The Book of Delight, and Other Papers | Page 2

will be said below,
As a poet and as a writer of Hebrew, Joseph Zabara's place is equally
significant. He was one of the first to write extended narratives in
Hebrew rhymed prose with interspersed snatches of verse, the form
invented by Arabian poets, and much esteemed as the medium for
story-telling and for writing social satire. The best and best-known
specimens of this form of poetry in Hebrew are Charizi's Tachkemoni,
and his translation of Hariri. Zabara has less art than Charizi, and far
less technical skill, yet in him all the qualities are in the bud that
Charizi's poems present in the fullblown flower. The reader of Zabara
feels that other poets will develop his style and surpass him; the reader
of Charizi knows of a surety that in him the style has reached its
climax.
Of Joseph Zabara little is known beyond what may be gleaned from a
discriminating study of the "Book of Delight." That this romance is
largely autobiographical in fact, as it is in form, there can be no
reasonable doubt. The poet writes with so much indignant warmth of
the dwellers in certain cities, of their manner of life, their morals, and
their culture, that one can only infer that he is relating his personal
experiences. Zabara, like the hero of his romance, travelled much
during the latter portion of the twelfth century, as is known from the
researches of Geiger. He was born in Barcelona, and returned there to
die. In the interval, we find him an apt pupil of Joseph Kimchi, in
Narbonne. Joseph Kimchi, the founder of the famous Kimchi family,
carried the culture of Spain to Provence; and Joseph Zabara may have
acquired from Kimchi his mastery over Hebrew, which he writes with
purity and simplicity. The difficulties presented in some passages of the
"Book of Delight" are entirely due to the corrupt state of the text.
Joseph Kimchi, who flourished in Provence from 1150 to 1170, quotes
Joseph Zabara twice, with approval, in explaining verses in Proverbs. It
would thus seem that Zabara, even in his student days, was devoted to
the proverb-lore on which he draws so lavishly in his maturer work.

Dr. Steinschneider, to whom belongs the credit of rediscovering Zabara
in modern times, infers that the poet was a physician. There is more
than probability in the case; there is certainty. The romance is built by a
doctor; there is more talk of medicine in it than of any other topic of
discussion. Moreover, the author, who denies that he is much of a
Talmudist, accepts the compliment paid to him by his visitor, Enan,
that he is "skilled and well-informed in the science of medicine." There
is, too, a professional tone about many of the quips and gibes in which
Zabara indulges concerning doctors. Here, for instance, is an early form
of a witticism that has been attributed to many recent humorists. "A
philosopher," says Zabara, "was sick unto death, and his doctor gave
him up; yet the patient recovered. The convalescent was walking in the
street when the doctor met him. 'You come,' said he, 'from the other
world.' 'Yes,' rejoined the patient, 'I come from there, and I saw there
the awful retribution that falls on doctors; for they kill their patients.
Yet, do not feel alarmed. You will not suffer. I told them on my oath
that you are no doctor.'"
Again, in one of the poetical interludes (found only in the
Constantinople edition) occurs this very professional sneer, "A doctor
and the Angel of Death both kill, but the former charges a fee." Who
but a doctor would enter into a scathing denunciation of the current
system of diagnosis, as Zabara does in a sarcastic passage, which Erter
may have imitated unconsciously? And if further proof be needed that
Zabara was a man of science, the evidence is forthcoming; for Zabara
appeals several times to experiment in proof of his assertions. And to
make assurance doubly sure, the author informs his readers in so many
words of his extensive medical practice in his native place.
If Zabara be the author of the other, shorter poems that accompany the
"Book of Delight" in the Constantinople edition, though they are not
incorporated into the main work, we have a further indication that
Zabara was a medical man. There is a satirical introduction against the
doctors that slay a man before his time. The author, with mock timidity,
explains that he withholds his name, lest the medical profession turn its
attention to him with fatal results. "Never send for a doctor," says the
satirist, "for one cannot expect a miracle to happen." It is important, for

our understanding of another feature in Zabara's work, to observe that
his invective, directed against the practitioners rather than