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The Poetic Universe of Samuel Ibn Sasson, Hebrew Poet of Fourteenth-Century CastileAuthor(s): ROSS BRANN, ANGEL SÁENZ-BADILLOS and JUDIT TARGARONASource: Prooftexts, Vol. 16, No. 1, Readings in Medieval Hebrew Poetry (JANUARY 1996), pp.75-103Published by: Indiana University PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20689440 .

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ROSS BRANN, ANGEL S?ENZ-BADILLOS, and JUDIT TARGARONA

The Poetic Universe of Samuel Ibn Sasson, Hebrew Poet of Fourteenth-Century Castile

WERE IT NOT FOR THE PRESERVATION of a d?iv?n (Sefer avnei hash oham) comprising some eighty-two poems and a rhymed-prose narrative

exposition on the socioreligious state of fourteenth-century Castilian

Jewry, Samuel Ibn Sasson might easily be dismissed as an inferior poet of little significance. Consider that Hayyim Schirmann and Dan Pagis, the two most influential medieval Hebrew literary historians of their

respective generations, each assigned Ibn Sasson a very minor role in the

history of Hebrew poetry in Spain, in particular on account of what they deemed the complete lack of literary merit in the poet's uvre.1 Because Schirmann and Pagis were regarded (with ample justification) as authori tative voices, their ostensibly objective "aesthetic" considerations of what

was and what was not worth reading in the corpus of medieval Hebrew literature proved conclusive. By extension, their implicit agenda of retrieving a universally creditable national literature was widely accepted?a clear instance of canon formation in the shaping of medieval Hebrew literary history.2

In this paper we will endeavor to present Ibn Sasson as a poet worthy of attention for reasons entirely different from those that occupied Schirmann and Pagis?factors that have been overlooked by scholars

naturally drawn to the admittedly more creative, accomplished, and

interesting Hebrew poets of, say, tiiirteenth-century Toledo and fifteenth

century Saragossa. While the literary critic may dismiss Ibn Sasson as

marginal, the literary historian can see Ibn Sasson as an intriguing figure in the history of Hebrew poetry in Christian Spain precisely because his

PROOFTEXTS16 (1996): 75-103 e 1996 by The Johns Hopkins University Press



76 ROSS BRANN, ANGEL S?ENZ-BADILLOS, and JUDIT TARGARONA

talent was mediocre but his output impressive. Here was an unusually productive Hebrew poet of limited social and literary horizons working in the virtual seclusion of the provincial Castilian town of Carri?n and

neighboring Fromista, far from Toledo and the court of Alphonso XI

(d. 1350) and his successor Pedro I (d. 1369). Moreover, the purposeful Ibn Sasson was so convinced of the enduring worth of his literary enterprise that he served as his own scribe and editor in compiling his d?w?n, a

process that involved carefully grouping poems in clusters of signification and providing brief but often critical notes in the form of superscriptions.

As implied by his neglect at the hands of Hebrew literary historians, what Ibn Sasson lacks in obvious talent and skill is not compensated even

by his evident familiarity with the verse of his illustrious predecessors from Muslim and Christian Spain, his determination to make a name for

himself, his perseverance, or his earnest desire to see himself as a major

literary figure of the day. However, that a productive Hebrew poet of such

limited talent could have existed and persisted in this confining environ ment is something of an exceptional chapter in the history of medieval Hebrew literature, especially considering the hardships the poet and his

community had to endure, namely, the oppressive taxation of the Jews of

Castile, the Christian missionizing efforts directed against them, and the various rifts, conflicts, and rivalries among the social and religious elite within Hispano-Jewish society.

Ibn Sasson's efforts to find or, as seems more likely, imagine an

audience for his work beyond that of his self-sustaining circle of like minded young Hebrew literati in Carri?n and Fromista, his attempts to establish contact with or at least make himself known to some of the influential social, political, and cultural figures of fourteenth-century Castile such as Shem Ardutiel and Isaac Ibn Pollegar on the one hand and Don Ju?af de ?cija and Samuel ibn Waq?r on the other, form the

subject of many of his poems (see below). Indeed, on the evidence of his verse the poet can be seen as preoccupied with the condition of being an

impoverished and relatively isolated Hebrew poet of the Castilian coun

tryside (where the number of men of learning was limited by the meager size of population)3 who unfortunately came along at a time of social

dislocation, apparent cultural decline, and unprecedented religious tur

moil among the Jews of Spain.4 It is interesting to note that the social typologies to emerge from

reading Ibn Sasson's poetry stand in sharp contrast to the matrix of individuals from various strata of Jewish society in fourteenth-century Spain identified in the homilies of the rabbinic preacher Joshua Ibn

Shu'eib of Tudela: the scholar, members of the upper class, the ordinary and humble, and the arrogant courtier.5 For the villager Ibn Sasson, the social scene is at once less complicated and more polarized. The Jewish



The Poetic Universe of Samuel Ibn Sasson 77

nobility are seen as generous, learned, and worthy representatives of the

Jewish community, whereas the nouveau-riche mid-level tax collectors are viewed as miserly, ignorant, and disconnected from the community.6 The sociopolitical climate depicted in Ibn Sasson's dtw?n is thus one in which apparently ignorant men rose to positions of authority and influ ence within the Jewish community, replacing men of learning and nobility as leaders of the community before the officials of the king.7

Neither the social tensions among the various groups and classes of

Jewish society nor Ibn Sasson's self-conscious preoccupation with his situation translated into lines of verse with any of the artistic appeal, sophistication, or lyrical brilliance of the classical poets Samuel Hanagid, Solomon ibn Gabir l ("Nihar beqor'i geroni," "Mah lakh yehidah"),

Moses ibn Ezra ("Geviri biltekha ceinai mevakim"), and Judah Halevi

("Lo he'emin amun calei tolacat"), each of whom addressed in unique fashion the complex of conventional themes treating the problematic life of the Hebrew poet in Andalusi-Jewish society.8 Even if we take Ibn Sasson's frequent expressions of frustration with his condition as a

conventional topos, the reader discovers a poet who consistently tackles the literary tradition's significant themes without ever finding a sustained

lyrical voice in which to express himself. Ibn Sasson thus fails to mimic or

modify Hispano-Hebrew literary tradition in an artistically accomplished way but rather seems to plod along most when the reader expects enlightened expression, as in a lyrical complaint.

The reader of Ibn Sasson's d?w?n generally finds two types of poems addressed to two distinct audiences: poems intended for communal,

literary, and religious notables in Toledo, such as those figures mentioned

above; and compositions addressed to members of his family and the

poet's own social circle,9 including rival poets in and around Cam?n.10

Compositions belonging to the former cluster tend to be framed in a most

general and impersonal way and do not really seem to have been intended to establish a meaningful connection between the poet and the

dignitaries so much as to announce his existence. The pronounced mannerism of these lyrics, evident in the formal lament for Don Ju?af of

?cija ("Etscaq ve3ezcaq cad le'ein shamayim") with its endless piling up of internal rhymes,11 and in the panegyric to Don Shem Ardutiel ("Gevir hame'ulleh behokhmah mesulleh"),12 known to Hispanists as Santob de

Carri?n, strike the reader as a sign of cultural decadence.13 It also signifies the poet's desire to demonstrate his technical mastery of the tricks of the

trade?perhaps Ibn Sasson's single accomplishment as a poet?before a

culturally sophisticated audience at the court.14 Ibn Sasson seems to have assumed that manneristic verse of the sort for which he shows a degree of

proficiency would please the tastes of those informed readers living in the

capital city. Poems addressed to members of the poet's "inner circle" of




family and young men around and about Carrion are also characterized

by strongly manneristic tendencies as in the sequence of short poems (nos. 33-42) dealing with various aspects of social and literary life in Ibn Sasson's circle of companions and acquaintances.15 Such personal occa

sional compositions can also be more direct, reflecting a degree of

intimacy between the poet and addressee absent from his formal commu

nications with nobility. Two kinds of individuals thus inhabit Ibn Sasson's

poetic universe in out-of-the-way Carri?n: the poet's relations, compan ions, associates, and rivals; and the communal dignitaries and literary intellectuals beyond the environs of his town with whom the poet has no

real personal contact.

Our discussion of Ibn Sasson will focus on two salient aspects of the

poet's circumscribed literary universe: (1) Ibn Sasson's "life and times"? in particular, his literary relationship with other aspiring poets in Carri?n as played out in his verse and his purely formal (and as far as we know,

one-way) communication with the distinguished social, religious, and

literary figures of Toledo; and (2) the poet's self-conscious, idiosyncratic notions about the role of the Hebrew poet in a time of social, cultural, and

religious crisis?in particular, as these ideas are manifested in the

rhymed-prose narrative (no. 8).

Ibn Sasson?His Times and His Circle

Samuel ben Joseph Ibn Sasson's literary activity occurred during an era of political and economic turmoil for the Jews of Castile. In spite of the

positive attitude of Alfonso XI toward them, economic, demographic, and

political factors involving the nobility, the masses, and the Church created conditions in which Jew-hatred would escalate into violence during the civil war of the middle of the century.16 Here is how Ibn Sasson's rhymed prose narrative represents the adverse environment confronting the Jews of Spain:

Edom [Christian Spain] made much more burdensome our yoke; it strength ened and reinforced itself against our people. . .. How can one live among arrogant Gentiles whose arrows are always sharpened to destroy and annihi late the Jews?17

Similar protests are found in the poet's verse:

We are in exile, without strength or force,

villainy has reached us, our adornment has been withdrawn. The adversary has brought calamities, and made fetid our smell,

as anyone knows that lives in our day.18




What are the specific encumbrances in fourteenth-century Castile to

which the poet alludes in general complaints about life in exile? They are often economic disabilities:

However, in our day the yoke has become greater, to the point that it cannot be measured, from all manner of afflictions that beset us each day. Objects more valuable than fine gold have been converted into wreckage and booty because the taxes have so increased and the taxmen are unrelenting, and the onus amounts to hundreds and thousands, and the Jews are completely impoverished. The local rulers have greedy hands. And the children of Israel cried out from their servitude; but their king has increased their yoke and

pursued them on account of their debt.19

The poet frequently complains of excessive taxation as well, sometimes

referring to Jewish tax-collectors as the most nefarious enemies of the

people:

The wicked who made long furrows on the backs of the poor imposing taxes upon them,

They plundered the wealth of the nobles through tributes, and through plunder and pillage they filled their coffers.20

These and related protests are not without personal resonance for the

poet of modest means when he turns social critic. Venting his anger at the

injustice of life in the Cas tifian countryside, Ibn Sasson employs the conventional figures of the Andalusian Hebrew lyrical complaint: "Time"

(zeman) and "the World" (tevel) assert their influence in such a way so that

scholars (especially poets) and the noble are debased and rendered poor, while fools and the wretched enjoy prosperity and wealth.21 Poetic

conventions aside, the blame is placed in part on the Christian rulers who

impose heavy burdens but even more so on certain Jews whose ambitions and greed lead them to oppress their coreligionists:

I will open therefore my lips against lime: what have you against the scholars that they are so cursed?

Their agony increased upon seeing the fools triumphant in this time.22

And in another poem:

Has Time borrowed the horns of the villains for goring with them the eminent and noble?23

The presence of Don Ju?af de ?cija and Samuel ibn Waq?r at the royal court proved of vital importance for the Jews of Castile. Don Ju?af entered

the private counsel of Alfonso XI,24 and Samuel ibn Waq?r, an astronomer

and the king's physician and economic adviser, also enjoyed the king's




confidence. Jewish and Christian sources, such as Shevet Yehudah and the Gran Cronica de Alfonso X?, respectively, present these two courtiers as the most influential Jews of the epoch, whose successive downfall seriously affected the relationships between the Jewish communities and the mon arch. In 1331, Don Ju?af (d. 1339) was eclipsed by Samuel ibn Waq?r, who had been until then the king's personal physician. By 1340, Ibn Waq?r had also lost his influence, leaving the Jews without a protective presence at court.25

Mention of these notables survives in the poetry of Ibn Sasson. In two short poems, the poet comments on the fall of Don Ju?af de ?cija (Joseph ben Shabbat) and the ascension of Samuel ibn Waq?r:

Joseph the lord ruled, he blossomed as Ben-Porat, he dominated in the frontier of Sefarad, to the edge of the great territory.

Another, thanks to his wisdom, took his greatness, and I said of him: "Only so far does the domain of Sabbath extend."26

See that the stars of heaven were gathered and agreed to grant to a family sovereignty and glory.

We see in Sefarad sublime princes, but

always above them all the calves of the children of Waq?r.27

It seems likely that Ibn Sasson's numerous references to the imprisonment of Jewish notables refer to the fate of these two men:

Time engulfs those raised into the clouds; exceptional men fall precipitously.28

The single most significant event that can be said to have deeply touched the life of the Jewish communities of fourteenth-century Spain, especially those of northern Castile, was the conversion of the physician Abner of Burgos (c. 1270-c. 1340). Following a long period of religious doubt, Abner, who was steeped in philosophy and kabbalah, embraced

Christianity some time after he was fifty years old and took the name of Alfonso de Valladolid. To justify his actions and encourage others to follow in his path, he engaged in polemical exchanges with his former coreligionists?in particular, with his former disciple and friend, Isaac ben Joseph Ibn Pollegar. The religious turmoil touched all the Jews of Castile. Ibn Sasson alludes to the event in his rhymed-prose narrative:

But now your people is in distress, because a foe has arisen to degrade its stature.29

The text clearly alludes to the prohibition of the rabbinic prayer "Birkat haminim'' ("the benediction against heretics," banned in 1336), ascribing its forced removal from the liturgy to the apostate's influence:




In other respects the Midanite merchants cause destruction, since the foe slandered their prayer, and if one goes to their sanctuary to pray, it is not allowed.30

Concrete references to Christians are infrequent in Ibn Sasson, yet a few

cryptic expressions seem to embody a particularly harsh attitude toward them. For example, the poet indicts a false messiah, apparently referring to a representative of Christianity,31 who has endangered the Jews. Abner/Alfonso may well be the target of this allusive barb:

Here comes a ruddy one with crimsoned garments, lying, and I am a victim of treachery.32

Ibn Sasson was in contact with some of Abner's principal adver saries?Isaac Ibn Pollegar, to whom he dedicated a single poem,33 and Shem Ardutiel (Don Santob of Carri?n), with whom he exchanged poems between 1330 and 1340.34 The poetic evidence suggests that Ibn Sasson personally knew both men, although the formal tone of their discourse reflects distant rather than intimate relationships. Ibn Sasson addresses Ibn Pollegar as a "prince, great lord, very exalted and precious" (v. 1) and emphasizes his biblical and rabbinical learning and his scientific and philosophical knowledge. He also notes that Ibn Pollegar "under stands more in the field of medicine than the Benei Waq?r" (v. 6). Verse 7

almost certainly refers to Ibn Pollegar's polemic with Abner:

He shoots his arrows at the body, he is an excellent Master in theology he unsheathed his sword against the master and pierced him.35

Five short poems are dedicated to Don Shem , a figure who seems to occupy a highly respected position in the community of Carri?n.36

Apparently, the two corresponded when Ibn Sasson moved to Frontista

(probably in the second third of the century). The poet does not address Don Shem as a friend among equals; rather, he employs highly manneristic language that has the effect of creating a respectful distance between him and someone who is "famous in the kingdom of Spain,"37 an apparent allusion to Santob's influence at the royal court. Ibn Sasson

makes repeated allusions to the accomplished quality of Santob's poetry:

His poems are expert and how wondrous, that prophets and seers look to his expression.38

Ibn Sasson also urges Don Shem , the author of Proverbios Morales, not

to use the language of the Christians ("their" language) but to write in Hebrew ("the pure language, close to you").39 As we shall see, the poet's

pointed counsel to Don Shem was no idle matter for Ibn Sasson nor was it an attempt to make his mark by quarreling with a celebrated




literary figure. Rather, Ibn Sasson was so personally invested in Hebrew

literary activity that he made it a matter of special concern.

Ibn Sasson's geographical field of reference is extremely limited. It has been argued that he studied in Toledo,40 or that he spent a part of his life in that city,41 and that he was related to the Ibn Shoshan family,42 but these hypotheses cannot be demonstrated convincingly. Ibn Sasson spent the greater part of his life in Carri?n de los Condes (to the north of Palencia) except for a period of time during which he lived in Frontista (a place 15 kilometers to the southeast). Carri?n de los Condes, to the west of

Burgos on the pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela, was an

important town during this period. It had a considerable Jewish presence and occasionally served as the site of royal visits.43 Fromista also lies on

the Camino de Santiago and by that time was itself an important town,

although smaller than Carrion.44 There is no evidence to suggest that Ibn Sasson ever left these two locales. Although Fromista lies less than three hours from Carri?n, the journey to this neighboring village is represented as an arduous trek for the small-town poet.45

With the departure of Don ?aq ibn Sasson (probably his uncle) to Fromista, the poet succumbs to feelings of alienation. In the style of Solomon ibn Gabir l and Moses ibn Ezra (Andalusi Hebrew poets who

frequently leveled withering tirades against their respective commu

nities), he directs harsh words at his fellow villagers in the communities of Fromista and Carri?n, both of which are referred to dismissively as

"villages" (kefarim). Regarding Fromista, the poet has this to say:

What good is your journey there? Are you going there to be with all those "loose women,"

All of whom are as bears and lions?

They devour and are like a wild beast

It is much better to stay with your relatives than to live in an ornery community!

And concerning Carri?n:

I remained alone among lions, among beasts suspected of pillage,

By myself, without companion or relative, but for those with a factious spirit,

Whose wealth, speech and decree are in taxes, duties, levies and tariffs.

They spare the wealth of the eminent, less the ordinance applies to them.

So your idea of leaving is good, since why live in a ravaged community?




When finally I go away from them as you have done, I'll praise God in the community and the congregation.46

Ibn Sasson addresses a friend recently established in Frontista as follows:

I am shocked you'd travel to the villages and leave a city full of sages.47

The "city full of sages" seems to refer to Toledo, which is also designated in the d?w?n as "the city of the wisdom."48 Another poem laments the decadence of an unidentified place (perhaps Toledo) that was once important but in which the wicked and wretched have usurped power. Because the rhetoric of its complaint is constructed entirely from general expressions, nothing concrete can be ascertained from the poem:

The city whose faithful have vanished, whose leaders all have disappeared and died,

Whose outcry ascends to heaven, because their sages have vanished.49

In addition to the panegyrics and elegies devoted to important figures in Hispano-Jewish society, Ibn Sasson's poetry reflects his relationship

with others in his environment. Because Ibn Sasson mentions the names

of some fifteen relatives, friends, wise men, and poets in his d?w?n, we can

identify a band of poets and aspiring literary intellectuals in the area of Carri?n de los Condes and Fromista during the first half of the fourteenth century, a time in which poetic activity was apparently almost lacking in Toledo itself.50 The heading of one poem affords us a rare glimpse of the competitive atmosphere among these poets. A friend of Ibn Sasson challenges several poets to compete in writing poetry, recalling an essential feature of the social and literary setting of al-Andalus: "A scholar called R. Jacob Mamiel requested that Don Moses ben Nahmias, R. Shelomiyah, R. Nahum, and I compose verses about his son, Levi,

employing the [biblical] verse ulelevi amar, to test our skill in poetry in order to see who was the best among us, and these are the verses I

composed."51 The poem itself is an uninspired didactic poem of eight verses composed according to the requirements set for him by Mamiel. Not a single verse of the other poets has been preserved.

Ibn Sasson regarded poets inside this circle and on its fringes as his competitors and friends at the same time, sometimes praising them, sometimes expressing his contempt. For instance, Ibn Sasson maintained a spirited literary correspondence and complex relationship with Moses ben Nahmias, who, in the words of one heading, "sent to him his valuable

poems."52 Ibn Sasson rebukes Ben Nahmish (apparently at the beginning of their association) for his lack of interest in study and knowledge.53 He exhorts Moses to find instruction and not to abandon the Torah for




"trashy things," repeatedly encouraging him to seek the benefit of

knowledge:

Don't you see the value of wisdom, its ways, its counsel and usefulness?54

Aside from such conventional exhortions, the texts disclose that Ibn Sasson's opinion of Moses ben Nahmish as a poet evolved. At first, he derides Ben Nahmish's poems as inferior. But one day he discovers, to his real or feigned astonishment, that "they were covered of sapphires,"55 and the literary critic reverses himself, perhaps because Moses' poems

improved:

I used to think his poems weren't good but now with eloquence he displays his glowing shine and radiance.56

The poets eventually became boon companions. ?i one of the most interesting poems in Ibn Sasson's repertoire, a

panegyric, the poet proffers enthusiastic and seemingly endless praise upon Ben Nahmish.57 Following a well-known Andalusian Hebrew rhe torical device, the poet compares his friend with the biblical Moses and

represents Ben Nahmish as a prophet and liberator?in this case, of the Hebrew language:

Noble Moses?splendid intellect, expression and inspiration were sent by God to the prince of poetry

The Rock chose him as prophet, poet and redeemer, He sent him to illuminate the holy language.

If Moses split the sea with the walking-stick, this one splits poetry by force of his pen.58

This latter-day Moses is thus portrayed as the living successor to his historical namesake; indeed, he is nearly cast as a reincarnation of the

"prophet of the poets" (line 21). The praise of Ben Nahmish as deliverer of the national language and literature actually mounts throughout the

poem: "this is a poet among the few survivors, he endured?the Rock has not forgotten him" (line 13); "he prophesies in rhyme, and tells each one what is really on his mind" (line 33); "Poets are not able to compete with Moses' poetry" (line 40). Ben Nahmish's liberation of the holy language, supposedly almost forgotten among the Jewish communities of his time and place, merits the observance of a new Passover, as it were:

Because he liberated the holy language with his verses, we will celebrate the feast of Passover in joy [besason].59

Other poems lavish ardent praise on Ben Nahmish's verse.60 Ibn Sasson clearly takes care in responding to poems he received from his




friend, undoubtedly with the expectation of receiving similar treatment from him. The last two verses of one such poem deserve mention in this context because of their allusive rhetorical conceit:

He has left behind all the poets with a poem, with the dew of his eloquence he makes fools of his enemies,

Let the rhymes rejoice with Moses, let every poetic device exult with its maker!61

The poem concludes with the liturgical expression "its maker," drawn from a biblical passage glorifying the Creator (Ps. 149:2). Here, the reference signifies not God but the poet Ben Nahmish, whose Hebrew

poetic composition is likened to the act of Creation. For all its facetious

ness, the allusion lacks the calculated edge and literary insolence so

characteristic of Andalusian Hebrew conceits.62

Turning to other members of Ibn Sasson's circle, Nahum Balensi of Frontista and the poet also exchanged poems.63 In the first phase of their relationship, the poets are rivals who insult and criticize each other's verse. For example, Ibn Sasson sends a poem to Nahum Balensi calling him enosh qatan ("a little man") and admonishing him that he does not compare with "a prince in the court of poetry."64 In another lyric, he chides Balensi that he does not deserve the title "Rabbi."65 According to Ibn Sasson, their association turned to enmity when Nahum contended that his poems "were not very good"66 and sent the poet verses "covered

with vestments of wickedness."67 Ibn Sasson therefore became combative

himself, he avers, concentrating the troops of his pen and gathering his

poems as warriors in order to defeat those of his adversary:

He girds his loins and gathers the poems, he bares the standard of poetry, as a kid, without charm.

I will gather now poems like warriors and I'll raise my banner against Ben Balensi.68

Ibn Sasson insults him, calling him a "braying ass" and, as rival poets are wont to do, he accuses Balensi of plagiarizing his poetry. For this reason

alone, Nahum's work reflects something of "the sun's radiance."69 Claim

ing that God inspires his poetry, Ibn Sasson warns his adversary not to

engage in combat with such a superior force:

Will one without force engage in combat

against the solar star, with the Rock my protector?70

Subsequently, Nahum apologizes.71 Ibn Sasson then sent him two poems whose overly conventional style suggests that their relationship never

became close. By this time, Nalium was already an old man and the poet praises him as wise talmudist.72




Ibn Sasson employs a different tone with regard to Shemayah Belisid and Joseph Ibn Pollegar, two younger poets not considered members of his poetical circle.73 He addresses them in seven short poems, which,

although very brief (some seventeen verses in all), depict the contentious

relationship between the would-be rival poets.74 One poem refers to them as "the lame and the blind/'75 It seems that they mocked Ibn Sasson, an act he attributes to their drunken state:

I have tested my friends and filtered their "love"; I have seen how quick they are to ridicule.

I find them drunk whenever I call them,

they seem foolish to me, obstinate and defiant. Look at their names, count them carefully?

their letters are equivalent to "the drunkards."76

Joseph Ibn Pollegar is deemed an especially shoddy poet: "How can a stutterer think he can make great verses?"77 Nevertheless, the poets exchange poems. Joseph sends Ibn Sasson his "bad and faulty verses." Ibn Sasson replies with a demonstration of technical skill in the form of a

single verse of four words, each made up of the same consonants: "Shemifel samo el shemo el Shemu'el," which can be translated "Samuel, God gave him his powerful name, Samuel."78 And because Joseph apparently did not understand the verse, Ibn Sasson supplied the follow

ing explanation in the form of a second poem:

Let me explain what I have in mind for the man who wants to know the secret of "Samuel":

How could he contend with a man to whom God gave such a powerful name, calling him Samuel?79

Many years later, a mellowed Ibn Sasson devoted a long composition to Shemayah Belisid, now called Belisid Donigal.80 He praises Belisid as a brilliant talmudist and poet of some skill, indicating that with time the "wild youth" became a respected rabbinical scholar: "When sages engage in combat, they find Shemayah on their side" (v. 10); "he fights the battles of Talmud and smites his mockers with his bow drawn" (v. 18).81 Perhaps what attracted Ibn Sasson to Belisid anew is that this scholar remained faithful to rabbinic Judaism during a period of crisis and confusion for

many in the community. In any case, the poet declares his friendship, admiration, and respect for the foe of his youth:

He has turned my heart to loving him, and acquired it without a legal transaction.

He will always love the sages of the age, but his wrath is poured out against the fools.82

Ibn Sasson also mentions by name friends, relatives, and acquain tances. All were sufficiently well versed in Hebrew to understand his




epistolary lyrics even if they were not poets themselves. For example, Ibn Sasson refers to Jacob Mamiel (the promoter of the poetic competition mentioned above) as "beloved, intimate, faithful friend."83 His poem of

friendship incorporates all the classical elements of the genre, including complaint against Time and the friends' separation because Mamiel

apparently had gone to live in Frontista (line 3). The poet mobilizes such an array of conventional friendship elements as to appear sincere in his attachment to Mamiel:

If I hoard the love of most of my friends inside me, this one I keep in my heart.

From the moment I saw the fullness of his mind, truly I was drawn by the ropes of love.

My heart is attracted to him when he asks: "Tell me, what do you want from me that I have robbed you?"

I shout to him: "My friend! See that

my heart has gone to you and I remained alone."84

The heading of another poem presents Mamiel as an expert in "all the hidden sciences" while the poem itself asserts that "he is at the head of the philosophers" (v. 1); knows all the secrets of the "science of nature" and "explains geometry" (v. 3); "he is very well informed on the orbit of the sun" (v. 6, signifying that Jacob was also an astronomer or astrologer); understands Moses Maimonides' Guide for the Perplexed (v. 8); and knows

logic (v. 10).85 From this survey of texts treating Ibn Sasson's ring of associates, the

reader can only conclude that Hebrew was alive as a literary language even in the countryside of fourteenth-century Castile. Members of the

poet's circle in Carri?n and Frontista were surprisingly well educated,

dabbling in traditional Jewish lore as well as the natural and esoteric sciences. The circle comprised several poets, intellectuals, talmudists,

philosophers, and kabbalists, all of whom could read and understand Hebrew poetry and many of whom could respond in kind. Leaving aside the great figures of the period, the poet's dTw?n still identifies more than ten well-educated individuals with whom he maintained some kind of

literary relationship.86 Even in Ibn Sasson's own family, some were able to read and understand his verses, namely his uncle Don ?aq,87 and very

likely aunt Do?a Esther.88

The Hebrew Poet in Fourteenth-Century Castile As Construed by Ibn Sasson

How did Ibn Sasson understand and represent the role of the Hebrew

poet in such circumscribed surroundings and troubled circumstances? More than once, the poet states his explicit intention to praise God or




refers to exalting God as the ultimate purpose of poetry,89 but in fact, very little divine praise itself is found in the d?w?n.90 Ibn Sasson's verse is

firmly grounded in the orbit of secular rather than liturgical Hebrew verse, and all but a handful of the poems in the d?w?n are social in nature, as we have seen. Despite the social nature of nearly all his verse, Ibn Sasson speaks of the poet's "divine election" and construes his craft as a sacred vocation,91 a view that places great emphasis on the religio historical significance of the Hebrew poet. The reader will recall the manner in which Ibn Sasson refers to Moses ben Nahmish, the fellow poet of his circle whom he came to admire greatly:

The Rock chose him as prophet, poet and redeemer, He sent him to illuminate the holy language

Through him [the poet Ben Nahmish] will God redeem His people and raise up high the horn of His anointed.92

The poet speaks of himself in much the same way:

In singing my song I will always glorify God, most sublime in grandeur

Who set a limit to our suffering and revealed in speech His counsel to the band of prophets.

Soon the end will be revealed, it approaches swiftly and imminently.

And then we'll thank His Name, beyond all praise, in joy [besason] we'll offer our prayer to Him.93

Are such expressions merely routine clich?s, poetic conceits crafted

during a time of supposed neglect for Hispano-Hebrew poetry, or impas sioned expressions of profoundly personal thanksgiving? A particularly unconventional poem, "Ahallel el yesod shahaq ve'arqa," ("Let me praise God, the foundation of heaven and earth, with song more desirable than

crystal"), stands out as representative of Ibn Sasson's efforts to uphold his own perceived obligations in this most unusual covenant between God and the Hebrew poet.94 The introductory passage (lines 1-9) constitutes a kind of poetic epitome of the narrative of the Torah, relating the sequence of events from the creation of the universe (line 2), humankind (lines 3-4), Israel (lines 5-6) and its redemption from Egyptian servitude (line 7), the revelation at Sinai (line 8) to the Israelite occupation of the land of Canaan

(line 9).95 Hebrew poets and poetry are represented as the culmination of the divine creative process (line 10):

He created among them noblemen with knowledge of poetry to exalt His name with polished speech.




Echoing Solomon ibn Gabirol's (c. 1020-c. 1057) Mahberet hcfanaq,96 wherein that masterful Hebrew poet is "elected" to undertake a historic mission to his people,97 Ibn Sasson describes his own assignment as a Hebrew poet (lines Uff.):

I, a youth of the Spanish exile, am wrapped in a garment of moaning and groaning.

But by His love God awakened my expression in poems which I reckon to His merit. . .

When I saw that the poetry of yore was lost and contemporary verse stripped bare . . .

I opened my lips to speak wondrously . ..

In contrast to Ibn Gabir l, the poet quickly passes over the splendor of the Hebrew language to tout the brilliance of his verse, the theme of which is the subject of the body of the poem (lines 12-40). The reader cannot help but sense the earnestness as opposed to the conventionality of the poet's expression of his commitment to writing in Hebrew and assuming the role of a Hebrew poet. Ibn Sasson's lament for the state of Hebrew poetry in his day does not embody the frequently self-absorbed and self

indulgent posture that we read in Hebrew poets from al-Andalus, Toledo, and Provence. At the same time, the poet has marshaled the authority of

religious tradition (in the epitome of the Torah and the circularity of the opening and closing verses declaiming praise of God as his purpose) under false pretenses, for the poem sings not God's praises but the poet's self-promotion. In the poet's view, the venture of Hebrew poetry itself,

whatever the subject matter, is sufficient a justification. Ibn Sasson abo directly addresses his mission in Hispano-Jewish

society and his role in Hebrew literary history in a variation on a conventional theme. He occasionally speaks of other poets and represents himself as a "poet-prophet," a topos closely related to the motif of his divine election.98 The classical poets of the so-called Golden Age explored the nuances of this theme long before Ibn Sasson. They found it engaging in part because the motif seemed to confer legitimacy upon Hebrew

poetry. It further gave the poets a certain sense of satisfaction to fancy themselves in a line with the great prophetic orators of biblical Israel.99

And in the case of Samuel Hanagid,100 Judah Halevi,101 that satisfaction was compounded by the poet's genuine pleasure in counting himself

among the ranks of the Levitical singers of Israel. Ibn Sasson touches

upon the motif of the poet-prophet in several poems, applying it as we have seen to his fellow local poet Moses ben Nahmish, who is likened to his Israelite namesake, the prophet Moses.102 More significant, the motif

proves to be a central theme in Ibn Sasson's rhymed-prose narrative, to which we now turn.




This untitled narrative of 164 lines represents a response to the social,

political, and religious crisis of the fourteenth century. Here is an outline of the narrative:103 Part 1 (lines 1-58) poses the problem of the historical

suffering of the Jews in general and of the Jews of Spain in particular. Beginning in line 37, the doleful poet expresses his utter frustration with the plight of his people. In increasingly plaintive tones, he calls directly upon God to explain how and why the Jews are made to suffer so. Part 2

(lines 59-85) offers an answer to the questions posed in the first part. It

rehearses the traditional rabbinic explanation of the guilt of the people but adds some wry socioeconomic observations: the rapacious money

lending and taxation practices of a few estranged Jewish officials are held

responsible for the punishment of the entire Jewish community of Spain (lines 80 ff.]. Part 3 offers a mournful rhetorical excuse for the dire situation of the Jews (lines 86-115), and extends to them the traditional

messianic hope for restoration of the Jewish people to independence in the Land of Israel (lines 116-35)?a message the relieved and buoyant poet then delivers to his community (lines 136-64). As is common in

virtually all the genres of Hebrew rhymed prose, the conclusion of each

part of the narrative is marked by lines of verse summarizing the theme of the narrative passage, except for the final part of the text, in which we

find three poems (Part 1, poem: lines 48-58; Part 2, poem: lines 79-85; Part 3, poem A, lines 108-15; poem B, lines 133-35; poem C, lines 162-64).

Although it appears to address several of the most vexing problems encountered by the Jews of fourteenth-century Spain, the narrative is

noteworthy for its lack of intellectual sophistication. Homiletical dis

course, elaborate traditions of messianic speculation, and keenly articu lated philosophical and kabbalistic constructions of the problem of Jewish

suffering were readily available in fourteenth-century Castile. But these traditions are either unknown to Ibn Sasson, beyond the scope of his understanding, or rejected for the time-honored biblical-rabbinic

approach. That traditional construction of Jewish history, it will be

recalled, was essentialized during the thirteenth century by the exegete and communal leader Moses ben Nahman (Nahmanides) in response to the Barcelona Disputation of 1263. Nahmanides already signaled in Sefer hage'ulah the need for the Jews of Spain to hold fast to the biblical promise of ultimate redemption, especially in the face of generally deteriorating sociopolitical and religious conditions. In Nahmanides' case, rederiving the message of restoration and dominion from the Hebrew Bible rests on

the exegete's acute hermeneutical sense. It involves a highly sophisticated reading of the pertinent biblical texts in refutation of Christian notions that the anticipated redemption of the Jews already occurred in Babylo nian times or that its promise was ultimately abrogated by Jewish sinfulness.104 Closer to Ibn Sasson's time, the philosopher and biblical




exegete Gersonides (1288-1344, Provence) offers several relevant and

refined interpetations of Jewish history in his commentary to Leviticus 26 and the Book of Daniel. Thus, it is not the oft-rehearsed message of Ibn

Sasson's narrative per se that is of interest but the form in which this

message takes shape?its simplicity, its structure, and the unusual way in

which the traditional tidings of hope are transmitted. Indeed, the charm of this narrative, such as it is, lies in its utter lack of artistic or ideological refinement, a sign not only of the author's limitations and idiosyncracies but also, and more particularly, of its popular rather than learned charac

ter and the peculiar makeup of its intended audience in the Castilian

countryside. Let us examine the narrative a bit more closely. There is a long

introduction containing a prose lament on the course of Jewish history, the poet's plaintive questioning of God, and the first of the poems contained in the work. Only then follows the narrative that is set in

motion by the poet's vision. It resembles a prophetic call (lines 63 ff.):

Then I heard a great voice [qol gadol] speak to me. It stood me up on my feet and said: "Son of Adam, why do you slumber?"105

This unidentified voice appears in response to the poet's pleading with

God for an end to the travail of the Jews. Rather than offering the positive

reply that the poet awaits, the voice proceeds to enumerate the ethical

infractions of which the Jews are guilty and for which they are said to

deserve their present fate:

Why are you astonished at the troubles that have come by the wrath of the Lord of Hosts. . . . Don't you see they have abrogated His covenant, abandoned His Torah?106

In the midst of reeling off the litany of offenses, the voice slips into the first person and speaks as though it were the offended party, that is, God:

Therefore have I added to their grief for I am enraged at their iniquitous bribes.

The now-divine voice proceeds to summarize its indictment against the

Jews of Spain in a poem alluding to previously unspecified charges: the

rapacious socioeconomic practices of certain members of the community (lines 81-82)107 Inexplicably and abruptly, the poem-reproach concludes on an encouraging note, recalling the (successful) outcry of the oppressed Israelites to God in Egypt (line 85).

In the third part of the narrative (lines 86 ff.), the poet assumes the role of the classical prophets of biblical Israel, justifying the people before God and challenging the course of Providence. In ever more rhetorical lan

guage and in an increasingly desperate tone, the narrator lays out an




elaborate yet traditional series of arguments in defense of the community: if the Jews have failed to worship God properly, it is only because of the

grim environment in which they live (lines 90 ff.). Despite their burdens,

they continue to pray faithfully, the narrator avers, and in a choice rhetorical turn, he reminds his interlocutor of the Jews' unassailable behavior when historical conditions were favorable. For good measure, he also appeals to God's merciful nature and recalls the religious merits of

righteous forebears. The onus of responsibility for rescinding the oppres sive order in fourteenth-century Spain thus shifts from the Jews back to

God (lines 105 ff.). The narrator declares:

I'm aghast at this state and put to sleep with grief how at this time He who resides in heaven could be so removed unless it is to test us.

As if he were the perfect reader, the voice embraces the narrator's

arguments and pleas (reverting back to speaking in the third person on

God's behalf) and reassures him that redemption is indeed near at hand:

He sees your afflictions and exile and is preparing to come to your aid.

You will soon see your redemption and go rejoicing to your own abode.

This message of an impending and concrete redemption is rendered even more tangible when the jubilant narrator awakes from his visionary dream. He recapitulates the message to his friends who are enjoined to trust in God and praise Him while they await deliverance, thereby doubling the affective representation of abiding hope in imminent relief. The text can literally be said to "voice" the deepest anxiety of the poet's community at a critical moment and vocalize a meaningful response.

What of the text's literary and historical unde^innings? As we have

seen, the narrator has vouchsafed a "prophetic" message in the form of a

dream that he delivers to the Jews of Spain. In Ibn Sasson's narrative, it is unclear whether the "prophetic posture,"108 as Dan Pagis referred to it,109 is a literary device or whether in view of the gravity of the situation faced

by the Jews of Castile and the text's message of consolation, it should be taken as a serious claim to authority. The motif of the "prophetic dream" antedates Ibn Sasson and takes on various forms in medieval Hebrew literature according to the inclination of the poet. In Samuel Hanagid ("Yom tsar umatsoq"), for example, its meaning is largely personal;110 in Ibn Gabir l (Mahberet ha'anaq) the poet's mission is the linguistic and cultural reeducation of the Jews of Spain,111 and in Halevi ("Namta venirdamta vehared qamta"), the poet's vision is apocalyptic and mes

sianic.112 What can be said with assurance is that Ibn Sasson's text inserts the concerns about the welfare of the community inside a particularly significant discursive practice of medieval Hebrew literature.




The series of exchanges between the narrator and the "great voice"

loosely resembles the structure of some Hebrew debate poems, nar

ratives, and polemical texts of the period.113 More significant, the intervention by a mysterious voice connects the narrative with other

Hispano-Hebrew literary texts.114 For instance, this mediation is a signifi cant feature in Shem Ardutiel's contemporary piece of imaginative rhymed prose, Milhemet Wet vehamisparayim (The Battle of the Pen and the Scissors).115 Such a voice (speaking in the prophetic diction of an identifiably heavenly voice) appears at the critical point in Ardutiel's narrative. It urges the befuddled narrator to inscribe with scissors in place of writing with his pen rendered useless by its frozen ink.116 The ill-defined voice also appears as an important artifice in a

variety of Hispano-Hebrew and Spanish texts going back to Judah Al-Harizi's Tahkemoni,117 Joseph Ibn Zabara's Sefer SWshuHm (The Book of Delights)118 Juan Ruiz's Libro de Buen Amor,119 and, in particular, Abner of Burgos's (Alfonso of Valladolid) Mostrador de Justi?ia (Moreh tsedeq), a narrative account of his dream visions (un grand omne) and the process of his conversion from rabbinic Judaism to Christianity (1320).120 While the former texts may have been the models by which this device became part of the Hebrew narrative tradition, it is clear that Abner's notorious text and the events surrounding his conversion above all preoccupied the

minds of Ibn Sasson and the Jews of fourteenth-century Spain.121 The narrative's qol gadol and its reference to the narrator's awakening from a

slumber in which he has received a "divine message" (lines 145-47) are thus unambiguous signs of the fantastic nature of the narrative, but they are also echoes of Abner's account of his apostasy and subsequent anti

Judaism and missionizing efforts. As is well known, Abner interpreted the historical predicament of the

Jews as a sign of their abandonment by God, a determination that led him to seek the salvation of his individual soul and convert to Christianity. Ibn Sasson's text confronts the same historical predicament and spiritual and

sociopolitical conditions that Abner addresses in Mostrador de Justi?ia, only to reassert the integrity of the traditional response with its emphasis on communal redemption and the restoration of the Jews to sovereignty in Palestine. Yet the narrative does not represent a direct refutation of Abner after the fashion of Isaac Pollegar's (d. 1338) 'Ezer hadat, a defense of

Judaism in the form of polemical "dialogues" against various contempo rary opponents and threats.122 What sets Ibn Sasson's text apart from other literary responses to Abner is its tone, which differs markedly from Abner's philosophically minded text in its singularly popular voice as much as its opposite ideology. The narrative engages history and theol

ogy not by force of intellect but through representation, that is, in an




affective way more suited to an intended popular audience. Fancying himself as a poet-prophet, as a bearer of reassuring tidings to his people in a time of unprecedented crisis, Ibn Sasson appears to have construed his role as Hebrew poet according to a model suggestive of the ideal set by the twelf th-century chronicler of Jewish tradition, Abraham Ibn Daud, who viewed solace as the decisive element and incontestable purpose of Hebrew poetry.123

Conclusion

Samuel Ibn Sasson envisioned the Hebrew poet of fourteenth-century Castile playing a diversity of cultural roles in the life of the community. In response to his sense of inner calling and the cultural and religious crisis of the age, the protean poet by turns assumes the mantle of a prophet, becomes a repository of Torah and learning, or a guardian of Hebrew culture and tradition. Each of these models of the Hebrew poet can be traced in one form or another to the Andalusian Hebrew verse of the

Golden Age, yet there is a sense in which the literary topoi of that classical

period are translated into charged tropes of sociocultural survival in the hands of a Hebrew poet determined to play a significant public role. Ibn Sasson the poet is no longer the entertaining singer of songs at court, the

panegyrist for the high and mighty, the redoubtable lover of beautiful women and handsome young men, or the sweet singer of Israel in the

synagogue, but a self-appointed, self-styled communal bard and sage. His construction of the Hebrew poet thus represents a radical departure from prevailing images of the Hispano-Hebrew poet, in that the new eclectic paradigm is not courtly, aristocratic, pietistic, or professional.124 None of these historically accepted models fits the social and literary landscape of fourteenth-century Castile. To fill this void, Ibn Sasson fancies himself a different kind of Hebrew bard.

Apart from his idiosyncratic representations of the Hebrew poet, Ibn Sasson's significance lies in belonging to a small band of like-minded

poets committed to writing in Hebrew. Reading the d?w?n further demon strates the need for reevaluating both the place of Hebrew poetry and the

linguistic situation of the Jews in Christian Spain. Contrary to the views of the those who see in Shem de Carri?n's Proverbios Morales evidence of the abandonment of Hebrew as a living literary language, Ibn Sasson's verse and the circle of other poets and readers in a remote corner of Castile suggest that Hebrew was still widespread among Jews of provin cial background during the fourteenth century. Apart from Ibn Sasson's d?w?n, the poetic evidence is sparse, but the social and literary scene

depicted in his verse suggests that the circles of Toledo and Saragossa




were probably not the isolated and exceptional centers of Hebrew literary activity as previously thought. Ibn Sasson's d?wi?n thus underscores the need for rethinking the orthodox and rigid distinction between the courtly environment where literary historians expect to find Hebrew

poetry and other places, such as the Castilian countryside, where the culture is thought to be marginal and Hebrew literary production

insignificant.

ROSS BRANN

Department of Near Eastern Studies

Cornell University

ANGEL SAENZ-BADILLOS and JUDIT TARGARONA

Departmento de Hebreo

Universidad Complutense de Madrid

NOTES

1. Hayyim Schirmann, Hebrew Poetry in Spain and Provence [Hebrew] [hereafter, HPSP] (Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, 1965), 4:523-25; Dan Pagis, Change and Tradition in the Secular Poetry: Spain and Italy [Hebrew] (Jerusalem, 1975), p. 180. So too, Haim Chamiel, the editor of Ibn Sasson's dTw?n, Sefer avnei hashoham (Tel Aviv, 1962), pp. 54-55 (introduction) [hereafter, ASh]. Of course, Schirmann extended this negative assessment to all the poetry of the epoch. See his comments about Shem Ardutiel, HPSP 4:529.

2. On canon formation as a critical aspect of cultural definition, see John Guillory, Cultural Capital: The Problem of Literary Canon Formation (Chicago, 1993). Although compiled for a different purpose from that of ScWrmann's HPSP and Pagis's Change and Tradition, the entries of Angel S?enz-Badillos and Judit Targarona's Diccionario de Autores Jud?os [Sefarad.

Siglos X-XV] (Cordoba, 1988) yield a reading of medieval Hebrew literary history not driven

by aesthetic or ideological considerations.

3. In one poem ("Re'i 'et rats lilmod cod raz"), Ibn Sasson speaks of an erstwhile

friend, Joseph Bar Shem , as having to go to Toledo to study the kabbalah, ASh, 72 (no. 33). But according to another poem, ASh, 98 (no. 64), Carrion boasted a center of

talmudic studies, at least for younger students. On the circle of aspiring Hebrew poets in

C?rri?n and Fromista, see below.

4. For example, see the poem "Lammah vetevel lamelitsim sorarim," ASh, 41-43

(no. 17) = Schirmann, HPSP, 3:525-28. On the theme of cultural decline in medieval Jewish literature, see Isidore Twersky, "Mishneh torah: megammato vetafqido," Proceedings of the

Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities 5 (1972): 8-15. 5. Carmi Horowitz, The Jewish Sermon in Fourteenth-Century Spain: The Derashot of

R. Joshua ibn Shu'eib (Cambridge, Mass., 1989), p. 54. 6. See ASh, 34-37 (no. 13, lines 26-50); 96 (no. 62). 7. The theme of the general displacement of men of learning by the ignorant is

exhaustively expressed in the 100-line poem ''Essa meshali basekhalim paru," ASh, 27-34

(no. 12); see also "Ahalkl el yesod sharjaq ve'arqa," 3-6 (no. 2). See Yehuda Nini and Maya Fruchtman, eds., Shem ArdutVel (Don Santo de Cam?n), Ma'aseh harav: M?hemet ha(et

vehamisparayim (Tel Aviv, 1980), p. 36.




8. Solomon Ibn Gabir l, Secular Poems [Hebrew], ed. H. Brody and J. Schirmann

(Jerusalem, 1974), pp. 67-69 (no. 120); Moses Ibn Ezra, Secular Poems [Hebrew], ed. H. Brody and D. Pagis (Berlin and Jerusalem, 1935-77), pp. 101-2 (no. 100); Judah Halevi, in Schirmann, HPSP 2:447-49 (no. 181). One could easily follow the development of these

themes in the post-Andalusian period among poets such as Todros Abulaf?a, Isaac ha-Gorni, and others.

9. For example, an elegy for the poet's aunt, Esther, ASh, 102-4 (no. 69); a poem to

Joseph Marcus, a friend from Fromista interested in philosophy, ASh, 20-22 (no. 9). 10. For example, social criticism of Fromista in a poem to Don ?aq Sasson, ASh, 69-71

(no. 30); jealousy toward a rival poet, Nahum, who criticized his verse, ASh, 88-89 (no. 56). 11. ASh, 22-23 (no. 10, lines 1, 7-^8):

I will scream and shout till the skies are no more, because the waters have reached my neck like mud . . .

He was delivered to prison, clapped into chains, and good was lacking, the prince of beautiful face departed.

He was cast alone into the dust, he was scoured and nicked up, thrown discolored alone into the casket. . .

For v. 1, cf. Ps. 69:2; v. 8, "alone": in Heb., "only," with possible Spanish influence,

"thrown..."; there is pronounced alliteration in the Hebrew: "raq... nizraq memoraq neheraq

huraq yeraqraq raq." 12. ASh, 77 (no. 46). 13. On mannerism and its characteristics, see Ernst Robert Curtius, European Literature

and the Latin Middle Ages, trans. Willard R. Trask, reprinted with new epilogue (Princeton,

1990), pp. 273ff. Curtius observes that "the mannerist wants to say things not normally but

abnonnally. He prefers the artificial and affected to the natural. He wants to surprise, to

astonish, to dazzle" (282). The figures that he presents as examples of formal mannerism,

282ff., are very similar to those which Ibn Sasson employs. On the connection between

mannerism and decadence, see John Robert Reed, Decadent Style (Athens, Ohio, 1985). 14. For a striking example of the most formal sort of mannerism, see the so-called

reversible verses, ASh, 76 (no. 44); 105 (no. 71); 105-6 (no. 72); 111 (no. 81). See Israel Davidson, "Eccentric Forms of Hebrew Verse," Students Annual 1 (New York, 1914),

pp. 81-94, and in particular, pp. 90 f., where they are termed "palindromes and 'Jesuitical verses'." The latter have one sense when read in the forward direction and the contrary sense when read backward. According to Davidson, examples are found in Al-Harizi and in

Immanuel of Rome. Elsewhere, Davidson ["Parpara'ot lashirah hacivrit," Luah Ahfever 1

(1918): 104], calls these verses ha-mithappekhim and attributes another example to the twelfth century Hispano-Hebrew poet Abraham ibn Ezra. Chamiel, ASh, 49 f. indicates that such verses can be found in Judah Al-Harizi's Hebrew adaptation of the maq?m?t of al-Har?r? as

well as in three poems of the thirteenth-century poet Todros Abulafia, Gan hameshalim

vehahidot, ed. David Yellin (Jerusalem, 1932-36), vol. 2, pt. 1,145 (nos. 790-91), 146 (no. 794). For all the pronounced mannerism of Hispano-Arabic poetry of the preceding period, these

particular textual tricks were not common and thus they are infrequent in Hispano-Hebrew verse before the thirteenth century. In other respects, Ibn Sasson's work evinces some

striking rhetorical and stylistic similarities with Ibn H?|ima, a Hispano-Arabic poet of

fourteenth-century Almeria, in spite of the fact that one wrote in Christian Spain and the

other in al-Andalus. On Ibn rl?tima, see S. Gibert, "Algunas curiosidades de la poes?a

ar?bigoandaluza (Versos correlativos, versos con eco, versos concatenados en el dftv?n de un

poeta del siglo XIV)," Al-Andalus 33 (1968): 95-122. 15. ASh, 72-75.




16. See Carlos Sainz de la Maza, "

yo digo que hasta aqu? / llega el conf?n del Sabbat'. M?s sobre los jud?os y el antijuda?smo en la Castilla del siglo XIV," La Cor?nica 14 (1986): 274-79.

17. ASh, 10-11 (no. 8, lines 2f. and 16f.). On "arrogant Gentiles," see Deut. 28:3.

18. ASh, 10 (no. 7, lines 3f.). 19. ASh, 12 (no. 8, lines 26ff.). 20. ASh, 56 (no. 24, lines 12 f.). For discussion of a similar situation in late fourteenth

and early fifteenth-century Saragossa, see Eliezer Gutwirth, "Social Criticism in Bonafed's

Invective and Its Historical Background," Sefarad 45 (1985): 40ff. 21. The "world upside-down" is a well-known medieval topos in medieval Latin

poetry and in the Carmina Burana. See Curtius, European Literature and the Latin Middle Ages,

pp. 94 ff. On Hebrew incarnations of the topos, see Eliezer Gutwirth, "The 'World Upside Down' in Hebrew," Orient?lta Suecana 30 (1981): 141-47.

22. ASh, 27-28 (no. 12, lines 9 and 20). 23. ASh, 9 (no. 25, line 1). This is a particularly prominent theme in the diw?n. See ASh,

7 (no. 4); 34-37 (no. 13, an especially garish contraposition between the noble generous and the miser); 37-38 (no. 14); 38-40 (no. 15); 40-41 (no. 16); 41-43 (no. 17); 55-59 (no. 24); 59-62 (no. 25); 63-64 (no. 26); 105 (no. 70), etc. The images contain numerous biblical citations and recall Andalusian tradition, but the poems seem to reflect a completely different vision of

the world more in accord with his contemporary Don Shem :

Non sabe que la manera

Del mundo esta era:

Tener syenpre viciosos

A los onbres astrosos,

E ser d?l guerreados Los omnes onrrados

(Proverbios morales, ed. T. A. Perry [Madison, 1986], w. 93 ff.; T. A. Perry, The Moral Proverbs of Santob de Cam?n: Jewish Wisdom in Christian Spain [Princeton, 1987], p. 18.) This passage may have inspired Americo Castro's approach to Don Santob in die first edition of La realidad hist?rica de Espa?a (Mexico City, 1954), pp. 525ff.), as the first Jewish writer to express in

Spanish the bitterness of the "outsider" who considers himself a person of merit although

society does not recognize it.

24. See A. Ballesteros, "Don Ju?af de ?dja," Sefarad 6 (1946): 253-?7.

25. Yitzhak Baer, A History of the Jews in Christian Spain, trans. Louis Schoffman

(Philadelphia, reprint 1978), l:325ff. 26. ASh, 71 (no. 32). The superscription reads: "And I composed [these verses] when

the dignity of the illustrious Don Joseph ben Shabbat was removed and it was conferred to

Don Samuel ben Waq?r." There is a pun, difficult to translate: the "domain of Sabbath"

refers at the same time to his Hebrew name and to the Jewish practice of restricting movement on the Sabbath.

27. ASh, 51 (no. 21). Cf. Num. 28:11. The heading: "And I composed [this poem] on the

family Ibn Waq?r that was increasingly growing." A pun: in Hebrew, "glory" (yeqar) is related to the name of the family, Waq?r.

28. ASh, 37 (no. 14, line 1). Verse 5 of this poem (p. 38), or ASh, 38 (no. 15, lines If.), could have as background his fall into misfortune. The exact reference in the heading of ASh, 112-13 (no. 83) is unclear: "When reports reached us that the king had ordered our seizure, and then formally rescinded it." Baer, The Jews in Christian Spain, 1:359. The English translation of the book does not include the poem found in the original Hebrew text Toldot

hayehudim biSfarad hanotsrit (Tel Aviv, 1944-45), 1:236. Baer saw in these words and in the




whole poem an allusion to the machinations of Gonzalo Martinez in 1339, ending with his

fall in misfortune and his death. Such an interpretation is possible, although not certain.

29. ASh, 17 (no. 8, line 113). 30. ASh, 12 (no. 8, lines 31ff.). Abner/Alphonso is said to have convinced King

Alphonso XI to ban the prayer because it was deemed offensive to Christians.

31. The language is drawn from Isaiah's Suffering Servant (Isa. 63:1). 32. ASh, 105 (no. 70, line 2). The Hebrew pun adom/edom is employed. 33. ASh, 100-101 (no. 67). When Ibn Sasson supplied the heading, Ibn Pollegar was

apparently already dead. Ibn Pollegar 's place of residence is not known.

34. Only those sent by Ibn Sasson are preserved, ASh, 76-78 (nos. 43-47). The heading of ASh, 76 (no. 43) informs us that Ibn Sasson also sent Santob a rhymed-prose epistle that, regrettably, was not included in his dtw?n.

35. "Master": the Hebrew word could be translated as "mostrador," and could be a

direct answer to Abner's Mostrador de Justi?ia:

e vy en vision de ssuenno un grand omne que me dizia: "Por qu? est?s adormes?ido? Entiende est?s palabras que te ffablo, e parate enffiesto, ca yo te digo que los jud?os est?n desde tan grand tienpo en esta captividad por su locura e por su nes?edad e por

mengua de 'Mostrador de Justi?ia' donde conoscan la verdad. Esto es lo que fabl? Dios e vete en tanto."

(Mostrador de Justi?ia [Ms. de la Bibi. Nat, Paris, f. espagnol, no. 43, f. 12a.], ed. E. W.

Mettmann [Opladen, Germ., 1994], p. 13). 36. ASh, 76 (no. 43), 76 (no. 44), 76 (no. 45), 77-78 (no. 46), and 78 (no. 47). 37. ASh, 78 (no. 46, line 10). 38. That is, they look to it as a model. ASh, 77 (no. 46, line 8). Cf. also ASh, 76 (no. 43,

line 3); (no. 45, line 2); 77 (no. 46, lines Iff.); 78 (no. 47, line 3). 39. The verse reads: "let the standard of their language be removed" (ASh, 77 [no. 44,

line 2]). See Fernando D?az Esteban, "El 'Debate del calamo y las tijeras' de Sem Tob Ardutiel, Don Santo de Carrion," Revista de la Universidad de Madrid 18 (1969): 69.

40. This is, for example, Chamiel's view, ASh, 13 [n. 53], and 23. Chamiel even attempts to identify him with different individuals such as a certain Samuel ben Joseph, who was

a scribe in Toledo. There is no conclusive evidence to support this or other such

identifications.

41. Prof. D?az Esteban thinks that there are headings written from neither Carrion nor

Fromista but a third city that could be Toledo; cf. "Samuel ibn Sasson, un poeta hebreo de la

Castilla del siglo XTV," Proceedings of the Ninth World Congress of Jewish Studies (Jerusalem, 1986), Division B, 1:73. He bases his argument on the heading of poem no. 33, ASh, 72, where

"Toledo" is mentioned with the expression lekhan, "here," though the sense of the text is not

entirely clear.

42. His name is actually Ibn Sasson, as deduced from his own words in ASh, 3 (no. 1) and in other allusions to the sense of his name as "joy." See ASh, 75 (no. 41), 75 (no. 42), 106 (no. 73), 108 (no. 78). Cf. F. D?az Esteban, "Samuel ibn Sasson, un poeta hebreo," 70. He is not

a member of the distinguished family of Ibn Shoshan of Toledo. He clearly differentiates himself from that family in ASh, 80 (no. 48, line 28).

43. See P. Le?n Tello, Los jud?os de Patencia (Palencia, 1967). In the "repartimiento de

Huete" from 1290 (cf. C. Carrete, "El repartimiento de Huete de 1290," Sefarad 36 [1976]: 121-40, and above all, 129), 73,480 maraved?s are assigned to Carrion "con los lugares que

pechan con ellos." The figure represents a third of that of Toledo but slightly less than that of Burgos and it is notably greater than that of most of the remaining communities included in

the document. According to Amador de los Rios, it had reputation as "a city of Jews" because of its flourishing Jewry, and having helped Alfonso VI in his war against Aragon it received some privileges of self-rule. It seems that until the twelfth century, Karaites were a




majority in the community of Carrion. They had their grand rabbi in Burgos until they were forced to become rabbanites by Alfonso IX at the request of Joseph ben Alfakhar in 1178. Cf. I. Loeb, "Pol?mistes chr?tiens et juifs en France et en Espagne," REJ18 (1889): 62f.; "Notes sur l'histoire des juifs," REJ 19 (1889): 206-7.

44. We do not have many references to its Jews, and it is not mentioned in the

"repartimiento de Huete." Coinciding with the decay of Carrion and judging from the

significant taxes paid in 1479, Fromista seems to have grown considerably. 45. In Fromista, the poet suffered from a disease, ASh, 99-100 (no. 66); the same

happened to him in Cam?n, ASh, 43-45 (no. 18). In 1338, the poet is in Carri?n, when, according to the heading of poem no. 82, ASh, 112, an arch was constructed and the

synagogue enlarged, thanks to the gift of Do?a Mira, a noblewoman of the community. 46. ASh, 70-71, (no. 30, lines 18f.; 21; 24-29). 47. ASh, 20 (no. 9, line 2). In ASh, 77 (no. 46, line 5), he also mentions those who live in

"villages," alluding to Don Shem Tov's fellow citizens in Carri?n.

48. ASh, 72 (no. 33, line 2). 49. ASh, 52 (no. 23, line 1). It could also be nearby Burgos, but this city is never

explicitly mentioned in Ibn Sasson's dtw?n.

50. Of those close to Ibn Sasson, only two are known from other sources, the

aforementioned Shem Ardutiel (Santob de Carri?n) and Isaac Ibn Pollegar. 51. ASh, 97 (no. 63). All these individuals appear elsewhere in the d?w?n except for

R. Shelomiyah, who is mentioned only here.

52. ASh, 82-83 (no. 51). For his part, Ibn Sasson sent eight poems to Ben Nahmish, five distichs and three longer compositions: ASh, 82 (no. 49), 82 (no. 50), 82-83 (no. 51), 87, (no. 53), and 88 (no. 55), and ASh, 78-82 (no. 48), 83-86 (no. 52), and 87-88 (no. 54).

53. ASh, 79 (no. 48, lines 10,11,15,16,17, etc.). 54. ASh, 80 (no. 48, line 22). 55. ASh, 51 (no. 21, heading). 56. ASh, 85 (no. 52, line 36). 57. ASh, 83-85 (no. 52). 58. ASh, 83 (no. 52, lines 1 and 4-5). 59. ASh, 86 (no. 52, line 49). The poet adroitly places himself in this picture by playing

on his own name (sason/joy). 60. ASh, 87-88 (no. 54. Because none of Ben Nahmish's poems has been preserved, the

reader is in no position to question Ibn Sasson's assertions about the quality of Moses'

poetry except to note his literary-critical view, which considers his friend superior to other

poets of the time. According to another poem, ASh, 88 [no. 55), Ibn Sasson considered Ben

Nahmish's verse rich in difficult allusions.

61. ASh, 88 (no. 54, lines 15-16). 62. On Andalusian biblical allusions and literary insolence, see Ross Brann, The

Compunctious Poet: Cultural Ambiguity and Hebrew Poetry in Muslim Spain (Baltimore, 1991),

pp. 40ff.

63. ASK 88-89 (no. 56), 89-91 (no. 57), 92 (no. 58), 92 (no. 59), and 93-94 (no. 60), all addressed to Nahum Balensi. It is very likely that the R. Nahum mentioned in the heading of ASh, 97 (no. 63) is identical with Nahum Balensi of Fromista. Chamiel thinks that Balensi

might have been av bet-din (president of the rabbinical court) but this is very unlikely since the context is satiric. See ASh, 25 (introduction, n. 140) and 26. Cf. ASh, 90 (no. 57, line 17).

64. ASh, 88 (no. 56, lines If). 65. ASK 92 (no. 58, line 3). 66. ASh, 88 (heading to poem no. 56). 67. ASh, 89 (heading to the poem no. 57). 68. ASK 89 (no. 57, lines 4-5). Cf. 1 Sam. 10:3.




69. ASh, 90 (no. 57, lines 10-12). 70. ASK 91 (no. 57, line 21; cf. line 19). 71. ASh, 92 (heading to the poem no. 59). 72. ASK 93 (no. 60, lines 2-5). 73. Although in ASK 74 (no. 39), Shemayah Belisid is called a "disciple." 74. ASK 73-75 (nos. 36-42). 75. ASK 74 (no. 39). 76. ASK 74 (no. 38). The letters in Shemayah + Joseph have a numerical value of 581,

the same as the expression hashikkorim ("the drunkards"). 77. ASK 75 (no. 40). Cf. Isa. 10:13-14.

78. ASK 75 (no. 41). 79. ASK 75 (no. 42). 80. We know they are one and the same because in the body of the poem, he is called

Shemayah. 81. Possibly referring to the polemics against Abner of Burgos or his followers.

82. ASK 95 (no. 61, lines 7-8). 83. ASK 108 (no. 79, heading). ASh, 101-2 (no. 68) was composed on another occasion.

84. ASh, 111 (no. 79, lines 34-37); line 37: "alone," reading raq. Chamiel interprets req,

"empty," possibly under the influence of Castilian. Cf. the poem translated above in n. 11, which has the same usage.

85. ASh, 101 (no. 68). 86. Besides those studied here, others mentioned are: (1) Isaac Musa, a casual acquain

tance. Upon seeing Ibn Sasson's poem for the son of Jacob, Isaac asked him to compose some verses for his own son, Judah, who was studying in Carrion. ASh, 98 (no. 64); the first verse ends with the words "liyhudah vayomar," with the same rhyme of ASh, 97 (no. 63).

(2) Joseph Marcus, a friend of the poet and an intellectual well acquainted with Greek

philosophy. In an atypical and personal epistolary lyric of twenty-four verses, ASh, 20-22

(no. 9), the poet applauds Marcus, "who reads the books of the Greeks" and "who

understands the science of the sages" (v. 1) and chides him for going to Fromista to live with

an eighty-year-old person. (3) Joseph of Baltenas (Bar Shem Tov); it is not known if Joseph was related in some way to Shem Tov of Carrion. Ibn Sasson sent him a short poem of three

verses, ASh, 72 (no. 33), when he went to Toledo in order to pursue advanced study. 87. When his uncle went to live in Fromista, Ibn Sasson sent him a long poem of

friendship lamenting their separation, ASh, 69-71 (no. 30). Ibn Sasson also sent him a short

poem, ASh, 71 (no. 31), perhaps at the same time, since he had the firm intention of visiting him and wanted to know where he was at the time. The poet plays with the ambiguity of the

term dod, "uncle"/"beloved." From this and other such poems, it is clear that the poet would

use Hebrew for various kinds of personal communication.

88. In the dirge he composed on the occasion of her death, the poet praises her and her

virtues, her kindness, and especially her intelligence. He indicates that his aunt Do?a Esther

read the Bible (v. 16), that is to say, that she knew how to read in it Hebrew. It is difficult to

ascertain whether this was an exceptional case or if in general, Jewish women had access to

a certain degree of Hebrew education. Do?a Mira (see . 45), to whom the poet dedicated

ASh, 108 (no. 77), apparently could also read and understand the verses.

89. ASh, 3-4 (no. 2, line 1), on which, see below, and ASh, 71 (no. 30, lines 29-30). Ibn

Sasson's invocations to praise are reminiscent of formulas introducing some of Samuel

Hanagid's compositions. See, for example, "Ahallel asher ein lo demut utmunah," Dov

Jarden, ed., Divan Shmuel Hanagid [vol. 1, Ben Tehillim] (Jerusalem, 1966), 44-47 = Angel

S?enz-Badillos and Judit Targarona Borras, Semu'el Hanagid: Poemas 1, "Desde el campo de

batalla Granada, 1038-56," (Cordoba, 1988), pp. 57-59.

90. An exception is ASh, 45-51 (no. 19), an eighty-line poem devoted to the poet's

expression of thanksgiving after recovering from an illness. See also the very brief poem "Tehillah katavti veshurot asafti," ASh, 51 (no. 20).




91. Todros Abulafia, a Hebrew poet of thirteenth-century Toledo, treats the related

theme of the election of Hebrew poetry in praise of God. See "Eli ashaher bacalot hashahar," Gan hameshalim vehabidot, vol. 2, pt. 2:203 (no. 995, lines 1-2).

92. ASK 86 (no. 52, lines 4; 54). 93. ASK 47; 51 (no. 19, lines 17, 78-80). 94. ASK 3-4 (no. 2). 95. In another atypical and unconventional poem, "Gefen asher tsamhah veqaneha,"

ASh, 64-68 (no. 27), Ibn Sasson appropriates the language of love poetry for a love song to his beloved, the Torah. A similar modification of the conventional love poem may be found

in "Ke'ish nidham venad" by Solomon ben Meshullam Da Piera (d. 1417), Schirmann, HPSP 4:568-73 (no. 425).

96. Solomon ibn Gabir l, Secular Poems (Brody-Schirmann), p. 169 (introductory couplet, line 2). Ibn Sasson also follows Ibn GabiroTs formulation in the related poem "Hashoham damtah alfei 'anaqah," ASK 6 (no. 3, lines 7-8).

97. On Ibn Sasson's claims to election, see also his satirical invective against Nahum

Balensi, ASK 90-91 (no. 57, lines 18-20), discussed above.

98. For a general treatment of this theme, see Dan Pagis, "The Poet As Prophet in

Medieval Hebrew Literature," in Poetry and Prophecy: The Beginnings of a Literary Tradition, ed. James L. Kugel (Ithaca, 1990), pp. 140-50.

99. Moses ibn (Ezra, Kit?b al-muh?dara wa-'l-mudh?kara (The Book of Conversation and

Discussion), ed. A. S. Halkin Qerusalem, 1975), p. 24 (f. 13b-14a). 100. Dlw?n shemu'el hanagid, ed. Jarden, 1:33-34 (no. 7, "She'eh miniai camiti vahaveri,"

lines 39 ff.), 1:81 (no. 25, "Belibbi horn lemifqad hanecurim," line 12); 1:282 (no. 131, "Hateda' et pecalai lahakhamim," lines 37 ff.); S?enz-Badillos and Targarona, Semu^el Ha-Nagid: Poemas

1, 39; 107. 101. Schirmann, HPSP, 2:517 ("Elohai mishkenotekha yedidot"); 2:496, lines 29-30

("Hatirdof na'arut ahar hamishim"). 102. ASh, 83-86 (no. 52, lines 4, 21, and 33-34; and in a poem addressed to Shem

Ardutiel, ASh, 77 (no. 46, line 8, "His poems are expert and how wondrous, that prophets and seers look to his discourse!"). See also ASh, 38 (no. 14, line 6); 43 (no. 17, line 22); 74 (to Joseph Ibn Pollegar, no. 37, line 4).

103. ASK 10-20 (no. 8). 104. On Moses ben Nahman's exposition of key passages in the Hebrew Bible, see

Robert Chazan, Barcelona and Beyond: The Disputation of 1263 and Its Aftermath (Berkeley, 1992), pp. 172ff.

105. ASh, 14.

106. ASK 15. 107. Ibn Sasson's dtw?n includes several poems satirizing the miserly practices of the

rich and conversely complaining about the lowly social status of people of merit. See, for

example, ASh, 3-6 (no. 2); 34-37 (no. 13). 108. This posture is also evident in ASh, 22-24 (no. 10). 109. Pagis, "The Poet As Prophet in Medieval Hebrew Literature," p. 142.

110. Diwan shemu'el hanagid, 1:3 (no. 1); S?enz-Badillos and Targarona, Semu'el Ha

Nagid: Poemas, pp. 1-2.

111. Ibn Gabir l, Secular Poems, pp. 169 ff.

112. Schirmarm, HPSP 2:480 (no. 202). For a translation and discussion of mis poem, see Raymond P. Scheindlin, The Gazelle: Medieval Hebrew Poems on God, Israel, and the Soul

(Philadelphia, 1991), pp. 108-13. 113. W. J. van Bekkum, "Observations on the Hebrew Debate in Medieval Europe," in

Dispute Poems and Dialogues in the Ancient and Medieval Near East: Forms and Types of Literary Debates in Semitic and Related Literatures, ed. G. J. Reinink and H. L. J. Vanstiphout (Leuven,

1991), pp. 77-90.




114. The first instance in Hebrew literature of such an intervening voice appears to be

Solomon Ibn Gabirors didactic Mahberet Wanaq in Secular Poems (Brody-Schirmann), p. 169

(lines 18-20), wherein a prophetic voice sets forth the poet's mission in a dream. A

somewhat different and earlier "prophetic dream," of course, is Samuel Hanagid, "Yom tsar

umatsoq," noted above. In the fifteenth century, Solomon Bonafed relates his vision of none

other than Solomon ibn Gabir l, who "appears" to encourage the embattled poet in his

struggle against the Jewish aristocracy of Saragossa. See "Solomon Bonafed's Polemic

against the Nobles of Saragossa" [Hebrew], ed. Hayyim Schirmann, Qovets Yad [n.s.] 4 (1946): 32 (lines 21ff.].

115. In the persona of Ardutiel as a solitary figure in Milhemet Wei, we find a more extreme instance of a writer being cut off from his community.

116. Milhemet Wet vehamisparayim, pp. 53-55 (lines 210-37), "While I sat discouraged, despondent and silent because I was alone without companion or friend and because of the

impediment to my hand and implements?I suddenly heard a voice speaking to me as

though astonished at my sadness."

117. Judah Al-Harizi, Tahkemoni, ed. Y. Toporowsky (Tel Aviv, 1950), pp. 8ff. (Introduc

tory Maq?ma). Some of the references are noted by Sanford Shepard, Shem Tov: His World and His Words (Miami, 1978), pp. 24-25.

118. Joseph Ibn Zabara, Sefer SWshuHm, ed. Israel Davidson (New York, 1925), p. 9 ("And there before me was an imposing figure whose form seemed human").

119. Juan Ruiz, Libro de Buen Amor, trans. Saralyn R. Daly, The Book of True Love

(University Park, Penn., and London, 1978), p. 69 (stanza 181: As I was pondering my fate,

enraged?but not from wine?A tall and handsome man appeared, prudent not to offend. ... He said, "I'm Love your next-door friend").

120. On which, see n. 35.

121. See Baer, The Jews in Christian Spain, 1:327-54; Robert Chazan, "Maestre Alfonso of

Valladolid and the New Missionizing," Revue des ?tudes juives CXLIII (1984): 83-94; Yehuda Shamir, Rabbi Moses Ha-Kohen of Tordesillas and His Book lEzer Ha-Emunah: A Chapter in the

History of the Judeo-Christian Controversy (Leiden, 1975), pp. 40-54. 122. Isaac Pollegar, cEzer hadat, ed. Jacob S. Levinger (Tel Aviv, 1984), which refers to

Abner's work in its opening poem (p. 25) and to Abner himself in chap. 7 (p. 60) as being among the "accursed teachers." A. Geiger published some examples of a "poetical dia

logue" between Abner and Ibn Pollegar preserved in manuscript. See J?dische Dichtungen der spanischen und italienischen Schule (Leipzig, 1856), pp. 51 f. and 29 f. (Hebrew section).

123. See Gerson D. Cohen, ed. and trans., The Book of Tradition: Sefer ha-qabbalah by Abraham ibn Daud (Philadelphia, 1967), p. 268.

124. This explains, for instance, why Ibn Sasson composed so few panegyrics and

virtually no love poetry. For examples of the former, see ASh, 77-7$ (no. 46) in honor of Don

Shem Tov; ASh, 78-82 (no. 48), 83-86 (no. 52), and 87-88 (no. 54) in honor of Moses ben Nahmish; 93-94 (no. 60) in honor of Nahum Balensi; 94-96 (no. 61) to Belisid; 101-2 (no. 68) to Jacob Mamiel. Praise tends to begin with the first verse and to proceed throughout the

poem almost without structure. As with the poets of the thirteenth century, with the notable

exception of Todros Abulafia, Ibn Sasson's panegyrics are independent poems. The tradi

tional qasTda form constructed upon the opposition between the "introduction" and the

second part of the poem, the eulogy, is absent from Ibn Sasson. See Andr?s H?mori, The Art

of Medieval Arabic Literature (Princeton, 1974); Stephan Speri, Mannerism in Arabic Poetry (Cambridge, 1989). As for love poetry, only four poems in the dlw?n can be related to the traditional genre. Two short poems about women (ASh, 68 (nos. 28 and 29), on which, see

Fernando D?az Esteban, "Una escena de la vida jud?a en la Espa?a Medieval reflejada por el

poeta Samuel ben Sason," Exile and Diaspora: Studies in the History of the Jewish People Presented to Professor Haim Beinart, ed. Aharon Mirsky et al. (Jerusalem, 1991), pp. 98-102. See




also ASh, 52 (no. 22) (five verses that just start to praise the beauty of the "gracious deer"), and 64-68 (no. 27), which is presented as a love poem (the heading: "And I composed [these verses] on my perfect dove"). This style of the lyric represents a significant departure from Andalusian norms: a long introduction is dedicated to the vine-stock (1-24) and the

remaining twenty-six verses are consecrated to a stylized but distinctly ambiguous descrip tion of the beloved in that she seems to signify more the Torah or wisdom than a real

woman.



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