As if they thought that some calamity would therein befall them.
Assuredly when the soul shall come up to the breast-bone,
And there shall be a cry, “Who is the magician to restore him?”
And the man feeleth that the time of his departure is come,
And when one leg shall be enlaced with the other,
To thy Lord on that day shall he be driven on.)
This kind of rhetorical style, the peculiarity of which Professor Palmer, in the passage quoted, p. 523, aptly explains from the etymological structure of Arabic, has become the favourite model of oratorical and ornate language with the later Arabs. It is frequently employed in ordinary narratives, such as the tales of the Arabian Nights, whenever the occasion requires a more elevated form of speech; it is the usual garb of that class of compositions, which is known by the name of Maqāmāt, and even extensive historical works, as the Life of Timur, by ʿArab Shāh, are written in it throughout.
But Muḥammad made a still greater and more decisive step towards creating a literature for his people. In those Sūrahs, in which he regulated the private and public life of the Muslim, he originated a prose, which has remained the standard of classical purity ever since.
With regard to this point, however, it has been stated, seemingly in disparagement of the later Arabic authors, that their accepting Muḥammad’s language as a perfect standard, from which no deviation is admissible, has led them to adopt an artificial style, as unnatural “as though Englishmen should still continue to follow Chaucer as their model, in spite of the changes which their language has undergone.” But is such a parallel justified in facts? In English, as amongst modern nations in general, the written language has always kept in close contact with the spoken language; the changes which the former has undergone are simply the registration and legalisation of the changes which in course of time had taken place in the latter. Not so in Arabic. From the moment when, at the epoch of its fullest and richest growth, it was, through the composition of the Qurʾān, invested with the dignity of a literary language, it was, by its very nature, for many centuries to come, precluded from any essential change, whether this be considered as an advantage or not.
The reason for this lies in the first instance in the triliteral character of the Semitic roots, referred to by Professor Palmer, which allows such a root to form one, two, or three syllables, according to the pronunciation of each letter, with or without a vowel. Let us take as an example once more the root ẓ-r-b (ضرب), which conveys the idea of “beating,” and serves in Arabic grammars, like the Greek τυπτω, to form paradigms, by way of a wholesome admonition, I suppose, to the youthful student. The first of these three consonants can only remain quiescent, i.e. vowel-less, if it is preceded by a vowel, as in the Imperative i-ẓrib (اِضْرِبْ), “beat thou,” where the root appears as a monosyllable, or in the aorist ya-ẓribu (يَضْرِبُ), “he beats or will beat,” where it takes together with the final u a disyllabic form. If we leave the second consonant quiescent and pronounce the first with a, we have ẓarb, with the nominative termination ẓarbun (ضَرْبٌ), the verbal noun “beating” or infinitive “to beat.” Vocalising both the first letters, we may obtain ẓārib, the active participle “beating,” or ẓurūb, plural of the last mentioned ẓarb, with the nominative termination ẓāribun (ضَارِبٌ) and ẓurūbun (ضُرُوبٌ). If we read all three consonants with vowels, it may be ẓaraba (ضَرَبَ), “he did beat,” or ẓarabū (ضَرَبُوا), “they did beat.” Taking, again, the two forms ẓaraba, “he did beat,” and yaẓribu, “he beats or will beat,” a simple change of vowels suffices to transform the active into the passive: ẓuriba (ضُرِبَ), “he was beaten,” and yuẓrabu (يُضْرَبُ), “he is beaten or will be beaten.” Lastly, it must be noticed, that the distinction between the two fundamental tenses of the Arabic verb rests on the principle that the affixes, representing the personal pronouns, are in the preterite placed at the end, in the aorist at the beginning of the root: ẓarab-nā, “we did beat,” but na-ẓribu, “we beat or will beat.”