿfar, Iʿrāb al-Qurʾān, on these verses, 7:176 and 6:554. For mafʿūl li-ajlihi see n. 667; for mafʿūl muṭlaq see n. 676. 573 Thaʿlab, Majālis, 1:249. 574 Ibn al-Anbārī, Abū Bakr, al-Zāhir fī maʿānī kalimāt al-nās, 1:284. 575 Ibid., 1:371. 576 Ibid., 1:349–50.

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schools are juxtaposed with similar cordiality in his discussion of the participle maḥbūb.577 Nonetheless, he defends Farrāʾ and mentions him 93 times in his Kitāb al-mudhakkar wa-l-muʾannath, far more than he mentions any other linguist. He never criticizes his views, and occasionally defends him against the attacks of others.578 He does, on the other hand, criticize the Baṣran school on occasion.579 His mentions of Kisāʾī (19) are far fewer than those of Farrāʾ, yet still greater than those of Sībawayh (11). As with Thaʿlab, Ibn alAnbārī’s writings make clear that he felt an affiliation to a correct school of grammatical thought which was other than the Baṣran school. Rāzī follows the same patterns as his two schoolmates. He, like his cohorts, appears perfectly willing to give the Baṣran side of the story in any dispute. This equitableness is most evident in his discussion of the term allāhumma (O God!). The etymology of allāhumma was one of the topics on which the Kūfans and Baṣrans disagreed, according to Anbārī’s Inṣāf.580 Rāzī gives a relatively brief summary of the two sides of the dispute described there: that the Baṣrans say that the mīm in allāhumma is a substitute for yāʾ, and that the Kūfans believe allāhumma to be derived from allāhu ummanā bikhayr.581 Rāzī says that some say that the mīm is a replacement for the vocative yā, as evidenced by Qurʾān 8:32 wa-idh qālu-llāhumma in kāna hadhā huwal-ḥaqqa min ʿindik. Clearly, he says, allāhumma means yā allāh. He heard Mubarrad say that yā Allāhu-ghfir lī can also be said as allāhumma-ghfir lī, such that the mīm replaces the missing vocative particle.582 Khalīl b. Aḥmad also said that the mīm stands as a replacement for the missing yā.583 Thaʿlab, on the other hand, citing Farrāʾ, believes that this view is incorrect because it is possible to combine the two vocative units, yā and the mīm, so that one might say yā Allāhumma. A line of poetry is cited in support.584 The true origin of allāhumma, says Thaʿlab, is that it derives from yā Allāhu ummanā bi-khayr, which means “come towards us with good,” that is, “give us good.”585 When a mīm is added to a root in other cases, says Ibid., 1:331. See for example, Ibn al-Anbārī, Abū Bakr, al-Mudhakkar wa-l-muʾannath, 137. 579 See, for example, Ibid., 148–150. 580 al-Anbārī, Abū Barakāt, al-Inṣāf fī masāʾil al-khilāf, 1:317ff. 581 Ibid. 582 Rāzī, Zīna, 2:15 (Hamdānī); 44v (ms). 583 Ibid., 2:17 (Hamdānī); 45r (ms). 584 Ibid., 2:15–16 (Hamdānī); 44v (ms). 585 Ibid., 2:16 (Hamdānī); 44v and 45r (ms). 577 578

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Thaʿlab, it is usually not geminated, as in fam (the implication being that this could not be an added mīm since it is geminated).586 Some say that allāhumma is derived from the addition of Allāhu to ummanā, and through frequent usage the hamza was dropped on ummanā. A similar process occurred with halumma, which was originally hal and umma.587 Rāzī here does not appear to take sides in this dispute, and gives the two sides of this argument a fair hearing. Though he is fair to the Baṣrans, he nonetheless is partial to the Kūfan school in other respects. In addition to his preference for Kūfan terminology, he also prefers to cite the views of his Kūfan predecessors over those of the Baṣran masters. Alhough he only cites Farrāʾ 18 times, Kisāʾī receives approximately 58 citations, and both are cited far more times than either Sībawayh (4) or Khalīl (9). Thus, he falls within the Kūfan tradition of perceiving himself to be intellectually indebted to Farrāʾ and Kisāʾī, yet he also adduces the ideas of numerous other writers, most notably Abū ʿUbayda, whom he cites over 250 times. In his grammatical thinking, then, Rāzī belonged to a school that might be called the latter-day Kūfans, the school of Thaʿlab and Ibn alAnbārī. This school was relatively homogenous in its approach to grammar, and considered itself an alternative to the Baṣran school. Though they owed a great intellectual debt to Farrāʾ, they differed from him in many fundamental ways, one of the most important and prominent of which is in the use of terminology.

FARRĀʾVS. THE LATTER-DAY KŪFANS Farrā’s use of terminology differs greatly from that of his later compatriots. For example, on the level of word choice, Owens and Versteegh have pointed out that Farrāʾ most commonly used ʿaṭf to refer to coordination.588 The term which became known as the Kūfan term for coordination, how-

Ibid., 2:16 (Hamdānī); 44v (ms). Ibid., 2:18 (Hamdānī); 45r (ms). 588 Owens, Early Arabic Grammatical Theory, 85–6. Versteegh, Arabic Grammar, 5–6; 10. 586 587

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ever, was nasaq.589 Thaʿlab, Ibn al-Anbārī and Rāzī, almost always used nasaq to refer to the same concept, and rarely use ʿaṭf.590 Beyond the mere use of different terms, Thaʿlab and his students were more precise in their use of terminology than was Farrāʾ. For Farrāʾ, the set of terms rafʿ, naṣb and khafḍ overlapped with the set ḍamm, fatḥ and kasr,591 so that the first set referred to grammatical endings, and was sometimes also used to refer to internal vowels or to end vowels that were not grammatically determined. The second set, on the other hand, referred only to non-grammatically determined vowels. For example, he says that yakhṭafu abṣārahum is sometimes read yakhaṭṭif abṣārahum, with a following the yāʾ. Here he refers to this internal vowel a as naṣb (bi-naṣb al-yāʾ). Sometimes, the khāʾ is read with i following (yakhiṭṭif) which Farrāʾ here calls khafḍ (bi-khafḍ al-khāʾ). He continues, saying that some place i after both yāʾ and khāʾ (yikhiṭṭif). Here, he calls the i kasr (wa baʿḍuhum yaksir al-yāʾ).592 Sībawayh had a much more rigorous system for these terms (or their equivalent). Ḍamma, fatḥa and kasra were always used to indicate internal vowels or non-grammatical endings, whereas rafʿ, naṣb and jarr he employed consistently to mark declensional endings.593 Thaʿlab and his school had adopted the more rigorous system used by Sībawayh. For Thaʿlab, ḍamm, fatḥ and kasr almost always referred to internal or non-grammatical vowels, as when he says that verbs of the form fāʿaltu, faʿlaltu and afʿaltu all have a ḍamm in their indicative form (i.e., yufʿil).594 The particle an or anna after lawlā must be with a fatḥ if it is thaqīl (has a shadda: anna) and must be with a kasr if it is without shadda (in).595 Ḍayf, Madāris, 167; Owens, Early Arabic Grammatical Theory, 85; Versteegh, Arabic Grammar, 10. 590 For Thaʿlab, see Owens, Early Arabic Grammatical Theory, 94; Thaʿlab, Majālis, 368. For Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir, 1:7; 1:370; 1:491. For Rāzī, Zīna, 252v. Though Ibn al-Anbārī repeatedly uses nasaq in Sharḥ al-qaṣāʾid, he does on very rare occasion use ʿaṭf. Also see n. 551. 591 Farrāʾ uses ḍamm, fatḥ and kasr to refer to the short vowel sounds more frequently than he uses ḍamma, fatḥa and kasra. See Kinberg’s listings of the terms, Lexicon, 417–19 (ḍamm, ḍamma), 544–7 (fatḥ, fatḥa), 699–702 (kasr, kasra). 592 al-Farrāʾ, Abū Zakariyya Yaḥyā b. Ziyād, Maʿānī al-Qurʾān, 1:17–18. See the countless other examples listed in Kinberg, Lexicon, 222–3 (for khafḍ), 290 (for rafʿ) and 795–7 (for naṣb). 593 Owens, Early Arabic Grammatical Theory, 159. 594 Thaʿlab, Majālis, 39. 595 Ibid., 132. 589

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The terms rafʿ, naṣb and khafḍ were reserved for grammatical endings, or grammatical positions within a sentence. They were usually used in the context of explaining how the structure of a sentence or how a particular governor caused a word to be in one of these three cases. Concerning Qurʾān 7:155 wa-khtāra mūsā qawmahū, Thaʿlab says that the underlying meaning is ikhtāra mina-l-qawm, and that both (mūsā and qawmahu) are manṣūb because of the governance of the verb upon them (bi-wuqūʿ al-fiʿl).596 These cases are usually the result of the action of some other word upon a word (ʿamal). Thaʿlab and his friends believe that the particle kamā places a following word in the naṣb case, and others say that it places it in the rafʿ case (zaʿama aṣḥābunā anna kamā tanṣib … wa-ghayruhum yaqūl kamā tarfaʿ).597 For Thaʿlab, kamā has the same effect as kay, whereas the Baṣrans believe that it doesn’t (yazʿam al-baṣriyyūn annahā lā taʿmalu kamā taʿmalu kay … wa-aṣḥābunā yaqūlūn kamā mithlu kay).598 Thaʿlab made it clear that rafʿ, naṣb and khafḍ are grammatical positions in a sentence, even if there is no indicative grammatical case ending. In Qurʾān 8:34 the an (part of allā) in wa-mā lahum allā yuʿadhdhibahumu-llāhu is in the position of rafʿ.599 And kilāhumā in a line of poetry has a rafʿ ending even though it is in a position of naṣb in the sentence. The contrast between the two sets of terms is most clear when both are juxtaposed, as in Thaʿlab’s description of ḥaythu. Ḥaythu causes two things to be in the rafʿ case (rafaʿū bihā shayʾayn), whereas it itself has a ḍamm at the end which stands in for a deleted item (fa-innamā ḍammūhā … li-annahā tadullu ʿalā maḥdhūf mithla qablu).600 Thaʿlab uses these two sets of terms in this consistent way most, but not all of the time. There are some notable exceptions, as when he says that ʿajibta in Qurʾān 37:12 bal ʿajibta wa yaskharūn can be with naṣb, in which case the verb is in the second person directed at Muḥammad. If one reads it with ḍamm, they are not actually attributing ʿajab to God, but it is we who are amazed.601 Also, in a line of poetry he cites, ḥawb can be said with rafʿ, naṣb and khafḍ.602 These are not case endings here, each of which has a difIbid., 588. Ibid., 127. 598 Ibid. 599 Ibid., 102. 600 Ibid., 558. 601 Ibid., 158. See also Ṭabarsī, Majmaʿ, on the ḍamm of ʿajibtu in this verse, 8:229. 602 Thaʿlab, Majālis, 430. 596 597

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ferent grammatical actor acting upon it, rather, they are phonetic variations of one word. These few exceptions notwithstanding, Thaʿlab is mostly consistent in differentiating between the two sets of terms for vowels and vowel endings. Ibn al-Anbārī shows a similar consistency in his use of these terms, the occasional exception notwithstanding. Fatḥ refers to an internal vowel only, as when he says that balʿ is pronounced with fatḥ on the bāʾ.603 Durriyy in Qurʾān 24:35 can be pronounced with a ḍamm (bi-ḍamm al-dāl), kasr (bi-kasr al-dāl), or fatḥ (bi-fatḥ al-dāl).604 Rafʿ, naṣb and khafḍ, on the other hand, are grammatical endings which must always be explained by making reference to some grammatical structure or the act of a governing word (ʿāmil). For example, ḥawla in the expression lā ḥawla wa-lā quwwata illā bi-llāh can be made in the naṣb case by lā, in a tabriʾa construction.605 He too makes the differences clear when he juxtaposes both sets of terms, as in his discussion of the word fam. He says that some people cause the vowel following the fāʾ to be in harmony with the final vowel. Thus, they give it ḍamm in the rafʿ case, and fatḥ in the naṣb case, and kasr in the khafḍ case (wa-min al-ʿarab man yaḍummu-l-fāʾ fi-l-rafʿ wa-yaftaḥuhā fi-l-naṣb wayaksiruhā fi-l-khafḍ).606 Rafʿ, naṣb and khafḍ, then, are positions in a sentence which may not be indicated by final vowels. One way of pronouncing the name of the town Qinnasrīn, he says, is to make it similar to a masculine plural, so that it has a wāw in the rafʿ case (qinnasrūn), and a yāʾ in the naṣb and khafḍ case. He uses the term fatḥ to refer to the non-grammatical vowel which would be on the nūn (wa-tuftaḥ al-nūn li-annahā nūn al-jamīʿ).607 He again juxtaposes the two sets of terms when he explains that another way of pronouncing the word is with an invariable yāʾ, and a variable nūn. He says that the nūn in this case would be in the rafʿ case when the word is in the rafʿ case, and would be with a fatḥ in the naṣb and khafḍ case (wa-tarfaʿ al-nūn fi-l-rafʿ wa-taftaḥuhā fi-lnaṣb wa-l-khafḍ). Here, the second instance of rafʿ refers to the grammatical position, but the first instance of rafʿ is a rare exception in which rafʿ refers to the vowel sound and not the grammatical position. However, it is conIbn al-Anbārī, Zāhir, 1:173. Ibid., 1:195. 605 Ibid., 1:12. Tabriʾa is the Kūfan term for lā al-nāfiya li-l-jins. See p. 95 above; Ḍayf, Madāris, 167. 606 Ibn al-Anbārī, al-Mudhakkar wa-l-muʾannath, 334. 607 Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir, 2:110. 603 604

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trasted with fatḥ, which refers to the vowel, while naṣb and khafḍ refer to the grammatical case.608 With Rāzī, it is more difficult to obtain a clear picture of his use of grammatical terminology, since many of his grammatical discussions are quotes from others, whether he distinguishes the two sets of terms or not. Quotes are from Farrāʾ,609 Kisāʾī,610 Thaʿlab,611 Abū ʿUbayda,612 someone other than the person he just finished quoting (qāla ghayruhu),613 or simply “people” (qāla qawm).614 On the few occasions where he uses a grammatical term without citing anyone, he is consistent in following Thaʿlab and Ibn al-Anbārī in distinguishing between the two sets of terms. Fatḥ, ḍamm and kasr refer to internal vowels, as in when he gives variants of khufāra, which can also be pronounced khifāra, though khufāra is better (bi-l-ḍamm wa-l-kasr wa-l-ḍamm ajwad).615 The word wadd, he says, is pronounced with a fatḥ on the wāw (bi-fatḥ al-wāw).616 The other set of terms (rafʿ, naṣb, khafḍ) is used for case endings that require grammatical explanation or analysis. In a line of poetry containing the word rākiʿ, for example, rākiʿ is put in the rafʿ case by a verb which precedes it, and together with which it forms a complete sentence (rafaʿta rākiʿan bi-waṣfihi).617 In another line of poetry, niqāb can be placed in the rafʿ case, in which case it serves as an adjective (wa-man rawā bi-l-rafʿ jaʿalahu naʿtan). Read in the naṣb case, as Aṣmaʿī recited it, it is a maṣdar (rawa-lAṣmaʿī bayt Aws niqāban bi-l-naṣb lam yajʿalhu naʿtan jaʿalahu maṣdaran).618

TECHNICAL TERMINOLOGY Many terms used by the late Kūfans were also used by Farrāʾ, but in a nontechnical sense. For Thaʿlab, Ibn al-Anbārī and Rāzī, these same terms evolved into technical terms. Ibid. Rāzī, Zīna, 156r. 610 Ibid., 153r. 611 Ibid., 2:88 (Hamdānī); 68v (ms). 612 Ibid., 2:88–9 (Hamdānī), 68v (ms).; 153r; 264v-265r. 613 Ibid., 2:18 (Hamdānī), 45r (ms); 2:88 (Hamdānī), 68v (ms). 614 Ibid., 2:14 (Hamdānī), 44r (ms); 2:15 (Hamdānī), 44v (ms). 615 Ibid., 157r-v. 616 Ibid., 2:116 (Hamdānī); 77v (ms). 617 Ibid., 279v. See n. 625 below for the use of waṣf to mean a complete sentence or an element thereof. 618 Ibid., 216v. 608 609

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One example of Thaʿlab’s use of a Farrāʾ concept in a technical way is found in his use of the term mufassir to refer to what is today called tamyīz. To say that a particular word, in this case sinīn in a particular reading of Qurʾān 18:25 wa-labithū fī kahfihim thalātha miʾati sinīn is not a tamyīz, he uses the phrase lā takhruj mufassiratan. It is not a tamyīz construction because it is plural, and thus must be a badal construction.619 Kharaja mufassiran was the term Thaʿlab used to express the concept of tamyīz. Comparing his usage of the term with that of Farrāʾ shows how the term developed. Farrāʾ, too, when he wanted to identify a word as being a tamyīz, said that it “went out as an explainer” kharaja mufassiran (and he did not use the term tamyīz). Amadan in Qurʾān 18:12 ayyu-l-ḥizabayni aḥṣā li-mā labithū amadan has exited (kharaja) from aḥṣā as an explainer (mufassiran), or, in today’s terminlogy, it is a tamyīz for aḥṣā.620 To Farrāʾ, however, khurūj was more than just a term. Rather, it was a transformation by which a word becomes separated from the word to which it was originally related, and thus in the process is rendered in the accusative case. Qurʾān 4:4 fa-in ṭibna lakum ʿan shayʾin minhu nafsan can be interpreted as having the underlying meaning …ṭābat anfusuhunna, so that anfus is the subject of the verb. But the verb was moved from its true subject, anfus and to its new subject hunna, and now nafs has become separated from its subject, and becomes an explicator (kharajat al-nafs mufassiran).621 A byproduct of this process is that the original subject, now outside the main core of the sentence, is placed in the accusative case. The same process occurred with a phrase such as ḍiqnā bihī dharʿan.622 For Farrāʾ, khurūj is a part of the process by which a word is transformed from its underlying form to an accusative separated from the noun it describes. Kharaja does not only apply to tamyīz constructions. It occurs anytime a word is detached from another word which underlyingly is its subject. Thus, a ḥāl can be the result of khurūj also.623 For Thaʿlab, however, there is no hint of such a process. Rather, he contrasts a construction in which a word has undergone khurūj to other Thaʿlab, Majālis, 1:265. Farrāʾ, Maʿānī, 2:136. 621 Ibid., 1:256. See also Owens, Early Arabic Grammatical Theory, 130–2. 622 Farrāʾ, Maʿānī, 2:308. 623 Ibid., 1:301–2. Also see Kinberg, Lexicon, 210–11 for numerous other examples. Ḥāl is an accusative which describes the state of the subject or the object of the verb. See Abboud, Peter, and Ernest McCarus, eds., Elementary Modern Standard Arabic (EMSA), 1:535–7; Babtī, ʿAzīza, al-Muʿjam al-mufaṣṣal fi-l-naḥw al-ʿarabī, 437ff. 619 620

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types of constructions, such as iḍāfa and badal (tābiʿ), but the concept of tamyīz, or for him mufassir, is fixed.624 In the one instance where Rāzī refers to khurūj as a dynamic process and not as a fixed term, it is in the context of a quote from Kisāʾī, where Kisāʾī says that in Qurʾān 2:138 ṣibghata allāh, ṣibgha is in the accusative case because it is the object of an imperative and because of moving away from/departing from the state of being a complete sentence (yakūn naṣban ʿala-l-amr wa-ʿala-l-khurūj min al-waṣf). Similar verses, he says, are to be analyzed similarly.625 For Kisāʾī, then, as for Farrāʾ, khurūj is a process. The concept is used to explain why words in certain positions are in the naṣb case. For Thaʿlab and Rāzī, however, it is a fixed technical term, the naṣb case of which is a given, and it is only used to contrast one type of construction with another. This transformation from the mostly ad hoc lexicon of technical terminology used by Farrāʾ to a well-developed metalanguage used by Thaʿlab, Ibn al-Anbārī and Rāzī is nowhere more clear than in the development of the term and concept of badal. The badal is defined as a word that follows another word whose referent is identical with the word it follows (al-mubdal minhu), or equals some part of it, or some aspect of it. The most important aspect of the badal for our investigation is that the badal has the same grammatical function in the sentence as the mubdal minhu, so that one can say that whatever governor governs the mubdal minhu is repeated underlyingly so that it also governs the badal (ʿalā niyyat tikrār al-ʿāmil). This repetition is implied, not explicit.626 This development in the badal concept will be traced in some detail in the pages which follow. First, we examine the various terms used by Farrāʾ to express the concept of badal. Then, his usage will be compared to that of the later Kūfans, particularly Rāzī, showing how for the latter badal had become a well-defined concept with an associated technical terminology.

Thaʿlab, Majālis, 1:265. Rāzī, Zīna, 153r. Sometimes Farrāʾ appears to have used waṣf to refer to a complete sentence or an element that causes a sentence to be complete, such as a subject or a verb which when combined with another element, results in a complete sentence. Examples are in Maʿānī, 1:93 and 1:226. Rāzī uses it in the same way in Zīna, 279v. See also Kinberg, Lexicon, 909. 626 Babti, Muʿjam, 302. 624 625

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FARRĀʾ ON THE BADAL Farrāʾ had no one term to express the badal idea. Rather, he expressed the idea in a number of different ways and with a number of different terms: 1) ʿibāra; 2) tarjama; 3) tābiʿ (and words derived from its root); 4) words derived from the root k-r-r, such as takrīr, yakurr ʿalā, etc. 5) words derived from the root r-d-d; 6) tafsīr; 7) by paraphrasing the sentence so that the implied repeated governing word (ʿāmil) is overtly repeated.627 Few of the terms Farrāʾ used were used exclusively to express the idea of badal. Most expressed other grammatical ideas besides that of the badal as well.

ʿIBĀRA Kinberg cites only two instances where Farrāʾ uses this term.628 Both times it is clear that it refers to the badal. For example, in Qurʾān 16:62 wa-taṣifu alsinatuhumu-l-kadhiba anna lahumu-l-ḥusnā, anna is in the naṣb case because it is an ʿibāra of al-kadhib.629 Similarly, in 16:116 wa-lā taqūlū li-mā taṣifu alsinatuhumu-l-kadhiba, kadhib could be in the khafḍ case because it is a ʿibāra for mā, though naṣb is better.630

TARJAMA Frequently Farrāʾ uses tarjama and its participle mutarjim to refer to the badal construction as well as to other structures. He says that al-kawākibi in Qurʾān 37:6 innā zayyannā-l-samāʾa-l-dunyā bi-zīnatini-l-kawākibi is in the khafḍ case because it is a tarjama for zīnatin.631 Hārūna akhī in Qurʾān 20:30 could be interpreted as a tarjama for wazīr, and is therefore in the naṣb case as a result of takrīr.632 (See below for takrīr). Farrāʾ used tarjama to refer to other types of constructions as well. For example, he refers to shayʾ in Qurʾān 34:39 wa-mā anfaqtum min shayʾin fa-huwa yukhlifuhū as a mutarjim for what precedes it and not a ḥāl. Similarly, rajulan in lillāhi darruhu rajulan, is a tamyīz,633 and was called by Farrāʾ a mutarjim for 627

8.

Kinberg, Lexicon, 458–9. Farrāʾ, Maʿānī, 2:107. 630 Ibid. 631 Ibid., 2:159. 632 Ibid., 2:178. 633 See al-Khaṭīb, Ṭāhir Yūsuf, al-Muʿjam al-mufaṣṣal fi-l-iʿrāb, s.v. ‘lillāhi darruka,’ 628 629

390.

Cf. Kinberg, Lexicon, intro, 19; Owens, Early Arabic Grammatical Theory, 137–

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what precedes it, since its underlying form is lillāhi darruhu min rajul, and min was deleted.634

TĀBIʿ (AS WELL AS YATBAʿ, ETC.) Yatbaʿ (to follow) for Farrāʾ had a wide range of uses. The most inclusive definition might be that a word that follows (yatbaʿ) another word “is in a grammatical relationship with the earlier word such that it has the same case ending as the earlier word.” The grammatical relationship might be that of a badal to a mubdal minhu, coordination (ʿaṭf ), or that of a noun and adjective. A second definition of yatbaʿ or tābiʿ as used by Farrāʾ is “for a word to have the same vowel ending as a previous word for no grammatically justifiable reason, or for a vowel sound to be in harmony with a previous vowel sound.” A third is its literal definition, “to follow, to come after.” Each of these definitions will be examined. A tābiʿ is in a grammatical relationship with an earlier word such that it has the same case ending as the earlier word. The relationship that a tābiʿ has with a preceding word could be a badal relationship. Keeping in mind that the distinguishing characteristic of the badal is the repetition of the governing word (ʿāmil), Farrāʾ makes clear that itbāʿ refers to the badal construct when he says that ʿallāmu in Qurʾān 34:48 inna rabbī yaqdhifu bi-l-ḥaqqi ʿallāmu-l-ghuyūb could be in the naṣb case due to it following the first word (rabbī) (ʿalā-l-itbāʿ li-l-ism al-awwal), in which case the repetition of inna is implied.635 Similarly, in Qurʾān 56:26, salāman is a follower (tābiʿ) of qīlan. Qīlan can also be read without tanwīn, in which case salām would be read with kasra. However, if you read qīlan with tanwīn, then salāman must be in the naṣb case since the verb that governs qīlan also governs salāman (fa-idhā nawwanta naṣabta li-anna-l-fiʿl wāqiʿ ʿalayhi).636 A tābiʿ can also be related to another word by coordination (ʿaṭf ), this coordination being frequently the explanation for a grammatical ending. Muṣaddiqan in Qurʾān 3:49 wa-muṣaddiqan li-mā bayna yadayya is in the naṣb case because it is a ḥāl for jiʾtukum in verse 49, and not because it follows wajīhan in verse 45, to which it is connected by conjunction (wa-laysa naṣbuhu bi-tābiʿ li-qawlihi wajīhan).637 Similarly, jannātin in Qurʾān 6:99 could be read

Farrāʾ, Maʿānī, 2:104. Ibid., 1:170. 636 Ibid., 3:124. 637 Ibid., 1:216. 634 635

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in the rafʿ case, in which case it would be said to follow the preceding qinwānun (wa-law rafaʿta-l-jannāt tatbaʿ al-qinwān kāna ṣawāban).638 A tābiʿ might also be an adjective (naʿt) describing a previous word, resulting in case agreement. Quoting Kisāʾī, Farrāʾ says that the Arabs sometimes placed an adjective following an inna sentence in the rafʿ case, imagining that the word is following and acting as an adjective to the pronoun implied in the predicate of inna (jaʿalat-hu yaʿnī al-naʿt tābiʿan li-l-ism almuḍmar fi-l-fiʿl).639 Ghayruhu in Qurʾān 7:59 mā lakum min ilāhin ghayruhū is in the rafʿ case because it follows, and acts as an adjective to the form underlying ilāhin: ilāhun, the result of deleting the extraneous min (yujʿal tābiʿan li-ltaʾwīl fī ilāh alā tarā anna-l-ilāh law nazaʿta minhu min kāna rafʿan?).640 Sometimes a word follows another word in vowel ending for no reason other than that it is physically closer to the word that it agrees with than to the word that governs it.641 Such words are also referred to as tābiʿ. In a line of poetry heard from someone of Banū Dubayr wa-ʿallaftuhā tibnan wamāʾan bāridan, māʾan is a tābiʿ of tibn (hay), that is, it has the same case ending, even though the word that governs tibn (ʿallaftuhā, I fed her) cannot possibly apply to māʾ (water) since water is drunk, not fed upon.642 Because this type of itbāʿ is acceptable, Farrāʾ prefers the reading which renders waḥūrun ʿīnun in Qurʾān 56:22 in the khafḍ case: wa-ḥūrin ʿīnin, following the case of the phrases preceding it, which are also in the khafḍ case. They should agree, he says, even though the particle which governs those preceding words does not govern ḥūr. That is, they agree in vowel ending only because of their proximity to each other and not due to a syntactic relationship. The reason, he says, is that sometimes a later word can follow an earlier word in case ending even though what is appropriate for the earlier word may not be appropriate for the later word (wa-l-khafḍ ʿalā an tutbaʿ ākhir al-kalām bi-awwalihi wa-in lam yaḥsun fī ākhirihi mā ḥasuna fī awwalihi).643 Tabʿ can also mean for a vowel to harmonize with another vowel, as when the ū sound in muslimūn is a result of harmony with the preceding ḍamma (fa-jaʿalu-l-wāw tābiʿatan li-l-ḍamma). Also, some Arabs do not inflect Ibid., 1:347. Ibid., 1:471. 640 Ibid., 1:382. 641 This concept in Arabic grammar is called mujāwara. See Khaṭīb, Muʿjam, s.v. ‘al-mujāwara,’ 415–6; Babtī, Muʿjam, s.v. ‘al-mujāwara,’ 953. Ibn al-Anbārī also discusses the principle in Sharḥ al-qaṣāʾid, 107. 642 Farrāʾ, Maʿānī, 3:124. 643 Ibid., 3:123. 638 639

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the dual ending. Since in all cases it is preceded by fatḥa, some have kept an alif in all cases, in harmony with the fatḥa (wa-thabata maftūḥan taraku-l-alif tatbaʿuhu).644 Occasionally, yatbaʿ can mean simply “to follow, to occur later than.” In describing parenthetical clauses, he says that qad aflaḥa in Qurʾān 91:9, the apodosis of the oath in verse 1 wa-l-shamsi wa-ḍuḥāhā, follows a parenthetical insertion, verse 8 fa-alhamahā fujūrahā wa-taqwāhā (fa-ṣārat qad aflaḥa tābiʿatan li-fa-alhamahā).645 Similarly, a word is sometimes made similar in form to a word it follows, as in the phrase hanaʾanī wa maraʾanī. Maraʾa taken alone would be amraʾa, but when following hanaʾa, which has no initial alif, its alif is also dropped (fa-ḥudhifat minhu-l-alif lammā an utbiʿa mā lā alifa fīhi).646

TAKRĪR Farrāʾ frequently uses takrīr (and other words derived from its root) to describe the badal construction. Often he does not use it as a technical term, but as a description of the process by which a badal comes to have the same case as its mubdal minhu, that is, repetition (takrīr) of the governing word (ʿāmil). In Qurʾān 2:90, for example, biʾsama-shtaraw bihī anfusahum an yakfurū, an yakfurū is in the khafḍ case due to takrīr, repetition. It is the verb ishtaraw bi- that is repeated (i.e., whose repetition is implied), so that it is as if you said, ishtaraw anfusahum bi-l-kufr.647 Similarly, dhurriyyatan in Qurʾān 3:33–4 inna-llāha-ṣṭafā Ādama wa-Nūḥan wa-āla Ibrāhīma wa-āla ʿImrāna ʿala-l-ʿālamīn dhurriyyatan baʿḍuhum min baʿḍ could be said to be in the naṣb case because of takrīr, repetition of the ʿāmil. He exemplifies: iṣṭafā dhurriyyatan baʿḍuhum min baʿḍ.648 Also, ghayr in the Fātiḥa is in the khafḍ case due to takrīr, the underlying meaning being ṣirāṭa ghayri-l-maghḍūbi ʿalayhim.649 Thus, Farrāʾ uses takrīr to describe the badal by referring to the most important feature of the badal: that its case ending can be explained by positing an underlying repetition of whatever ʿāmil governs the mubdal minhu. In the instances when Farrāʾ does not give the underlying form explicitly, we can understand takrīr to mean that the governing item is repeated. Ibid., 2:184. Ibid., 2:397. 646 Ibid., 2:310. 647 Ibid., 1:56. 648 Ibid., 1:207. 649 Ibid., 1:7. 644 645

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Karra/yakurr is sometimes used in the same way as takrīr. For example, the rafʿ case of kathīrun in Qurʾān 5:71 thumma ʿamū wa-ṣummū kathīrun minhum is explained by repetition of the verb, so that it governs kathīrun also (an takurr al-fiʿl ʿalayhā), the underlying form being ʿamiya wa-ṣamma kathīrun minhum.650 Karra ʿalā, “to refer back to,” is sometimes used to describe the badal construction in a similar way. When a word is the second part of a badal construction, Farrāʾ often says that it yakurr ʿalā its mubdal minhu. Hādha-lqurʾān in 12:3 bi-mā awḥaynā ilayka hādha-l-qurʾāna can be interpreted as being in the khafḍ case because it is refers back to (makrūr ʿalā) mā, that is, acts as a badal for mā.651 Similarly, if al-jinn in Qurʾān 34:14 tabayyanati-l-jinnu an law kānū yaʿlamūn were to be read in the naṣb case, then an would also be in the naṣb case due to karr (wa-takūn an makrūra ʿala-l-jinn fa-tanṣibuhā).652 The badal construct is not the only syntactic structure that Farrāʾ describes using takrīr. Any underlying repetition of an ʿāmil, whether the result be a badal or another constuction, is referred to as takrīr. For example, you can only say zaydan ḍarabtuhu if you intend repetition (takrīr), that is, Zayd must be the understood object of the verb, and the hāʾ is a repetition of the object stated earlier (kaʾannahu nawā an yuwaqqiʿ al-ḍarb ʿalā zaydin qabla an yaqaʿ ʿala-l-hāʾ fa-lammā taʾakhkhara-l-fiʿl adkhala-l-hāʾ ʿala-l-takrīr).653 Sometimes, takrīr is used to refer to surface, as opposed to underlying repetition, as in ʿAbd Allāh’s reading of Qurʾān 76:31 wa-li-l-z.ālimīna aʿadda lahum ʿadhāban alīman, the particle li- is repeated (fa-karrara-l-lām fi-l-z.ālimīn wa-fī lahum).654 In a line of poetry, fa-aṣbaḥna lā yasalnahū ʿan bi-mā bihī, a preposition is repeated twice (fa-karrara-l-bāʾ marratayn), possibly for the sake of the poetical meter, though the verse would have been clearer, says Farrāʾ, had it not been done (fa-law qālū lā yasalnahū ʿammā bihī, kāna abyan waajwad).655 Repetition could also be used to express emphasis (tawkīd). For example, anna and its subject can be repeated if they follow a conditional the apodosis of which has not yet been expressed, or it can be deleted (fa-in shiʾta karrarta-smahu wa-in shiʾta ḥadhaftahu). But anna cannot be repeated if nothing intervenes between it and the first anna, unless you are repeating for Ibid., 1:316. Ibid., 2:32. 652 Ibid., 2:357. 653 Ibid., 2:255. 654 Ibid., 3:220–1. 655 Ibid., 3:221. 650 651

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emphasis (fa-khaṭaʾ an taqūl az.unnu annaka annaka nādim illā an tukarrir ka-ltawkīd).656 Takrīr, then, is not a true technical term for Farrāʾ, but a quasitechnical term. For him, it literally means “repetition.” It is not a term for badal per se, but rather a word is said to be in the same case as a mubdal minhu due to the underlying repetition (takrīr) of its governor. Badal, then, is a subset of those structures that are described with the term takrīr.

RADD (AND ITS DERIVATIVES) Radd is used by Farrāʾ to mean “to relate back to, to have some relationship with a previous word such that it has the same grammatical case as the earlier word.” This relationship is often a badal relationship, as when Farrāʾ explains that yawma (the day on which…) in Qurʾān 83:5–6 li-yawmin ʿaz.īmin yawma yaqūmu-l-nāsu li-rabbi-l-ʿālamīn could be read in the khafḍ case by being related to (bi-l-radd ʿalā) the first instance of yawm.657 The relationship with the previous word can be one of coordination, as when Farrāʾ says that wa-l-mushrikīn in 98:1 lam yakuni-lladhīna kafarū min ahli-l-kitābi wa-l-mushrikīn could also be read in the rafʿ case, with the justification that it is related back to alladhīna kafarū (wa-law kānat rafʿan kāna ṣawāban turadd ʿala-lladhīna kafarū).658 The relationship could also be one that has no syntactic basis and no explanation other than proximity (mujāwara).659 Farrāʾ says that the Arabs say: kullu dhī ʿayn nāz.ir ilayk or nāz.ira ilayk. Though the subject of the sentence is kull and the predicate should agree with it, that agreement can be ignored and nāz.ir could be related back to ʿayn instead of kull. The reason is that metaphorically, the ʿayn can be said to be doing the looking (qawlaka naz.arat ilayk ʿaynī wa-naz.artu ilayk bi-maʿnā wāḥid fa-turika kull wa-lahu-l-fiʿl warudda ila-l-ʿayn).660 One important aspect of Farrāʾ’s use of radd is that it frequently involves some reversion back to an underlying or previous form, or an implied or understood meaning. It thus means “to return to” or “to be related to an original form.” So, if a possessive first person attached pronoun yāʾ is not preceded by a vowel sound, then it is reverted back to the a sound that Ibid., 2:235. Ibid., 3:246. 658 Ibid., 1:71. 659 See n. 641. 660 Farrāʾ, Maʿānī, 2:277. 656 657

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it previously had (fa-idhā sakana mā qablahā ruddat ila-l-fatḥ alladhī kāna lahā).661 Qurʾān 47:14 a-fa-man kāna ʿalā bayyinatin min rabbihī ka-man zuyyina lahū sūʾu ʿamalihī wa-ttabaʿa ahwāʾahum begins in the singular, yet ahwāʾahum is plural. Farrāʾ explains the discrepancy by saying that man can refer to one person or several, and thus ahwāʾahum reverts back to the actual meaning of the sentence (man takūn fī maʿnā wāḥid wa-jamīʿ fa-ruddat ahwāʾuhum ʿala-lmaʿnā).662 Even when radda means “to be related back to a previous element in a sentence,” as in a badal, there is often some element of reverting back to an underlying form. Thus, when the Arabs say: ʿajibtu min tasāquṭ al-buyūt baʿḍuhā ʿalā baʿḍ, with the first baʿḍ being in the rafʿ case, Farrāʾ explains that they are relating baʿḍuhā to the actual underlying grammatical position of al-buyūt, that is, subject of the verb tasāqaṭa, not the surface position (faman rafaʿa radda-l-baʿḍ ilā taʾwīl al-buyūt li-annahā rafʿ. A-lā tarā anna-l-maʿnā ʿajibtu min an tasāqaṭat baʿḍuhā ʿalā baʿḍ?).663 Similarly, Qurʾān 2:266 ayawaddu aḥadukum an takūna lahū jannatun … fa-aṣābahā iʿṣārun fīhi nārun faḥtaraqat contains a verb in the subjunctive mood (an takūna) coordinated with a past tense verb. Farrāʾ explains this discrepancy between the two tenses by saying that wadda can be used with an or with law. If law, then the past tense is used, but both have the same future meaning. Thus, in this verse, the past tense is brought back to correspond with the understood law (istajāzū an yaruddū faʿala bi-taʾwīl law).664 In summary, radd (and words derived from its root) is a non-technical term, used frequently but not exclusively to describe the badal concept.

TAFSĪR This word would become the standard Kūfan term for tamyīz. In general, Farrāʾ uses tafsīr to mean “a clarification.” Often the clarification was a badal, and often a tamyīz. In a passage describing the differences between the badal concept and coordination, Farrāʾ uses tafsīr to refer to the badal. He explains that the conjunction wāw is deleted when you want to give further explanation to a word, not when you want to add to it. Thus, you say ʿindī dābbatān baghl waIbid., 2:75. Ibid., 3:59. 663 Ibid., 1:96. 664 Ibid., 1:175. 661 662

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birdhawn (“I have two animals, a mule and a horse”), and you don’t say ʿindī dābbatān wa-baghl wa-birdhawn (“...two animals AND a mule and a horse”). This is because you want only to clarify the dābbatān (wa-anta turīd tafsīr aldābbatān bi-l-baghl wa-l-birdhawn).665 Similarly, mufassir can be understood to refer to the badal construction in Farrāʾ’s explanation of Qurʾān 16:86, in which he says that if la-kādhibūn in fa-alqaw ilayhimu-l-qawla innakum la-kādhibūn did not contain a lām, then inna could be read as anna, justified by it being a mufassir for al-qawl, such that the verb that governs al-qawl also governs the sentence that begins with anna (wa-man fataḥahā law lam takun fīhā lām fī qawlihī la-kādhibūn jaʿalahā tafsīran li-l-qawl: al-qawl ilayhim annakum kādhibūn).666 We also sometimes see tafsīr being used for a mafʿūl li-ajlihi,667 as when Farrāʾ says that if you say aʿṭaytuka khawfan wa-faraqan, khawfan and faraqan are in the naṣb case because they act as an explanation for the verb, or the reason for doing the verb, and not because it is governed by the verb (fatanṣibuhu ʿala-l-tafsīr laysa bi-l-fiʿl). He follows with two examples from the Qurʾān.668 Tamyīz was called tafsīr by later Kūfans, and Farrāʾ often used tafsīr in this way also. For Farrāʾ, one defining characteristic of tafsīr is that it is not a crucial element in the core of the sentence, though in the underlying form it may be the subject of its verb. Thus, if you say ʿindī ʿishrūn, you have created a complete sentence, but not stated of what item you have twenty. The additional explanatory element which clarifies the identity of the counted object, since it falls outside the essential structure of the sentence, is in the naṣb case (idhā qulta ʿindī ʿishrūn fa-qad akhbarta ʿan ʿadad majhūl qad tamma khabaruhu wa-juhila jinsuhu wa-baqiya tafsīruhu fa-ṣāra hādhā mufassiran ʿanhu falidhālika nuṣiba).669 Such a tafsīr, although manṣūb and although outside the core structure of the sentence, could be, underlyingly, the actual subject of the verb in the sentence. In the surface form, however, another word becomes the subject, and the actual subject is now outside the sentence in the manṣūb case. Thus, marartu bi-rajulin ḥasanin wajhan is underlyingly ḥasuna waIbid., 2:69. Ibid., 2:113. 667 “Accusative of cause,” a verbal noun in the accusative case which explains the reason for the action described in the verb. Abboud, EMSA, 2:229–30; Babtī, Muʿjam, s.v. ‘al-mafʿūl li-ajlihi,’ 1038–1040. 668 Farrāʾ, Maʿānī, 1:17. 669 Ibid., 1:226. 665 666

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jhuhu, but the rajul became the grammatical subject of the verb and the true subject is now a mufassir. It is for this reason that a tafsīr which is in the naṣb case, and is today called tamyīz, is said by Farrāʾ to have undergone khurūj, “going out of” the main sentence, and resting outside it in the manṣūb case (see above).

PARAPHRASE Instead of using one or more of these terms to express the idea of the badal, Farrāʾ sometimes paraphrased so that the underlying repeated governing word (ʿāmil) was revealed. Thus, al-nāri in Qurʾān 85:4–5 qutila aṣḥābu-lukhdūdi al-nāri dhāti-l-waqūdi is in the khafḍ case because it is the ukhdūd itself. Thus, it is as if it says qutila aṣḥābu-l-nār.670 Similarly, the phrase allā naʿbuda illa-llāha in Qurʾān 3:64 taʿālaw ilā kalimatin sawāʾin baynanā wa-baynakum allā naʿbuda illa-llāha is in the position of khafḍ because the underlying meaning is taʿālaw ilā allā naʿbuda illa-llāha.671 In summary, it is clear that Farrāʾ had not settled on a technical term to refer to the badal. Rather, he had several terms, each of which had a different meaning, and used whichever was most appropriate for the circumstance. He used all of them except ʿibāra to refer to other grammatical concepts besides the badal. Tarjama meant any sort of clarifying word, and tabiʿa meant “to follow grammatically,” or “to have the same case as.” Karra and takrīr meant “repetition.” Radd meant to “refer back to.” Tafsīr meant any sort of explanatory word, though it is clear that Farrāʾ had set the groundwork for tafsīr to become a precise definition of tamyīz.

TAFSĪR AMONG THE LATER KŪFANS For Thaʿlab, Ibn al-Anbārī and Rāzī, the badal construct and the tamyīz concept had become well-defined categories, each of which had its own exclusive terms. Tafsīr and its derivative mufassir have become the exclusive terms for what is today called tamyīz. Thaʿlab says, for example, that in a phrase such as niʿma qawman, the verb (niʿma) is singular because qawm, though plural, is not the grammatical subject of the verb, but rather a mufassir which indicates the subject (al-fiʿl lā yataṣarraf ʿalayhi wa-yuwaḥḥidūn al-fiʿl

670 671

Ibid., 3:253. Ibid., 1:220.

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li-anna-l-mufassir yadull ʿalayhi).672 Similarly, in a line of poetry cited by Sībawayh, ʿalā annanī baʿda mā qad maḍā thalāthūna li-l-hijri ḥawlan kamīlā, the number (thalāthūn) and its noun (ḥawlan) are separated by li-l-hijr. Thaʿlab here uses tafsīr (faraqa bayna-l-tafsīr wa-bayna mā fassarahu).673 He also says that in counting singulars and duals are not usually followed by a tafsīr as are plurals.674 Ibn al-Anbārī also uses tafsīr to refer to the tamyīz construction. He distinguishes it from ḥāl675 and from maf ʿ ūl muṭlaq,676 saying that jarran, a verbal noun, in halumma jarran, could be in the naṣb case for three reasons. One, that given by the Kūfans, is that it is a maf ʿ ūl muṭlaq (manṣūb ʿala-l-maṣdar), the underlying form of which is jarrū jarran. The Baṣrans believe it is a ḥāl in the form of a maṣdar, the understood meaning of it being halumma jārrīn. Some grammarians say that it is in the naṣb case due to being a tafsīr, (unṣiba jarran ʿala-l-tafsīr).677 He makes clear that tafsīr refers to the tamyīz construction by giving an example of a tafsīr which corresponds exactly with the tamyīz construction. He says that a tafsīr is like when you say marartu bi-l-rajuli al-ḥasani wajhan.678 That he contrasts tafsīr clearly with ḥāl and maṣdar (i.e. mafʿūl muṭlaq) and defines it with this particular example shows that the tafsīr is, for Ibn alAnbārī, a clearly-defined grammatical category which corresponds with what is today called tamyīz. His use of ʿalā, “by, due to” in the passage is revealing. Saying that the word is in the naṣb case “due to (it being a)” tafsīr shows that he felt tafsīr to be a category the definition, description, and behavior of which were understood by his readers, a category the mere invocation of which would suffice to explain a grammatical ending. Compare with Farrāʾ’s use of the word, in which tafsīr usually meant “an explanatory word,” and by coincidence sometimes expressed the tamyīz idea. Even on an occasion when he did use the phrase ʿala-l-tafsīr, such as Thaʿlab, Majālis, 273. Ibid., 425. See also al-Naḥḥās, Abū Jaʿfar Aḥmad, Sharḥ abyāt Sībawayh, p. 127, #426. 674 Thaʿlab, Majālis, 437. 675 See n. 623. 676 “Cognate Accusative,” a construction in which a verb is followed by its own verbal noun in the accusative case for emphasis or to modify the verb. See Abboud, EMSA, 1:347–8; Babtī, Muʿjam, s.v. ‘al-mafʿūl al-muṭlaq,’ 1041–1045. 677 Ibn al-Anbārī, Zāhir, 1:371. 678 Ibn al-Anbārī, Sharḥ al-qaṣāʾid, 70. 672 673

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that cited above,679 ʿala-l-tafsīr was not, in his view, sufficient explanation for the case ending. A more detailed explanation of the reason for the noun’s naṣb case, using examples and analogies, is given in addition to the phrase ʿala-l-tafsīr.

BADAL The badal category was clearly a well-defined one for these later Kūfans. It had clear defining boundaries, but they had more than one term for it. Their preferred term appeared to be tarjama, but they were also at home with the Baṣran badal, and they also used radd, takrīr and tābiʿ, but like Farrāʾ did not use these as strict technical terms.

TARJAMA/MUTARJIM Thaʿlab uses tarjama for the badal construction, as in a discussion of Qurʾān 74:9 fa-dhālika yawmaʾidhin yawmun ʿasīr, in which he says that yawmun is a tarjama of yawmaʾidhin.680 Ibn al-Anbārī also frequently used mutarjim to refer to the badal.681 He gives an example of a tarjama when he says it is as when you say: raʾaytu Bakran abā Muḥammad.682 He specifies one defining characteristic of the tarjama when he paraphrases a line in the muʿallaqa by Ḥārith b. Ḥilliza, saying that anna is a tarjama for al-anbāʾ, such that the underlying meaning is atānā ikhwānana-l-arāqim. That is, the word governing anbāʾ (atānā) is repeated underlyingly such that it also governs anna.683 This underlying repetition of a governor is one of the defining characteristics of the badal (see above). Rāzī also uses tarjama to mean badal, and the tarjama is defined as being identical with the word it precedes. If you believe, he says, that Hārūt and Mārūt mentioned in Qurʾān 2:102 mā unzila ʿala-l-malakayni bi-Bābila Hāruta wa-Mārūt are the names of the angels, then the passage should be read with no intervening particle between al-malakayni and Hārūta wa-Mārūt, since Hārūt and Mārūt are a tarjama for al-malakayni.684 Thus, for Rāzī, tarjama is a badal, and the category had a fixed definition, one element of which is that it is identical with the word it describes. See p. 115 above. Thaʿlab, Majālis, 20. 681 Some examples are in Sharḥ al-qaṣāʾid, 29, 207, 406, 408. 682 Ibn al-Anbārī, Aḍdād, 212. 683 Ibid., 448. 684 Rāzī, Zīna, 351v. . 679 680

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BADAL The Kūfans did not use badal in their own writings, but were familiar with the term, and used it in quoting or disputing Baṣran grammarians. In his discussion of the expression man ḍarabaka iyyāka, Thaʿlab shows the badal category to be a clearly defined one. He says that the Baṣrans believe that iyyāka here is a badal, but it cannot be since the badal stands in the place of something else, and this (iyyāka) cannot stand in the place of the earlier word, that is, you cannot replace the first word with the second and say ḍarabtu iyyāka (al-badal yaqūm maqām al-shayʾ wa-hādhā lā yaqūm maqāmahu liannahu lā yaqaʿ al-thānī mawqiʿ al-awwal).685 Similarly, Ibn al-Anbārī says that in a sentence such as that in Qurʾān 21:3 wa-asarru-l-najwa-lladhīna z.alamū “They conceal their secret conversations, the wrong-doers” in which a plural verb precedes its subject, the Baṣrans say that the stated subject alladhīna z.alamū is a badal for the implied subject of asarrū, whereas in his conception, it is the subject of an underlying repeated verb (fa-lladhīna yartafiʿūn min qawlinā ʿalā maʿnā asarraha-lladhīna z.alamū wa-min qawl al-baṣriyyīn ʿala-l-badal mimmā fī asarrū). Thus, the underlying sentence reads: asarru-l-najwā asarraha-lladhīna z.alamū.686

TĀBIʿ/ITBĀʿ, ETC. The later Kūfans did not use tābi and itbāʿ as technical terms for the badal construction. Their usage was similar to that of Farrāʾ, in that tābiʿ usually referred to a word which agrees with a previous noun no matter what the justification for the agreement. As with Farrāʾ, tābiʿ did sometimes refer to a badal construction, since a noun agreeing with a previous noun in case is sometimes a badal. 685 Ibid., 557 and 133. Also, a footnote by Farrāʾ’s editors, Najātī and Najjār, quotes Thaʿlab as responding to Akhfash’s claim that ghayr in the Fātiḥa is a badal. He says that it could be true, since the meaning of the verse is repetition (takrīr, i.e., a repetition of ṣirāṭ). He gives the underlying form: ṣirāṭa ghayri-l-maghḍūbi ʿalayhim. The editor does not give a citation for the passage and I have not been able to find it, but if it is indeed a quote from Thaʿlab, it gives even greater credence to the idea that Thaʿlab had determined the set of parameters which define the badal. One such parameter was that its case ending was explainable by repetition (takrīr) of the ʿāmil. Farrāʾ, Maʿānī, 1:7. 686 Ibn al-Anbārī, al-Mudhakkar wa-l-muʾannath, 491. He gives numerous other examples in which the Baṣrans give badal as an explanation, but he and his compatriots give implied repetition of a governor. See takrīr below.

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Ibn al-Anbārī frequently used tābiʿ when speaking of the relationship between a badal and its mubdal minhu. He says that shāriqu in āyatun shāriqu-lshaqīqa from the muʿallaqa of Ḥārith b. Ḥilliza is a tābiʿ of āya.687 However, as with Farrāʾ, itbāʿ can also refer to any relationship between a pair of sentence elements such that they agree in case. Thus, he says that yashqā in a line in the ode by Ḥārith b. Ḥilliza, which acts as an adjective to bilgh in bilghun yashqā bihi-l-ashqiyāʾ, is in the rafʿ case due to itbāʿ of bilgh.688 Emphasis (tawkīd) is also a type of itbāʿ for Ibn al-Anbārī. A tawkīd is a tābiʿ alā jihat al-tawkīd. Thus, in the first line of Labīd b. Rabīʿa’s muʿallaqa, ʿafati-l-diyāru maḥalluhā fa-maqāmuhā, maḥalluhā fa-maqāmuhā cannot be tābiʿ ʿalā jihat al-tawkīd because they are separated by fa. Under other circumstances, as when you say qāma-l-qawmu aḥmaruhum wa-aswaduhum, aḥmaruhum wa-aswaduhum is a tābiʿ since it can be interpreted as kulluhum.689 Sometimes tābiʿ/itbāʿ is used to express a relationship between two nouns that might not be at obvious at first glance. Thus, in a line from the muʿallaqa by ʿAmr b. Kulthūm, z.aʿāʾin is a complement to the word bīḍ which occurs in the previous line. Tābiʿ as used here does not make clear what the relationship is between the two words, but only that it exists. That there is such a relationship at all might be unexpected due to the distance between the two words, so it is this to which Ibn al-Anbārī calls attention. Presumably the reader will be able to determine the nature of the relationship once made aware of it. It is this type of complement that he sometimes refers to with itbāʿ. As will be seen below, radd is often used in the same way.

RADD AND TAKRĪR AND DERIVATIVES Unlike tarjama, these two terms did not make the leap to technical status. Radd, like itbāʿ, was used by the later Kūfans in much the same way Farrāʾ used it: to refer to any type of syntactic relationship between two elements in a sentence, a relationship which may or may not be of the badal type. Thus, Thaʿlab said that daman in a line of poetry by Zuhayr is related to the

687 Ibn al-Anbārī, Sharḥ al-qaṣāʾid, 493–4. Another example of tābiʿ used to refer to the badal construction is in Ibid., 544. 688 Ibid., 490. 689 Ibid., 518.

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word bayān which occurs in the previous line (radd ʿalā bayān). In this instance, the relationship is that of the badal.690 Radd can usually be understood in its literal sense of “to go back to.” Frequently the relationship was between two words at some distance to each other, so the radd relationship that a word had with another word was contrasted with the possibility of it being related to some different word. Thus, Thaʿlab says that those who read wa-midrahi in a line of poetry by Zuhayr in the khafḍ case, are relating it back to bi-ḍarrābi, which occurs two verses previous.691 The relationship here happens to be one of coordination. Ibn al-Anbārī uses radd in a similar way.692 Takrīr also held to its literal meaning, “repetition.” It was used to express the idea of badal because badal is defined as a construction in which such repetition is implied. Thus, in a line in Ṭarafa b. al-ʿAbd’s muʿallaqa, khashāshun in ana-l-rajulu-l-jaʿdu-lladhī taʿrifūnahu khashāshun is in the rafʿ case due to takrīr, that is, the implied repetition of anā, such that the underlying meaning, stated by Ibn al-Anbārī, is anā khashāshun.693

BADAL IN KITĀB AL-ZĪNA There is a revealing passage in Kitāb al-zīna which summarizes many of these points concerning the badal construction. Rāzī attacks those who, claiming that a definite noun cannot be described with an indefinite complement (wa-lā tunʿat maʿrifa bi-nakira), would read Qurʾān 112:1 as qul huwallāhu-l-aḥad with a definite article attached to aḥad. This argument is a result of their limited understanding of how Arabic works, he says. In fact, the naʿt can be of two kinds: (besides the commonly-understood type, the adjective), the naʿt can also be a badal, a tābiʿ, a tarjama, an ʿibāra (li-anna-l-naʿt ʿalā ḍarbayn yakūn al-naʿt badalan wa-tābiʿan wa-tarjama wa-ʿibāra). If a naʿt is of this type, the badal (and not of the adjective variety), then indeed it can be used to describe a definite when indefinite, or an indefinite when definite. An example of the first type is in Qurʾān 96:15–16 la-nasfaʿan bi-l-nāṣiyati nāṣiyatin kādhiba, where the first instance of nāṣīya is definite, the second is 690

165.

Thaʿlab, Abu-l-ʿAbbās Aḥmad b. Yaḥyā, Sharḥ shiʿr Zuhayr ibn Abī Sulmā,

Ibid., 168. See for example al-Mudhakkar wa-l-muʾannath, 231; Sharḥ al-qaṣāʾid, 33. 693 Ibn al-Anbārī, Sharḥ al-qaṣāʾid, 212. For another example see Ibid., 501; see n. 686 above for Ibn al-Anbārī’s discussion of the relationship between badal and takrīr. 691 692

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indefinite. An example of the second is found in Qurʾān 42:52–3 wa-innaka la-tahdī ilā ṣirāṭin mustaqīmin ṣirāṭi-llāhi, where the first ṣirāṭ is indefinite, the second is definite. This type of complement, Rāzī then admits, is in fact not called a naʿt, but is called a badal. In Qurʾān 18:88, fa-lahū jazāʾuni-l-ḥusnā, where jazāʾ has a tanwīn and is in the rafʿ case,694 ḥusnā is a badal for jazāʾ.695 This passage reveals two important points: First, for Rāzī, there were several words which served as technical terms for the badal. The passages from Thaʿlab, Ibn al-Anbārī and Rāzī above support this contention, and it is only tābiʿ which failed to achieve status as a technical term for badal. Secondly, the badal had a well-defined set of characteristics in Rāzī’s mind, one of them, the one mentioned here, being that a word can act as a badal for another word without regard to agreement in definiteness. For Rāzī to have called aḥad in qul huwa-llāhu aḥad a naʿt should be seen as a convenient act of selectiveness on his part. Even Farrāʾ, for all his terminological imprecision, was clear in his differentiation of the naʿt as a separate category from the badal. He implies that the naʿt must agree in definiteness with the noun it describes, as in Qurʾān 2:89 wa-lammā jāʾahum kitābun min ʿindi-llāhi muṣaddiqun, where he says that muṣaddiqun is a naʿt for kitābun since it is indefinite.696 The only reason that it is allowable for ghayr in alladhīna anʿamta ʿalayhim ghayri-l-maghḍūbi ʿalayhim to act as a naʿt for alladhīna is because it is a muḍāf for a word that begins with alif-lām, and because it is not an adjective for a proper noun. Ghayr cannot be an adjective for a proper noun, so that you cannot say marartu bi-ʿAbd Allāhi ghayr al-z.arīf unless you consider ghayr as a badal and not a naʿt (illā ʿala-l-takrīr), that is, unless you postulate an underlying repetition of the verb marartu.697 For Farrāʾ, then, the naʿt and its rules are clearly distinguished from the badal concept, though he has no term with which he consistently describes the badal. Farrāʾ also distinguishes the naʿt from the ḥāl, also known as qaṭʿ, as when he says that the ḥāl is in the naṣb case regardless of whether it describes a definite or indefinite. If you say hal min rajul yuḍrab mujarradan, it is

694 The only two known readings of the verse are jazāʾani-l-ḥusnā and jazāʾu-lḥusna. Ṭabarsī, Majmaʿ, on this verse, 6:302. According to Farrāʾ, no reader pronounced the verse the way Rāzī describes. Farrāʾ, Maʿānī, 2:159. 695 Rāzī, Zīna, 2:40 (Hamdānī); 53v-54r (ms). 696 Farrāʾ, Maʿānī, 1:55. 697 Ibid., 1:7. Also see 2:250.

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a ḥāl and not a naʿt.698 Similarly, adhillatin in Qurʾān 5:54 fa-sawfa yaʾti-llāhu biqawmin yuḥibbuhum wa-yuḥibbūnahu adhillatin ʿala-l-muʾminīn is in the khafḍ case because it is a naʿt for qawm, but, by contrast, it could also be read in the naṣb case if you consider it a ḥāl (wa-law naṣabta ʿala-l-qaṭʿ… kāna wajhan).699 Ibn al-Anbārī also recognizes naʿt as being very narrowly defined as “adjective,” one characteristic of which is that it must agree in definiteness with the noun it modifies. When he calls qayd al-awābid in the muʿallaqa of Imruʾ al-Qays a naʿt for munjaridin, he adds an explanation as to why a definite is allowed to act as a naʿt for an indefinite. It is because the underlying meaning of qayd al-awābid is mithli qayd al-awābid.700 Sometimes, however, Farrāʾ uses naʿt in a broader way, to refer to any word that describes another word regardless of grammatical case. Thus, a ḥāl would be a kind of naʿt. Thus in 12:46 wa-sabʿi sunbulātin khuḍrin, khuḍrin could also be in the naṣb case if it were a naʿt for sabʿ.701 He also says that if two words follow a passive verb, the second of which describes (is a naʿt for) the first, the two words are in the rafʿ case. If the second is indefinite, thus non-agreeing, that indefinite should be in the naṣb case, as in ḍuriba ʿAbd Allāhi rākiban.702 When an indefinite adjective describes (yanʿat) a definite noun, it should be manṣūb since it is ḥāl (qaṭʿ). If it agrees in definiteness, it should also agree in case. Thus, qāʾiman in Qurʾān 3:18 wa-ūlu-l-ʿilmi qāʾiman bi-l-qisṭ is manṣūb because it is qaṭʿ, since an indefinite describes (yanʿat) a definite, but in ʿAbd Allāh’s reading, al-qāʾimu bi-l-qisṭ, it is in the rafʿ case, that is, in agreement with its noun, since it is definite and the noun it describes is also (manṣūb ʿala-l-qaṭʿ liʾannahu nakira nuʿita bihi maʿrifa wahuwa fī qirāʾati ʿAbdi-llāh al-qāʾimu bi-l-qisṭ rafʿ li-annahu maʿrifa naʿt limaʿrifa).703 For Farrāʾ, then, naʿt had two senses. One was a broad sense of “any word that describes another.” The narrow sense was the syntactic category “adjective,” which must agree with the described noun in case and definiteness. When understood in this narrower sense, naʿt was clearly a technical term, unlike those he used for badal. Even Rāzī understood naʿt in this sense, for in contrast with the passage cited above, he says in a different Ibid., 2:216. Ibid., 1:313. 700 Ibn al-Anbārī, Sharḥ al-qaṣāʾid, 83. 701 Farrāʾ, Maʿānī, 2:47. 702 Ibid., 1:112. 703 Ibid., 1:200. 698 699

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passage that an indefinite cannot be described by a definite (wa-lā yunʿat nakira bi-maʿrifa). It is for this reason that in the expression ayyām al-bīḍ, albīḍ cannot be an adjective for ayyām, since it is definite and ayyām is not. Thus, it must be describing a deleted noun, layālī, such that the underlying form is ayyām al-layālī al-bīḍ.704 He appeared to be aware of both senses of the word naʿt: the broad one sometimes used by Farrāʾ, as well as the more common narrowly defined one, and was able to choose the most convenient of the two for the sake of argument.

704

Rāzī, Zīna, 287r.

7 RĀZĪ THE HERESIOGRAPHER Rāzī devotes a part of Kitāb al-zīna to discussing the various sectarian divisions that had befallen the Muslim community in his time. Later, it will be seen how the overall structure of Kitāb al-zīna forms a grand narrative which corresponds closely with the Ismāʿīlī creation myth. After discussing things found in the worldly plane, Rāzī discusses words pertaining to faith and unbelief. This leads directly to the section on firaq (sects), which lists by name the various sectarian divisions found in Islam. This section of Kitāb alzīna was published in 1972 by Samarrāʾī (see Introduction). This chapter will be divided into three sections: First, some of the firaq literature that existed around the time Rāzī lived will be examined and compared with Rāzī’s section on Islamic sects, in order to know what might be discovered about the sources Rāzī used. Second will be a brief examination of the way heresiographers depict their own sects favorably in their writings. Third, an examination of the heresiographical section of Kitāb al-zīna to see how Rāzī reorganized his source material to depict the Ismāʿīlīs in a favorable light.

RĀZĪ’S SOURCE MATERIAL A detailed study of the sources from which Rāzī drew is far beyond the scope of this work. But a couple of broad conclusions can be drawn after looking at some of the other firaq material that existed around Rāzī’s time. Madelung examined Firaq al-Shīʿa by Nawbakhtī (very early 3rd/9th century) and Firaq al-Shīʿa, sometimes called Kitāb al-maqālāt wa-l-firaq, by Qummī (d. circa 300/913) and found that the two books are in fact the same book. Or, more specifically, Qummī uses Nawbakhtī’s book as his

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basis, and expands on it using other sources.705 Qummī was writing later than Nawbakhtī, for his book contains certain pieces of information that are more recent than those contained in Nawbakhtī’s. Nawbakhtī, for example, said that the Qarmaṭīs are cowardly and have no strength, whereas Qummī, in the same spot, describes them as very strong, having converted many Arabs to their cause.706 Notwithstanding information added by Qummī, however, the two books agree verbatim for the most part. Nawbakhtī’s sources of information are a mystery. However, Madelung, on the basis of internal evidence from the text itself, strongly suspects one of them to be Kitāb al-ikhtilāf fi-l-imāma by Hishām b. Ḥakam (d. late 2nd/8th c.). He appears to have transcribed the first part of his book from a source which was written before the end of the 2nd/8th century. His descriptions of the ʿAbbāsid Shīʿa, for example, and some of the extremist sects, would have been taken from a work written while these groups were active. He sometimes speaks of groups no longer active in his day in the present tense, saying, for example, that the Rāwandiyya believe that Manṣūr is their God “to this day.”707 Since the first part of Nawbakhtī’s book concerns the topic described in the title of Hishām’s book (disputes concerning the imamate), and since Hishām’s work was a well-known one from that era, Madelung concludes that it was most likely the source for Nawbakhtī’s Firaq al-Shīʿa.708 Qummī, according to Madelung, probably used two main sources to supplement Nawbakhtī’s Firaq, one of which Madelung suspects to be Kitāb al-maqālāt by Warrāq (middle to late 3rd/9th c.).709 Because Qummī frequently repeats information, or presents similar information twice in different or conflicting ways, it is clear from reading his work that he uses more than one source.710 In other words, according to Madelung, it is not likely that Nawbakhtī and Qummī were drawing from one source, and that Qummī merely included details from the original source that Nawbakhtī omitted. Rather, Nawbakhtī’s Firaq was one of Qummī’s numerous sources. Qummī’s Firaq contained the information found within Nawbakhtī’s Firaq, 705 Madelung, Wilferd, “Bemerkungen zur imamitischen Firaq-Literatur” and Ḥifnī’s comments in al-Nawbakhtī, al-Ḥasan b. Mūsā and Qummī, Saʿd b. ʿAbd Allāh, Firaq al-Shīʿa, 9. 706 Ibid., 38. 707 Ibid., 41. 708 Ibid., 41–3. 709 Ibid., 41. 710 Ibid., 44.

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and to that core Qummī added further details and information about later historical events from other sources. Rāzī, on the other hand, clearly drew information from the same tradition upon which Nawbakhtī and Qummī relied. Rāzī may very well have examined both of those books but he did not use either of those works as his exclusive source. Nor could Kitāb al-zīna possibly be a source used by Nawbakhtī or Qummī, as suggested by Hamdāni.711 The reason is that Rāzī’s firaq section is clearly a reorganization of various material collected from other sources. It is well-organized, such that the entire Islamic community is divided into five major headings, then the subsects of each of those headings are discussed. Nawbakhtī and Qummī, on the other hand, as seen above, rarely adhere to any particular plan of overall organization. Rather, the concern seems to be with including as much information as possible from various sources, rather than tightly fitting all members of the Islamic world into neatly-defined categories, as is the case with Rāzī. As seen above, they often present separate pieces of information about one particular group or sect, gathered from disparate sources, in separate sections of their book, which Rāzī never does. At one point, for example, Nawbakhtī discusses the followers of Bayān, a hay salesman, who claimed that the imamate was given to him by Bāqir, and was tortured to death for saying so.712 Then, a few pages later a Bayān is discussed again, and the story is told of how Bayān claimed to be a prophet after the death of Abū Hāshim ʿAbd Allāḥ, son of Muḥammad b. al-Ḥanafiyya, who taught Bayān about God. When Bayān sent an envoy to Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq with a letter asking him to accept him as a prophet, Muḥammad al-Bāqir (sic) ordered that the messenger eat the piece of paper that the letter was written on.713 Rāzī presents elements of both of these accounts of Bayān under the heading ‘Bayāniyya,’ taking from the first the fact that Bayān’s vocation was hay salesman, and from the second, the story of Bayān’s claim to prophethood and

711 Rāzī, Abū Ḥātim Aḥmad b. Ḥamdān, Kitāb al-zīna fi-l-kalimāt al-islāmiyya alʿarabiyya, ed. Hamdānī, 1:23–4. 712 al-Nawabakhtī, Abū Muḥammad al-Ḥasan, Firaq al-Shīʿa, ed. H. Ritter, 25; Nawbakhtī and Qummī, Firaq al-Shīʿa 39. 713 Nawbakhtī, ed. Ritter, Firaq, 30; al-Qummī, Saʿd b. ʿAbd Allāh, Kitāb almaqālāt wa-l-firaq, 102–112; Nawbakhtī and Qummī, Firaq al-Shīʿa, 46. The account in my edition is confusing, since it has the messenger being sent to Jaʿfar, yet Muḥammad al-Bāqir ordering the messenger to eat the paper.

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his sending a messenger to the Imam (Jaʿfar in Qummī but Bāqir in Rāzī), and Bāqir’s ordering the messenger to eat the paper.714 More tellingly, however, both collections, that of Rāzī on the one hand and that of Nawbakhtī/Qummī on the other, present information and details that the other omits. Rāzī frequently gives a brief overview of a sect, whereas Nawbakhtī and Qummī give full details about that sect’s activities. In the discussion of the first nine of the eleven sectarian divisions that ensued after the death of Ḥasan al-ʿAskarī, for example, Rāzī gives one brief line about each division,715 whereas Qummī and Nawbakhtī give a fleshedout description of each, some of them running a page in length.716 Though the descriptions of the beliefs of each sect correspond exactly, it is clear that Rāzī is offering a mere brief summary of what was detailed information in his sources. On the other hand, we find instances where Rāzī gives more detail about a sect than do Qummī and Nawbakhtī, particularly sects which have some prominence in Ismāʿīlī thought. In his discussion of the Faṭḥiyya, for example, Rāzī describes how they believed in the imamate of ʿAbd Allāh b. Jaʿfar, Ismāʿīl’s brother,717 and he relates traditions that they have used to support their position. One tradition states that Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq was heard saying, “The imamate goes to the person who sits in my seat.” And ʿAbd Allāh sat in his seat. Another tradition states that Jaʿfar said, “No one washes an imam[’s corpse] or prays over him [after his death] nor takes his ring but another imam.” And it was ʿAbd Allāh who washed Jaʿfar [after his death] and prayed over him and took his ring. Yet a third tradition has Jaʿfar giving some items to a companion of his and instructing the companion to give them to whoever asks for them, and ʿAbd Allāh asked for them.718 Nawbakhtī and Qummī, on the other hand, as Twelver Shīʿa, were less concerned with this sect, and though they mention the first in a cursory

714 al-Samarrāʾī, ʿAbd Allāh Sallūm, al-Ghuluww wa-l-firaq al-ghāliya, 297; Rāzī, Zīna, 200r (ms). 715 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 292–3; Rāzī, Zīna, 197r-198r (ms). 716 Nawbakhtī, Firaq, ed. Ritter, 79–88; Qummī, Maqālāt, 102–112; Nawbakhtī and Qummī, Firaq al-Shīʿa, 97–103. 717 See Daftary, Farhad, The Ismāʿīlīs: Their History and Doctrines, 94, where Daftary describes the Faṭḥiyya using Qummī and Nawbakhtī’s works as sources, as well as other early Shīʿī works on sects. 718 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 287; Rāzī, Zīna, 193v (ms).

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manner, omit the second two traditions, and say merely that this group believed in ʿAbd Allāh’s imamate because he was older.719 ʿAbd Allāh b. Jaʿfar would later figure prominently in Fāṭimid genealogy, since ʿAbd Allāh, the founder of the Fāṭimid dynasty, sent a letter to the Ismāʿīlī community in Yemen, claiming that he is descended not from Ismāʿīl b. Jaʿfar but from ʿAbd Allāh b. Jaʿfar, who adopted the code name Ismāʿīl.720 He claimed to be the expected Mahdī, Muḥammad b. Ismāʿīl, since Muḥammad b. Ismāʿīl was a code name for all of the true imams who are descended from ʿAbd Allāh b. Jaʿfar.721 This genealogy would later be discarded by the Fāṭimid Caliph al-Muʿizz (d. 365/975) in favor of one descended from Ismāʿīl b. Jaʿfar.722 In some cases, the two collections present completely different information. Rāzī states, for example, that after the tenth Twelver Imam ʿAlī b. Muḥammad died, a group followed his son Jaʿfar because they tested Ḥasan al-ʿAskarī and found him lacking in knowledge, and furthermore, Ḥasan left behind no children so could not possibly have been an imam. This group is called the Ṭājiniyya.723 Qummī and Nawbakhtī do not mention the name Ṭājiniyya for this group. Rather, they say that Jaʿfar’s father ʿAlī gave him the waṣiyya724 after his other son Muḥammad died, and Qummī calls them al-Jaʿfariyya al-Khullaṣ.725 Clearly, the accounts of Rāzī on the one hand and Qummī and Nawbakhtī on the other were taken from two different sources, and neither could possibly have been a source for the other. From the examples above, it is clear that Rāzī’s Kitāb al-zīna was not a major source of information for either Qummī or Nawbakhtī, nor could either of their Firaq al-Shīʿa books have been a main source for Rāzī. While it is entirely possibly that Rāzī could have consulted one or both works, or that Qummī could have consulted Kitāb al-zīna, both Nawbakhtī and Rāzī 719 Nawbakhtī, Firaq, ed. Ritter, 84; Qummī, Maqālāt, 87; Nawbakhtī and Qummī, Firaq al-Shīʿa, 84. 720 Daftary describes the letter as published in Hamdānī’s On the Genealogy of the Fatimid Caliphs, Cairo, 1958. Ismāʿīlīs, 108. 721 Ibid., 128, where Daftary cites the same source. 722 Ibid., 178, where Daftary cites writing attributed to al-Muʿizz himself. 723 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 291; Rāzī, Zīna, 196v (ms). 724 That is, he made him his waṣiyy, or legatee, a successor to the Prophet whose job it is to interpret and clarify religious law. See Daftary, Ismāʿīlīs, 137; Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd edition (EI2), ed. H. A. R. Gibb et al., s.v. ‘waṣī.’ 725 Nawbakhtī, Firaq, ed. Ritter, 79; Qummī, Maqālāt, 101; Nawbakhtī and Qummī, Firaq al-Shīʿa, 96.

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gathered information from some other, third source. Both were clearly drawing from some previously established heresiographical tradition, but not from each other. Rāzī cites by name al-Mubarrad,726 Ibn Qutayba,727 and also mentions that he has read a book by Balkhī in which he argues that the name qadariyya should be applied to the proponents of predestination and not the believers in free will.728 Rāzī was probably referring to his contemporary Abū Qāsim al-Balkhī (d. 319/931), author of Kitāb al-maqālāt, only a small fragment of which has yet been published. Balkhī was known to be a source for numerous other heresiographers, such as Abū Tammām (fourth/tenth c.),729 Ḥimyarī (d. 573/1178), Baghdādī (429/1037) and others.730 These, then, are some very general observations about the sources used by Rāzī. A detailed comparative analysis of the firaq literature that existed in Rāzī’s time is beyond the scope of this work, but from these general observations we do see that Rāzī was drawing from a previously existing body of heresiographical information. One of Rāzī’s chief accomplishments is that he reworked and reorganized this material to serve his purposes. As will be seen below, those purposes were twofold: Firstly, he was intent upon writing not a heresiography, but a glossary, so at every turn he was concerned to discuss the names of sects and to organize his work based on names that have been given to different groups more than on their beliefs. Secondly, he reorganized existing heresiographical material such that the Shīʿa, and particularly the Ismāʿīlīs, were presented in a favorable light. Both of these concerns of Rāzī will be discussed in detail below.

HERESIOGRAPHY AS PROPAGANDA Heresiographers were often not content merely to describe the beliefs of different sects, but were most frequently concerned with presenting the subdivisions in the community in such a way that their own sect appeared superior to the others. 726 Rāzī, Zīna, 187v (ms); Mubarrad is not mentioned in the Samarrāʾī edition of this passage, 276. 727 Rāzī, Zīna, 180r. 728 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 273; Rāzī, Zīna, 185v (ms). 729 See Madelung, Wilferd and Paul Walker, An Ismaili Heresiography: The “Bāb al-shayṭān from Abū Tammām’s Kitāb al-shajara, 10–12. 730 See al-Balkhī, Abū-l-Qāsim and al-Qāḍī ʿAbd al-Jabbār, Faḍl al-iʿtizāl waṭabaqāt al-Muʿtazila, 28.

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Twelver Shīʿīs Nawbakhtī and Qummī did not organize Firaq al-Shīʿa in such a way. However, when they arrived at the discussion of the group of Ḥasan al-ʿAskarī’s followers who believed there must always be a ḥujja731 on the earth (i.e., the Twelver Shīʿa), they declared themselves to be members of this sect, and argued prolifically in its favor. They said that God can order the ḥujja to hide and not announce himself just as he ordered the Prophet to not announce his mission until the time was right, and they argued that the imamate can only be transferred from father to son except in the case of al-Ḥasan and al-Ḥusayn. They named the sect “The Imāmī Shīʿites whose Shīʿism is correct (al-shīʿa al-imāmiyya al-ṣaḥīḥat altashayyuʿ).”732 Baghdādī and Abū Tammām are more cunning in their advocacy, for not only do they argue in favor of their own sect (Sunnīs in the case of Baghdādī and Ismāʿīlīs in the case of Abū Tammām), but they organize their heresiographical material in such a way that their sect appears to be the correct one. What on its surface may seem to be a mere exposition of heresiographical material turns out to be propoganda in favor of one sect or another. Both Baghdādī and Abū Tammām use the well-known 73-sect technique: They begin with the Prophetic ḥadīth which states that the Islamic community will be divided into 73 different divisions, 72 of which will be in hell and only one of which will be saved.733 Each then proceeds to give details of the beliefs of the 72 condemned sects. After Baghdādī gives descriptions of the 72 wrongly-guided sects, he discusses the saved sect, the Sunnīs (ahl al-sunna wa-l-jamāʿa). Even though ahl al-sunna wa-l-jamāʿa are divided into subsects, all of these subsects are praiseworthy and free from the harmful innovations that have plagued the other sects.734 The Ismāʿīlī Abū Tammām also lists the 72 condemned sects, then argues that the 73rd sect, the saved sect, must be one that contains all of the other 72, since the 72 deviant sects all branched off from the one correct In Shīʿī doctrine, a human representative of God on earth. See EI2, s.v. ‘ḥudjdja.’ 732 Nawbakhtī, Firaq, ed. Ritter, 90–3; Qummī, Maqālāt , 102–6; Nawbakhtī and Qummī, Firaq al-Shīʿa, 105–8. 733 Madelung and Walker, Ismaili Heresiography, 8 (Arabic) & 27 (English); alBaghdādī, ʿAbd al-Qāhir, al-Farq bayn al-firaq, 4–5. 734 Baghdādī, Farq, 299–303. 731

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one. The one system of belief that contains all 72 is belief in inner meaning (bāṭiniyya). The reason that bāṭiniyya contains all 72 sects is because only by examining their inner meaning (bāṭin) can they be said to be correct. On the basis of external meaning, for example, it cannot be true that the Qurʾān is both created and uncreated. However, if we interpret the inner meaning of Qurʾān to be the messenger of God, then it is correct to say it is created; and if we interpret it to mean the uncreated speech of God, then it is uncreated.735 In this way, bāṭiniyya, or the act of interpreting the inner meanings of things, renders all the 72 sects right.736 Thus, bāṭiniyya, meaning Ismāʿīlism, contains within it all of the 72 other sects, so it is from this sect that they must be derived.737 The point here is that heresiography is frequently propoganda for a certain sect more than it is mere exposition of facts. Later we will examine how Rāzī organizes his heresiographical material so that the Ismāʿīlīs appear as the rightly-guided sect (though he does not use the 73-sect technique).

RĀZĪ’S ORGANIZATION OF THE MATERIAL Rāzī had two concerns when organizing his heresiographical material. As evidenced in the title of Kitāb al-zīna fi-l-kalimāt al-islāmiyya al-ʿarabiyya, his first concern was with words. That is, his goal was not to give descriptions of sects per se, but to give explanations of names. So, we find that his material is organized not by doctrine, but rather that his overarching principle of organization is linguistic. Subdivisions of sects are only names that have been given to branches of that sect. This is most clearly demonstrated by his discussion of the Khawārij, whom he refers to as the “Māriqa.” The subdivisions given under this heading are in actuality different names that have been given to the Khawārij throughout their history. When he introduces the five subdivisions of the Māriqa, he does not claim that there are doctrinal differences among the Māriqa, the Shurāt, the Khawārij, the Ḥarūriyya and the Muḥakkima. Rather, he introduces them saying, “The Māriqa have five names (al-māriqa lahum khamsat alqāb).”738 Similarly, the Muʿtazila are placed under the Qadariyya, but not because he believes that they are a branch of the Qadariyya. Rather, he says that “Muʿtazila” is another name for the Qadariyya, in fact a better and more appropriate Madelung and Walker, Ismaili Heresiography, 130 (Arabic) & 121 (English). Ibid. 737 Ibid., 134–5 (Arabic) & 122–3 (English). 738 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 276; Rāzī, Zīna, 187r (ms). 735 736

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name,739 but he makes “Qadariyya” the main title of that particular section, and not “Muʿtazila,” since “Qadariyya” is mentioned in a Tradition.740 Similarly, his main discussion of the sectarian divisions in Islam is called “The names of the sects of Islam (alqāb firaq al-islām).”741 Rāzī divides the community into five main headings, each chosen because its name is mentioned in the accounts related by historians. The five are: al-Shīʿa, al-Murjiʾa, al-Rāfiḍa, al-Qadariyya and al-Māriqa.742 For each he not only gives the Tradition (ḥadīth) or relevant historical account, but a full etymology of the word in question.743 Then each subsect is usually introduced with, “They are called that because… (wa summū bi-dhālik lianna…).” Later, we find that the Rāfiḍa are, for Rāzī, in fact a branch of the Shīʿa, but for reasons which will be seen below, he chose to make them one of the main five headings. To summarize, one principle of organization that Rāzī used when rewriting the material he had discovered in the Shīʿī heresiographical tradition is linguistic. Rāzī was a glossarist, not a heresiographer, so he reworked the material handed down to him by his predecessors accordingly. Most of the time, when Rāzī mentions a subsect, it is because they have a different name that needs explaining. On one occasion, when he discussed the subsects of the followers of Ḥasan al-ʿAskarī, he did not have names for them, so explained himself saying, “They do not have well-known names (wa-laysat lahā alqāb mashhūra).”744 The second concern Rāzī had when he organized the material he culled from his sources was to present it in such a way that the Ismāʿīlīs are presented in a favorable light and the other sects, including the Twelvers, are discredited. Rāzī did not use the 73-sect technique to accomplish this feat, but nonetheless, as we will see, he does depict the Ismāʿīlīs as the correct sect and all the others as wrong. However, the Ismāʿīlī stance that he takes is much more subtle than the blatant one taken by, say, Abū Tammām or the clear pro-Sunnī stance put forth by Baghdādī. Rāzī is, in fact, so subtle in Kitāb al-zīna that many who read it thought that it contained no signs Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 273; Rāzī, Zīna, 185v-186r (ms). Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 272; Rāzī, Zīna, 185r (ms). 741 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 259; Rāzī, Zīna, 178r (ms). 742 Ibid. 743 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww: Shīʿa, 259; Murjiʾa, 262; Rāfiḍa, 270; Qadariyya, 272; Māriqa, 276. Rāzī, Zīna (ms): Shīʿa, 178v; Murjiʾa, 180r; Rāfiḍa, 184r; Qadariyya, 185r; Māriqa, 187v. 744 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 293; Rāzī, Zīna, 198r (ms). 739 740

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of Ismāʿīlī doctrine (see Conclusion). Rāzī’s Ismāʿīlism was not obvious in Kitāb al-zīna to one who only examines the z.āhir of the book (the outer meaning). However, if we examine the bāṭin (the inner meaning), we will find that, in fact, the Shīʿa are depicted favorably, and particularly the Ismāʿīlīs. Ibrāhīm Anīs suggests that Rāzī was being careful to not reveal his Ismāʿīism, since the era he was living in was dangerous and full of strife.745 Hamdānī suggests that perhaps by revealing his point of view only very subtly, he was trying to affect his readers in a subliminal way (see Conclusion).746 To see how Rāzī reveals his Ismāʿīlī bias, we must first examine in detail his organization and classification of the different sects, and his treatment of each one. The first thing we notice is that he divides the Islamic community into five groups, because, he tells us, these are the groups about which Traditions (akhbār) have been related from either the Prophet or from his companions.747 We will see that the traditions that have come down about the non-Shīʿī groups are invariably derogatory. The five groups are: 1) The Shīʿa, 2) the Murjiʾa, 3) the Rāfiḍa, 4) the Qadariyya and 5) the Māriqa. From these five groups, he says, all the other Islamic sects are derived.748 At first this grouping of sects seems strange and arbitrary, but in fact there is a well-calculated method to Rāzī’s madness. Later, Rāzī will tell us that the Rāfiḍa are a branch of the Shīʿa, as he divides the Shīʿa into three sub-branches: the Kaysāniyya, the Rāfiḍa and the Zaydiyya.749 However, at first he places the Rāfiḍa as one of Islam’s five main headings apparently because it is one of the five sectarian labels about which a Tradition or information has been handed down. So, if we collapse the Shīʿa and the Rāfiḍa, we find that Rāzī is actually dividing the community into four groups. Also, it will be seen below that Qadariyya is synonymous with Muʿtazila, and that Māriqa is synonymous with Khawārij. So, Rāzī’s division of the Islamic community is actually as follows: 1) The Shīʿa, 2) the Murjiʾa, 3) the Muʿtazila, and 4) the Khawārij.

Rāzī, Zīna (intro), 1:10. Ibid., 1:23. 747 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 259; Rāzī, Zīna, 178r (ms). 748 Ibid. 749 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 259; Rāzī, Zīna, 193r (ms). 745 746

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This schema is not unprecedented. Qummī and Nawbakhtī tell us that all of the divisions of the Islamic community can be traced back to four basic sects: the Shīʿa, the Muʿtazila, the Murjiʾa and the Khawārij.750 Similarly, Muqaddasī, in his Aḥsan al-taqāsīm fī maʿrifat al-aqālīm, states that “The sects of the Muslims have all branched off from four original divisions, the Shīʿah, the Khawārij, the Murjiʾah and the Muʿtazilah.”751 He divides the Murjiʾa into two groups: ahl al-raʾy and ahl al-ḥadīth.752 Masʿūdī, in Murūj al-dhahab, describes a gathering at the house of Yaḥyā b. Khālid, vizier of Hārūn al-Rashīd, in which scholars of the most diverse groups participated: The Shīʿa, the Khārijīs, the Muʿtazila, the Murjiʾa and the Zoroastrians.753 Thus, the greatest range of views in Islam is represented by listing these four groups. Ṭabarsī also used most of the groups (excepting the Khawārij) when he quotes Suddī on the jinn’s saying kunnā ṭarāʾiqa qidadan “We are sects having different rules”754 in Qurʾān 72:11, who says, “They are like you (in that they are divided into different groups); among them are Qadariyya, Murjiʾa, Rāfiḍa and Shīʿa.755 Is there a point to this fourfold division of the community? Michael Cook saw it in Nawbakhtī’s Firaq al-Shīʿa, and declared it “a historically worthless schema.” He felt that “Murjiʾa” in Nawbakhtī’s scheme was “a residual category…into which are forced all those who are not Shīʿites, Muʿtazilites or Khārijites…”756 Montgomery Watt also examined this method of dividing up the Islamic community, and raised the obvious question: Where are the Sunnīs? He notes that those who are normally called Sunnīs (ahl al-sunna wa-l-jamāʿa) are, in this system of classification, placed under Murjiʾa.757 750 Nawbakhtī, Firaq, ed. Ritter, 15; Qummī, Maqālāt , 15; Qummī and Nawbakhtī, Firaq al-Shīʿa, 28. 751 Muqaddasī, Muḥammad ibn Ahmad, Aḥsan al-taqāsīm fī maʿrifat al-aqālīm, 57. Cited in Rajkowski, Early Shīʿism, 364. 752 Muqaddasī, Aḥsan al-taqāsīm, 59. 753 Masʿūdī, Abu-l-Ḥasan ʿAlī b. al-Ḥusayn, Murūj al-dhahab, 4/236–241. Also mentioned in Palacios, Miguel Asín, The Mystical Philosophy of Ibn Masarra and his Followers, 10, n. 21. 754 Translation from Pickthall, Mohammad Marmaduke, The Meaning of The Glorious Qurʾan. 755 Ṭabarsī, Majmaʿʿ, on 72:11, 10:117. 756 Cook, Michael, Early Muslim Dogma, 94–5. 757 Watt, W. Montgomery, The Formative Period of Islamic Thought, 121.

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Rāzī’s section on firaq reveals that this fourfold division is not haphazard at all, and Murjiʾa is not a miscellaneous category for “others.” Rather, “Murjiʾa” was a word used by the Shīʿa to refer to Sunnīs, the group that refers to itself as ahl al-sunna wa-l-jamāʿa.758

RĀZĪ ON THE TERM AHL AL-SUNNA WA-L-JAMĀʿA Rāzī makes it clear why the Shīʿa would not use the term ahl al-sunna wa-ljamāʿa to refer to their rival Sunnīs. The ahl al-sunna refers to those who follow the path or way (sunna) of the Prophet, and the ahl al-jamāʿa are those who are united and not torn asunder by sectarian divisions.759 The Tradition which divides the community into 73 sects is adduced. In it the Prophet explains that the ahl al-sunna wa-l-jamāʿa are those who follow that which was followed by him and his Companions during his lifetime.760 Another ḥadīth along the same lines from ʿAlī is adduced.761 The people of jamāʿa, says Rāzī, are those who are united and do not break the Qurʾānic injuntion to stay united (3:103). Those who divide into sub-groups cannot properly be called ahl al-jamāʿa.762 Those who deserve this label are those who are united under a single imam who guides them and keeps them in a state of unity.763 He then addresses the Sunnīs, those who believe themselves to be ahl al-sunna wa-l-jamāʿa.764 He calls them ahl alfirqa (people of division), saying that though they may appear to be united, they are not really, since they are divided into several sects, each of which curses the other.765 Those who are not united under a leader are roaming blind, with no way of knowing if any decision of theirs is right or mis-

By Sunnī, here, I mean that group which by Rāzī’s era had developed a set of beliefs opposed to Shīʿism, including the idea that the first four caliphs ruled in order of their excellence, and the belief in the importance of the Prophet’s sunna as described by Traditions, and others. For details on the development of what we call the Sunnī school of thought, see Ibid., 266ff. 759 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 252; Rāzī, Zīna, 173v-174r (ms). 760 Ibid. 761 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 252; Rāzī, Zīna, 174r (ms). 762 Ibid. 763 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 252–3; Rāzī, Zīna, 174v (ms). 764 Watt traced the origin of the term ahl al-sunna wa-l-jamāʿa and found it attested as early as Ibn Qutayba (d. 276/889), as well as Ibn Ḥanbal (d. 241/855). Watt, Formative Period, 268. 765 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 253; Rāzī, Zīna, 175r (ms). 758

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guided.766 Then he adduces the Prophetic ḥadīth: “He who dies without knowing the imam of his era has died a pagan death.”767 The true ahl alsunna wa-l-jamāʿa, then, are those who are united under a single guiding imam.768 He then tells us that the earth always has an imam on it at all times, a ḥujja, and when one dies, another takes his place.769 The ḥujja could either be openly announcing himself, or go into hiding out of fear, but he is, according to a ḥadīth traced to ʿAlī, always on earth.770 Finally, he says that those who believe that the first four caliphs ruled in order of their excellence, and who followed Muʿāwiya and then the Umayyads, and now follow whoever rules them, good or bad, took upon themselves the name ahl alsunna wa-l-jamāʿa, but they did so inappropriately, given their obvious disunity.771 They are divided into two subgroups, ahl al-ḥadīth and ahl al-raʾy, and these are further divided into numerous subsects.772 Clearly, then, Rāzī does not state it but the implication is unmistakable: The true ahl al-sunna wa-l-jamāʿa are not the ahl al-sunna wa-l-jamāʿa, but the Shīʿa. Later, we will see that those who call themselves ahl al-sunna wa-l-jamāʿa are called “Murjiʾa” by Rāzī. Nawbakhtī and Qummī wage a similar attack on Sunnīs, saying that they call themselves the people of jamāʿa, but are so disunited and at each other’s throats that it would be more appropriate for them to be called the people of iftirāq “division.”773

RĀZĪ’S FIVE DIVISIONS Rāzī gives five (which can actually be collapsed into four) major divisions of the Islamic community. He uses these five names because there are Traditions that have been handed down concerning each of them, and in the case of the non-Shīʿī groups, those Traditions are derogatory toward the people who hold the name, thus allowing Rāzī to discredit each group. Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 254; Rāzī, Zīna, 175 (ms). Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 254; Rāzī, Zīna, 175v (ms). 768 Ibid. 769 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 255; Rāzī, Zīna, 176r (ms). For the Ismāʿīlī views on ḥujja see Daftary, Ismāʿīlīs, 127–8. 770 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 255; Rāzī, Zīna, 176r (ms). 771 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 255–6; Rāzī, Zīna, 176v (ms). 772 Ibid. 773 Nawbakhtī, Firaq, ed. Ritter, 15; Qummī, Maqālāt, 15; Nawbakhtī and Qummī, Firaq al-Shīʿa, 28. 766 767

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1. Shīʿa The first group Rāzī discusses is the Shīʿa. Tradition says that in the time of the Prophet, there was a group of believers who were close to ʿAlī. These included Salmān al-Fārisī, Abū Dharr al-Ghifārī and Miqdād b. al-Aswad. They were called shīʿat ʿAlī (the party of ʿAlī).774 The Shīʿa, he says, are the only group about which a derogatory Tradition has not been related.775 Traditions are related condemning the other four, although, as we will see below, he suggests that the Sunnīs have fabricated the anti-Rāfiḍite traditions. Rāzī then discusses the uses of the word shīʿa (group of followers) and aḥzāb (parties, sects, sing. ḥizb), and their definiteness and indefiniteness, the conclusion of which is that the Shīʿa are a united group and the Sunnīs are not. He explains that the word shīʿa can be made definite by prefixing the definite article al-, (in which case it becomes a proper noun, al-Shīʿa), referring to those who follow ʿAlī (shīʿat ʿAlī). It can also be used as a generic term if the al- is removed, in which case you would say shīʿat fulān (so-andso’s group). Here it is not a proper noun referring to the Shīʿa, but simply means “group of followers.” The word ḥizb, which refers to a follower of Muʿāwiya, by contrast, can only be used without the al-, because there is no proper noun al-Ḥizb as there is a proper noun al-Shīʿa. There is no one single ḥizb to be given that name because they are so disunited. So you can only say ḥizb fulān (so-andso’s party). In the plural, the reverse is true: shiyaʿ cannot be used with the al- prefix, since there is no proper noun, no known group called the Shiyaʿ. This is because the Shīʿa, the partisans of ʿAlī, were united, one group, and thus the word cannot be used in its plural form to refer to them. Rāzī cites Qurʾān 15:10, in which the word shiyaʿ is used without an al-. By contrast, the word aḥzāb can be prefixed with al-, since the word refers to the followers of Muʿāwiya, who follow falsehood and are disunited. Thus, aḥzāb can be used as a proper noun, referring to a particular group, namely, the Sunnīs. The plural is appropriate for them because they are disunited. Rāzī cites the occurrence of the word in its definite form in Qurʾān 33:22. 774 775

Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 259; Rāzī, Zīna, 178r (ms). Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 260; Rāzī, Zīna, 178v (ms).

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Rāzī says that this distribution of the words shīʿa and ḥizb in their plural and singular forms proves that the companions of ʿAlī are the people of jamāʿa and that the followers of Muʿāwiya are the people of divisiveness (ahl al-firqa).776 2. Murjiʾa Rāzī adduces a ḥadīth concerning the Murjiʾa: “The Murjiʾa are the Jews of this Community.” They are so-called because of their enmity toward the Muslim community. All groups, says Rāzī, wish to dissociate themselves from this name, and apply it to others.777 Before examining Rāzī’s use and definition of the term “Murjiʾa,” it would be useful to review the history of Murjiʾism (Irjāʾ) and the different meanings which the term has been given.

HISTORY OF IRJĀʾ Using as a starting point previous studies on Irjāʾ, we can construct a history of the use of the term “Irjāʾ” and of the various movements and philosophies to which this term has been applied. The earliest application of the term was to those called by Michael Cook the “proto-Murjiʾa.”778 These were those who, having not witnessed the events in question firsthand, refused to make a firm declaration one way or the other concerning the faith or unbelief of ʿUthmān or ʿAlī. They are called in the sources “the first Murjiʾa” (al-murjiʾa al-ūlā). Ibn Saʿd, for example, refers to Muḥārib b. Dithār as one of al-murjiʾa al-ūlā, saying that he did not bear witness to the faith or unbelief of ʿAlī or ʿUthmān.779 Also, an anti-Murjiʾī epistle written by the Ibāḍī Jābir ibn Zayd (d. c. 100/719)780 and analysed and reproduced by Michael Cook in Early Muslim Dogma states that some people believe in the “principle of suspension of judgment (irjāʾ),” which means that they do not judge events that they did not witness in the

Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 261–2; Rāzī, Zīna, 179r-v (ms). Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 262; Rāzī, Zīna, 179v (ms). 778 Cook, Early Muslim Dogma, 29 & 32. 779 Watt, Formative Period, 121–2, and Cook, Early Muslim Dogma, 29, both citing Ibn Saʾd’s Ṭabaqāt. 780 Cook, Early Muslim Dogma, 3. 776 777

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first schism.781 A poem by Thābit Quṭna (d. 110/728) expresses this same idea.782 From the idea that one must suspend judgment on ʿAlī and ʿUthmān and the events of the first schism developed a broad and more general philosophy: the idea that one becomes a believer purely by declaring faith and that committing sinful acts does not render one an unbeliever. Faith is more important than works. This version of Irjāʾ Michael Cook calls “Classical Murjiʾism,”783 and is the creed in which Abū Ḥanīfa (d. 150/767) is said to have believed.784 This later type of Irjāʾ is attested to in numerous creeds, such as al-Fiqh al-akbar, by Abū Ḥanīfa or his disciples,785 a letter from Abū Ḥanīfa to ʿUthmān al-Baṭṭī,786 the creed of Ṭaḥāwī (d. 321/933),787 and others.788 In the early 2nd/8th century some used the Murjiʾī idea of faith as a declaration without any particular action as a justification for their struggle against the unfair treatment of new converts to Islam, claiming that the declaration of faith on the part of a new convert should suffice to allow them full status as equals.789 Heresiographers offer three possible explanations for why the name “Murjiʾa” has been applied to the holders of this particular doctrine. 1) The first is that it is derived from the verb arjaʾa “to give hope,” since the Murjiʾa, rather than declaring anyone a sinner, hope that the sinner is a believer and will be forgiven.790 2) The second explanation for the word is based on Qurʾān 7:111, and asserts that murjiʾ is the active participle of arjaʾa “to postpone.” The Murjiʾa are so-called because they postpone their decision about the grave sinner, declaring him neither a believer nor a nonIbid., 23. Watt, Formative Period, 124–5, citing Ibn Qutayba, Abū Muḥammad b. Muslim al-Dīnawarī’s Kitāb al-shiʿr wa-sh-shuʿarāʾ al- and al-Aghānī. 783 Cook, Early Muslim Dogma, 31–2. 784 al-Ashʿarī, ʿAlī b. Ismāʿīl, Maqālāt al-islāmiyyīn, 138. 785 Watt, Formative Period, 132; Cook, Early Muslim Dogma, 30. 786 Cook, Early Muslim Dogma, 30. 787 Watt, Formative Period, 132. 788 Ibid., 132–4; Cook, Early Muslim Dogma, 30; Madelung, Wilferd, “Early Sunnī Doctrine Concerning Faith as Reflected in the Kitāb al-Īmān of Abū ʿUbayd al-Qāsim b. Sallām (d. 224/839).” 789 See Madelung, Wilferd, “The Early Murjiʾa in Khurāsān and Transoxania and the spread of Ḥanafism.” 790 al-Shahrastānī, Muḥammad b. ʿAbd al-Karīm, al-Milal wa-l-niḥal, 161; Rāzī, Zīna, 180r (ms); also see n. 809. 781 782

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believer, but leaving the final determination up to God.791 3) The Murjiʾa may also be called Murjiʾa because in giving priority to the declaration of faith before works, they postpone works until after faith.792

RĀZĪ ON THE MURJIʾA Rāzī rejects all three of these explanations for the naming of the Murjiʾa. The first is not linguistically sound, since the active participle of rajā is rājī, whereas murjiʾ is the active participle of a verb on the afʿala pattern.793 The second and third explanations, which state that murjiʾ is the active participle of the verb arjaʾa “to postpone,” are, says Rāzī, linguistically sound but nonetheless also incorrect explanations for the name (qad aṣābū min ṭarīq al-lugha wa-akhṭaʾū min jihat al-taʾwīl).794 The second explanation is wrong because many people not called “Murjiʾa” believe in the postponement of the decision about the grave sinner. Some Shīʿīs and some Muʿtazilīs also believe in postponing a decision about the grave sinner, so if such postponement were the defining characteristic of a Murjiʿī, then these Shīʿīs and Muʿtazilīs would also be called Murjiʿa, in which case we would sometimes hear statements like, “He is a Murjiʾī and a Shīʿī.” But such a sentence, Rāzī argues, is never uttered.795 The third explanation, that the Murjiʾa are so-called because they believe that faith to the exclusion of works makes one a believer, is also wrong according to Rāzī, since arjaʾa means “to postpone,” not “to exclude.” Those who name them murjiʾa on this basis of their postponement of works claim that the Murjiʾa exclude works entirely; they do not just postpone works. Therefore, to name them “postponers” would be inappropriate.796 The correct definition of Murjiʾa, says Rāzī, is “those who prefer Abū Bakr and ʿUmar over ʿAlī ibn Abī Ṭālib, may he be blessed, just as tashayyuʿ is a name for those who prefer ʿAlī over Abū Bakr and ʿUmar.”797 The rea-

791 Shahrastānī, Milal, 162; Baghdādī, ʿAbd al-Qāhir, Kitāb al-milal wa-l-niḥal, 139; Rāzī, Zīna, 180r (ms). 792 Shahrastānī, Milal, 162; Baghdādī, Milal, 139; Rāzī, Zīna, 180r (ms). 793 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 262–3; Rāzī, Zīna, 180r (ms). 794 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 263; Rāzī, Zīna, 180r (ms). 795 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 263; Rāzī, Zīna, 180v (ms). 796 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 263–4; Rāzī, Zīna, 180v (ms). 797 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 264; Rāzī, Zīna, 181r (ms).

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son they are called Murjiʾa is because they postponed ʿAlī, and placed him after Abū Bakr and ʿUmar.798 “Murjiʾī,” then, for Rāzī, means “Sunnī,” the opposite of a Shīʿī. The Murjiʾa, he says, are divided into two groups: aṣḥāb al-ḥadīth and aṣḥāb alraʾy.799 As noted above, Rāzī also said that the people who call themselves ahl al-sunna wa-l-jamāʿa, but who are in actuality disunited and at each other’s throats, are divided into two subdivisions: aṣḥāb al-ḥadīth and aṣḥāb al-raʾy.800 The proof that this definition is the correct one for Murjiʾa, he states, is that one might hear the phrase, “So-and-so is a Murjiʾī-Qadarī,” or “So-and-so is a Shīʿī-Qadarī.” But one will never hear, “So-and-so is a Murjiʾī-Shīʿī” or “Murjiʾī-Rāfiḍī.” Those two terms (“Murjiʾī” and “Shīʿī”), he explains, are in direct contradistinction to each other and mutually exclusive.801 In Kitāb al-iṣlāḥ, he refers to them as the two well-known mutually opposing groups in the community.802 After the arbitration at Ṣiffīn, says Rāzī, there were three factions: the Māriqa who fought against ʿAlī (the Khawārij), the Shīʿa who were with him, and the Murjiʾa who took the side of Muʿāwiya.803 The reason the Prophet called them “the Jews of our community,” is because they were the first to display enmity toward ʿAlī and conceal what they knew of his excellence, just as the Jews did with the Prophet when he preached his message.804 By Rāzī’s time, Sunnism had developed into a cohesive school of thought, and, due to its placing ʿAlī fourth in line behind Abū Bakr and ʿUmar, was considered to be in direct opposition to Shīʿism.805 The adherents of the Sunnī school of thought preferred the name ahl al-sunna wa-ljamāʿa for themselves, but Rāzī, of course refused to call them by this name, given their disunity and deviation from the Prophet’s sunna,806 preferring the term “Murjiʾa” instead. Rāzī’s definition of Murjiʾa clarifies much in other source material, and the source material corroborates this definition. Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 264; Rāzī, Zīna, 181r-v (ms). Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 266; Rāzī, Zīna, 182r (ms). 800 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 256; Rāzī, Zīna, 176v (ms). 801 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 264; Rāzī, Zīna, 181r (ms). 802 Rāzī, Abū Ḥātim Aḥmad b. Ḥamdān, Kitāb al-iṣlāḥ, 164. 803 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 266; Rāzī, Zīna, 181v-182r (ms). 804 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 266; Rāzī, Zīna, 182r (ms). 805 See note 758. 806 See above, “Rāzī on the term ahl al-sunna wa-l-jamāʿa.” 798 799

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Firstly, one of the definitions of irjā given by Shahrastānī is “to push ʿAlī back from first position to the fourth.” Given this definition of Murjiʾa, he says, the Shīʿa and the Murjiʾa are in direct opposition to each other.807 Secondly, every time Nawbakhtī and Qummī use the term Murjiʾa, it means Sunnīs, or those who are directly opposed to the Shīʿa. As noted above, they, too, claim that those arrogating to themselves the title of ahl alsunna wa-l-jamāʿa do not deserve it because of their state of disunity.808 They say that the group that took the side of Muʿāwiya b. Abī Sufyān were called Murjiʾa, because they claimed that both sides were right, and claimed that all who assert faith in God are believers, and because they hope that everyone receives forgiveness.809 Note that they disagree with Rāzī as to the etymology of the title Murjiʾa, but nonetheless, to them it means Sunnīs, or, in reference to the early days of Islam, “those who are opposed to ʿAlī.” At another point they talk about a group of Murjiʾa, called the “Muḥadditha,” who converted to a branch of Shīʿism which believes in the imamate of Mūsā b. Jaʿfar then ʿAlī b. Mūsā. They became Shīʿīs out of a desire for material gain, and when ʿAlī b. Mūsā died they went back to what they were before the conversion.810 Here again, the Shīʿīsm and the Murjiʾism are depicted as being mutually exclusive: people converted from one to the other then back again. Montgomery Watt, after studying this information from Shahrastānī’s al-Milal wa-l-niḥal and Nawbakhtī’s Firaq al-Shīʿa, realized that “Murjiʾī” is a category in which the Shīʿa place all Sunnīs. But he thought that they were forced into the category only because the individuals described as Sunnīs, like the Murjiʾa, refused to place ʿAlī above ʿUthmān. That is, he saw in the sources that the term “Murjiʾī” was frequently used in opposition to Shīʿī, but only because of an accidental attribute shared by both the Murjiʾa and the Sunnīs.811 Rāzī’s division of the Islamic community into four segments, the Shīʿa, the Khawārij, the Murjiʾa and the Muʿtazila, a division used by Nawbakhtī, Qummī, Muqaddasī and other Shīʿī writers, does not seem so strange given Shahrastānī, Muḥammad b. ʿAbd al-Karīm, Milal, 162. See note 773 above. 809 Nawbakhtī, Firaq, ed. Ritter, 6; Qummī, Maqālāt , 5–6; Nawbakhtī and Qummī, Firaq al-Shīʿa, 19. 810 Ibid., 91. 811 Watt, Formative Period, 121–2. 807 808

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that Murjiʾī is actually a Shīʿī synonym for Sunnī. Most of the writers who use this schema are Shīʿa. Muqaddasī was Shīʿī, Masʿūdī was known to be sympathetic with the Twelvers,812 and Ṭabarsī’s Shīʿism is also wellknown.813 Shahrastānī was also most likely an Ismāʿīlī.814 This fourfold categorization was largely a Shīʿī one. If Rāzī, Nawbakhtī and Qummī were all drawing from the same sources or at the very least the same general early Shīʿī tradition, it is most likely that this division of the community, with “Murjiʾa” being used as a synonym for “Sunnīs,” was a part of that tradition. Of the writers we cite who divided the Muslims up in this way, it was only Rāzī who said that Murjiʾa are so-called because they postpone ʿAli to after Abū Bakr and ʿUmar. Nawbakhtī said it was because they claimed that both sides were right, and claimed that all who assert faith in God are believers, and because they hope that everyone receives forgiveness.815 And Muqaddasī says that “Irjāʾ… consists in the doubt as to the future state of persons committing grievous sins…”816 3. Rāfiḍa Sources depict the term “Rāfiḍa” as referring originally to those who rejected Zayd b. ʿAlī in his rebellion against the Umayyads. Frequently it was used as a derogatory term, as evidenced by a Prophetic ḥadīth which circulated and which depicts the Prophet as declaring that “At the end of time there will appear a group … called ‘Rawāfiḍ’ who will reject (yarfuḍūna) Islam.”817 The term was later adopted by some Shīʿīs who transformed it into a badge of honor.818 The group originally known as “Rāfiḍa” later became the Imāmī Shīʿa.819 Rāzī lists the Rāfiḍa as one of the three branches of the Shīʿa, along with the Kaysāniyya and the Zaydiyya/Jārūdiyya.820 Yet he lists them under EI2, s.v. ‘Masʿūdī.’ See EI2, s.v. ‘Ṭabrisī, Amīn al-Dīn.’ 814 See EI2, s.v. ‘Shahrastānī’; Poonawala, Ismail, Biobibliography of Ismāʿīlī Literature, 254–5. 815 See n. 809 above. 816 Muqaddasī, Aḥsan al-taqāsīm, 58–9. 817 EI2, s.v. ‘Rāfiḍa.’ 818 Ibid. 819 Watt, W. Montgomery, “The Rāfiḍites: A Preliminary Study,” 119–20. 820 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 286; Rāzī, Zīna, 193r (ms). 812 813

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their own main heading as one of the five main divisions of the Islamic community. The Rāfiḍa are so-called, says Rāzī, because they rejected (rafaḍū) Zayd b. ʿAlī and refused to fight with him. And some say that it was Mughīra b. Saʿd who named them this, because they refused to join him.821 He then cites a ḥadīth that is not favorable to the Rāfiḍa, but prefaces it with, “The Murjiʾa said…” That is, he implies that he does not accept it as authentic since it was related by the Sunnīs, who were discredited by him earlier in the previous section on Murjiʾa. One ḥadīth says that the Rāfiḍa are the Christians of the Islamic community because they deify ʿAlī just as the Christians deify Christ.822 Rāzī explains that the reason this ḥadīth has been applied to the Rāfiḍa is because a certain segment of the Rāfiḍa believed that ʿAlī was a prophet, and others deified him.823 Rāzī then explains that the Rāfiḍa choose this name for themselves, claiming that what they reject is falsehood, and that they follow truth. They attempt to disassociate themselves from any negative connotation of the word.824 Under the Rāfiḍa, Rāzī lists the Ismāʿīlīs, not saying much about them that is particularly positive except that they are growing every day.825 However, he does wage a subtle attack on the Twelver Shīʿa. They are listed under the subsect Qaṭʿiyya, those who believe that the imamate went to ʿAlī b. Mūsā after the death of Mūsā b. Jaʿfar.826 He emphasizes the disunity of this sect. After ʿAlī b. Mūsā died, his son Muḥammad became their imam, but some disavowed Muḥammad as their imam, saying that when his father died he was too young to become the imam. After Muḥammad died, Muḥammad’s son ʿAlī b. Muḥammad b. ʿAlī became the imam, except yet again there was dissension and some preferred his son Mūsā b. Muḥammad. Then when ʿAlī b. Muḥammad b. ʿAlī died, there was more division Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 270; Rāzī, Zīna, 183v (ms). Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 271; Rāzī, Zīna, 184r (ms). In Iṣlāḥ, Rāzī draws a parallel between the Christians and the Rāfiḍa, saying that the Christians accepted both nāṭiqs (major prophets) Moses and Jesus, just as the Rāfiḍa accepted both asāses (Muḥammad and ʿAlī), 165. 823 Ibid. 824 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 271; Rāzī, Zīna, 184v (ms). 825 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 289; Rāzī, Zīna, 195r (ms). Also noted by Abbas Hamdani, “Kitāb az-Zīnat of Abū Ḥātim ar-Rāzī,” 292. 826 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 290–1; Rāzī, Zīna, 196r (ms). 821 822

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amongst the Qaṭʿiyya, and some believed in the imamate of ʿAlī’s son Muḥammad, some in the imamate of his son Jaʿfar, and some of his son Ḥasan al-ʿAskarī. All of these different groups with their varying ideas of imam, says Rāzī, despite their disunity, are classified under the name “Qaṭʿiyya.” They do not have separate names except for those who supported the imamate of Jaʿfar b. ʿAlī b. Muḥammad—they are called the Ṭājiniyya.827 The followers of Ḥasan al-ʿAskarī are divided once again into eleven different groups. He lists the groups briefly, and their classification is based on principles such as whether they believe that Ḥasan had progeny, or that he truly died.828 Rāzī then attacks the Qaṭʿiyya once again, saying they are struggling against each other, and are confused about the actual truth, and have no reliable source with which to judge the rightness of their claims.829 Given that Rāzī had earlier declared that those who are following the correct sunna of the Prophet are those who are united under a single imam, this description of their disunity is a serious condemnation indeed! No sectarian dissension of any type is mentioned with regard to the Ismāʿīlīs. 4. Qadariyya For Rāzī, “Qadariyya” is another term for “Muʿtazila,” yet Rāzī uses “Qadariyya” as a main heading because there is a Tradition related about them (no isnād is cited): “The Qadariyya are the Zoroastrians (majūs) of this community.”830 The proponents of predestination (al-mujbira) say that the tradition was related about the Qadariyya because they believe, like the Zoroastrians, that God created good but not evil.831 As with the names of the other non-Shīʿī sects in Rāzī’s classification, he states that the members of the Qadariyya sect do not approve of the derogatory name for themselves, and have tried to claim that the name should actually be applied to the proponents of predestination, since they believe in God’s predestination (qadar) of both good and evil. But the Mujbira respond that “If it were as you claim, then we, not you, would be 827 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 291; Rāzī, Zīna, 196v (ms). In Samarrāʾī’s edition they are Ṭāḥiniyya, in my ms they are Ṭājiniyya with jīm. 828 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 292–3; Rāzī, Zīna, 197r-198r (ms). 829 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 293; Rāzī, Zīna, 198r (ms). 830 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 272; Rāzī, Zīna, 185r (ms); Rāzī, Iṣlāḥ, 163. 831 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 272; Rāzī, Zīna, 185r (ms).

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known by this name. If a man came to a city and asked about the Qadariyya, he would be led to you, not to us, because you are the ones known by that name.”832 He says that the name they would prefer to be known by is “Muʿtazila.” He gives the etymology of the name Muʿtazila, saying that it was first applied to those who abandoned the cause of ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib. These early Muʿtazilīs did not believe in the doctrine of predestination (qadar). Of those who were called “Muʿtazila” and did believe in qadar, the earliest was ʿAmr b. ʿUbayd, who began his activity as a disciple of al-Ḥasan al-Baṣrī,833 but then formed his own learning circle (ḥalaqa) when the latter died. He was called a Muʿtazilī because he withdrew (iʿtazala) from the circle of Ḥasan. Since he was well-known for his belief in predestination, those who held this belief also came to be known as “Muʿtazila,” and the name was no longer applied to those who abandoned ʿAlī.834 5. Māriqa “Māriqa” is Rāzī’s general term for the Khawārij. Most of the time it has been spotted in sources it is as a nickname for them.835 Nawbakhtī and Qummī say that it is a term for those who abandoned ʿAlī after the arbitration. They are also called “Ḥarūriyya” due to their standing at Ḥarūrāʾ, but the general term for this group is “Khawārij.”836 Lisān al-ʿArab also defines it as a name given to the Khawārij.837 If the commonly-used name for the sect is “Khawārij,” and “Māriqa” is an occasionally-seen nickname, why does Rāzī use the name “Māriqa” as Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 273; Rāzī, Zīna, 185v (ms). Abū Saʿīd b. Abi-l-Ḥasan al-Baṣrī (d. 110/728), an early preacher and religious thinker who was renowned for his eloquent speeches and to whom many branches of thought trace their origins. See EI2, s.v. ‘Ḥasan al-Baṣrī.’ 834 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 273–4; Rāzī, Zīna, 185v-186r (ms). Cf. the traditional accounts, in which it is often Wāṣil b. ʿAṭāʾ, and not ʿAmr b. ʿUbayd who withdrew from the circle of Ḥasan, and in which the withdrawal was over a dispute concerning the status of the grave sinner. See Watt, Formative Period, 209–211; EI2, s.v. ‘Muʿtazila.’ 835 Cf. Jafri, Origins, 96, where he cites Ibn Abī Ḥadīd’s Sharḥ nahj al-balāgha and Yaʿqūbī’s Tārīkh. 836 Nawbakhtī, Firaq, ed. Ritter, 6; Qummī, Maqālāt, 5; Nawbakhtī and Qummī, Firaq al-Shīʿa, 19. 837 Ibn Manzūr, Jamāl al-Dīn Muḥammad, Lisān al-ʿArab, 10:341, s.v. ‘m-r-q.’ . Also cited in Rajkowski, Early Shīʿism, 132. 832 833

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the general term for the sect then list “Khawārij” as a subdivision under it? The reason is that the name is derived from a Prophetic ḥadīth in which the Prophet refers to people who “pass through (yamruqūn) religion as an arrow passes through its prey [cleanly].”838 In another ḥadīth, the Prophet tells ʿAlī, “You will fight the breachers (of agreements) (al-nākithīn) and the unjust (alqāsiṭīn) and the abandoners of religion (al-māriqīn).839 Based on these ḥadīths, the Khawārij are called “Māriqa” by their detractors. The Māriqa themselves, says Rāzī, hate this name and reject it for themselves because of the negative connotation associated with it as a result of these ḥadīths.840 They prefer the name “Shurāt” for themselves, from Qurʾān 2:207 wa-mina-l-nāsi man yashrī nafsahu-btighāʾa marḍāti-llāhi “And of mankind is he who would sell himself, seeking the pleasure of Allah.841 Rāzī, then, by using the label “Māriqa” as the general name for all Khawārij then stigmatizing them with the ḥadīth, has thus discredited all Khawārij. In summary, the heresiographical section of Kitāb al-zīna is written from an Ismāʿīlī viewpoint. However, Rāzī does not present a polemic in favor of his sect as other heresiographers do. Rather, his organization of the sects and his description of each one are wholly informed by Ismāʿīlī ideology.

CONCLUSIONS To summarize the main points: 1. Rāzī uses the term “Murjiʾa” to mean Sunnīs, or what are commonly called ahl al-sunna wa-l-jamāʿa. Though other literature exists in which the word “Murjiʾī” is used in this way, Kitāb al-zīna appears to be a very rare instance in which this position is stated outright and “Murjiʾī” is actively defined as “Sunnī.” 2. An Ismāʿīlī viewpoint finds its way into the structure of Rāzī’s heresiography in the following ways: A. First, Rāzī emphasizes the importance of unity in a sect. For a people to be called the “people of the Prophet’s way and unity (ahl al-sunna wa-ljamāʿa)” they must be united under a single imam. Disunity would immediSamarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 276; Rāzī, Zīna, 187v (ms). Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 277; Rāzī, Zīna, 188v (ms). 840 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 278; Rāzī, Zīna, 189r (ms). 841 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 281–2; Rāzī, Zīna, 190v-191r (ms). Qurʾān translation from Pickthall. 838 839

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ately disqualify any sect from being called the ahl al-sunna wa-l-jamāʿa. Thus, the Shīʿa are the ones who are appropriately given this title. B. The Shīʿa, that is, the partisans of ʿAlī, are so united, since the singular word shīʿa can only be used with a prefixed definite article, but the singular ḥizb, meaning the partisans of Muʿāwiya, cannot. In the plural, however, aḥzāb can be used with al- because it is a proper noun for the followers of Muʿāwiya, who are disunited, and there are many of them, so the plural is appropriate for them. C. Rāzī divides the community into five main sects. He uses uncommon names as the main titles of three of them: “Murjiʾa” for ahl al-sunna wal-jamāʿa, “Qadariyya” for “Muʿtazila”, and “Māriqa” for “Khawārij.” The reason he does so is to discredit them: a Tradition is related which portrays the sects with each of these three names in a negative light. He also points out that these sects prefer to be called something else, due to the negative connotations of the names he uses for each. Despite their protestations, though, Rāzī insists on using the derogatory names for these groups, meaning he must be opposed to them. D. The Shīʿa, on the other hand, have had no derogatory accounts related about them. The Rāfiḍa have, however, but he blames the Murjiʾa for propogating these accounts and points out that the Rāfiḍa do not reject the name “Rāfiḍa” for themselves. E. Finally, he discredits the Twelver Shīʿa by describing the entire Qaṭʿiyya sect, of which they are a branch, as disorganized and disunited, he depicts them as being torn apart by succession disputes each time one of their imams dies, thus disqualifying them from being considered the correct sect unified under an imam, as described in item A above. On the other hand, no sectarian disputes among the Ismāʿīlīs are mentioned.

8 CONCLUSION In these concluding remarks, further avenues for research are suggested. Then, Rāzī’s objectivity is examined. That is, the question is asked, “To what extent did Rāzī hide his Ismāʿīlī views in Kitāb al-zīna?” How did these views manifest themselves, if not outright?

FURTHER AVENUES This study has left some topics open for further investigation. One open issue might concern the extent to which cosmological doctrines discussed in Kitāb al-zīna are related to Ismāʿīlī cosmology. It was seen in chapter 4 that Rāzī described the creation of the world in a way that recalls, but does not directly recount the Ismāʿīlī view of creation. Similarly, it was seen in chapter 3 that Rāzī, in his introduction, declared tawahhum to be God’s first act. With tawahhum, he created the letters, then his third act of creation was to create the things which are named with letters. Vajda saw in this creation process echoes of the Twelver Shīʿī doctrine of creation expounded by Kulīnī.842 However, it is also very reminiscent of the Ismāʿīlī creation myth, which started with God’s command, which created the letters kāf and nūn, which was then expanded into kūnī. Rāzī, as will be seen below, always strove to keep his Ismāʿīlī views below the surface, and it may be that these creation processes which he describes are merely Ismāʿīlī cosmology stated in terms acceptable to the general reader. Secondly, it is likely that Kitāb al-zīna may give some insight into the game of maysir. His views on maysir are cited by later scholars, most particularly Biqāʿī (d. 885/1480), who cites Kitāb al-zīna by name in his Naz.m aldurar.843 Biqāʿī also a quotes a statement by Rāzī in which the latter inter842 Vajda, Georges, “Les Lettres et sons de la Langue Arabs d’apres Abū Ḥātim al-Rāzī,” 125–7. 843 al-Biqāʿī, Burhān al-Dīn Ibrāhīm, Nazm al-durar fī tanāsub al-āyāt wa-l-suwar . on 5:3, 2:391.

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prets a verse by Imruʾ al-Qays which contains terms related to maysir, but does not cite Rāzī by name (in my edition). Muḥibb al-Dīn al-Khaṭīb, however, in his edition of Ibn Qutayba’s al-Maysir wa-l-qidāḥ, recognized the quote as having been taken from Kitāb al-zīna.844 As seen in chapter 3, Rāzī also had some interesting ideas about the origin of some of the terms used in maysir and their relation to some geographical terms. Thus, a full study of Rāzī’s ideas on maysir remains to be done.

RĀZĪ THE ISMĀʿĪLĪ Most examinations of Kitāb al-zīna state that Rāzī’s Ismāʿīlism was not discernible from the book. Hamdānī says that he tried very hard to hide his Ismāʿīlī views, so that when he discussed the Islamic sects, he described them without commenting on them. Overall, he kept his focus on language and not on expressing his sectarian beliefs. Thus, many who read his work could not see that he was Ismāʿīlī. Murtaḍā b. al-Dāʿī al-Ḥusnī al-Rāzī, in his Tabṣirat al-ʿawāmm stated only that Rāzī was a Shāfiʿī, and the author of al-Rawḍāt called him an Imāmī Jaʿfarī. Suyūṭī referred to him as Abū Ḥātim al-Lughawī.845 Also Paul Walker and Madelung commented that Rāzī’s heresiographical section contains “no sign of a specifically Ismaili point of view,”846 and Walker says that Kitāb al-zīna has “no particular Ismaili leaning.”847 Nonetheless, says Hamdānī, his love for ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib was made clearly manifest, and his support for the Fāṭimids was sometimes recognizable to those who are well-informed enough to see it.848 Ibrāhīm Anīs says that Rāzī was forced to tread very carefully when explaining words due to the political turmoil and religious conflict which characterized the era in which he lived. Not wanting to appear inclined toward any one mode of religious thought, he thus avoided delicate subjects

844 Ibn Qutayba, Abū Muḥammad b. Muslim al-Dīnawarī, al-Maysir wa-l-qidāḥ, 95, n. 2 citing Biqāʿī, Naz.m al-durar, 1:413 on Qurʾān 2:219. The quote from Rāzī is in his discussion of maysir, 341r-v. 845 Rāzī, Abū Ḥātim Aḥmad b. Ḥamdān, Kitāb al-zīna fi-l-kalimāt al-islāmiyya alʿarabiyya (intro), 1:21–3. 846 Madelung, Wilferd and Paul Walker, An Ismaili Heresiography: The “Bāb alshayṭān from Abū Tammām’s Kitāb al-shajara, 10. 847 Walker, Early Philosophical Shiism, 14. 848 Rāzī, Zīna (intro), 1:22.

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by presenting himself as a linguist and keeping religious discussions and explanations to a minimum.849 Says Abbas Hamdani, Though our curiosity is aroused by the fact that K. az-Zīnat contains an Ismāʿīlī account of various Muslim sects, written as early as the turn of the third century, just as the time when the foundation of the Fatimid Caliphate was being laid in North Africa, its author, however, does not give us the slightest indication that he is regarding these sects from an Ismāʿīlī point of view. On the other hand he is very cautious, for the Ismāʿīlīs were being persecuted everywhere in those times. We know that his contemporary daʿis, Sijistānī and Nasafī, were executed in Turkestan for their Ismāʿīlī views. Abū Ḥātim, therefore, could not afford to show off his Ismāʿīlī character openly, specially [sic] in a work like K. azZīnat which was meant for the general public and was not a secret work. In fact the author of the Tabṣirat al-ʿAwāmm was so misled by Abū Ḥātim’s style that he called him a Shāfiʿī. His Ismāʿīlism, however, is too well-known to be disputed. His peculiar style is perhaps due to his anxiety to insinuate his doctrines very suptley [sic] among the general public, without attempting to give them a rude shock about the truth of his real beliefs.850

An examination of Kitāb al-zīna reveals that these authors are indeed correct. At no point does Rāzī state outright that he is Ismāʿīlī. However, as Hamdani indicates, his views are delivered in a subtle way. Ismāʿīlī—or at the very least Shīʿī—ideas are revealed in several ways thoroughout al-Zīna. They are enumerated here: 1. It was seen in chapter 7 how Rāzī subtlely displayed Ismāʿīlī views in his discussions on firaq. It was also seen in chapter 3 how some of his cosmological discussions in Zīna may have been an encoded form of Ismāʿīlī cosmology. 2. Samarrāʾī analysed Rāzī’s section on firaq, and found much in support of the imamate of Ismāʿīl b. Jaʿfar. Rāzī makes the statement that Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq had no children other than Ismāʿīl and ʿAbd Allāh for twenty five years, and that he never married while Ismāʿīl’s mother was

849 850

Rāzī, Zīna (preface), 1:10. Hamdani, “Kitāb az-Zīnat,” 293.

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alive.851 The reason is that he knew that the succeeding imam would be among her children. Samarrāʾī interprets this statement as an espousal of Ismāʿīlī doctrine.852 Rāzī then states that Ismāʿīl’s son Muḥammad was the most qualified to take the imamate after the death of Ismāʿīl. He denies the imamate of Jaʿfar’s other sons. ʿAbd Allāh could not be the imam since he died without leaving children, and Muḥammad violated holy law by prosecuting war during the holy months and is therefore unqualified to lead the community. Some also claim the imamate for Mūsā b. Jaʿfar, but this group is divided and not certain of his right to the imamate.853 Thus, Samarrāʾī points out, Rāzī rejects the Twelver line of succession in favor of the Ismāʿīlī.854 Later, he continues to attack the Twelver line, saying that the son of Mūsā (from whom the Twelver line descended), ʿAlī, had only one son when he died, but the son Muḥammad was only seven years old at the time, and was not qualified to be imam.855 These attacks clearly indicate, Samarrāʾī points out, that Rāzī is of the Ismāʿīlī sect.856 3. The entire organization of the sections of Kitāb al-zīna could be said to be Neoplatonic. The first section concerns God and his names and descriptions. The next three sections describe aspects of the unseen world, first words which describe God’s act of creating, amr, khalq, qadar, then the things nearer to God, such as lawḥ and qalam. The very first word Rāzī discusses after the names and characteristics of God is amr. The second of these three sections is concerned with creatures which populate the unseen world, then the third deals with heaven and hell and other terms related to divine punishment. Then the fifth section descends to the worldly plane, discussing samāʾ, arḍ, and cities and countries. This entire sequence of entries recounts the Ismāʿīlī story of creation as maintained by al-Nasafī, Rāzī in his Iṣlāḥ and alSijistānī.857 The very first element in the creation myth is an unknowable 851 al-Samarrāʾī, ʿAbd Allāh Sallūm, al-Ghuluww wa-l-firaq al-ghāliya, 288; Rāzī, Zīna, 194r-v (ms) . 852 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 235. 853 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 288; Rāzī, Zīna, 194v (ms). 854 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 236. 855 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 288–9; Rāzī, Zīna, 195r (ms). 856 Samarrāʾī, Ghuluww, 236. 857 Daftary, Farhad, The Ismāʿīlīs: Their History and Doctrines, 240.

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and transcendent God,858 hence Rāzī’s beginning with God and his characteristics. God created intellect (al-ʿaql) through his command (amr).859 Hence, the very first word Rāzī mentions after discussing God is amr. It was through his amr that creation occurred, hence, Rāzī follows amr with khalq and qadar. The result of creation was intellect (al-ʿaql), and from intellect emanated the soul (al-nafs).860 For Sijistānī, intellect was equated with the pen (qalam) and throne (ʿarsh),861 and the soul was equated with the tablet (lawḥ) and chair (kursiyy).862 For this reason, Rāzī concluded this section with al-qalam, al-lawḥ, al-kursiyy and al-ʿarsh. Soul is less perfect than intellect, and from it derives the material world. First emanate the heavenly bodies, and from there emanate the elements, which are then combined into composite elements, and from them is created vegetation and animals.863 Rāzī differs with his fellow Ismāʿīlīs in believing that the soul has no imperfection, but he agrees with them in their belief that creation descends from the celestial plane to the worldly.864 It is for this reason that sections two, three and four of the glossary section in Zīna refer to the unseen world, and are followed by a section on terms related to the earthly plane. The earthly plane, Rāzī believed, existed for the sake of humankind and in order for humans to reach perfection.865 Humans have a fourth substance in addition to the vegetative, animal and rational soul that other substances have.866 Thus, Rāzī’s next sections concern that which is necessary for humans to reach that perfection: religious faith (section 6). It is prophets (section 7) that bring the revelation (section 8) so that humans know what their duties and responsibilities are (section 9). In summary, Rāzī’s ordering of his material corresponds with the Ismāʿīlī myth of creation. 4. Rāzī’s organization of material again reflects a Shīʿī bias in section 7. In this section, he lists not only terms relating to prophethood, such as nabiyy, mursal, etc., but also terms related to those who succeed prophets, are Ibid., 240–1. Ibid., 241. 860 Ibid., 241. 861 Ibid., 242. 862 Ibid., 242. 863 Ibid. 864 Walker, Early Philosophical Shīʿism, 54. See n. 24 & 25. 865 Ibid., 55. 866 Ibid., 54. 858 859

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companions to prophets, or interpret the messages of prophets, such alḥawāriyy, al-ṣiddīq, al-muhājirūn and al-anṣār, al-rabbāniyyūn, al-aḥbār, al-qissīsūn and al-ruhbān, etc. He includes a number of Shīʿī terms, such as al-imām, almawālī and al-walāya and al-muwālāh, as well as a number of kinship terms, such as al-āl and al-ahl and ahl al-bayt, al-ʿitra, al-dhurriyya, al-sulāla. He places these family terms in the section on prophets and prophetic successors because in Shīʿī thought these kinship relations bestow a right to the imamate. 5. Rāzī discusses Qurʾān 3:7 “None knoweth its explanation save Allah. And those who are of sound instruction say: We believe therein”867 (wamā yaʿlamu taʾwīlahū illa-llāhu wa-l-rāsikhūna fi-l-ʿilmi yaqūlūna āmannā bihī in the entry entitled al-muḥkam wa-l-mutashābih wa-maʿna-l-rāsikhīna fi-l-ʿilm.868 Shiʿīs have traditionally interpreted “those who are of sound instruction” as being connected to God by the conjunction “and” (wa). Such an interpretation would mean that not only God, but also those firmly rooted in knowledge might have knowledge of the book’s meaning, which would allow for the possibility that the imams also have knowledge of its true meaning. Another interpretation would interpret “Those who are firmly grounded in knowledge” as the subject of “say,” such that only God (and no imam) has knowledge of the true meaning.869 Rāzī gives both sides of this debate. On one hand, if it were admitted that there is no one on earth who knows the interpretation of the mutashābih (ambiguous, or unclear verses), then it would have to be admitted that the Prophet also did not know everything. Yet a ḥadīth quotes him declaring himself as knowledgeble of all things, and similarly, a ḥadīth cites ʿAlī as saying that he knows all about the Qurʾān, and he did not exclude the mutashābih. Also, Rāzī says, there would be no point in specifically mentioning the rāsikhūn fi-l-ʿilm if they were no different from others in their knowledge. Concerning the argument that yaqūlūn would be deprived of its subject if rāsikhūn were coordinated with Allāh, Rāzī argues that yaqūlūn can be a ḥāl clause, such that the meaning is “None knoweth its explanation save Allah and those who are of sound instruction saying: We believe therein.”870 On the other hand, many prominent grammarians trusted by Rāzī have stated that wa-l-rāsikhūna fi-l-ʿilm is the beginning of a new sentence, so that 867 Translation from Pickthall, Mohammad Marmaduke, The Meaning of the Glorious Qurʾan. 868 Rāzī, Zīna, 252r-253r. 869 See Ayoub, Mahmoud, The Qurʾān and its Interpreters, 2:39ff.; 2:42ff. 870 Rāzī, Zīna, 252r-v.

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they are not included with Allāh among those who know the interpretation. A ḥadīth from ʿAlī cites him as declaring that the rāsikhūn fi-l-ʿilm are “of sound instruction” not because they know the interpretation of the mutashābih, but because they have the wisdom to acknowledge their ignorance, and say, despite their lack of knowledge, “We believe therein.” It is for this reason that the rāsikhūn are mentioned and praised in the Qurʾān.871 In this discussion, Rāzī appears relatively impartial, giving both sides of the debate. He is more forthcoming in his discussion of ṣalāt (prayer), where he establishes that ṣalāt has several meanings: supplication (duʿāʾ), seeking forgiveness (al-istighfār), mercy (al-raḥma) and blessing (al-baraka).872 However, he notes, there must be some other meaning to the word ṣalāt besides these. He argues that at the end of prayers, we are ordered to ask God to pray upon Muḥammad (ṣalli ʿalā Muḥammad), then to ask him to bless Muḥammad (bārik ʿalā Muḥammad), then to show him mercy (wa-rḥam Muḥammadan). If ṣalāt, when performed by God, has no other meaning than to give blessing and mercy, then for us to ask God to ṣalli ʿalā Muḥammad then to ask for blessing (baraka) and mercy (raḥma) would be redundant and have no value. Similarly, when Muḥammad is mentioned, we are required to say ṣalla-llāhu ʿalayhi, but this formula is not required upon the mention of any other prophet. For the others, raḥimahu-llāh wa-ghafara lahu will suffice, whereas for Muḥammad, these last two must be added in addition to ṣallallāhu ʿalayhi. For the ṣalāt formula to be required only upon the mention of Muḥammad proves to Rāzī that ṣalāt has some additional, unknown meaning, known only to those who are “of sound instruction,” “deeply rooted in knowledge” al-rāsikhūn fi-l-ʿilm.873 Unlike in the section on al-rāsikhūn fi-l-ʿilm described above, Rāzī shows which of the two interpretations of 3:7 he prefers. He believes that there is a group of humans on earth who have knowledge of things that others cannot know. It should also be noted that this passage is one of the few in which Rāzī is represented as having created new information. His argument in this regard is prefaced with: qāla Abū Ḥātim Aḥmad ibn Ḥamdān…874

Ibid., 253r. Ibid., 278r. 873 Ibid., 278r-v. 874 Ibid., 278r. 871 872

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6. He subscribes to the Shīʿī idea that he who does not know the imam of his time is in a state of jāhiliyya (a pagan state)875 and he believes that there is always a ḥujja on earth.876

RĀZĪ’S INFLUENCE ON LATER GENERATIONS Rāzī’s influence on later generations was minimal. His contribution to 20thcentury lexicography was noted in chapter 5. Besides Aḥmad Riḍā, a few other scholars in later generations cited Kitāb al-zīna. The list, given by Hamdānī, includes al-Baṭliyūsī, Kitāb al-intiṣār, Yāqūt in Muʿjam al-buldān (see chapter 5), al-ʿAynī in ʿIqd al-jumān, al-Dāʿī Idrīs in ʿUyūn al-akhbār, al-Biqāʿī in Naz.m al-durar, al-Suyūṭī in al-Itqān and al-Mutawakkilī, and others.877 In these works, he is cited in reference to some small piece of lexicographic or encyclopedic information. More interesting, however, are the approaches used by Rāzī which after his death remained unique to him and unimitated by others. Specifically, Ibrāhīm Anīs, in his preface to Hamdānī’s edition of Kitāb al-zīna, laments that Rāzī’s historical approach was not more widely adopted. By “historical approach,” he means Rāzī’s propensity to trace the historical development of words. In his introduction, Rāzī says that he seeks to explain different types of words. They are: 1) those that were known to the Arabs before Islam; 2) those that are derived from Arabic roots but were not used in Arabic until they were revealed in the Qurʾān or used by the Prophet, and thus became Islamic religious or legal terminology; 3) those which were completely innovated by the Qurʾān and are not derived from foreign or Arabic roots; 4) those used in foreign tongues.878 Examples of the second type include words such as al-īmān (faith, belief), al-nifāq879 and al-kufr (unbelief). The Arabs knew the meaning of kufr, for example, before Islam, but it was only with the coming of the Prophet that the word came to be used to mean “unbeliever.” Prior to that, it meant “to be ungrateful.” Similarly, nifāq was not used prior to Islam.880 The pre-

Ibid., 131r-v. See p. 137 above. 877 Rāzī, Zīna (intro), 24–26. 878 Rāzī, Zīna, 134–5 (Hamdānī); 32r-v (ms). 879 See n. 62. 880 Ibid., 140–1 (Hamdānī); 33r-v (ms). 875 876

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Islamic Arabs did not use the terms munāfiq or nifāq, rather, it was the Prophet who formulated those particular words as Islamic terms.881 It is this eye to historical development that Anīs refers to when he says that no other later scholars adopted his method. Rāzī’s description of the development from kufr “ungratefulness” to kufr “unbelief” or from nāfiqāʾ “the hole of the saharan gerbil” to nifāq “hypocrisy” shows a sophisticated awareness of principles of semantic development. However, two points should be noted. First, Rāzī’s historical awareness was not always on the most solid of footing. The development from maṣūr “a female camel which is almost out of milk (such that the milk trickles out)” to miṣr, “a province (in and out of which people trickle)” can only be seen as etymological sleight-of-hand. On many such occasions, Rāzī is motivated more by a desire to derive all words from Arabic roots (see Chaps. 3 and 5) than to arrive at linguistic truths. A second point to note is that Rāzī was not the first, nor the last to recognize this category of words, that is, those words whose meaning changed over time, or whose meaning changed as a result of the coming of Islam. Ibn Qutayba, for example, said that nifāq is an “Islamic expression which the pre-Islamic Arabs did not know.”882 The same is mentioned in Lisān al-ʿArab.883 These caveats notwithstanding, Anīs’ point is a well-taken one. What he laments is that later lexicographers preferred to see all historical eras as one era, and did not recognize the idea of semantic change. The unfortunate result, he says, is that we have, in the form of massive Arabic dictionaries such as al-Qāmūs al-muḥīṭ, a colossal register of the Arabic language which spans all historical eras; yet we have absolutely no record of the semantic development of these lexical items. Had later Arab scholars followed the example set by Rāzī in Kitāb al-zīna, the lexicographical record bequeathed to us today would not be the confused jumble of words currently at our disposal, all purported to be legitimate items of vocabulary of one fixed, unchanging language. Rather, we would have a record of the historical development of the meanings of Arabic words, from the earliest times on.884

Ibid., 163r. Ibn Qutayba, Abū Muḥammad b. Muslim al-Dīnawarī, Tafsīr gharīb alQurʾān, 29. 883 Ibn Manzūr, Jamāl al-Dīn Muḥammad, Lisān al-ʿArab, ‘n-f-q,’ 10:359. . 884 See Anīs’ discussion of this in his preface to Rāzī, Zīna (Hamdānī), p. 12. 881 882

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The second area in which Rāzī might have been followed but was not was in his synthetic approach. As described in chapter four, Rāzī was determined to synthesize all the fragments of information that had been handed down to him and combine them into a cohesive and meaningful whole, so as to eliminate any apparent contradictions between them. In Aʿlām al-nubuwwa, Rāzī united all religions and operated from the standpoint that though they differ on the surface, they all proclaim the same underlying truths.885 In Kitāb al-zīna he accomplished the same with all ideas. Perhaps the motivation for this approach is that Rāzī wished to adhere to what Abū Tammām would later declare to be an important priniciple of bāṭiniyya thought: that the bāṭiniyya do not see any view as incorrect since they have knowledge of the secret interpretation of all things (see Chap. 7). In his list of seventy-three sects, the bāṭinī sect, the seventy-third, is the correct one because it contains within it all of the previous seventy-two, and does not declare any of them as wrong. Rāzī’s explanations, similarly, contain within them all of the information given to him such that no one fragment of information is declared incorrect. Rather, differences are minimized such that conflict is eliminated. Taking a cue from Rāzī’s own methodological repertoire, we might say that Rāzī was a brilliant synthesizer of information, and he was also an Ismāʿīlī. And it was in the way he synthesized information that he most frequently revealed his Ismāʿīlī beliefs.

Rāzī, Abū Ḥātim Aḥmad ibn Ḥamdān, Aʿlām al-nubuwwa, English intro by Nasr, 3rd page; Arabic intro by al-Sawy, 5; Persian intro by Ghulām Reza A’vānī, 20–21. 885

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INDEX OF QURʾĀNIC VERSES 6:99, 109 6:115, 68, 69, 70, 72, 73 7:59, 110 7:111, 140 7:155, 103 8:32, 100 8:34, 103 8:63, 21 9:12, 20 9:72, 18 12:2, 37 12:3, 112 12:46, 123 14:4, 39 14:24, 58, 71 14:26, 58, 71 15:10, 138 16:40, 71, 72 16:62, 108 16:86, 115 16:116, 108 17:35, 40 18:5, 68, 69 18:12, 106 18:25, 106 18:50, 96 18:88, 122 20:30, 108 21:3, 119 24:35, 104 26:182, 40 26:195, 22 26:224, 44

1:7, 111, 119, 122 2:36, 69 2:37, 64, 67, 69 2:48, 13 2:61, 88 2:89, 122 2:90, 111 2:102, 96, 118 2:138, 20, 107 2:207, 148 2:219, 152 2:266, 114 3:7, 156, 157 3:18, 123 3:33–4, 111 3:36, 70 3:39, 58, 70, 71 3:44, 86 3:45, 109 3:49, 109 3:64, 68, 69, 116 3:103, 136 3:159, 99 4:4, 106 4:46, 59 4:171, 58, 71 5:2, 83 5:3, 151 5:8, 27 5:54, 123 5:71, 112 5:103, 84 6:44, 20

169

170 26:227, 44 31:27, 60 33:22, 139 34:1, 14 34:14, 112 34:39, 108 34:48, 109 35:10, 57, 59 36:69, 42 37:1-4, 43 37:6, 108 37:7, 99 37:12, 103 41:12, 99 41:41, 37 42:52–3, 122 44:20, 19 47:14, 114 48:15, 59, 65 52:29, 43 56:22, 110

LANGUAGE AND HERESY IN ISMAILI THOUGHT 56:26, 109 68:37, 46 68:47, 46 69:17, 72, 73 69:37, 33 69:41, 43 72:11, 135 73:16, 77 74:9, 118 76:31, 112 81:22, 43 83:5–6, 113 85:4–5, 116 91:1, 111 91:8, 111 91:9, 111 96:15–16, 121 98:1, 113 100:1-6, 43 112:1, 121, 122

GENERAL INDEX Abū Hāshim ʿAbd Allāḥ b. Muḥammad b. al-Ḥanafiyya, 127 Abū Ḥātim al-Sijistānī, 78 Abū Ṣāliḥ, 27 Abū Tammām, 130, 131, 132, 133, 160 Abū ʿUbayd al-Qāsim b. Sallām, xiii, 14, 15, 19, 23–24, 39, 40, 41, 79, 140 Abū ʿUbayda Maʿmar b. alMuthannā, xiii, 17, 18, 19, 21–23, 38, 40, 41, 50, 70, 71, 96, 101, 105 Abū ʿUmar, 18 Abū ʿUthmān al-Ashnāndānī, 78 accusative of cause, 99, 115 ʿāda, 37 adab, 53 Adam, xi, xii, 4, 18, 68, 97 aḍdād, 15, 35 Aḍdād, Kitāb al- (Abū ʿAlī), 76 Aḍdād, Kitāb al- (Ibn al-Anbārī), 35, 96, 118 aḍḥā, 55 adhān, 54 adjective, 20, 80, 96, 97, 105, 109, 110, 120, 121, 122, 123 ʿadl, 55 ʿadn, 17–18, 53 ʿafw, 55 Āghā Khān, x Aghānī, Kitāb al-, 140

A’vānī, Ghulām Reza, 160 Aaron, 30, 108 ab, 55 ʿAbbāsids, 34, 45, 126 Abboud, Peter, 106, 115, 117 ʿAbd Allāh (Qurʾān reader), 112, 123 ʿAbd Allāh Ḥakīm al-Dīn, Sīdī, 7 ʿAbd Allāh b. Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq, 128, 129, 153, 154 ʿAbd Allāh, the Mahdī (=ʿUbayd Allāh, the Mahdī) ʿAbd Allāh b. Masʿūd, 13 ʿAbd Allāh b. Maymūn al-Qaddāḥ, 2 ʿAbd al-Jabbār, al-Qāḍī, 130 ʿAbd al-Muṭṭalib, 42 ʿAbd al-Qayyūm b. ʿIsābhāʾī, 9 ʿAbd al-Tawwāb, Ramaḍān, 14, 23 Abraham, xii, 4 Abu-l-ʿAbbās Aḥmad b. Yaḥyā, 88 Abū ʿAlī Muḥammad b. al-Mustanīr, 76 Abū Bakr al-Ṣiddīq, 141, 142, 144 Abū Dharr al-Ghifārī, 138 Abu-l-Faḍl al-Harawī, 90 Abū Ḥanīfa, 140 Abu-l-Ḥasan ʿAlī b. ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz, 22 Abu-l-Ḥasan ʿAlī b. al-Mughīra alAthram, 22

171

172

LANGUAGE AND HERESY IN ISMAILI THOUGHT

aḥad, 52 aḥādīth (=Traditions) aḥbār, 54, 156 ahl, 54, 156 ahl al-bayt, 54, 156 ahl al-ḥadīth, 135, 137, 142 ahl al-kitāb, 24 ahl al-lugha, 26 ahl al-raʾy, 135, 137, 142 Aḥmad b. ʿAlī, ruler of Rayy, xi, 3 Aḥmad b. Ḥātim, 77 Aḥmad b. Khalaf, 3 Aḥsan al-taqāsīm fī maʿrifat al-aqālīm (al-Muqaddasī), 135, 144 ahwāʾ, 10, 53 aḥzāb, 138, 149 ʿāʾif, 9, 55 ʿajamī, 55 akh, 55 al-Akhfash, 36, 76, 78, 119 al-Akhfash al-Awsaṭ, 76, 92 ākhir, 52 ākhira, 53 al-Akhṭal, 45 al-, 122, 138, 149 āl, 54, 156 ʿalā, 117 ʿālam, 53 Aʿlām al-nubuwwa (al-Rāzī), 4–7, 24, 31, 160 Alexandria, Egypt, 10 Alfiyya (Ibn Mālik), 64 ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib, 7, 33, 96, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144, 145, 147, 148, 149, 152, 156 ʿAlī, Ābid, x Ali, Jamal, x, xiii, xiv ʿAlī b. Muḥammad b. ʿAlī b. Mūsā b. Jaʿfar, 129, 145 ʿAlī b. Mūsā b. Jaʿfar, 143, 145, 154

alif, 20, 32, 111 ʿaliyy, 52 allā, 103 allāhumma, 17, 19, 28, 29, 52, 97, 100 Allen, Roger, xi, 49 Almagor, Ella, 21 ʿAlmāwī, ʿAbd al-Bāsiṭ, 29, 30 ʿAlqama b. ʿUlātha, 42 ʿamal, 103 amān, 20 ʿāmil, 104, 107, 108, 109, 111, 112, 116, 119 āmīn, 27, 52 Amīn, Muṣṭafā, 21, 60 ʿĀmir b. al-Ṭufayl, 42 ʿamm, 55 amr, 53, 154, 155 ʿAmr b. Kulthūm, 120 ʿAmr b. ʿUbayd, 147 amṣār, 53 amthāl, 15, 16-17 an, 102, 103 al-Anbārī, Abū Barakāt, 28, 58, 97, 100 al-Andalusī, Abū Ḥayyān, 59, 69, 71, 88 Anīs, Ibrāhīm, 10, 36, 152, 158, 159 anna, 62, 102, 112, 115, 118 anṣāb, 55 anṣār, 54, 156 al-Anṣārī, Abū Jaʿfar Aḥmad, 59 anthropology, 4 ʿAqaba, 80 aqālīm, 53 ʿaql, 53, 155, also see 'Intellect' Arab League, 8 ʿarabī, 55 aʿrābī, 33, 54 Arabia, 47 Arabian Peninsula, 83, 84

INDEX Arabic, x dialects, 14, 47–48, 70 foreign vocabulary in, 79, 80 grammar of, 33–34 in poetry, 43 sounds of, 31–33 superiority of, 2, 31–35, 79 Arabization, 14 aʿrāf, 53 ʿarafa, 55 Arafat, Walid, 45, 46 Arberry, A. J., 46, 47, 48 arḍ, 53, 154 arḥām, 55 ʿarīf, 54 ʿarsh, 18, 53, 155 ʿarūḍ, 34 asās, xii, 145 asāṭīr, 54 asāṭīr al-awwalīn, 25 asbāṭ, 54 Asfār b. Shīrūya, xi, 3 Aʿshā, 18, 45, 50 aṣḥāb al- ḥadīth, see ahl al- ḥadīth aṣḥāb al-raʾy, see ahl al-raʾy ashʿār, 54 al-Ashʿarī, ʿAlī b. Ismāʿīl, 140 ʿashīra, 54 Asia, Central, x al-asmāʾ al-ḥusnā. (=Most Beautiful Names) al-Aṣmaʿī, 18, 36, 69, 76, 105 aṣnām, 55 ʿaṣr, 54 astronomy, 6 ʿatama, 54 ʿaṭf, 95, 96, 101, 102, 109 athar, 4 ʿatq, 55 A’vānī, Ghulām Reza, 160

173 awliyāʾ, 54 awqāt al-ṣalāt, 54 Aws b. Ḥajar, 58, 69 awthān, 55 awwāb, 54 awwāh, 54 awwal, 52 āya, 25, 54 aymān, 20 ʿAyn, Kitāb al- (Khalīl b. Aḥmad), 15, 59, 75, 82, 84, 85 al-ʿAynī, 158 Ayoub, Mahmoud, 38, 70, 156 Azerbaijan, xi, 3 al-Azharī, Abū Manṣūr Muḥammad ibn Aḥmad, 23, 59, 63, 67, 69, 83, 84 ʿaz.īm, 52 ʿazīma, 53 ʿazīz, 52 azlām, 55 ʿazm, 4 azwāʾ, 55 bāʾ, 32 Bāb al-Mandab, 80 Babtī, ʿAzīza, 106, 107, 110, 115, 117 badal, 91, 95, 96, 97, 106, 107, 108-24 Baghdad, ix, 8, 62, 63 al-Baghdādī, ʿAbd al-Qāhir, 1, 2, 130, 131, 133, 141 baḥara, 84 al-Bāhilī, Abū Naṣr, 76 baḥira, 84 baḥīra, 55, 84 al-Baḥr al-muḥīṭ (al-Andalusī), 59, 69, 71, 88 baḥrayn, xi, xiii, 84 bāʿith, 52 al-Bakrī, Abū ʿUbayd ʿAbd Allāh ibn ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz, 82, 85, 86

174

LANGUAGE AND HERESY IN ISMAILI THOUGHT

balāʾ, 55 al-Balāgha al-wāḍiḥa (Jārim), 21 balda, 53 al-Balkhī, Abū-l-Qāsim, 64, 130 Banū Dubayr, 110 Banū Kilāb, 80 Banū ʿUdhra, 80 al-Bāqillānī, Abū Bakr b. al-Ṭayyib, 38 al-Bāqir, Muḥammad, 127, 128 baraka, 157 bārī, 27, 28, 52 bashīr, 54 baṣīra, 55 baṣra, 76, 82, 89, 92 bāṭin, xii, 52, 132, 134 bāṭiniyya, 132, 160 al-Baṭliyūsī, 158 baṭn, 54 Bayān, 127 Bayān, Kitāb al- (Ghiyāth), 29 al-Bayāniyya, 127 bayt, 58, 68 Bayt al-Maqdis (= Jerusalem) Beeston, A. F. L., 43 Bell, Richard, 43 Bible, 6, 58, 71 bīḍ, 55 bidaʿ, 53 bilya, 55 biqāʿ, 53 al-Biqāʿī, Burhān al-Dīn Ibrāhīm, 60, 151, 152, 158 al-Bīrūnī, Abū Rayḥān, 89-90 bismillāh, 20 bismillāhi-l-raḥmāni-l-raḥīm, 10, 23 Bohris, x Bombay, India, 9 budna, 25, 54 Bulāq, 49

al-Burhān fī ʿulūm al-Qurʾān (alZarkashī), 38, 39 Burnham, Terry, 37 burūj, 53 bustān, 17 Cairo, ix, 8, 76 Caliphs, Rightly Guided, 136 camel, 55, 78, 83, 84, 159 Campbell, Sandra, xi Cardoos, Stephen, xi Caspian Sea, xi Chosroe, 50 Christians, Christianity, 20, 24, 145 cognate accusative, 99, 117 command, 71, 72, also see amr Companions of the Prophet, 39, 40, 44, 54, 136 Cook, Michael, 135, 139, 140 Cooperson, Michael, xi Cortese, Delia, 9 cosmology, xiii, 3, 4, 58, 68, 71, 72, 73, 74, 151, 153 creation, 51–52, 58, 68, 125, 151, 154, 155 Daftary, Farhad, 87, 128, 129, 137, 154 dāʿī, ix, x, xi, 2 al-Dāʿī Idrīs, 1, 2, 158 dāʾim, 52, 95 dajjāl, 55 ḍalāl, 53 Dalālāt nubuwwat Rasūl Allāh (Ibn Qutayba), 24 al-Ḍāmin, Ḥātim Ṣalāḥ, 17 ḍamīr al-shaʾn, 95 ḍamm, 81, 102, 103, 104, 105 ḍamma, 26, 95, 99, 102, 110 Dār al-Kutub al-Miṣriyya, Cairo, 8, 10 darajāt, 53

INDEX ḍarb, 33 daʿwa, 3, 29, 87, also see ' Ismāʿīlī missionaries' Ḍayf, Shawqī, 61, 92, 102, 104 Daylam, 1 al-Daylamī, 1, 2, 7 dayyān, 52 dhimma, 53 dhurriyya, 54, 156 dīn, 36, 37, 52, 53 dīwān, 42 Dodge, Bayard, 7, 24, 46 Drake, Hubert, 29 duʿāʾ, 157 al-Duʾalī, Abu-l-Aswad, 33, 96 duals, 14 dukkān, 78 dunyā, 53 Eden, see ʿadn Egypt, ix, x, 81, also see miṣr Enderwitz, Susanne, 34 Engineer, Ali Asghar, 9 enjambment, 48, 49 Ethiopic language, 39, 40 fa, 120 Faḍāʾil al-Qurʾān (Abū ʿUbayd), 23 faḍīla, 54 Faḍl b. ʿAbbās, 83 Faḍl al-iʿtizāl wa-ṭabaqāt al-Muʿtazila (al-Qāḍī ʿAbd al-Jabbār), 130 fājir, 17 fajr, 54 fakhidh, 54 Fākhir, Kitāb al- (al-Mufaḍḍal b. Salama), 17, 76 falak, 53 falāsifa, 19 al-Faqʿasī, 45 farāʾiḍ, 52, 54 faraj, 55

175 al-Farazdaq, 45 fard, 52 farīḍa, 54 al-Farq bayn al-firaq (al-Baghdādī), 1, 2, 131 al-Farrāʾ, Abū Zakariyyā Yaḥyā b. Ziyād, xiii, 19–21, 28, 33, 41, 59– 62, 65, 66, 71, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 97, 98, 100, 101–2, 105–16, 117, 118, 119, 120, 122, 123, 124 fārūq, 54 fasting, 54 fatḥ, xiii, 72, 102, 104, 105, 114 fatḥa, 99, 102, 111 al-Faṭḥiyya, 128 Fātiḥa, 25, 111 Fāṭimids, ix, 2, 129, 152, 153 al-Fayrūzābādī, 78, 80, 81, 83, 85 al-Fayyūmī, Aḥmad b. Muḥammad, 64 Fihrist (Ibn al-Nadīm), 1, 2, 7, 19, 24, 46, 76, 77, 78 fiʿl (= verb) fiqh, 14, 52 al-Fiqh al-akbar (Abū Ḥanīfa), 140 firaq, 2, 10, 11, 52, 54, 125, 127, 128, 130, 133, 136, 153, 154 Firaq al-Shīʿa (al-Nawbakhtī), 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 131, 135, 137, 143, 147 Firaq al-Shīʿa (al-Qummī) (= Kitāb almaqālāt wa-l-firaq) firdaws, 40, 53 firqa, 136, 139 fisq, 25, 53 fitna, 55, also see 'schism' fiṭr, 54 fiṭra, 53 fujūr, 25, 53 furqān, 54

176

LANGUAGE AND HERESY IN ISMAILI THOUGHT

Fyzee, Āṣaf ʿAlī Aṣghar, ix Gabriel, 72 ghaffār, 52 ghāfir, 52 ghafūr, 52 al-Ghalāyīnī, al-Shaykh Muṣṭafā, 64 ghaniyy, 52 gharīb al-ḥadīth, 14 Gharīb al-ḥadīth (Ibn Qutayba), 24, 25 al-Gharīb al-muṣannaf (Abū ʿUbayd), 14, 15, 23 gharīb al-Qurʾān, 14 ghawr, 80, 84 ghayb, 52 ghayn, 32 Ghayth al-nafʿ fi-l-qirāʾāt al-sabʿ (alṢafāqisī), 59 al-Ghinawī, Abu-l-Sirār, 13 Ghiyāth, 3, 29 ghūl, 53 Gibb, H. A. R., 3, 15, 35, 73, 76, 129 Goldziher, Ignaz, 13, 36, 38, 75 grammar, 7, 8, 11, 33, also see naḥw Baṣran, 28, 58, 61, 70, 76, 77, 89, 91, 92, 94, 95–98, 103, 119 Kūfan, 16, 19, 28, 29, 58, 76, 77, 87, 89, 91, 92–107, 114, 115, 116, 119, 120 "Old Iraqi School", 94 schools of, 11, 92–94, 95–98 Great Holy Mosque, Sanʿāʾ, Yemen, 8 Greek language, 40, 41, 90 hāʾ, 59, 62, 112 ḥadd, 55 ḥadīth (=Traditions) hady, 55 al-Ḥāfi, 1 ḥajar, 80 ḥajj, 25, 54

al-Ḥakam b. ʿUtayba al-Kūfī, 18 ḥakīm, 14, 52, 53 ḥāl, 37, 95, 96, 106, 108, 109, 117, 122, 123, 156 Halm, Heinz, 2, 68, 72, 73 halumma jarran, 117 ḥām, 55 Hamdān, x Hamdani, Abbas, x, 1, 10, 52, 145, 153 Hamdānī, Ḥusayn, ix, xiv, 1, 2, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 25, 26, 36, 127, 129, 134, 152, 158, 159 ḥāmī, 84 ḥamīd, 52 hamz, 55 hamza, 14, 27, 28, 83, 88, 101 Ḥamza b. al-Ḥasan al-Iṣfahānī, 36, 90 Ḥanafism, 140 ḥanān, 52 ḥaqq, 73 ḥarf, 54, also see ‘particle,’ ‘letters' Ḥārith b. Ḥilliza, 118, 120 Hārūn (= Aaron) Hārūn, ʿAbd al-Salām, 77 Hārūn al-Rashīd, 135 Ḥarūrāʾ, 147 al-Ḥarūriyya, 132, 147 Hārūt, 55, 96, 118 Ḥasan, 18 Ḥasan, ʿAbbās, 66 Ḥasan b. ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib, 131 al-Ḥasan al-ʿAskarī, 128, 129, 131, 133, 146 al-Ḥasan al-Baṣrī, 147 Hāshim b. ʿAbd Manāf, 42 Ḥassān b. Thābit, 46, 69 hawāʾ, 53 ḥawāriyy, 54, 156

INDEX hāwiya, 53 ḥayāt, 53 ḥayawān, 53 ḥaythu, 103 Haywood, John, 15 ḥayy, 52 Hebrew language, 31, 40, 41 hell, 53, 96, 131, also see jahannam Hermes, 6 ḥifz., 99 ḥijāz, 83, 88, 89 ḥikma, 53 Ḥimṣ, 78, 85 Ḥimyarī, 130 ḥisāb, 36 ḥisāb al-jummal, 32 Hishām b. Ḥakam, 126 ḥizb, 138, 139, 149 Homer, 48 hudā, 53, 54 ḥujja, 131, 137, 158 ḥukamāʾ, 19 ḥunafāʾ, 54 ḥurūf. (= letters) Ḥusayn b. ʿAlī b. Abī Ṭālib, 131 Ḥusayn, Muḥammad Kāmil, ix Ḥusayn, Ṭahā, 46, 48 ḥuṭama, 53 Hyderabad, India, 9 Ibāḍīs, 139 ʿibāra, 97, 108, 116, 121 ʿibārat-al-ruʾyā, 55 Iblīs, 25, 53, 96 ibn, 55 Ibn ʿAbbād, al-Ṣāḥib, 59 Ibn ʿAbbās, ʿAbd Allāh, 27, 39, 40 Ibn ʿAbd al-Barr, 46 Ibn Abī Ḥadīd, 147 Ibn al-Anbārī, Abū Bakr, 15, 16, 17, 18, 35, 80–90, 91, 96, 98, 99, 100,

177 101, 102, 104, 105, 107, 110, 116– 23 Ibn ʿAqīl, Bahāʾ al-Dīn ʿAbd Allāh, 64 Ibn al-Aʿrābī, 45 Ibn ʿAṭiyya, 39 Ibn Aws, 38 Ibn Diḥya, 79 Ibn al-Dumayna, 88 Ibn al-Dumayna, Dīwān, 88 Ibn Durayd, Abū Bakr Muḥammad ibn al-Ḥasan, 36, 76, 77, 78, 80, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86 Ibn Fāris, Aḥmad, 35, 36, 38, 39, 59, 62, 63, 64, 69, 75, 76, 78, 79, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86 Ibn Ḥabīb, Muḥammad, 45, 46 Ibn Ḥājib, Jamāl al-Dīn, 64 Ibn Ḥanbal, 136 Ibn Hishām, 46 Ibn Isḥāq, 46 Ibn Jinnī, Abu-l-Fatḥ ʿUthmān, 61, 62, 63, 65, 66, 67 Ibn Khālawayh, 76, 77 Ibn Khallikān, Aḥmad b. Muḥammad, 24, 76 Ibn Mālik, 64 Ibn Manz.ūr, Jamāl al-Dīn Muḥammad, 48, 83, 84, 85, 147, 159 Ibn Masarra, 135 Ibn al-Nadīm, 1, 2, 7, 19, 24, 45, 46, 76, 77, 78 Ibn Naqīb, 39 Ibn Qutayba, Abū Muḥammad b. Muslim al-Dīnawarī, xiii, 19, 24– 28, 41, 86, 87, 130, 136, 152, 159, Ibn Saʾd, 139 Ibn al-Sallām al-Jumaḥī, 42, 45, 46 Ibn al-Sarrāj, 36, 76, 77, 80

178

LANGUAGE AND HERESY IN ISMAILI THOUGHT

Ibn Sīdah, 63, 64, 83, 84 Ibn ʿUmar, 18 ibna, 55 ibrīq, 79 ibtihāl, 54 ʿīd, 54 iḍāfa, 20, 55, 95, 107 idghām, 55 Idrīs, 6 ʿifrīt, 53 Iftikhār, Kitāb al- (al-Sijistānī), 68, 72, 73 iftirāq, 137 ightisāl, 54 ihlāl, 54 iḥlāl, 25, 54 iḥrām, 54 iḥṣān, 55 iḥtajaza, 83 iʿjāz, 38 Ikhtilāf fi-l-imāma, Kitāb al- (Hishām b. Ḥakam), 126 īlāʾ, 55 al-Iʿlān bi-l-tawbīkh (al-Sakhāwī), 24 ilḥād, 4, 8, 17, 53 ilhām, 54 ʿilm, 53, 71, 73 ʿimād, 95 imām, xii, 54, 156 īmān, 20, 53, 55, 71, 158 ʿimāra, 54 Imruʾ al-Qays, 42, 45, 48, 49, 123, 152 India, ix, 7, 9 injīl, 25, 54 inkār, 53 inna, 62, 110, 115 ins, 25, 53 al-Inṣāf fī masāʾil al-khilāf (al-Anbārī), 28, 58, 97, 100

insān, 35, 52 Intellect, xi, 4, also see ʿaql Intiṣār, Kitāb al- (Baṭliyūsī), 158 ʿiqāb, 53 iqāma, 54 ʿIqd al-jumān (al-ʿAynī), 158 iqlīm, 78, 86, 87, 89-90 al-Iqnāʿ fi-l-qirāʾāt al-sabʿ (al-Anṣārī), 59 iʿrāb, 43 Iʿrab al-Qurʾān (Ibn al-Naḥḥās), 99 Iʿrāb al-Qurʾān (al-Karbāsī), 99 Iʿrāb thalāthīn sūra min al-Qurʾān alkarīm, Kitāb (Ibn Khālawayh), 77 irāda, 51, 73 Iran, x, 2 īrān shahr, 86 ʿirāq, x, 85, 86, 88 Iraqi Museum, Baghdad, 8 al-Irjāʾ, see ‘Murjiʾa’ ʿirq, 86 Irtishāf, Kitāb al- (Ibn Diḥya), 79 al-Isfarāyīnī, 1 ʿishāʾ, 54 ishāra, 54 ishtiqāq, xiv, 35–37, 76–87 books on, 36, 76–77, 80 Ishtiqāq, Kitāb al- (Ibn Durayd), 36, 77, 80 Ishtiqāq al-asmāʾ, Kitāb (Aḥmad b. Ḥātim), 77 Iṣlāḥ, Kitāb al- (al-Rāzī), xii, xiii, 2, 3– 4, 142, 145, 154 islām, 53 ism (= noun) ism dhāt, 61 ism fāʿil, 95 ism jins, 61, 65 ism mafʿūl, 95 ism maʿnā, 61

INDEX Ismāʿīl b. Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq, 128, 129, 153, 154 Ismāʿīlī literature, 57 Ismāʿīlī missionaries, 2–3, 87 Ismaili Studies, Institute of, x, 9 Ismāʿīlīs, xiv, 145, 146, 149, 153 Ismāʿīlism history of in Transoxania, 2–3 isnād, 16, 23, 24, 146 Isrāfīl, 72 al-Istīʿāb (Ibn ʿAbd al-Barr), 46 istighfār, 157 istinjāʾ, 54 istinshāq, 54 istislām, 54 iʿtazala, 147 itbāʿ, 15, also see tābiʿ' ithm, 53 iʿtikāf, 54 al-Itqān fī ʿulūm al-Qurʾān (al-Suyūṭī), 37, 38, 39, 158 ʿitra, 54, 156 Ittiʿāz. al-ḥunafāʾ (al- Maqrīzī), 1, 2 Ivanow, Wladimir, ix ʿiyāfa, 9 iyyāka, 96, 119 ʿizz, 73 jabal, 80 jabbār, 52 Jābir ibn Zayd, 139 jabt, 9, 55 Jacobi, Renate, 49 jadd, xiii, 72 Jaʿfar b. ʿAlī b. Muḥammad b. ʿAlī b. Mūsā b. Jaʿfar, 129, 146 Jaʿfar al-Ṣādiq, 50, 73, 127, 128, 153 al-Jaʿfariyya al-Khullaṣ, 129 Jafri, S. Husain, 147 jahannam, 53, 96 jaḥd, 95

179 jāhiliyya, 46, 52, 53, 158 jaḥīm, 53 al-Jāhiz., 34 jahl, 53 jalīl, 52 jamʿ, 54 jamʿ al-kathra (=plural of abundance) jamʿ al-qilla (=plural of paucity) jamāʿa, 136, 139 Jamharat al-lugha (Ibn Durayd), 36, 77, 78, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86 Jāmiʿ, Kitāb al- (al-Rāzī), 7 Jāmiʿ al-bayān (al-Ṭabarī), 38, 39, 59, 68, 70, 71, 99 Jāmiʿ al-Kabīr al-Muqaddas, Sanʿāʾ, Yemen (= Great Holy Mosque) Jāmiʿ al-tawārīkh (Rashīd al-Dīn), 1, 2 janāba, 54 janīn, 78 janna, 53 al-Jannābī, Abū Ṭāhir Sulaymān b. Abī Saʿīd, xi Jarāmiqa, 90 Jārim, ʿAlī, 21, 60, 61, 65 Jarīr b. ʿAṭiyya, 45 jarr, 55, 95, 96, 97, 102 al-Jārūdiyya, 144 jawād, 52 jawālī, 54 al-Jawālīqī, Abū Manṣūr, 38, 39, 79, 80, 86 al-Jawharī, Abū Naṣr Ismāʿīl, 61, 65, 66, 69, 81, 83 jaysh, 78 jazāʾ, 37, 95 jazāʾir, 53 jazīra, 86, 87 jazm, 55 jazūr, 87 Jeffery, Arthur, 38, 39, 40

180

LANGUAGE AND HERESY IN ISMAILI THOUGHT

Jerusalem, 80 Jesus, xii, 4, 58, 70, 71, 145 Jews, Judaism, 10, 20, 24, 36, 139, 142 al-Jibāl, x jīm, 32, 146 jimār, 54 jinn, 25, 43, 53, 135 John the Baptist, 70, 71 Jones, Alan, 45, 47, 48 Jordan, 85 jumal, 63, 66 Jumal, Kitāb al- (al-Zajjājī), 89 jumla mufīda, 65 Kaʿb al-Aḥbār, 18 kaʿba, 48, 54 kāf, 32, 58, 68, 69, 72, 151 kāfir, 71 Kāfiya fi-l-naḥw (Ibn Ḥājib), 64 kāhin, (= soothsayer) kālaba, 80 kalāla, 54 kalām, 11, 16, 61, 57–66, 67, 68, 110 kalim, 11, 57–66 al-kalim al-ṭayyib, 57 kalima, 11, 54, 57–74 kalima khabītha, 58, 71 kalima ṭayyiba, 58, 71 kalimāt, 1, 57, 59, 60, 64, 127, 132, 152 kamā, 82, 88, 97, 98, 103 al-Karbāsī, Muḥammad Jaʿfar, 99 karīm, 52 karra. see takrīr, see takrīr Kāshān, x Kashshāf (al-Zamakhsharī), 13, 59, 60, 69, 70 kasr, 20, 102, 104, 105 kasra, 95, 102, 109 kawākib, 53

kawthar, 53 kay, 98, 103 al-Kaysāniyya, 134, 144 khāʾ, 102 khabīr, 14, 52 khafḍ, 95, 96, 102, 103, 104, 105, 108, 110, 111, 112, 113, 116, 121, 123 khalʿ, 55 khāl, 55 Khalaf, 2 khalīl, 54 al-Khalīl b. Aḥmad, 15, 34, 59, 75, 76, 82, 84, 85, 92, 97 khāliq, 27, 52 khallāq, 52 khalq, 53, 154, 155 khamr, 55 khannās, 53 kharaja/khurūj, 97, 106, 107, 116 Khārijīs/Khawārij, 132, 134, 135, 142, 143, 147, 148, 149 Khaṣāʾiṣ, Kitāb al- (Ibn Jinnī), 62, 63, 65, 66, 67 khasf, 55 khashya, 54 al-Khaṭīb, Muḥibb al-Dīn, 24 al-Khaṭīb, Ṭāhir Yūsuf, 108, 110 khaṭṭ, 54 khayāl, xiii, 53, 72 Khayl, Kitāb al- (al-Aṣmaʿī), 76 Khazāʾin al-adilla, 72, 73 Khazraj, 80 Khiṭaṭ (al-Maqrīzī), ix Khojki, x khubbal, 53 khuḍūʿ, 54 khuld, 53 Khurāsān, x, 2, 3, 140 khushūʿ, 54 khuṭba, 58, 68, 69

INDEX Kinberg, Naphtali, 94, 102, 106, 107, 108 al-Kirmānī, Ḥamīd al-Dīn Aḥmad b. ʿAbd Allāh, xi al-Kisāʾī, 92, 95, 98, 100, 101, 105, 107, 110 kitāb, 25, 47, 54, 58, 70 Kitāb (Sībawayh), 61, 62, 64, 66, 67, 76, 92, 93 kitāba, 54 Kūfa, 89 al-Kūfī, Khālid b. Kulthūm, 45 kufr, 25, 37, 53, 158, 159 al-Kulīnī, Abū Jaʿfar Muḥammad b. Yaʿqūb, 151 Kumayt, 36 kun, 72, 73, 74 kūnī, xiii, 68, 72, 73, 151 kūr, 53 kursiyy, 53, 155 lā, 104 lā ḥawla wa-lā quwwata illā bi-llāh, 104 lā ilāha illa-llāh, 57, 58, 68, 71 lā al-nāfiya li-l-jins, 95, 104 Labīd b. Rabīʿa, 45, 120 laḥn, 55 laḥn al-ʿāmma, 14 laʿīn, 53 lām, 32, 115 lām al-khafḍ, 96 laʿn, 25 laṭīf, 52 laṭm, 33 lawḥ, 53, 154, 155 lawlā, 102 Laysa, Kitāb (Ibn Khālawayh), 77 laz.ā, 53 Lebanon, 85 letters, 32, 50, 51, 58, 151 letters, mysterious, 40

181 lexicography, Arabic, xiii, 11, 13-15, 30, 75, 90 li-, 96, 112 lillāhi darruhu rajulan, 108 Lisān al-ʿArab (Ibn Manz.ūr), 49, 83, 84, 85, 147, 159 Lisān al-mīzān (Ḥāfi), 1 London, x Lord-Parry oral-formulaic theory, 44, 48–50 Lowry, Joe, xi mā, 108, 112 mā lam yusamma fāʿiluhu, 95 Maʿānī, Kitāb al- (al-Bāhilī), 76 Maʿānī al-Qurʾān (Abū ʿUbayd), 23 Maʿānī al-Qurʾān (al-Farrāʾ), 19–21, 22, 59, 60, 71, 102, 105–16, 119, 122, 123 Maʿānī al-Qurʾān (al-Zajjāj), 76 al-mabnī li-l-majhūl, 95 al-Madāris al-naḥwiyya (Ḍayf), 61 Madelung, Wilferd, 11, 125, 126, 130, 131, 132, 140, 152 madhhab/madhāhib, 93, 95, 98 madīḥ, 49 maʿdin, 17, 18 madīna, 36 maḍmaḍa, 54 maʾduba, 53 al-mafʿūl al-muṭlaq (=cognate accusative) al-mafʿūl li-ajlihi (= accusative of cause) maghrib, 1, 54 Maḥṣūl, Kitāb al- (al-Nasafī), xii, xiii, 3 Majālis Thaʿlab, 19, 88, 94, 95, 96, 98, 99, 102, 103, 106, 107, 117, 118 majāz, 21 Majāz al-Qurʾān (Abū ʿUbayda), 18, 21–22, 38, 70

182

LANGUAGE AND HERESY IN ISMAILI THOUGHT

majīd, 52 mājid, 52 Majmaʿ al-bayān fī tafsīr al-Qurʾān (alṬabarsī), 41, 59, 64, 65, 68, 69, 71, 84, 99, 103, 122, 135 majnūn, 43 Maʾjūj, 96 majūs, 53, also see ‘Zoroastrians’ majzūm, 97 Ma-khtalafat alfāz.uhu wa-ttafaqat maʿānīhi, Kitāb (al-Aṣmaʿī), 76 makka, xii, 54, 83, 85 makrūr, see takrīr al-Maktaba al-Muḥammadiyya alHamdāniyya, 7, 8 malāʾika, 53 malakayn, 96 malakūt, 55 malik, 52 malīk, 52 mālik, 52 malʿūn, 53 maʿnā, 55 manāsik, 54 maniyya, 53 mannān, 52 manṣūb, 103, 115, 116, 123 al-Manṣūr, caliph, 126 manuscripts, Ismāʿīlī, x Maqālāt, Kitāb al- (al-Balkhī), 130 Maqālāt, Kitāb al- (al-Warrāq), 126 Maqālāt al-islāmiyyīn (al-Ashʿarī), 140 Maqālāt wa-l-firaq, Kitāb al- (alQummī), 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 131, 135, 137, 143, 147 maqām, 54 Maqāyīs al-lugha (Ibn Fāris), 36, 59, 62, 69, 75, 76, 78, 79, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86

al-Maqrīzī, Taqiyy al-Dīn Abu-lʿAbbās Aḥmad, ix, 1, 2 maraqa, 148 Mardāwīj, xi, 3 Margoliouth, D. S., 46, 47, 48, 50 mārid, 53 maʿrifa, 15, 52, 53, 121, 123, 124 al-Māriqa, 132, 133, 134, 142, 147– 48, 149 Mārūt, 55, 96, 118 Marw al-Rūdhī, Ḥusayn b. ʿAlī, 3 marwa, 54 Mary, 58, 70, 71 maṣdar (= verbal noun) mashāʿir, 54 mashʿar al-ḥarām, 54 mashīʾa, 51, 72 masīḥ, 55 maʿṣiya, 54 masjid, 54 al-Masʿūdī, Abu-l-Ḥasan ʿAlī b. alḤusayn, 135, 144 maṣūr, 81, 159 mathal, 55 mathānī, 25, 54 matn, 24 Matn al-lugha (Riḍā), 65, 80, 90 mawālī, 54, 156 mawāsim, 54 maysir, 41, 55, 86, 87, 151, 152 al-Maysir wa-l-qidāḥ (Ibn Qutayba), 24, 86, 87, 152 mazīd, 58 McCarus, Ernest, 106 medicine, 5 Messiah, 4, 58, 71 miḥrāb, 54 Mīkāʾīl, 72 Milal wa-l-niḥal, Kitāb al- (alBaghdādī), 141

INDEX Milal wa-l-niḥal, Kitāb al- (alShahrastānī), 140, 141, 143 milla, 53 mīm, 97, 100 min, 109, 110 minā, 54 minhāj, 53 Minuchehr, Hasan, 3 Miqdād b. al-Aswad, 138 mīrāth, 54 Miṣbāḥ al-munīr (al-Fayyūmī), 64 miṣr, 81, 82, 88, 97, 159 Morony, Michael, xi Moses, xii, 4, 30, 145 Most Beautiful Names, 8, 17, 25, 26, 27, 51, 52, 53 Mosul, 90 muʿallaqa, 48, 49, 118, 120, 121, 123 muʿarrab, 79 al-Muʿarrab (al-Jawālīqī), 38, 40, 79, 80, 86 Muʿāwiya b. Abī Sufyān, 137, 138, 139, 142, 143, 149 mubāhala, 54 mubārāh, 55 al-Mubarrad, Muḥammad b. Yazīd, xiii, 19, 28–29, 36, 41, 67, 76, 77, 79, 80, 93, 100, 130 mubayṭir, 27 mubdal minhu, 107, 109, 111, 113, 120 mublis, 20 mubrim, 16 muḍāf, 122 muḍāf ilayh, 99 Muḍar, 80 mudārasa, 54 muḍāriʿ, 95 Mudhakkar wa-l-muʾannath, Kitāb al(Ibn al-Anbārī), 76, 94, 96, 100, 104, 119, 121

183 mudun, 53 al-Mufaḍḍal al-Ḍabbī, 36 al-Mufaḍḍal b. Salama b. ʿĀṣim, 17, 76 mufaṣṣal, 25, 54 mufassir, 19, 95, 106, 107, 115, 116 Mufliḥ, xi, 3 Mughīra b. Saʿd, 145 muḥaddith, 54 al-Muḥadditha, 143 Muhadhdhab fīmā waqaʿa fi-l-Qurʾān min al-muʿarrab (al-Suyūṭī), 37, 38, 39 muhājirūn, 54, 156 al-Muḥakkima, 132 Muhalhil b. Rabīʿa al-Taghlabī, 42 Muḥammad b. ʿAbd Allāh (Prophet), xii, 4, 6, 23, 25, 31, 39, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 103, 131, 136, 142, 144, 145, 148, 157, 158, 159 Muḥammad ʿAlī al-Hamdānī alYaʿburī al-Ḥarāzī, Sīdī, 7 Muḥammad b. ʿAlī b. Muḥammad b. ʿAlī b. Mūsā b. Jaʿfar, 146 Muḥammad b. ʿAlī b. Mūsā b. Jaʿfar, 145, 154 Muḥammad b. al-Ḥanafiyya, 127 Muḥammad b. Ismāʿīl b. Jaʿfar alṢādiq, xi, xii, 129, 154 Muḥammad b. Sallām, 97 Muḥārib b. Dithār, 139 muhaymin, 27, 52 Muḥibb al-Dīn al-Khaṭīb, 152 al-Muḥīṭ fi-l-lugha (al-Ṣāḥib Ibn ʿAbbād), 59, 83 muḥkam, 54 al-Muḥkam wa-l-muḥīṭ al-aʿz.am (Ibn Sīdah), 63, 64, 83, 84 al-muḥkam wa-l-mutashābih, 156 muhmal, 63, 64

184

LANGUAGE AND HERESY IN ISMAILI THOUGHT

al-Muʿizz, caliph, 129 Mujāhid b. Jabr, 40, 71 Muʿjam al-buldān (Yāqūt), 77, 80, 82, 83, 84, 88, 89, 90, 158 Muʿjam ma-staʿjam min asmāʾ al-bilād wa-l-mawāḍiʿ (al-Bakrī), 82, 85, 86 Muʿjam al-udabāʾ (Yāqūt), 77, 87, 90 mujāwara, 110 mujbira, 146 mukhtār, 55 mulāʿana, 55 mulḥid, see ilḥād muʾmin, 27, 52, 71 munāfiq, 8, 53, 159 munāshaza, 55 munāṣib, 53 munīb, 54 al-Munjid fi-l-lugha, 32, 84 Munqidh ibn Ṭarīf, 78 al-Muqaddasī, Muḥammad ibn Ahmad, 135, 143, 144 al-Muqtaḍab (al-Mubarrad), 67, 79, 80 murawwiʿ, 54 al-Murjiʾa, 11, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 139–44, 145, 148, 149 etymology of 'Murjiʾa', 140–42 mursal, 54, 155 Murūj al-dhahab (al-Masʿūdī), 135 Mūsā b. Jaʿfar, 143, 145, 154 Mūsā b. Muḥammad b. ʿAlī b. Mūsā b. Jaʿfar, 145 musakkir, 55 muṣallā, 54 muṣawwir, 52 Musaylima, 83 Mustaʿlī Ṭayyibīs, ix mustaʿmal, 63 mustaqbal, 95 mutaʿālī, 52 mutakabbir, 52

mutakallimūn, 68 mutarjim, 108, 118 mutashābih, 54, 156, 157 al-Mutawakkil, Imam Yaḥyā (Zaydī Imam), xiv al-Mutawakkilī (al- Suyūṭī), 158 mutayammim, 54 al-Muʿtazila, 10, 73, 75, 89, 132, 133, 134, 135, 141, 143, 146, 147, 149 muwālāh, 54, 156 muzdalifa, 54 al-Muzhir fī ʿulūm al-lugha wa anwāʿihā (al-Suyūṭī), 76, 77, 78, 79, 80 Nabatean language, 39 nabī, 89 nabīdh, 55 al-Nābigha al-Dhubyānī, 27, 45 al-Nābigha al-Jaʿdī, 45 nabiyy, 54, 155 nadhīr, 54 nafas, 53 nāfila, 54 nāfiqāʾ, 159 nafs, 25, 53, 155 nafy, 95 al-Naḥḥās, Abū Jaʿfar Aḥmad b. Muḥammad, 76, 99, 117 nāḥiya, 90 naḥr, 54 naḥw, 8, 34, also see 'grammar' al-Naḥw al-wāḍiḥ (Jārim), 60, 61, 65 al-Naḥw al-wāfī (Ḥasan), 66 naḥwiyyūn, 19 najas, 55 al-Najātī, Aḥmad Yūsuf, 21, 119 Najd, 47, 84, 85 al-Najjār, Muḥammad ʿAlī, 119 nakira, 121, 123, 124 nākithīn, 148 naqīb, 54

INDEX nār, 53 al-Nasafi, Muḥammad b. Aḥmad, xi, xii, xiii, 3, 4, 153, 154 nasaq, 96, 102, also see ʿaṭf naṣārā, 53, also see 'Christians, Christianity' naṣb, 55, 96, 97, 99, 102, 103, 104, 105, 107, 108, 109, 111, 112, 115, 117, 118, 122, 123 nasīb, 49 nāṣib, 53 al-nāsikh wa-l-mansūkh, 54 nasq, 95 Nasr, Seyyed Hossein, 160 Naṣṣār, Ḥusayn, 13, 14, 15, 75, 76 naʿt, 95, 96, 97, 110, 121, 122, 123, also see 'adjective' nāṭiq, xi, xii, 4, 145 al-Nawabakhtī, Abū Muḥammad alḤasan, 125–30, 131, 135, 137, 143, 144, 147 Naz.m al-durar (al-Biqāʿī), 60, 151, 152, 158 Neoplatonism, x, xii, xiii, 3, 51, 52, 53, 72, 73, 154–55 nifāq, 8, 25, 37, 158, 159 nikāḥ, 55 niʿma, 116 Nīshāpūr, 3 Niz.ām al-Mulk, 1, 29 Noah, xii, 4 Nomoto, Shin, 2, 3 North Africa, x, 1, 153 noun, 4, 15, 20, 36, 60, 61, 62, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 79, 81, 84, 85, 93, 97, 106, 109, 115, 117, 118, 119, 121, 122, 123, 138, 149 nujūm, 53 nūn, 72, 97, 104, 151 nuṣba, 54

185 Nuṣra, Kitāb al- (al-Sijistānī), xii, xiii Ottomans, 34 Owens, Jonathan, 92, 94, 96, 98, 101, 102, 106, 108 Palacios, Miguel Asín, 135 Palestine, 85 particle, 61, 62, 66, 67 Pedersen, Johannes, 22 People of the Book (=ahl al-kitāb) Persia, 2 Persian Gulf, 84 Persian language, x, 2, 5, 31, 32, 33, 39, 40, 50 pharmacology, 7 Phelan, Jay, 37 Pickthall, Mohammad Marmaduke, 33, 38, 43, 44, 58, 71, 135, 148, 156 pillars of Islam, 54, also see each individual pillar plural, 15, 57, 59, 60, 61, 62, 116 plural of abundance, 60 plural of paucity, 60 poet, position of, 42, 44 poetics, 7, also see ʿarūḍ poetry, 16, 27, 42–50, 58 Poonawala, Ismail, xi, 4, 7, 9, 29, 73, 144 prayer, 54 predestination, 146, 147 pre-Islamic Arabia, 43 pronoun, 110, 113 prophets, prophethood, prophetology, x, xii, 4, 5, 6, 18, 30, 38, 39, 40, 42, 52, 54, 68, 157 Pseudo-Ammonius, xiii qabīla, 54 qaḍāʾ, xi, 53, 71 qadar, xi, xiii, 53, 68, 71, 72, 73, 146, 147, 154, 155

186

LANGUAGE AND HERESY IN ISMAILI THOUGHT

al-Qadariyya, 130, 132, 133, 134, 135, 142, 146–47, 149 qaddasa, 80 al-Qāḍi al-Nuʿmān, 1 qādir, 52, 53 qāf, 32 qāʾif, 9, 55 qāʾim, xii al-Qāʾim (caliph), 2, 4 qalam, 18, 53, 86, 154, 155 qalama, 90 qamar, 53 al-Qāmūs al-muḥīt (Fayrūzābādī), 78, 80, 83, 85, 159 al-Qānūn al-masʿūdī (al-Bīrūnī), 90 Qarmaṭīs, xi, xii, xiii, 2, 126 qaṣaṣ, 54 qaṣīda, 49, 58, 68, 69, 70 qāsiṭīn, 148 qaṣṣa, 82 qaṭʿ, 95, 123 al-Qaṭʿiyya, 145, 146, 149 Qawāʿid ʿaqāʾid āl Muḥammad (alDaylamī), 1, 2, 7 qawl, 62, 63, 64, 65, 115 qawm, 19, 26 qayyūm, 27, 52 qibla, 54, 85 qidḥ, 86 Qinnasrīn, 104 qirāʾa, 54 qissīsūn, 54, 156 qisṭās, 40 qiyāfa, 9 qiyāma, 9, 53 quddūs, 52 qudra, 71, 73 Qumm, x al-Qummī, Saʿd b. ʿAbd Allāh, 125– 30, 131, 135, 137, 143, 144, 147

qunūt, 54 qurā, 53 Qurʾān, 6, 13, 14, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 31, 33, 35, 37, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 47, 52, 54, 55, 57, 58, 59, 60, 63, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 75, 77, 79, 83, 86, 88, 92, 93, 94, 96, 98, 99, 100, 103, 104, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 118, 119, 121, 122, 123, 132, 135, 138, 139, 140, 148, 152, 156, 157, 158 Arabic of, 22, 34, 37–41 foreign vocabulary in, 37–41 miraculous nature of, 6, 38 on poetry, 42–43, 44 translations of, 31 variant readings, 59, 60 quraysh, 21 qurbān, 54 Quṣayy, 80 Quṭrub, 19, 36, 76, 81, 82, 83, 86, 97 rāʾ, 32 rabb, 52 rabbāniyyūn, 8, 41, 54, 156 rabbiyyūn, 41 Rabin, Chaim, 47 radd, 113–14, 116, 120–21 rafʿ, 55, 96, 102, 103, 104, 105, 110, 112, 113, 114, 120, 121, 122, 123 rafaḍa, 145 al-Rāfiḍa, 133, 134, 135, 138, 142, 144–46, 149 al-Rāfiʿī, 64 raḥīm, 52 raḥl, 77 raḥma, 73, 157 raḥmān, 21, 52 rajʿa, 7, 10, 55 rajīm, 53

INDEX Rajkowski, Witold, 135 rajm, 19 Ramaḍān, 55 raml, 54 Rashīd al-Dīn, 1, 2 rāsikhūn fi-l-ʿilm, 54, 156, 157 raʾūf, 52 al-Rāwandiyya, 126 Rawḍāt, 152 rāwī, 45, 50 Rayy, x, xi, 2, 3, 5, 29 al-Rayyāshī, 78 al-Rāzī, Abū Bakr Muḥammad b. Zakariyyā, xi, 4–7 al-Rāzī, Abū Ḥātim Aḥmad b. Ḥamdān influence of, 12, 90, 158-60 Ismāʿ'īlism of, xiv, 11, 30, 57, 67, 71, 73-74, 133–34, 151, 152– 58, 160 life of, x-xi, 2–3 place of origin, 1–2 predecessors, 19–30 works of, 3–7 al-Rāzī, al-Fakhr, 70 al-Rāzī, Murtaḍā b. al-Dāʿī al-Ḥusnī, 152 reason, 5, also see ʿaql Red Sea, 80 Rhazes (=Rāzī, Abū Bakr Muḥammad b. Zakariyyā) Riḍā, Aḥmad, 65, 80, 90, 158 rīḥ, 53 rijs, 55 rijz, 55 Rippin, Andrew, 13, 14, 15 risāla, 52, 54 Risāla (al-Shāfiʿī), 38

187 Risāla li-l-Bīrūnī fī fihrist kutub Muḥammad ibn Zakariyyāʾ ar-Rāzī (al-Bīrūnī), 90 Riyāḍ, Kitāb al- (al-Kirmānī), xi Rosenthal, Franz, 22, 29, 30 rūḥ, 53 ruhbān, 54, 156 rukūʿ, 54 rūmiyya (= Greek language) al-Rummānī, 77 rustāq, 90 Sabar, Yona, xi ṣābiʾūn, 53 sabkha, 88 ṣabr, 55 ṣadaqa, 54 ṣafʿ, 33 ṣafā, 54 al-Ṣafāqisī, Sīdī ʿAlī al-Nūrī, 59 al-Ṣāghānī, Abu-l-Faḍl Ḥasan ibn Muḥammad, 82 saharan gerbil, 37, 159 al-Ṣāḥib Ibn ʿAbbād, 83 al-Ṣāḥibī (Ibn Fāris), 35, 38, 39, 62, 63, 78, 79 sāḥir, 55 sahm, 86 sāʾiba, 55, 84 Saʿīd, grandson of Ḥassān b. Thābit, 46 Saʿīd b. Jubayr, 40 saʿīr, 53 al-Sakhāwī, 24 sākin, 97 sakīna, 55 saʿlāh, 53 salām, 52 Salama b. ʿĀṣim, 19 ṣalāt, 25, 30, 54, 157, also see 'prayer' ṣalli ʿalā Muḥammad, 157

188

LANGUAGE AND HERESY IN ISMAILI THOUGHT

Salmān al-Fārisī, 138 samāʾ, 53, 154 ṣamad, 52 al-Samarrāʾī, ʿAbd Allāh Sallūm, 1, 2, 10, 125, 128, 129, 130, 132, 133, 134, 136, 137, 138, 139, 141, 142, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148, 153, 154 ṣāmit, xii Sanʿāʾ, Yemen, 8 saqar, 53 Ṣaqr, Aḥmad, 24 sarāʾir, 55 ṣarf, 17, 55, 96, 97 Sāsānids, 34 ṣawm (= fasting) al-Sawy, Salah, 4, 160 saʿy, 54 sayf, 88 schism, first, 140 Schoeler, Gregor, 44, 48, 49, 50 Schumacher, Lars, xi scripture, 31 Sellheim, Rudolf, 21 Sezgin, Fuat, 21, 22 shaʿāʾir, 25 shaʿb, 54 al-Shaʿbī, 23 shadda, 102 shafʿ, 54 al-Shāfiʿī, 38 Shāfiʿism, 152, 153 shahīd, 54 shāhid, 27 al-Shahrastānī, Muḥammad b. ʿAbd al-Karīm, 140, 141, 143, 144 shajara, 77 shakūr, 52 shaʾm, 85 shams, 53 Sharḥ abyāt Sībawayh (al-Naḥḥās), 117

Sharḥ abyāt Sībawayh (al-Zajjāj), 76 Sharḥ Ibn ʿAqīl ʿalā alfiyyat Ibn Mālik (Ibn ʿAqīl), 64 Sharḥ nahj al-balāgha (Ibn Abī Ḥadīd), 147 Sharḥ al-qaṣāʾid al-sabʿ al-ṭiwāl aljāhiliyyāt (Ibn al-Anbārī), 83, 94, 96, 102, 110, 117, 118, 120, 121, 123 Sharḥ shiʿr Zuhayr ibn Abī Sulmā (Thaʿlab), 121 Sharḥ al-taḥṣīl (Ibn Diḥya), 79 sharīʿa, xi, xii, 4, 53 sharṭ, 95 al-Shaybānī, Abū ʿAmr, 45 shayṭān, 25, 53 sheep, 84, 88 al-Shīʿa, 11, 30, 126, 128, 130, 131, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138–39, 141, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 149, 153, 156, 158 al-Shīʿa, Imāmī, 144 shīn, 32 shiʿr (= poetry) Shiʿr wa-l-shuʿarāʾ, Kitāb al- (Ibn Qutayba), 140 shirk, 7, 25, 53, 58 shiyaʿ, 138 shuʾm, 85 shuʾmā, 85 al-Shurāt, 132, 148 al-Shuʿūbiyya, 34–35, 36 Sībawayh, 60, 61, 62, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 76, 92, 93, 94, 97, 98, 100, 101, 102, 117 ṣibgha, 20, 107 ṣiddīq, 18, 30, 54, 156 ṣidq, 73 ṣifa, 95, also see 'adjective'

INDEX Ṣifat al-maʿmūra ʿala-l-arḍ (al-Bīrūnī), 90 Ṣiffīn, arbitration, 142, 147 ṣīgha, 53 al-Ṣiḥāḥ (al-Jawharī), 61, 66, 69, 83, 84 siḥr, 55 al-Sijistānī, Abū Ḥātim, 19 al-Sijistānī, Abū Yaʿqūb, xi, xii, xiii, 67, 68, 72, 73, 153, 154, 155 silm, 21 ṣiqāʿ, 53 Sīra (Ibn Isḥāq), 46 al-Sīrāfī, Ḥasan b. ʿAbd Allah, 61, 65, 77 ṣirāṭ, 40, 41, 53 Siyāsat-nāma (Niz.ām al-Mulk), 1, 2, 29 soothsayer (kāhin), 43, 47, 55 soul, xi, 4, 155 Stern, S. M., 2, 29, 72, 73 Storey, C. A., 76 subbūḥ, 52 al-Suddī, Ismāʿīl b. ʿAbd al-Raḥmān, 135 sujūd, 54 al-Sukkarī, Abū Saʿīd, 45 sulāla, 54, 156 Ṣulayḥids, ix Suleiman, Yasir, 34, 35, 36 sunna, 25, 54, 136, 142, 146 al-sunna wa-l-jamāʿa, 53, 131, 135, 136–37, 142, 143, 148, 149 Sunnīs, 29, 131, 135, 136, 137, 138, 142, 143, 144, 145, 148 ṣūr, 25 sūra, 25, 26, 54, 58, 68 Surat, India, 7 surūdgū, 50

189 Suyūṭī, Jalāl al-Dīn, 37, 38, 39, 40, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 152, 158 Syria, 85 Syriac language, 31, 40, 41 tāʾ, 61 tāʾ marbūṭa, 83 ṭāʿa, 37 Ṭabaqāt fuḥūl al-shuʿarāʾ (Ibn Sallām), 45 Ṭabaqāt (Ibn Saʾd), 139 al-Ṭabarī, Muḥammad b. Jarīr, 38, 39, 59, 68, 69, 70, 71, 99 Ṭabaristān, xi, 3 al-Ṭabarsī, Abū ʿAlī al-Faḍl b. alḤasan, 41, 59, 64, 65, 67, 68, 69, 71, 84, 99, 103, 122, 135, 144 tābiʿ, 93, 97, 107–11, 116, 118, 119– 20, 121, 122 tabriʾa, 95, 104 al-Tabṣīr fi-l-dīn (al- Isfarāyīnī), 1 Tabṣirat al-ʿawāmm (Murtaḍā al-Rāzī), 152, 153 taḍarruʿ, 54 taḍmīn (= enjambment) tafsīr, 13, 14, 21, 38, 74, 75, 108, 114– 18 tafsīr bi-l-maʾthūr, 38, 75 tafsīr bi-l-raʾy, 38, 75 Tafsīr gharīb al-Qurʾān (Ibn Qutayba), 25–28, 159 Tafsīr Ibn ʿAbbās (=Tanwīr al-miqbās) Tafsīr Mujāhid, 71 ṭāghūt, 9, 55 ṭāhā, 23, 40 tahajjud, 54 ṭahāra, 54 al-Ṭaḥāwī, 140 Tahdhīb al-lugha (al-Azharī), 23, 59, 63, 67, 69, 83, 84 al-Ṭāḥiniyya, 146

190

LANGUAGE AND HERESY IN ISMAILI THOUGHT

taḥiyyāt, 54 tahlīl, 54 ṭāʾif, 53 Tāj al-ʿarūs (al-Zabīdī), 83, 84, 85, 86, 88, 89 al-Ṭājiniyya, 129, 146 takbīr, 54 takhalluṣ, 49 takrīr, 108, 111–13, 116, 118–22 ṭalāq, 55 talbiya, 54 Talmon, Rafael, 94 tamyīz, 91, 93, 95, 106, 107, 108, 114, 116, 117 tanwīn, 109, 122 Tanwīr al-miqbās min tafsīr Ibn ʿAbbās, 13, 14, 84 tanzīl, 54 Taqāsīm al-aqālīm, Kitāb (al-Birūnī), 90 Ṭarafa b. al-ʿAbd, 36, 121 Tārīkh (al-Yaʿqūbī), 147 tarjama, 95, 96, 97, 108, 116, 118, 120, 121 tarkhīm, 55 tarwiya, 54 tasbīḥ, 54 tashahhud, 54 tashayyuʿ, 141 tashrīq, 54 taṭawwuʿ, 54 tawahhum, 50, 51, 151 taʾwīl, xii, 54 ṭawīl, 80 Taʾwīl mushkil al-Qurʾān (Ibn Qutayba), 24 tawkīd, 112, 120 tawrāt, see 'Torah' tawwāb, 54 ṭayf, 53 Ṭayyibīs, ix

Tehran Central Library, 9 al-Thaʿālibī, 39 Thābit b. Abī Thābit ʿAbd al-ʿAzīz, 22 Thābit Quṭna, 140 thādiq, 78 Thaʿlab, Abu-l-ʿAbbās Aḥmad b. Yaḥyā, 19, 21, 22, 28, 29, 87, 88, 91, 94-107, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121, 122 al-Thaqafī , ʿĪsa ibn ʿUmar, 92 thaqīl, 102 thawāb, 53 thawb, 77 thawr, 77 Theologia, xiii Tihāma, 80 tilāwa, 54 al-Ṭirimmāḥ, Dīwān, 82 al-Ṭirimmāḥ b. Ḥakīm, 82 Torah, 6, 25, 41, 54 Traditions, 15, 23, 24, 27, 55, 131, 133, 134, 136, 137, 138, 139, 144, 145, 146, 148, 149, 156, 157 Transoxania, 2, 140 ṭūbā, 53 ṭūr, 40 Turkestan, 153 Turner, Catherine, xi al-Ṭūsī, 45 Twelver Shīʿa, 128, 129, 131, 133, 144, 145, 149, 151, 154 ʿUbāb al-zākhir (al-Ṣāghānī), 82 ʿUbayd Allāh, the Mahdī, 1, 129 Ubayy b. Kaʿb, 13 Ubulla, 89 UCLA, 9 ukht, 55 ūlā, 54 ulm, 25, 54

INDEX ʿUmar b. al-Khaṭṭāb, 18, 141, 142, 144 Umayyads, 137, 144 umm, 55 umm al-kitāb, 54 umma, 53 ʿumra, 54 University of California, Los Angeles (= UCLA) ʿuqūba, 53 al-ʿUshayrī, Muḥammad Riyāḍ, 2, 10, 52 uṣūl, 6 Uṣūl, Kitāb al- (Ibn al-Sarrāj), 76 ʿUthmān b. ʿAffān, 139, 140, 143 ʿUthmān al-Baṭṭī, 140 ʿUyūn al-akhbār (al-Dāʿī Idrīs), 1, 2, 158 Vajda, Georges, 10, 151 verb, 15, 18, 20, 36, 58, 61, 62, 64, 67, 68, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 90, 96, 98, 99, 103, 105, 106, 107, 109, 111, 112, 114, 115, 116, 117, 119, 122, 123, 140, 141 verbal noun (maṣdar), 15, 20, 36, 58, 60, 61, 65, 66, 80, 85, 105, 117 Versteegh, C. H. M., 13, 93, 95, 101, 102 wa, 156 wabīl, 77 wadūd, 52 Wafayāt al-aʿyān (Ibn Khallikān), 24, 76 wahhāb, 52 wāhib, 52 wāḥid, 52 waḥy, 54 walāya, 54, 156 Walker, Paul, 3, 4, 19, 57, 72, 73, 130, 131, 132, 152, 155

191 Wansbrough, John, 21 wārith, 52 Warrāq, 126 wasaṭ, 55 waṣf, 105, 107 wāsiʿ, 52 Wāṣil b. ʿAṭāʾ, 147 waṣīla, 55, 84 waṣiyy, 129 waṣiyya, 129 waswās, 53 watr, 52, 54 Watt, Montgomery, 43, 135, 136, 139, 140, 143, 144, 147 wāw, 72, 104, 105, 110, 114 wayḥaka, 17 Wiedemann, Eilhard, 90 wizr, 53 wuḍūʾ, 24, 54 wujūh, 15 wujūh al-ḥajj, 54 yāʾ, 28, 32, 72, 83, 88, 100, 102, 104, 113 yahūd, 53, also see 'Jews, Judaism' Yaḥyā al-Mutawakkil ʿala-llāh, 8 Yaḥyā b. Khālid, 135 yajrī, 95, 97 Yaʾjūj, 96 yamāma, 83, 88, 89 yamm, 40 yanṣarif, 95, 96 yaqīn, 55 Yaʿqūb, Imīl Badīʿ, 61, 76 al-Yaʿqūbī, Abu-l-ʿAbbās Aḥmad, 147 Yāqūt al-Ḥamawī, 77, 80, 82, 83, 84, 87, 88, 89, 90, 158 yatīm, 55 al-yawm al-ākhir, 52 Yemen, ix, x, 8, 129

192

LANGUAGE AND HERESY IN ISMAILI THOUGHT

Yūnus ibn Ḥabīb, 92 al-Zabīdī, Abu-l-Fayḍ Muḥammad Murtaḍā, 83, 84, 85, 86, 88, 89 zabūr, 25 Zāhid ʿAlī, ix, x, 9 z.āhir, 53 Zāhir fī maʿānī kalimāt al-nās, Kitāb al(Ibn al-Anbārī), 15, 16–18, 80–89, 94, 96, 99, 102, 104, 117 zājir, 9, 55 al-Zajjāj, Abū Isḥāq Ibrāhīm, 36, 69, 76, 77, 80 al-Zajjājī, ʿAbd al-Qāsim ʿAbd alRaḥmān, 88, 89 zajr, 9 zakāt, 25, 54 al-Zamakhsharī, 13, 59, 60, 69, 70 zamzam, 54 al-Zarkashī, Badr al-Dīn, 38, 39 zawʾ, 53 zawāl, 54 Zayd b. ʿAlī, 144, 145

al-Zaydiyya, xiv, 134, 144 Ziai, Hossein, xi z.ihār, 55 Zīna, Kitāb aldate of writing of, 2 manuscripts of, xiv, 7–9 method and approach, 11, 30, 57 74, 130, 158–60 organization and contents, xiii, 8, 11, 15–16, 26, 30, 31, 52–55, 132–36, 156 publications of, 9–10 sources, 15, 125–30 studies of, 10 Ziyārids, xi Zoroastrians, 135, 146 zubūr, 54 Zuhayr b. Abī Sulmā, 36, 45, 58, 69, 120, 121 z.uhr, 54 z.ulm, 53 Zwettler, Michael, 43, 47–50