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Title: Islam and the Divine Comedy
Author: Miguel Asín Palacios
Translator: Harold Sunderland
Release date: January 26, 2026 [eBook #77789]
Language: English
Original publication: New York: E.P. Dutton & Co, 1926
Credits: Aaron Adrignola and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ISLAM AND THE DIVINE COMEDY ***
ISLAM AND THE DIVINE COMEDY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
ISLAM AND THE
DIVINE COMEDY
By MIGUEL ASÍN
Professor of Arabic at the University of Madrid
and Member of the Academia Española
TRANSLATED AND ABRIDGED
By HAROLD SUNDERLAND
NEW YORK
E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY
1926
_Printed in Great Britain by
Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury._
_DEDICATION_
THE AUTHOR AND TRANSLATOR WISH TO RECORD
THEIR GRATITUDE TO THE
DUKE OF BERWICK AND ALBA
TO WHOSE GENEROUS INITIATIVE THE PUBLICATION
OF THIS EDITION IS DUE
_INTRODUCTION_
BY THE DUKE OF ALBA
The Spanish original, of which the present is an abridged translation,
appeared six years ago under the title of _La Escatología musulmana en la
Divina Comedia_ (Madrid, Imprenta de Estanislao Maestre, 1919).
Its author, Miguel Asín y Palacios, a Catholic priest and Professor of
Arabic at the University of Madrid, is the disciple of another Arabic
scholar of Spain, Julián Ribera, by whom he was initiated in Oriental
studies and the methods of historical research. Asín has devoted over
twenty-five years of his life to the investigation of the philosophic
and religious thought of mediæval Islam—the Islam of the Orient as well
as that of Spain—and its influence on the culture of Christian Europe.
His training in Arabic philology and his mastery of mediæval scholastics
had enabled him several years before to make important discoveries
regarding the influence in theology of Averrhoes on St. Thomas Aquinas,
of Ibn Arabi of Murcia on Raymond Lull, and of the _Ikhwan as-safa_ on
Fr. Anselmo de Turmeda, and so forth. His most important discovery,
however, and the one on which his fame is chiefly based, was his
discovery of Islamic models the influence of which on the Divine Comedy
of Dante forms the subject of the present work. From the very date of
its publication in Spanish the book aroused the curiosity of the general
public and caused a great stir among the critics of literary history. The
Italian Dantists particularly could with difficulty bring themselves to
recognise that Moslem sources should have formed the basis for the Divine
Comedy, the poem that symbolises the whole culture of mediæval Christian
Europe. The book at once became the subject of lively and passionate
controversy. Over a hundred articles and pamphlets have been written and
lectures delivered in favour of, or against, the thesis propounded by
Asín Palacios. The principal reviews devoted to literature and literary
history, those both of a general and special character, have published
articles from the pens of Dantists and Romance and Arabic scholars of
note in Europe and America, expounding or criticising the thesis. Asín
has intervened in the controversy to sum up the judgments, favourable,
adverse or doubtful, and finally refute his opponents; this he has done
in different publications,[1] and the present is a translation of the
work containing the original thesis. The balance of opinion is strongly
in his favour. Apart from a score or so of adverse critics, mainly of
Italian nationality, whose attitude is to be accounted for on the grounds
of national or pro-Dante prejudice, an immense majority of critics of
all nations, whose competence, whether as Romance or Arabic scholars and
whose impartiality are beyond all question, has opted in favour of Asín
Palacios’ theory.
Both parties to the controversy have been unanimous and unstinting in
their praise of the book.
Pio Rajna, the chief of the Italian Dantists, writing in _Nuova
Antologia_, admits that the importance of the thesis is so far-reaching
that “if it were true, it would lead to a conception of Dante differing
considerably from that hitherto formed by the Dantists.”
Parodi, another leading figure among the Dantists of Italy, in the
_Bulletino della società dantesca italiana_ confesses that “this book
has had a more than flattering reception, it has roused a feeling of
curiosity mingled with astonishment in all who have read it and has won
the approval and assent of not a few.”
Nallino, Professor of Arabic at the University of Rome, stated in the
_Rivista degli studi orientali_ that the book was “of great value as a
contribution to mediæval studies in general, as proving the hitherto
unsuspected infiltration of Islamic conceptions of the after-life into
the popular beliefs of Western Christendom; and, especially, as one of
the most important works on the religion of Islam that have of late
appeared.”
Bonucci, Professor at the University of Sienna, in the _Rivista di Studi
filosofici e religiosi_, affirms that “a book such as this does more to
advance the history of, and comment on, Dante’s thought than a whole
century of the minutiæ of the Dantists.”
Friedrich Beck, the famous Romance scholar of Germany, writes in the
_Zeitschrift für romanische Philologie_: “No book on Dante of such
importance has appeared for years; we wonder whether the Italians, in
their patriotic pride, can find a work of theirs to equal that of the
learned Spaniard. Asín has given a great impulse to the study of Dante
and has opened up vistas so startlingly new that the students will be
bound to seek new bearings and adopt fresh points of view.”
Söderhjelm, Professor of Romance languages at the University of
Helsingfors, in _Neuphilologische Mitteilungen_, says: “This book is a
revelation and an event; it will doubtless be regarded as one of the most
notable, perhaps the most notable of all, literary productions that have
marked the Jubilee of Dante.”
The review _Analecta Bollandiana_ states: “The author of this book is
universally known. There is scarcely any example of a work on Oriental
philology having attracted so great attention. The audacity of the thesis
could not fail to rouse the most lively interest in all who are initiated
in the problems of literary history. The analogies shown by the author
to exist between the Divine Comedy and Islam are so numerous and of such
a nature as to be disquieting to the mind of the reader, who is forced
to picture to himself the great epic of Christianity as enthroned in the
world of Moslem mysticism, as if in a mosque that were closed to Islam
and consecrated to Christian worship. At all events, there will always
remain to the author of this book the honour of having started one of the
most memorable debates in the history of universal literature.”
Caballera, Professor of Ecclesiastical History at Toulouse, although
disagreeing with the thesis, admits in the _Bulletin de littérature
ecclésiastique_ that “the reader is bewildered by the prodigious learning
of the author, his logic, his talent for argument, which are nothing
less than astounding; the clearness of his statements makes a profound
impression.”
Lastly, the learned Romance scholar Van Tieghem, in the _Revue de
littérature comparée_, states that “this is an honest, objective book,
as clear and well arranged as it is rich in matter, which will remain on
record as one of the most daring and fruitful attempts to open up new
vistas in the history of European literature.”
I need not refer to the flattering opinions this book has earned from
the critics in England and America, as they will be known to the
English-speaking public. Both Romance and Arabic scholars, such as
Arnold, Browning, Cumming, Guillaume, Jordan, Leigh, Macdonald, and Ryan,
have expressed themselves frankly in favour of Asín Palacios.
The almost universal applause which this book has gained, has induced
me to contribute towards its diffusion by making it available to the
English-speaking peoples. The idea was first suggested to me by Lord
Balfour, whose interest in matters of philosophy and literature is
universally known. Animated by his advice, I have now had the book
translated into English, in the hope that it may reach a wider circle
of readers, who, whilst finding difficulty in reading Spanish, may
be curious to know of a problem that is of interest for the study of
literary history in general and particularly of the Divine Comedy
of Dante, who has ever counted so many fervent admirers among the
English-speaking peoples.
The translation has been carefully and faithfully made by Mr. Harold
L. Sunderland, who is at home both in the Spanish language and in the
subject of the book. In order, however, to attain its diffusion among a
wider public, the translator has, in agreement with the author, cut out
the documentary evidence and critical apparatus that goes to swell the
Spanish original—a complete translation of the Spanish original into
French will also be published shortly by Paul Geuthner, of Paris—and is
useful and intelligible to the specialists only. Thus, the Arabic texts
and the tercets of the Divine Comedy that are compared with them, as
well as some of the notes and paragraphs of secondary importance for the
argument are not contained in the present translation. The essence of the
book remains intact, however, with all its dialectic vigour and literary
charm.
If the English reader should concur with my opinion, my aims in promoting
the translation of the Spanish book will have been fully achieved.
[Illustration]
_August, 1925._
_AUTHOR’S PREFACE TO THE ORIGINAL SPANISH EDITION_
In my recent work on the neo-Platonic mysticism of the Spanish Moslem
philosopher Ibn Masarra,[2] I had already hinted that his doctrines,
filtering through into Christian scholasticism, had not only met with
acceptance at the hands of theologians of the Franciscan or pre-Thomist
school, but had even influenced a philosopher-poet of such universal
renown as Dante Alighieri, whom all critics and historians had hitherto
held to be an Aristotelian and Thomist.[3] After enumerating briefly the
fundamental reasons underlying my vague surmise, I ventured to call the
attention of specialists to the close resemblance that I found between
the general outlines of the ascension of Dante and Beatrice throughout
the spheres of Paradise, and another allegory of the ascension of a
mystic and a philosopher, in the _Futuhat_, written by the great Sufi of
Murcia, Ibn Arabi, who was undoubtedly a follower of Ibn Masarra.[4]
The question so raised was of obvious interest: for if not merely the
neo-Platonic metaphysics of the Cordovan Ibn Masarra and the Murcian Ibn
Arabi, but the allegorical form in which the latter cast his Ascension
may have exercised an influence as models, as they certainly existed as
forerunners, of the most sublime part of the Divine Comedy, Dante’s
conception of Paradise, then Spain may be entitled to claim for her
Moslem thinkers no slight share in the world-wide fame enjoyed by the
immortal work of Dante Alighieri. And again, the absorbing influence
exercised by the latter over our allegorical poets, from the end of the
fourteenth to the sixteenth century, from Villena to Garcilaso, not
to mention Francisco Imperial, Santillana, Mena and Padilla, would be
balanced in a measure by the antecedent influence of our Moslem mystics
in the complex genesis of the Divine Comedy.
Such was the starting-point of my research, but soon the horizon
opened out unexpectedly before me. On closer study of Ibn Arabi’s
quasi-Dantesque allegory I found that it was itself no more than
a mystical adaptation of another ascension, already famous in the
theological literature of Islam: the _Miraj_, or Ascension, of Mahomet
from Jerusalem to the Throne of God. As this _Miraj_ was preceded by an
_Isra_, or Nocturnal Journey, during which Mahomet visited some of the
infernal regions, the Moslem tradition at once struck me as a prototype
of Dante’s conception. A methodical comparison of the general outlines of
the Moslem legend with those of the great poem confirmed my impression
and finally quite convinced me: the similarity had extended to the many
picturesque, descriptive and episodic details of the two narratives, as
well as to what is called the “architecture of the realms,” that is to
say, the topographical conception of the infernal regions and of the
celestial abodes, the plans of which appeared to me as drawn by one and
the same Moslem architect. But on reaching this stage of my research, a
new doubt arose. How if these resemblances between the Divine Comedy and
its hypothetical Moslem model should be due to the fact that both derived
from some common source? In other words, might not the features of Dante
which appeared foreshadowed in Moslem sources, be traced to mediæval
Christian legends that preceded his great work? At this juncture,
therefore, it became imperative, in the first instance, to turn to those
legends, and to make sure that I were not ascribing a Moslem origin
to anything in Dante that might be adequately accounted for by those
Christian legends.
This further process of inquiry and comparison held in store an even more
unexpected conclusion. It not only confirmed that in Moslem sources there
were to be found prototypes of features in the Divine Comedy hitherto
regarded as original because nothing similar to them had been discovered
in the Christian legends, its predecessors; it further revealed the
no less Moslem origin of many of those mediæval legends themselves;
it let in a flood of light upon the whole problem. The Moslem element
thenceforth appeared as a key to much that had already been accounted
for, and to what was still obscure, in the Divine Comedy. The conclusion
was consonant with what students of Dante had hitherto ascribed to the
influence of Christian precursors, and it explained what, as being
inexplicable, they had attributed solely to the creative genius of the
poet himself.
The above is, in outline, my thesis.[5] It will sound to many like
artistic sacrilege, or it may call an ironic smile to the lips of
those—and they are not a few—who still conceive an artist’s inspiration
as something preternatural, owing nothing to any suggestion outside
itself. This is a very common attitude towards works of such universal
renown as the Divine Comedy. Ozanam, in his inquiry into its poetic
sources, had already brought out this point.[6] For a long time—he
says—this poem was considered as a solitary monument, standing in the
midst of the mediæval desert. When, a century ago, Cancellieri pointed to
some passages of Dante’s Inferno and Paradiso as being closely modelled
upon the _Vision of the monk Alberic_, the devotees of Dante rose up
in wrath at the sacrilege of supposing the Master capable of servile
imitation of an obscure monk of the twelfth century: they, who were none
too ready to admit even the undeniable fact of his imitation of classic
models.
But time has passed and the nineteenth century, the age of cold
dispassionate criticism, has peopled the deserts of the Middle Ages
with living realities. Labitte, Ozanam, D’Ancona, Graf, a whole host
of scholars and labourers in research have studied the legends of the
after-life, both classical and Christian, which explain the genesis of
Dante’s poem; and the lovers of Dante no longer resent the more sober and
more scientific view of poetic inspiration which has gained acceptance.
It is now admitted that the essential trait of genius does not lie in
the absolute novelty or originality of the work of art; neither can it
consist in the power—the prerogative of God alone—of creating both Form
and Matter out of nothing.[7]
The greater equanimity of the modern school of Dantophiles encourages me
to hope that they will not be moved to ire by the suggestion of Moslem
influences in the Divine Comedy. D’Ancona, in his inquiry into its
Christian and classical sources,[8] remarks that Dante showed himself
ever keen to study and to learn, with a receptive mind towards the
ideas and sentiments of his age; and surely it will not be denied that
his century was steeped in the learning and art of Islam. In the opinion
of D’Ancona it may always be difficult to affirm specifically that any
one legend was the actual and original model that Dante had in his mind,
the pregnant germ from which his divine poem was to grow. Yet I venture
to think that the difficulty will not be found insuperable, if only the
Moslem originals be considered, to wit: the above-mentioned legends of
the Nocturnal Journey and Ascension of Mahomet, completed and adorned
as they were with a mass of topographical and episodic detail, whether
derived from other Islamic legends of the Life beyond the grave, from
the Apocalyptic scenes of the Day of Judgment, or from the theories
and conceptions of certain of the Moslem mystics in respect of Heaven
and the Beatific Vision, which in spirituality and idealism were not
unworthy of Dante’s own conception of Paradise. To throw into relief
such resemblances and analogy, as conducive to the imitation which they
suggest, is of necessity the main task of the present work. To complete
the demonstration, render the conclusion unavoidable, and forestall
all reasonable objection, it will finally outline and enumerate the
coincidences of the Christian mediæval legends that preceded the Divine
Comedy, with Moslem legends of a remoter date.
MADRID, 1919.
CONTENTS
PAGE
PART I
THE LEGEND OF THE NOCTURNAL JOURNEY AND ASCENSION OF MAHOMET
COMPARED WITH THE DIVINE COMEDY
I. THE ORIGIN OF THE LEGEND:
1. The germ of the legend in the Koran 3
2. Its development in the form of various versions grouped into
three cycles 3
II. FIRST CYCLE—VERSIONS OF THE “ISRA,” OR NOCTURNAL JOURNEY:
1. Common character of the two main versions of this cycle 4
2. Summary of Version A of Cycle I 4
3. Its comparison with the Divine Comedy. Agreement in general
outline 5
4. Similarity of descriptive features 6
5. Summary of Version B of Cycle I 6
6. Its comparison with the Divine Comedy. General features of
resemblance 8
7. Analogies in descriptive detail 8
III. SECOND CYCLE—VERSIONS OF THE “MIRAJ,” OR ASCENSION:
1. Features common to the three versions of this cycle 9
2. Date and author of each version 9
3. Summary of Version A of Cycle II 10
4. Its comparison with the Divine Comedy. Coincidence with
outlines of Dante’s ascension 11
5. Version B. First attempt to link the journey to hell with
the ascension to heaven 12
6. Summary of Version B of Cycle II 12
7. Its comparison with the Divine Comedy 14
8. The architecture of hell the prototype of that of the Inferno 14
9. In both stories the guardians of hell bar the pilgrim’s way 15
10. The City of Dis and the first stage of the Moslem hell 16
11. Resemblance of some of the tortures of hell 17
12. Version C. The Ascension the main theme of this version 17
13. Summary of Version C of Cycle II 18
14. Its comparison with the Divine Comedy. Preliminary remarks 24
15. The description of heaven in terms of light and sound is as
spiritual as the Paradiso 25
16. Similarity in use of expedient: the comparison of the speed
of flight, the inability to describe the sights witnessed,
and the brilliance of the light dazzling the pilgrims 26
17. Identical services rendered by the guides, Gabriel and
Beatrice 28
18. Dante’s picture of the eagle inspired by the vision of the
heavenly cock. Other angelic visions 29
19. The littleness of the created world as seen by both pilgrims
from on high 30
20. Striking likeness of the apotheoses of both ascensions.
God a focus of light, surrounded by nine concentric
circles of angels radiating light and chanting as they
revolve. The Beatific Vision and ecstasy 31
IV. THIRD CYCLE—FUSION OF THE VERSIONS OF THE “ISRA” AND THE “MIRAJ”:
1. Nature and date of the one version of this cycle 32
2. Summary of Sole Version of Cycle III 33
3. Its comparison with the Divine Comedy. A preliminary remark 35
4. The element of moral allegory in this version and in Dante 35
5. The vision, in the Moslem legend and the Purgatorio, of
the old seductress, symbolic of worldly pleasure 36
6. Threefold cleansing of the soul, in the Garden of Abraham
and the Purgatorio 37
V. THEOLOGICAL COMMENTARIES ON THE LEGEND:
1. The Version of Cycle III expanded by theological commentaries.
Their origin and nature 38
2. New episodes in the commentaries, and their comparison with
the Divine Comedy 40
3. The afrite pursuing Mahomet and the demon pursuing Dante 40
4. The heavenly ladder in the Islamic tale and in the Paradiso 41
5. Analogy in wealth of incident and profusion of secondary
characters 41
VI. ADAPTATIONS FROM THE LEGEND, MAINLY MYSTICAL ALLEGORIES:
1. Origin and nature of such works 42
2. General idea of some adaptations 43
3. The ascension of the soul upon leaving the body 43
4. The ascension of the guardian angel with the good deeds of
his ward 44
5. The real or symbolical ascension of the mystic 44
6. Ibn Arabi’s “Book of the Nocturnal Journey” and its analogy
with the Divine Comedy regarded as a work of allegory 45
7. Ibn Arabi’s allegorical ascension of the philosopher and
the theologian. Summary of the ascension 47
8. Its comparison with the Divine Comedy. Agreement in
allegorical meaning 51
9. Resemblance in episode, such as the distribution of the
Blessed on an astrological and moral principle; in
the didactic tendency of both authors; and in their
enigmatical style 52
VII. LITERARY IMITATIONS OF THE LEGEND:
1. General nature of such works 54
2. The “Treatise on Pardon” of Abu-l-Ala al Maarri. Its purpose
both theological and literary 55
3. Summary of the work 56
4. Its comparison with the Divine Comedy. Agreement in realism 61
5. General artifices common to both stories 61
6. Similarity of actual incidents, such as the encounter with
the two heavenly beauties 65
7. The lion and the wolf barring the road to hell 65
8. The discussion with Adam 66
9. The meeting with the beloved of the poet Imru-l-Qays 66
10. Coincidence in intrinsic literary value 67
VIII. SUMMARY OF COMPARISONS:
1. Systematic grouping of the analogies found to exist between
the Divine Comedy and the different versions, adaptations
and imitations of the Moslem legend 67
2. Resemblance of the descriptions of hell 68
3. Resemblance of the descriptions of purgatory 69
4. Resemblance of the descriptions of heaven 70
5. Similarity in allegorical meaning 73
6. Other, secondary, features of resemblance 74
7. Provisional conclusions 75
8. Influence upon the Islamic legend of tales from other faiths 75
PART II
THE DIVINE COMEDY COMPARED WITH OTHER MOSLEM LEGENDS ON THE
AFTER-LIFE
I. INTRODUCTION:
1. Need of further examination of the poem in its five
parts—limbo, hell, purgatory, earthly and celestial
paradises 79
2. Preliminary enquiry into the doctrine of Islam on the
after-life 79
3. Comparison of that doctrine with the teaching of Christianity 79
II. THE MOSLEM LIMBO IN THE DIVINE COMEDY:
1. The name and site of Dante’s limbo, the dwellers therein
and their suffering 81
2. Was Dante’s picture, for which there is no Christian
precedent, derived from Moslem eschatology? 82
3. The name and site of the Moslem limbo, the dwellers therein
and their suffering. The picture is identical with that
of Dante’s limbo 83
III. THE MOSLEM HELL IN THE DIVINE COMEDY:
1. The supposed originality of Dante’s conception of the
architecture of hell 85
2. The Moslem hell, according to the Koran and the _hadiths_,
agrees with Dante’s hell in architectural outline 86
3. The Moslem hell, according to the description and designs
of Ibn Arabi, is identical in its architectural plan with
the hell described by Dante and graphically illustrated
by the Dantists 91
IV. THE MOSLEM HELL IN THE DIVINE COMEDY—_continued._
1. Islamic origin of descriptive detail and actual scenes, such
as the movement towards the left 96
2. The torture of the adulterers 97
3. The City of Dis 98
4. The rain of fire and the meeting with Brunetto Latini 98
5. The first three valleys of Malebolge 99
6. The torture of the soothsayers in the fourth pit 100
7. The torture of hypocrites 101
8. The torture of thieves 102
9. The torture of the schismatic 103
10. The last chasm of Malebolge 104
V. THE MOSLEM HELL IN THE DIVINE COMEDY (Conclusion):
1. The giants of Dante’s hell 105
2. The torture of cold 106
3. Dante’s picture of Lucifer and its supposed originality 108
4. Its prototypes in Islam 109
VI. THE MOSLEM PURGATORY IN THE DIVINE COMEDY:
1. Dante’s conception of purgatory 111
2. Its supposed originality 112
3. Precedents for the topography are to be found in Moslem
tradition 113
4. Further precedents for the topography furnished by Ibn
Arabi’s conception 115
5. The punishments in the ante-purgatory 117
6. The torments of purgatory 118
VII. THE EARTHLY PARADISE OF ISLAM IN THE DIVINE COMEDY:
1. Dante’s story of the earthly paradise and the supposed
originality of its setting 121
2. Situation of the earthly paradise, according to Islam, on a
lofty mountain in the middle of the ocean 122
3. The garden of paradise placed by Islamic legend between
purgatory and heaven 125
4. Dante’s picture compared with the story of Shakir ibn
Muslim, of Orihuela 125
5. Islamic sources of the scene of the meeting of Beatrice and
Dante 128
6. Summary of the principal Moslem legends on the meeting
of the heavenly bride and bridegroom. Their comparison
with the episode in Dante 130
7. Recapitulation of partial comparisons 134
VIII. THE CELESTIAL PARADISE OF ISLAM IN THE DIVINE COMEDY:
1. The sensuality of the Koranic paradise spiritually
interpreted in the _hadiths_ 135
2. Idealistic conception of the delights of paradise according
to Algazel, Averrhoes, and Ibn Arabi 137
3. The Moslem paradise susceptible of comparison with that
of Dante 139
4. The general scheme of the Paradiso and its precedents in
Islam 142
5. Dante’s conception of the abode of glory 145
6. Islamic precedents for that conception 147
IX. THE CELESTIAL PARADISE OF ISLAM IN THE DIVINE COMEDY (Conclusion):
1. The architecture of paradise, according to Ibn Arabi 150
2. His geometrical design of paradise is identical with the
plan of the mystic rose, as traced by the Dantists 151
3. Dante and Ibn Arabi use the same similes in describing
paradise 152
4. The moral structure of paradise is strikingly similar in
both authors 154
5. The life of glory, as depicted by Ibn Arabi 157
6. Ibn Arabi’s cardinal theses compared with Dante’s ideas:
(1) Beatific Vision of the Divine Light 160
7. (2) Different grades in the Vision; (3) External brilliance
of the elect; (4) Ecstasy of delight; (5) Absence of envy 163
8. Dante’s symbol of the Trinity compared with similar
geometrical symbols used by Ibn Arabi 167
X. SYNTHESIS OF ALL THE PARTIAL COMPARISONS:
1. General conclusions to be drawn from the resemblances
found 171
2. Identity in construction shown by Ibn Arabi’s and Dante’s
plans of the hereafter 172
3. Analogies in topographical decoration 172
4. Analogies in symmetry of conception 173
5. The likeness extends to many of the episodes and scenes 173
6. Conclusions to be drawn from the first two parts of this
enquiry: Islamic literature sheds light upon a greater
number of problems in Dante than do all other religious
literatures combined 173
7. Transition to Part III 174
PART III
MOSLEM FEATURES IN THE CHRISTIAN LEGENDS PRECURSORY OF THE
DIVINE COMEDY
I. INTRODUCTION:
1. Slight influence of these legends upon the genesis of
Dante’s poem 177
2. Are these legends the spontaneous outcome of popular
imagination, or did they originate in other literatures? 178
3. General evidence of their Moslem origin 178
4. Remarks upon the method followed in this part of the
enquiry 179
II. LEGENDS OF VISIONS OF HELL:
1. Legend of the Three Monks of the East 180
2. Moslem features in the general setting and in the tortures
of hell 180
3. Moslem origin of the myth of the souls incarnate in birds 181
4. Vision of St. Paul 182
5. Scenes of Islamic origin; tortures similar to those
described in Mahomet’s nocturnal journey; the _sirat_,
or bridge of the Koran; the wheel of fire 183
6. The final vision, the respite of the sinners and similar
Moslem tales 184
III. LEGENDS OF VISIONS OF HELL—_continued_:
1. Legend of Tundal 186
2. Features of Moslem origin; hell represented as a monster;
the Aaraf, or Moslem limbo; the punishment in the grave 186
3. The devil with the hundred hands 187
4. Heaven shown to the sinner, _ut magis doleant_ 188
5. The sinner tormented by the cow he had stolen 190
6. Legend of Purgatory of St. Patrick 190
7. Moslem features which this legend shares in common with
the former legends 191
IV. LEGENDS OF VISIONS OF HELL (Conclusion):
1. Vision of Alberic. Episodes already shown to be of Moslem
origin 191
2. The Solar Liod. The topography of hell and other Moslem
features 192
3. Vision of Turcill. The Moslem torture of the thief, forced
to swallow his illicit gains 193
4. Vision of the Abbot Joachim. The passage of the _sirat_ 193
5. Vision of the Bard of Regio Emilia 193
6. Islamic origin of the Bard’s scheme of hell 194
V. LEGENDS ON THE WEIGHING OF SOULS:
1. Subject common to the legends of this cycle 195
2. The Egypto-Persian myth in Islam, and its influence on the
Christian legends 195
3. The representation of St. Michael holding the scales is
further evidence of such influence 196
4. Digression to other instances of Moslem influence upon
Christian illustrations of the Day of Judgment. The
intercession of the Saints. The nakedness of the sinners 197
VI. LEGENDS OF PARADISE:
1. Anthropomorphism of the legends of this cycle, and their
general resemblance to other Islamic legends 199
2. Episodes of Moslem origin, such as the vision of Adam in
the legend of Turcill 200
3. Moslem tales precursory of the Christian legends depicting
life in paradise as a courtly gathering or religious
festival 200
VII. LEGENDS OF SEA VOYAGES:
1. Common characteristics of these legends. Classification
into three groups 204
2. Early Moslem counterparts of these legends 205
3. Hypothesis of the influence of the Moslem cycle upon the
Christian cycle 205
4. Moslem episodes in the Legend of St. Brandan, such as the
table spread with food; the island-whale; the angel
birds; the enormous vines; the crystal column; the
torment of Judas; the sea-hermit; the isle of paradise 206
5. Conclusion, affirming the Oriental character of the Legend
of St. Brandan 214
6. Islamic features of other Christian tales of voyages 214
VIII. LEGENDS OF SLEEPERS:
1. Characteristics common to the legends of this cycle, and
brief summary of the main legends 216
2. Prior existence of two groups of similar legends in Islamic
literature 218
3. Examination of the three legends of the first group 218
4. The Islamic tales of the second group 220
5. Their resemblance to the mediæval Christian tales may be
attributed to Moslem influence upon Christian folklore 221
IX. LEGENDS OF THE RESPITE FROM TORTURE:
1. The main theme of these legends unauthorized by Catholic
doctrine 222
2. Examination of a typical legend of this cycle 223
3. Its main features, viz. the respite from torture and the
incarnation of the souls in birds of black plumage, are
of Moslem origin 223
4. Christian tales dealing with the mitigation of suffering
upon the payment of debt. Their Islamic prototypes 224
5. The mitigation of the pains of hell by means of prayer.
Moslem precedents for the Christian legends 225
X. LEGENDS ON THE DEBATE BETWEEN ANGELS AND DEVILS FOR POSSESSION
OF THE SOUL:
1. Main elements of the legends of this cycle 226
2. Some of these features unauthorized by Christian doctrine 227
3. Islamic legends describing (1) the appointment of an angel
and a devil to each man; (2) the fight for the soul; (3)
the books of record; (4) the personification of virtues
and vices; (5) the personification of the members of the
body; (6) the removal of the soul to hell or heaven 228
4. Summary of comparisons contained in Part III and conclusion
to be drawn therefrom; Islamic literature furnishes the
explanation of the growth of many of the pre-Dante
Christian legends on the after-life 232
5. Transition to Part IV 233
PART IV
PROBABILITY OF THE TRANSMISSION OF ISLAMIC MODELS TO CHRISTIAN
EUROPE AND PARTICULARLY TO DANTE
I. INTRODUCTION:
1. Literary imitation dependent on three conditions, viz.
resemblance between model and copy; priority of the
former; and communication between the two 237
2. The similarity in artistic representation of the life beyond
the grave is conclusive proof 237
3. Three headings under which evidence of contact may be
furnished 238
II. COMMUNICATION BETWEEN ISLAM AND CHRISTIAN EUROPE DURING THE
MIDDLE AGES:
1. Trade; pilgrimages to the Holy Land; the Crusades;
Missions to Islam 239
2. Norman expeditions and conquest of Sicily. The Sicilian
court under the Norman dynasty a centre of Moslem culture 240
3. Contact in Spain. The Mozarabs; the slaves; the Jews;
other intermediaries 242
4. The Mudejars and the court of Toledo. Archbishop Raymond’s
School of Translators 244
5. The court of Alphonso the Wise and the inter-denominational
colleges of Murcia and Seville 245
III. TRANSMISSION OF THE MOSLEM LEGENDS ON THE AFTER-LIFE TO
CHRISTIAN EUROPE AND DANTE:
1. Probability of their transmission through any of the
channels mentioned 246
2. Moslem Spain a likely channel 247
3. The knowledge of Moslem legendary lore possessed by the
Mozarabs 248
4. The legend of the “Miraj” probably included in the
“Summa” of Robert of Reading 248
5. The legend of the “Miraj” in the “Historia Arabum” of
Archbishop Rodrigo and the “Estoria d’Espanna” of
Alphonso the Wise 249
6. The “Miraj” and other legends of the after-life in the
“Impunaçion de la seta de Mahomah” of St. Peter
Paschal 250
7. The legend probably transmitted to Italy by St. Peter
Paschal 251
8. The knowledge of Arabic learning possessed by Dante’s
master, Brunetto Latini 252
9. Brunetto may have learnt of the legend of the “Miraj”
during his mission to the court of Alphonso the Wise,
and have transmitted his knowledge to his disciple 253
IV. THE ATTRACTION FELT BY DANTE TOWARDS ARABIC CULTURE CONFIRMS
THE HYPOTHESIS OF IMITATION:
1. Need of this final enquiry 256
2. The receptiveness of Dante’s mind such that he cannot
have felt aversion to Arabic culture 256
3. Signs of Dante’s liking for the Semitic languages 258
4. Evidence of his thorough knowledge of the history of
Islam; the torture of Mahomet and Ali 259
5. Dante’s liking for Arabic culture shown by the use he makes
of the works of the astronomers and the exemption from
hell of Saladin, Avicenna and Averrhoes 261
6. Sigier of Brabant, the champion of Averrhoism, placed in
paradise 262
7. Bruno Nardi’s explanation of this enigma; Dante’s philosophy
akin rather to that of Avicenna and Averrhoes
than to that of St. Thomas 263
V. THE CLOSE RESEMBLANCE BETWEEN DANTE AND THE MYSTIC, IBN ARABI
OF MURCIA, FURNISHES FURTHER PROOF OF THE THESIS OF IMITATION:
1. Dante’s relation to the Illuministic Mystics mooted 263
2. General parallel between the Illuministic images used by
both authors 264
3. Comparison of their expository methods. The cabbala
of letters and numbers; astrological subtleties;
personification of abstract entities; interpretation
of dream visions 265
4. Particular parallel between Dante’s vision of Love (_Vita
Nuova_, XII) and similar visions described by Ibn Arabi 266
5. Striking analogy of Dante’s “Cancionero” and its
allegorical commentary, the “Convito,” to Ibn Arabi’s
book of songs, “The Interpreter of Love,” and its
allegorical commentary, “The Treasures of Lovers” 267
6. The _dolce stil nuovo_ poetry and Vossler’s hypothesis as
to its origin 271
7. Earlier examples of this type of poetry in Islam. Romantic
love in profane literature. The “Necklace of the Dove,”
or “Book of Love,” of Ibn Hazm of Cordova 272
8. The mystical love of woman in Sufi literature. Woman as
an angel and a symbol of Divine wisdom. The phenomena
of love analysed and allegorically interpreted in Ibn
Arabi’s _Futuhat_ 274
9. Epilogue. The eschatology of Islam and the conceptions
of Ibn Arabi as a key to the riddles in Dante and a
remote reflex of Christian spirituality 275
ISLAM AND THE DIVINE COMEDY
PART I
_THE LEGEND OF THE NOCTURNAL JOURNEY AND ASCENSION OF MAHOMET COMPARED
WITH THE DIVINE COMEDY_
PART I
_THE LEGEND OF THE NOCTURNAL JOURNEY AND ASCENSION OF MAHOMET COMPARED
WITH THE DIVINE COMEDY_
I
THE ORIGIN OF THE LEGEND
1. The Moslem legend of Mahomet’s nocturnal journey and ascent to the
spheres of after-life originated and developed like most religious
legends. Born of a brief passage in Revelations, in its very obscurity it
defied theological interpretation. But what baffled the sages in their
agnosticism kindled the imagination of the faithful masses, and the
details of a story founded upon the sacred text were readily conceived.
One brief allusion only appears in the Koran: “Praised be He [the
Lord]”—runs the first verse of the seventeenth chapter—“who called
upon His servant [Mahomet] to travel by night from the sacred temple
[of Mecca] to the far-off temple [of Jerusalem] whose precinct We have
blessed, in order to show him Our wonders.”
2. The mysterious allusion seems from the first to have aroused the
curiosity of pious Moslems. A rich crop of legends sprang up as if by
magic. The vivid imagination of the East had been fired, and the myth of
the nightly journey was soon clothed with a wealth of detail and set in a
wonderful variety of episode and scenery.
The entire records of the evolution of the legend in all its
ramifications would fill volumes. Around an insignificant verselet of the
Koran a plot was woven, and the story developed in the form of _hadiths_
or traditions of the Prophet, who was supposed to describe the wonders
he saw on that memorable night. In the following pages an endeavour has
been made to lay before the reader some of the principal versions extant.
These have been divided into three cycles or groups, which begin with the
simple, fragmentary types, and end with those in which Oriental fantasy
reaches its climax.
II
FIRST CYCLE—VERSIONS OF THE “ISRA,” OR NOCTURNAL JOURNEY
1. The simplest cycle seems to be one of the ninth century that is formed
of six _hadiths_, in each of which, with slight variations, Mahomet is
made to tell the story of an _Isra_, or journey by night on earth. Few
topographical details, however, are given, and no mention is made of an
ascent to celestial spheres.
In the following summaries the two main versions are compared with the
Divine Comedy.
_Version A of Cycle I_
2. Mahomet relates to his disciples how he was awakened from
sleep by a man who leads him to the foot of a steep mountain.
To climb this, as he is urged to do, seems impossible; but,
heartened by his guide, he begins the ascent and eventually
reaches the high table-land at the top of the mountain.
Proceeding on their way, Mahomet and his guide witness six
scenes, one after another, of horrible torture. Men and women
with lips torn asunder; others whose eyes and ears are pierced
by arrows; women hanging by their heels while vipers sting
their breasts; others, both men and women, that likewise
hanging suck up in agony the stagnant water from off the
ground; then, wretched creatures in filthy clothes who reek
as of latrines; and lastly, corpses in the last, abominable
stages of putrefaction. These punishments, the guide explains
to Mahomet, are meted out in turn to liars; those that have
sinned with eyes or ears; to mothers who have refused to suckle
their children; to violators of the fast; adulterers; and to
unbelievers. Continuing their journey, the travellers suddenly
find themselves enveloped in a cloud of smoke; and they hear a
confused noise as of mingled cries of pain and fury. Gehenna is
there; and Mahomet is urged to pass on.
Men sleeping peacefully in the shade of trees are now
designated as the bodies of those who died in the faith.
Children at play are the offspring of true believers. The
men with the white, godlike features, who are robed in fine
clothes and are exquisitely perfumed, are the true friends
of God, His martyrs and saints. On they go, and now Mahomet
descries three well-known figures drinking wine and singing
psalms. One is Zayd, the son of Haritha, a slave who for love
of Mahomet sacrificed his freedom. Had he not fallen in the
battle of Muta, when a general in the Prophet’s armies, he
would assuredly have been Mahomet’s successor. The second
is Jafar, son of Abu Talib and cousin to Mahomet, who was
killed in the same battle, after having preached the faith
of Islam in Abyssinia. The third is Abd Allah, the son of
Rawaha, the scribe and intimate friend of the Prophet, who
also died at Muta. The three greet Mahomet with cries of love
and allegiance. At the final stage Mahomet raises his eyes to
Heaven and beholds Abraham, Moses, and Jesus, who, gathered
around the Throne of God, await his coming.
3. This embryonic version, simple though it may be, has its points of
coincidence with Dante’s poem.[9] In each case it is the protagonist
himself who recounts his adventures. Each makes the journey by night, led
by an unknown guide who appears to him on awaking from a profound sleep.
In both legends the first stage comprises the ascent of a steep mountain.
Purgatory, hell, and paradise are by both visited in succession, although
the sequence and detail differ. The first five torments witnessed by
Mahomet represent the purgatory of Islam. The sixth, as also Gehenna,
which follows it, is the hell of unbelievers. The remaining episodes
deal with the paradise of children, and the heavens of the faithful, of
saints, martyrs, and prophets. Both stories end with the vision of the
Divine Throne. The sins or virtues of the dwellers of each abode are
explained by the guide, and from time to time the visitor attempts to
converse with the souls of men once known to him.
4. Apart from the general outlines, there are few features in
common. Even between the torments there is little similarity. With
the introductions to the two stories, however, it is different. The
description in the Islamic legend of the lofty mountain; Mahomet’s dismay
at having to climb it; his guide’s assurance of help; and, finally,
the ascent itself, when Mahomet follows in his guide’s footsteps; all
are features bearing a striking resemblance to Dante’s Inferno, and,
especially, his Purgatory.[10] Moreover, Dante is warned of the approach
to hell by the same sign as Mahomet—a confused noise as of “parole di
dolore, accenti d’ira.”[11]
_Version B of Cycle I_[12]
5. Mahomet is suddenly awakened by two persons; who, taking him
by the arm, call upon him to rise and follow them. On reaching
the outskirts of Jerusalem, the visions of the after-world
begin. The guides, in this version, refuse to answer any
questions, bidding Mahomet wait until the end of the journey
for an interpretation of what he sees. The first five visions
correspond, as in Version A, to the purgatory of Islam.
The Prophet sees a man supine at the feet of another—man, angel
or demon. The latter hurls an enormous boulder down upon his
victim’s head, crushing his brain. The rock rolls on and, when
the torturer recovers it, he finds his victim whole as before;
and so the torture is renewed without end. Mahomet stands
aghast and asks what crimes the wretch has committed. But his
guides hurry him on to where another tormentor is forcing an
iron javelin into the mouth of another sufferer, lacerating
his cheeks, eyes and nostrils. Farther on, Mahomet sees a man
struggling in a river red with blood and seething like boiling
pitch. Vainly does he strive to gain the shore, for at each
effort a fiend forces red hot stones down his throat, obliging
him to swim back into the middle of the stream. This torture,
like the previous one, is everlasting. Still farther, they come
to a tubular structure, broad at the base and narrow at the
top; and through the walls comes an uproar as of human voices.
The interior, Mahomet finds, is like a glowing oven, where men
and women ceaselessly writhe, now being flung upwards, now
sinking to the bottom, as the heat of the flames increases and
diminishes. The scene recurs again and again, and the horror is
accentuated by the shrieks of the victims. At length, Mahomet
reaches the summit of a dark hill, where men, raving like
madmen, exhale, through their mouths, nostrils, eyes and ears,
the fire that has been infused into them.
Here, the tortures end. A few steps further on is a garden,
green with eternal spring. At the entrance two men, one
repulsively ugly, are feeding the flames of a fire with wood.
Within, at the foot of a spreading tree and surrounded by
lovely children, they see a venerable old man, so tall that his
head touches the sky. Ascending by the tree, Mahomet comes to a
beautiful abode, like a city of silver and gold, inhabited by
men, women and children; some, white and handsome, others black
and ugly. A mighty river, whose water is clearer than crystal,
separates this from another, larger city. In this river, at
the bidding of Mahomet’s guides, the black and ugly bathe and
from it emerge purified and transformed into beings of beauty.
Mahomet drinks of the water and, again ascending by the tree,
reaches an even more beautiful place, inhabited by men both
young and old.
At this juncture Mahomet rebels against the silence of his
guides, and at last they consent to explain each vision to
him. The wretch whose head was being crushed is the hypocrite
who, though outwardly professing to honour the holy book,
fails to abide by its precepts. He whose mouth is being torn
asunder is the liar, backbiter and violator of the fast. The
swimmer in the river of blood is the usurer. Those writhing in
the furnace are adulterers. The men on the black hill being
consumed by fire are Sodomites. The man of repulsive aspect
is the steward of hell, who appoints to each his torture. The
venerable old man is Abraham, who gathers to his bosom children
who die before reaching the age of reason. The first abode is
the paradise of true believers; and Moslems, who have sinned
but die repentant, must wash away their sins in the river
before they can enter heaven. The second is the mansion of
the martyrs. All the visions explained, the guides, who make
themselves known as Gabriel and Michael, call upon Mahomet to
raise his eyes, and in amazement he beholds afar off a castle
like a white cloud. This, his guides tell him, is the celestial
mansion that awaits him, close to the throne of God. Mahomet
would fain enter it at once, but his guides dissuade him,
bidding him await his time.
6. This version shows an advance in its descriptive features, which are
more suggestive of Dante’s scenes. As in the Divine Comedy, the four
spheres of after-life—purgatory, Abraham’s bosom, hell, and paradise—are
staged separately, although on one plane until paradise is reached
by means of a tree that leads, not as in later versions, to several
celestial spheres, but to one only. Neither is Mahomet led, as formerly,
by one guide; although the two are angels and not, as in Dante, humans.
For the first time, too, mention is made of the steward who, like Dante’s
Minos, awards the tortures to the damned.[13] But these details are of
less importance than other characteristic features. As in Dante,[14]
Jerusalem is the starting-point in this version of the Moslem myth.
Again, Dante’s commentators are agreed upon the correlativity of the
punishments with the sins committed, which is also a feature in the
Moslem Versions A and B—the sinner suffers in the members or organs that
served the deed.[15]
7. But coincidence between Version B and Dante’s text is most marked
in the torture of adulterers and usurers. The naked men and women
writhing in a furnace inevitably suggest the adulterers in Dante who
are incessantly swept on by the gale of hell.[16] Even more striking
is Dante’s adaptation of the Moslem punishment of usurers to those who
committed violence and deeds of blood. Submerged in the deep waters of a
river of blood, they, like the usurers, strive to gain the shore, only to
be forced back by the Centaur archers (who take the place of the simpler
stone-throwers in the Moslem legend).[17] So strikingly alike are these
two features that other instances of resemblance lose by comparison; as
the torture of the Sodomites, burnt inwardly in the Moslem story, and
rained upon by fire, in Dante[18]; or the rivers that in both legends
separate purgatory from paradise and of whose sweet waters both Dante and
Mahomet drink.[19]
III
SECOND CYCLE—VERSIONS OF THE “MIRAJ” OR ASCENSION
1. The legends of the second cycle date as far back as those of the
first. They are, however, grouped apart, for, whereas the former are
concerned almost exclusively with the _Miraj_ or ascension, the latter
have as their main theme the Isra or nocturnal journey on earth.
2. There are three main versions of the legends forming this second
cycle. The first and most authentic comes to us on the authority of
Bukhari and Muslim and must, therefore, be considerably older than the
ninth century. Of the second version only one fragment is quoted. Here
the authorship is doubtful, although it is attributed to Ibn Abbas,
a kinsman of Mahomet, and may thus have been the work of an Egyptian
author of the ninth century, Ishac the son of Wahab. The third version is
generally regarded as apocryphal; it may have been the work of a Persian
of the eighth century, Maysara son of Abd ar-Rabihi, or of Omar son of
Sulayman, who lived in Damascus in that century. Summaries of the three
versions are as follows:—
_Version A of Cycle II_
3. In his house (or, according to other versions, in the
Mosque) at Mecca Mahomet is awakened by Gabriel, who,
either alone or helped by angels in human form, prepares
the Prophet for the ascension. His breast is opened and his
heart extracted and washed in water brought in a golden cup
from the well of Zemzem; his breast is then filled with faith
and wisdom. Thereupon Gabriel takes him by the hand, and the
ascent begins, either from the Mosque of Mecca itself or,
as in other versions, the Temple of Jerusalem. Descriptions
of the ascension differ, but, generally, Mahomet, holding
Gabriel’s hand, is made to rise through the air in flight. In
some versions (as in B of the first cycle) the two are raised
to heaven by the miraculous growth of a tree; in others, a
celestial animal, larger than an ass but smaller than a mule,
carries Mahomet, or Mahomet and his guide, from Mecca to
Jerusalem, the gates of paradise and, lastly, the Throne of
God. Of the ascension proper there are ten stages.
The first seven correspond to the seven heavens of the
astronomers, but are numbered and not named after their
respective stars. The scene at each is repeated with true
Oriental monotony. Gabriel knocks, and is asked by the guardian
who is without and, upon Gabriel’s answering, the guardian
asks whether he is alone. When the guardian is satisfied that
God has really sent Mahomet as His Prophet, he welcomes the
travellers and bids them enter. In each heaven one or more
prophets are presented to Mahomet, who is acclaimed Holy
Prophet and, at times, holy son or brother.
The order in which the prophets appear is generally: Adam,
Jesus and John, Joseph, Idris (or Enoch), Aaron, Moses, and
Abraham. Of these characteristic descriptions at times are
given. Adam is seen between two hosts of men, now smiling now
weeping, as he glances to the right and left alternately.
Mahomet learns from Gabriel that these hosts are the blessed
and the damned. The cousins Jesus and John appear together;
Jesus, of medium stature, with a fair complexion, and fresh as
if just coming from his bath. Joseph is of wonderful beauty.
Moses, with flowing curls, tall and of stately appearance,
bursts into tears when he is reminded that more Islamites will
find salvation than those of his faith. Lastly, Abraham, to
whom Mahomet bears a greater resemblance than any son, is seen
leaning against the temple wall of the celestial Jerusalem, a
replica of the earthly city. Every day seventy thousand angels
visit this temple, which in the _Koran_ is known as the _House
of Habitation_.[20]
The visit to this temple occupies the eighth stage of the
ascension, or the ninth in those versions that introduce the
vision of a gigantic tree of paradise, called in the _Koran_
the _Lotus-tree of the Boundary_[21]; for neither man nor angel
may pass beyond it when nearing God. Of fabulous size, its
leaves are as large as the ears of an elephant and its fruit,
like pitchers. From its root spring four rivers: two hidden
that water Paradise, and two visible, the Euphrates and the
Nile, that irrigate the earth. Here, or previously, Mahomet
is proffered glasses of wine, milk, and honey; he chooses the
milk and is applauded by Gabriel for so doing, inasmuch as
his religion is based on nature. The last stage has now been
reached, Mahomet beholds the Throne of God, and the Almighty
Himself reveals to him His mysteries.
Among these revelations is God’s commandment, to be transmitted
by Mahomet to his people, ordaining fifty prayers each day. On
his descent the Prophet communicates this commandment to Moses,
who urges him four times to return and beseech the Almighty to
reduce the number; and the prayers finally are reduced to five.
Again Moses calls upon him to return, but Mahomet is loth to do
so, and the descent is completed without further incident.
4. In this version there is no allusion to hell or purgatory, so that
it is only to the _Paradiso_, or third part of Dante’s poem, that any
resemblance exists. The general lines of action in both stories are,
however, strikingly similar. Mahomet, purified like Dante, rises through
the air holding Gabriel’s hand just as Dante is led by Beatrice. In both
stories there are as many stages as astronomical heavens. The difference
in number and designation merely denotes the superior scientific
knowledge of a cultured poet whose work appeared five centuries later
than the tales of those inerudite Moslem dreamers. Apart from this, it
is clear that the seven heavens traversed by Mahomet are identical with
those that Dante names after the seven stars of the Ptolemaic system;
the Moon, Mercury, Venus, the Sun, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn, to which
he adds the sphere of the Fixed Stars, the Crystalline heaven and the
Empyrean. The counterparts of these in the Mahometan story are the three
final stages: the Lotus-tree, the House of Habitation, and the Throne of
God. In each ascension there are thus ten stages. Not that there is any
need to labour the point of numbers, for the poet’s licence alone would
have admitted of his moulding the scheme of the Moslem creation to his
own ideas. What is obvious is, that in none of the so-called precursors
of the Divine Comedy could Dante find so typical a model as the Moslem
legend of Version A. Beatrice, human indeed, but rendered angelic through
the Beatific Vision, descends from heaven with divine permission to
conduct Dante to the Throne of God. Through space they fly; and likewise
Gabriel leads Mahomet. In both ascensions the travellers pass through
the astronomical heavens, tarrying awhile in each to converse with the
blessed and receive enlightenment on theological problems. The prophets
in the Moslem heavens are the saints in Dante’s poem. The literary
artifice in both works is identical, no matter how they differ in art and
spiritual detail.
5. Version B, given below, belongs to this cycle inasmuch as the
Ascension forms the main theme. It differs from Version A, however,
in that it contains the vision of hell; and for this reason it may be
regarded as a first attempt to link the _Isra_ with the _Miraj_. It
introduces into the _Miraj_ a description of hell, which, as a rule, is
peculiar to the _Isra_ or Nocturnal Journey. The parts already given
in Version A need not, therefore, be repeated; an analysis of the more
typical features of B will suffice.
_Version B of Cycle II_
6. Mahomet, accompanied by Gabriel, ascends to the third
heaven, where he sees a gigantic angel, hideous and terrible
to behold, and incandescent as if a being of fire. Seated on
a bench of flame, he is intent upon forging instruments of
torture out of solid fire. Terrified, yet curious, Mahomet
learns from Gabriel that this is the Keeper of Hell. So
fierce is the Keeper’s response to Mahomet’s greeting that
the Prophet, mindful of the smiling welcomes in the other
heavens, is overcome by terror. His fears allayed by Gabriel,
who explains that the angel has been created by the Almighty
to wreak vengeance on sinners, Mahomet ventures to ask the
Keeper to let him see the regions of hell. “Thou mayst not see
them,” refuses the Keeper angrily; whereupon a voice is heard
from on high, commanding: “Oh, Angel, beware lest thou deny him
aught.” Then the Keeper opens the door so that Mahomet may peep
through; and from the opening fire and smoke burst forth, as if
to warn the Prophet of the awful sights that await him. Hell,
he sees, is formed of seven floors, one underneath the other.
The uppermost, which is reserved for deadly sins, is subdivided
into fourteen mansions, one close above the other, and each a
place of punishment for a different sin.
The first mansion is an ocean of fire comprising seventy lesser
seas, and on the shore of each sea stands a city of fire. In
each city are seventy thousand dwellings; in each dwelling,
seventy thousand coffins of fire, the tombs of men and women,
who, stung by snakes and scorpions, shriek in anguish. These
wretches, the Keeper enlightens Mahomet, were tyrants.
In the second mansion beings with blubber lips writhe under
the red-hot forks of demons, while serpents enter their
mouths and eat their bodies from within. These are faithless
guardians, devoured now by serpents even as they once devoured
the inheritances committed to their trust. Lower down usurers
stagger about, weighed down by the reptiles in their bellies.
Further, shameless women hang by the hair that they had exposed
to the gaze of man. Still further down liars and slanderers
hang by their tongues from red-hot hooks lacerating their faces
with nails of copper. Those who neglected the rites of prayer
and ablution are now monsters with the heads of dogs and the
bodies of swine and are the food of serpents. In the next
mansion drunkards suffer the torture of raging thirst, which
demons affect to quench with cups of a liquid fire that burns
their entrails. Still lower, hired mourners and professional
women singers hang head downwards and howl with pain as devils
cut their tongues with burning shears. Adulterers are tortured
in a cone-shaped furnace, as described in Version B of Cycle I;
and their shrieks are drowned by the curses of their fellow
damned at the stench of their putrid flesh. In the next mansion
unfaithful wives hang by their breasts, their hands tied to
their necks. Undutiful children are tortured in a fire by
fiends with red-hot forks. Lower down, shackled in collars of
fire, are those who failed to keep their word. Murderers are
being knifed by demons in endless expiation of their crime.
Lastly, in the fourteenth and lowest mansion of the first
storey, are being crucified on burning pillars those who failed
to keep the rule of prayer; as the flames devour them, their
flesh is seen gradually to peel off their bones.
At the request of Mahomet, now horror-stricken and on the verge
of swooning, the Keeper closes the door, bidding the Prophet
warn his people of what he has seen. Other more terrible
tortures, he enjoins him, are inflicted in the six other
floors, the cruelty increasing with the depth. This closes the
scene, and Mahomet, as in Version A of Cycle II, continues his
ascent.
7. At first sight there would seem to be no likeness between this episode
and the Divine Comedy. The two essential parts, the visions of paradise
and hell, appear, not as in Dante in separate settings and at different
times, but illogically intermingled. It is in the third heaven that
Mahomet witnesses the tortures of hell—not, as in former versions, before
his ascent. But, if this circumstance is overlooked and the episode of
hell considered apart from the ascension, a singular likeness to the
Inferno will be apparent.
8. Above all, this version unquestionably provides the prototype of
Dante’s architecture of the realm of pain. How he mapped out his Inferno
everybody knows[22]: a huge, funnel-shaped chasm down into the centre of
the earth, with nine tiers of steps, stages, or strata, each a prison
and place of punishment for a separate class of sinners. The greater the
depth of the mansion, the greater the sin and the torture inflicted. Some
of the circles are subdivided into three or more tiers, which correspond
to as many grades of sin. The resemblance to the legend will be at once
apparent. The Moslem hell is similarly formed of floors or tiers that get
lower as the sin is greater. Each floor is the mansion of one class of
sinner; and each has its tiers, one above the other, that correspond to
the various subcategories of the sin. True, the number of main floors in
each story differs, but this is of little moment when compared with other
striking similarities in matters where a merely artistic imitation would
not have required so strict an adherence to the model. Any other plan
could have been adopted by Dante, but he preferred to follow the Moslem
model, with its great divisions and subdivisions. This scheme admirably
served his purpose for what Dante students term the moral architecture of
the Inferno; that is to say, the distribution and punishment of the souls
in accordance with their crimes. On one point only do the topographies
differ—no mention is made of the Islamic hell’s being situated below the
earth. But the legend merely states that Mahomet _saw_ hell from the
third heaven, not that hell _was_ there itself. For the present, however,
this point is of secondary interest and will be dealt with at greater
length in later chapters.
Suffice it to have established the fact that the architecture of the
Inferno had its counterpart in the religious tales of Islam as far back
as the ninth century. The other features of resemblance between this
version and Dante’s poem are of minor interest.
9. Mahomet’s meeting with the Keeper of Hell, however, obviously has
its parallel in the scene where Dante is refused passage by the boatman
Caronte and grim Minos.[23] The poet has merely reproduced the Moslem
scene in a more artistic form, adapted from the classical mythology. The
Moslem Keeper, wrathful and glowing like red hot coal; his curt refusal
to open the door; and the imperious command from on high—all seem like
rough sketches of Dante’s boatman, a “demon with eyes like red hot coals,
shooting forth flames,” whose voice is raised in anger as he exclaims:
“I will not pass thee to the other shore,” and who ultimately yields at
the command from heaven, rendered by Virgil: “Fret not, Caronte, so is it
willed up yonder, where every will is law; question no more.” A further
analogy is afforded by the scene where “dread Minos,” the Keeper of Hell
itself, at the entrance mercilessly appoints the tortures to the damned.
In a fury he drives the poet away until Virgil intervenes saying: “Hinder
him not; his journey is ordained by fate.” The words would seem to be an
echo of the heavenly warning in the Moslem legend: “Beware lest thou deny
him aught.”
This dual scene is introduced by Dante, under various disguises, into
other circles of the Inferno. At the entrance to the fourth circle Plutus
assumes the role of Caronte and Minos.[24] In the fifth circle Phlegyas,
and later the devils at the gates of Dis, repeat the scene with the
self-same parleys.[25] On this last occasion it is an angel from heaven
who transmits the order that allows the travellers to pass.[26] In the
seventh circle Minotaurus offers the resistance, which again is overcome
by Virgil.[27] In the fifth pit of the eighth circle demons for the last
time vainly strive to bar their way.[28]
10. Meantime, there are other actual features of resemblance. The violent
burst of flame that meets Dante at the entrance to the first circle of
the Inferno[29] compares with the fire that escapes through the door as
Mahomet is about to scan the first stage of hell in the Moslem legend.
Here again the first of the fourteen tiers is evidently the model of
Dante’s city of Dis. On reaching the shores of the Stygian Lake,[30]
Dante “clearly distinguishes its towers ... glowing with the heat of a
fiery furnace; and the eternal fire which consumes the city from within
spreads over all a reddish hue.”
Dis, therefore, is a city of fire, as is the city in the Moslem hell.
Again, once within its walls,[31] Virgil and Dante see the countless
tombs, each a bed of fire, wherein, in coffins of red hot iron, lie the
arch-heretics crying aloud in agony. This is undeniably a copy of the
vision where Mahomet sees an ocean of fire, on whose shores stand cities
aflame with thousands of red hot coffins in which tyrants in agony
expiate their crimes.
11. A minute examination of the tortures described in the fourteen minor
stages of the Moslem hell will also show that the Florentine poet with
no great imaginative effort might well have used these as plans for his
great images. Thus, the picture of the reptiles stinging the tyrants, the
faithless guardians and the usurers in the various tiers of the Moslem
hell recurs in the circles of the Inferno where gluttons and thieves are
so tortured.[32] The torture of maddening thirst, suffered by drunkards
in the seventh stage of the Moslem hell, is applied to forgers in the
tenth pit of Dante’s eighth circle[33]; and the latter with their swollen
bellies have their prototype in the Moslem usurers. In the same circle
Griffolino of Arezzo and Capocchio of Sienna scratch the scales off their
leprous sores,[34] like the slanderers of the fifth Moslem stage who
lacerate their faces with finger-nails of bronze. The undutiful children
whom Mahomet sees in the eleventh tier, suffer a similar torture to the
_barattieri_ in the fifth pit of circle eight, who are kept squirming
in a lake of burning pitch by demons armed with spears.[35] Lastly, the
Moslem torture of murderers (in the thirteenth tier), who are being
perpetually knifed and resuscitated, is clearly the model of Dante’s
punishment, in the ninth valley of the eighth circle, of the authors of
schism.[36] Here, indeed, in sarcastic vein, he places Mahomet, the very
protagonist of the legend upon which he probably based his work.
12. Closely related to this version and belonging to the same cycle
is Version C. Here again the main theme is the ascension, although
an abortive attempt is made to introduce the vision of hell into the
ascension. The last episodes of the _Miraj_, which in A and B are merely
alluded to, are mainly dealt with. Version C is chiefly characterised by
hyperbole and repetition. The fantastic depiction of the heavenly scenes
and persons is in striking contrast to the gross materialism shown in
the Koran. For his images the author relies almost exclusively upon
light, colour and music.
The following is an epitome of this version, the text of which _in
extenso_ makes tedious reading.
_Version C of Cycle II_
13. (_a_) In the first heaven Mahomet, with Gabriel, sees a
gigantic cock, with a body of bright green and plumage of
dazzling white, whose wings stretch across the horizon and
whose head touches the Throne of God. Ever and anon it beats
its wings and chants a song of praise to God, a song that is
taken up by all the cocks on earth.[37]
(_b_) He then beholds an angel, half of snow and half of fire,
who calls on all creatures of heaven and earth to unite in a
bond of fellow love, symbolised in his own body by the blending
of the two contrasting elements.
(_c_) Proceeding, he sees, seated and holding the universe on
his knees, another angel gazing fixedly on a beam of light upon
which writing can be seen. This, Gabriel tells him, is the
Angel of Death who wrests the soul from the body. The guide
describes the anguish of the soul at death and its exodus
from the body; the preliminary judgment by the angels Munkar
and Nakir and the fate of the soul up till the last day of
judgment. He then presents the Prophet to the Angel, who moves
Mahomet to tears by his description of the part played by him
at the hour of death.
(_d_) Continuing their journey, Mahomet and his guide come upon
the Keeper of Hell. This angel’s description is identical with
that in Version B; and the same episode is repeated almost
literally, with one exception: when the door of hell is opened,
Mahomet recoils from the flames and beseeches Gabriel to have
the angel close the door. Mahomet’s visit to hell thus comes to
nought in this version.
(_e_) Farther on, they meet hosts of angels, with countless
faces on their breasts and backs, who chant unending hymns of
praise to God.
(Here the legend goes on to describe the ascension up to the
sixth heaven but omits the scenes of the spheres depicted in
versions A and B. The author’s intention seemed to be the
completion of the other versions by adding the visions that
followed after the heavens of the astronomers.)
(_f_) Another multitude of angels is encountered in the sixth
heaven. The body of each angel is studded with wings and
faces, and all their members have tongues with which in fear
and humility they sing songs of praise to God. These, Gabriel
explains, are the cherubim, destined to remain eternally in
the same attitude of obeisance to God. They may not look
at or speak to one another; neither may they look upwards
or downwards to the heavens below. Mahomet’s greeting they
acknowledge by gestures, with eyes downcast. When Gabriel tells
them who Mahomet is, they bid him welcome and renew their song
of praise to the Almighty.
(_g_) Wrapt in admiration, the Prophet is led by Gabriel to
behold in the seventh heaven other still more marvellous
angels. But here Mahomet states that “he dare not relate what
he saw there nor describe those angels”; he merely states
that “at that moment God gave him a strength equal to that of
all the beings on earth, and a new power which seemed to be
of God Himself, that enabled him to turn his eyes upon those
angels, the dazzling light of whom would otherwise have blinded
him.” Gabriel explains to him the origin of those marvellous
creatures, but again Mahomet “may not relate” what his guide
has told him.
(_h_) Gabriel now leads him by the hand up to the heaven
of theology, the Divine Dwelling itself. A description of
this abode occupies the greater part of the version. Seventy
rows of gigantic angels appear before him, bearing, like the
others, innumerable wings and faces. “The dazzling brilliance
of the light with which they shone would have blinded all who
endeavoured to behold them.” Mahomet is stricken with terror,
but is comforted by Gabriel, who assures him that he has yet to
see still greater marvels; for God has vouchsafed to him alone
of mortals the privilege of ascending to mansions even more
sublime. In a flash they rise to a height that in the ordinary
course could only be attained in fifty thousand years. Here,
other seventy rows of angels, similar to the former, chant
sweet choruses of divine praise. The scene is repeated until a
total of seven throngs, each numbering seventy rows of angels,
is reached. So close to one another are they that they would
seem to form one mighty heavenly host. Mahomet is awed, and
at this point he interrupts his story to exclaim: “It seemed
to me then as if I had lost all memory of the other marvels
of creation. True, it is not meet that I should speak of what
I saw; but even might I do so, I were not able to convey it
by words. But, had it been that I was to die of terror before
my allotted span was o’er, I surely would have died when I
beheld these angels, the marvel of their forms and the rays of
light emitted by them, and hearkened to the murmur of their
voices. But God in His great mercy comforted me and renewed
my strength, so that I might listen to their hymns of praise;
He gave power unto my eyes, that I might behold their light.”
Mahomet sees that those seven throngs “surround the Throne of
God, Whose praises they sing.”
(_i_) The seven stages that follow are monotonous in the
recurrence of exactly the same scenes and the simile of
the sea in each. Mahomet and his guide are wafted into “a
boundless sea of light irradiating with such intensity that
his vision becomes blurred and all creation appears flooded
with the refulgence and consumed in flame.” Purblinded and
terror-stricken, Mahomet proceeds, now to cross a sea of utter
darkness. The violent contrast adds to his fears, and he
fancies that the whole universe is wrapt in darkness. His guide
appears to have forsaken him; but Gabriel, taking him by the
hand, explains that these scenes are but the portents of their
approach to God. In the next stage a sea of fire, whose waves
of flame emit sparks and crackle loudly, again strikes terror
into the Prophet’s heart. “I verily thought”—he then exclaims
“that the entire universe had caught fire; in terror I raised
my hand to my eyes to blot out the sight and turned to Gabriel.”
(_j_) Again reassured by his guide, he now traverses “a range
of immense mountains of snow, whose lofty peaks tower one
above the other as far as the eye can reach and whose intense
whiteness sheds a light as bright as the rays of the sun”;
and again the Prophet stands lost in amazement. When he sees
beyond the snowy heights another sea of fire burning still more
fiercely than the first and that the flames of the two seas
cannot be quenched by the snowy barrier, his terror grows, and
Gabriel redoubles his effort to calm him. The next stage brings
them to an immense ocean of water, whose mighty waves rise
like lofty mountains to break ceaselessly one upon the other.
Amidst the waters Mahomet sees angels with myriad wings who
shed a light of such intensity as to baffle description. “Had
it not been,” Mahomet confesses, “that God gave me strength
..., their light had surely blinded my eyes and my body had
been scorched by the fire of their faces.” Dumbfounded, the
Prophet sees that the enormous waves do not even touch the
knees of these angels, whose heads, Gabriel explains, reach up
to the Throne of the Most High, to Whom their voices are ever
raised in harmonious adoration.
(_k_) The last stage is again a sea of light, the refulgence of
which Mahomet paints in terms of extreme hyperbole, at the same
time regretting that “he could not describe it, were he to make
the utmost effort.” “The rays,” he says, “so nearly blinded me
that I saw nothing.” A fervid prayer, offered up by his angel
guide, saves him from blindness. “God,” he insists, “gave
strength and clearness to my vision, so that I might behold
these rays ... and scan the whole expanse with my eyes. But ...
it seemed to me as if the heavens and earth and all the things
therein glittered and burned, and again my vision was dimmed.
The red light changed to yellow, then white, and then green,
and at length the colours were blended in one luminous mass, so
lustrous that once more my vision failed me.” Another prayer
from Gabriel and Mahomet’s sight is restored and strengthened.
Then does he see, “encompassed by that sea of light and drawn
up in one serried row, other angels circling round the Throne
of God.” The loveliness of these visions defies description,
and here Mahomet falls back on his wonted subterfuge that, even
were it lawful, he could not tell a hundredth part of what he
saw. He merely observes that those angels, with eyes downcast,
sang sweet hymns of praise; and “as they sang, a flame of light
which enveloped the Divine Throne shone as fire from out their
mouths.” Aghast, Mahomet learns from Gabriel that these, with
all other angels in the realms above the sixth heaven, are
Cherubim.
(_l_) The main and final stage of the ascension now begins.
In the words of the Prophet: “Higher and higher through the
celestial ether we rose, faster than the arrow speeding from
the bow, yea, swifter than the wind. And at last we reached
the Throne of the Glorious, Supreme and Almighty One; and,
as I gazed upon it, all the works of creation sank into
insignificance. The seven heavens, the seven earths, the seven
hells ... the whole of creation, compared to that throne, was
like a tiny ring of the mesh of a coat of mail lying in the
midst of a boundless desert.”
(_m_) As, lost in wonder, Mahomet stands before the Throne,
a green wreath descends, and the Prophet is carried by it
into the presence of God Himself. Astounded at the marvellous
vision before him, he again and for the last time confesses his
inability to describe it. “I saw a thing so great that neither
tongue could tell of nor mind conceive it. So dazzled were my
eyes that I feared I should lose my sight. However, endowed by
God with a spiritual vision, I began to contemplate all that I
had in vain tried to see before; and I saw a light so bright
... but it is not meet that I should describe the majesty of
His Light. I then beseeched the Lord my God to bestow upon me
steadiness of vision, and by His grace this came to me. Then
only were the veils drawn aside, and I beheld Him seated upon
His Throne in all His majesty and glory, irradiating a sublime
brilliance ... but more it is not meet that I should tell of
Him.” God now deigns to draw the Prophet nigh to Him; and, when
Mahomet feels the Divine hands upon his shoulders and looks
upon the radiance of His face, he is thrilled to the core.
Intense delight pervades his soul, and, as if by enchantment,
his fears are dispelled. “Methought,” he says, “when I looked
upon my Master that all creatures in heaven and earth had
vanished, for lo I saw nothing else, neither did I hear the
voices of the angels. When at length it pleased Him to break
the Divine spell, it seemed to me as if I had awakened from a
deep sleep, and I had to ponder before I came to understand
where I was and to what height God in His great mercy had
chosen to exalt me.” In an intimate discourse God now reveals
to the Prophet that he has been chosen as His messenger to
all the peoples of creation and that his nation shall be the
greatest of all nations upon earth. Enraptured, Mahomet listens
to the Deity’s words, when suddenly a curtain of flaming light
is drawn before his eyes and the Almighty is hidden from his
view.
(_n_) The wreath that had borne him to the Throne now carries
Mahomet to where Gabriel is waiting, and disappears on high.
It is at this juncture that Mahomet becomes aware of the
marvellous change the Beatific Vision has wrought in his being.
“Lo, my God and Master had so strengthened my spiritual power
of sight that with my heart I now saw what lay behind me as
with my eyes I could see what was in front.” He is astounded,
but Gabriel explains the phenomenon and calls upon him to
exercise his powers of vision, in order that, from their
sublime height, he may embrace in one sweeping glance the
splendour of the whole universe. With ease he can now behold
all the marvellous and glittering lights that had well-nigh
blinded him before: the Divine Throne, the curtain around it,
the oceans and the mountains of the theological heaven, the
cherubim, and, finally, the astronomical heavens shining in all
their radiance underneath. He can even see the surface of the
earth.
(_o_) Lost in contemplation, Mahomet hearkens to the harmony of
the angels. “Lo,” he says, “I heard the voices of the cherubim
as, around the Throne of God, they chanted hymns of praise to
the Almighty. Each note could I distinguish: the clear trebles;
whisperings as of leaves stirring in the wind; soft, plaintive
notes like the cooing of the dove; gentle murmurs like the
humming of bees; and ever and anon loud bursts as of thunder.”
The solemnity of the angelic music is reflected in the
Prophet’s mind. Perturbed, he is again heartened by Gabriel,
who impresses on him that he is the chosen of the Lord, Who to
him alone has shown the mercy of allowing him to rise to His
Almighty Throne; soon will he see the heavenly mansion that
awaits him. Gabriel now strives to interpret to the Prophet the
marvels he has witnessed: the seas of light, darkness, fire,
water, pearls and snow are the veils shrouding the glory of
the Throne of God; and the angels in the spheres down to the
sixth heaven are the guardians of the Throne. The duty of the
angels in the lower heavens is to sing praises to God. The
spirit (Gabriel himself) ranks above all these; and next to him
comes Israfil. The angels in the highest sphere who encircle
the Throne are cherubim; and so strong is the light they emit
that no angel in the lower spheres dare raise his eyes towards
them lest he be blinded; and so it is with the angels in the
circles lower still; they dare not look at those above them
lest blindness overcome them.
(_p_) Gabriel’s explanations finished, the descent begins,
and “swifter than the arrow and the wind” is their flight.
The description of the gardens of paradise in this legend is
merely a detailed reproduction of the paradise of the Koran.
The Lotus-tree of the Boundary reappears here as a tree of
fabulous magnitude, whose branches, laden with leaves, whereon
dwell the celestial spirits, extend throughout paradise. The
portrayal of the Kauthar, the river of paradise, is also based
on the Koranic description.[38] Another tree, the Tree of
Happiness,[39] also from the Koran, gives the inspiration for
the picture of the mansions of the blessed—a picture in which
the spiritual tone, predominant in other visions, is absent.
The last stage of the journey is through the astronomical
heavens, and on their way Mahomet tells the prophets he meets
of the marvels he has seen. At the same place on earth where he
had called upon him to undertake the ascension, Gabriel leaves
Mahomet. The legend ends with Mahomet’s astounding assertion
that he accomplished the whole journey in a single night.
14. The monotonous style, the excessive hyperbole and the constant
repetition, coupled with the entire absence of spiritual effect in the
last episode, make it difficult to associate this version with the
artistic poem of Dante. The most idealistic part of the Divine Comedy is
undoubtedly the Paradiso; and it would, therefore, be as well, before
attempting to compare the two works, to remind the reader that the final
episode of Version C must be regarded as an addition cleverly introduced
by the author to invest the legend with a semblance of authenticity and
orthodoxy. For at bottom the tale reflects little of the mind of Mahomet,
a polygamist and warrior who led men to battle. It would rather seem to
betray a Moslem with leanings towards neo-Platonism, or a follower of
the _Ishraqi_ and pseudo-Empedoclean school, so addicted to the usage
of similes of light and geometrical circles in the illustration of
metaphysical ideas.[40] It should also be borne in mind that, in the
tenth century, the authorship of this legend was attributed, not to an
Arab, but a Persian, by name Maysara, the son of Abd ar-Rabihi. It is
possible that, living in the eighth century, this Persian had retained
some traces of the Zoroastrian creeds of his native country, which had
just been forcibly converted to Islamism.
The reader, then, before attempting to compare the two works, should
cast one more glance at the Paradiso. Let him divest the poem of its
discourses and dialogues, the theological doctrine it breathes, its
philosophical and astronomical lore and the allusions to Italian
history with which it is replete, and he will be able, with both works
thus reduced to their simplest outline, to proceed with a methodical
comparison.
15. The most striking analogy between the two works is the idealistic
tone of the general description of paradise. Dante students have
emphasised the gulf that divides his paradise in this respect from any
previous conceptions.[41] Departing from the beaten track of a material
heaven, the poet made use of the intangible, the most delicate phenomena
of nature. In his celestial spheres life is a feast of light and sound,
and his paradise, the realm of mind emancipated from the body.
And light and song also figure largely in the descriptions of paradise of
this Version C. Apart from the sea of darkness, introduced as a contrast
to the seas of light and fire, the scenes and personal descriptions in
the principal stages of Mahomet’s Ascension are drawn in a perspective
of light, just as are those of Dante. The twenty odd scenes of the main
action, and more especially Mahomet’s progress through the seventh
astronomical sphere, are set in the most vivid colours. The angels,
too, although at times shown in human form and at others, as monstrous
shapes, irradiate a splendour that dazzles the eyes of the spectator. A
comparison of these with numerous similar descriptions in the Paradiso
makes it clear that in both stories the element of light reigns
supreme.[42] Beatrice grows in brilliance at each stage of the Ascension.
The spirits of the blessed in each sphere and in the Empyrean appear to
Dante as resplendent lights, at times assuming the shape of a crown
or wreath, at others, appearing in the allegorical form of the iris,
the cross, the eagle and so forth. God Himself is a light of ineffable
brilliance, and the choirs of angels around him are brilliant orbs of
light. A luminous effect likewise marks each stage of Dante’s journey.
But a more detailed comparison of the employment of light in the two
legends will be made later on.
And as with light so it is with sound. Excepting the Angel of Death and
the Keeper of Hell, all the angels Mahomet meets sing songs of praise to
the Lord. The words of these anthems, taken from the Koran, are at times
transcribed literally by Mahomet. On completing the ascension, he again
hears the angels in a symphony that he seeks to describe by similes taken
from the sounds of nature. In Dante’s poem also the celestial spirits
sing hymns of praise from the Holy Scriptures, and the poet attempts to
convey the majesty of the harmony by comparing it with sounds of nature
and music.[43]
16. But these are general features of resemblance. Many of the actual
passages are either similar or identical, which still further proves the
close relationship between the two legends.
On various occasions Mahomet dwells upon the speed of his flight, and
twice he likens it to the wind and the shaft sped from the bow. The
latter simile is used by Dante in telling of his ascent to the heaven of
the Moon and of Mars[44]; the former, when he describes the flight of the
souls that come to meet him in the sphere of Venus. Again, he compares
the ascension of the souls in the heaven of Saturn to the rush of a
whirlwind.[45]
Inability to describe what he sees is an expedient to which Mahomet often
has resort. Dante affects this hyperbole in his prologue and in five
other Cantos: in the sphere of the Sun; in the heaven of Gemini; in the
Empyrean; when he beholds the Virgin Mary; and in his last episode when
he deals with the mystery of the Holy Trinity.[46]
It will further be noted that Mahomet’s pretext, “that it is not lawful
that he should tell of what he saw,” is found to recur frequently in the
Paradiso.[47]
The feature, however, that shows most conclusively the affinity between
the two stories is the one that is repeated _ad nauseam_ in the Mahometan
Ascension. At each stage of heaven Mahomet is dazzled by the lights, and
each time he is fearful of being blinded. Repeatedly he raises his hands
to his eyes to shield them from the intense radiance, and in the end he
becomes dazed. Gabriel then intercedes with God and Mahomet is granted
a new, preternatural vision, that enables him to look freely upon the
lights that before had dimmed his sight.
This scene is reproduced, often with the same words, in more than ten
episodes of Dante’s Paradiso. In the sphere of the Moon it is the
splendour of Beatrice[48]; in Mars, the image of Our Lord surrounded
by the Martyrs[49]; in the sphere of the Fixed Stars, the light of the
Apostle James, when the poet exclaims[50]: “As who doth gaze and strain
to see the sun eclipsed a space, who by looking grows bereft of sight,
so did I to this last flame.”[51] In the eighth sphere the refulgence of
Christ in the image of a sun blurs the poet’s vision[52]; at the instance
of Beatrice, however, he again tries his eyesight and finally discerns
amid the shadows a brilliant star, the symbol of the Archangel Gabriel;
the movements of this star his eyes have not the strength to follow.[53]
In the ninth sphere the brilliance of the Divine Essence is such that he
has to close his eyes.[54] In the tenth sphere the Triumph of the Blessed
calls forth from the poet[55]: “As a sudden flash of lightning which so
shattereth the visual spirits as to rob the eye of power to realize e’en
strongest objects; so there shone around me a living light, leaving me
swathed in such a web of its glow that naught appeared to me.” But his
fears are assuaged by Beatrice, and he adds[56]: “So soon as these brief
words came into me I felt me to surmount my proper power; and kindled
me with such new-given sight that there is no such brightness unalloyed
that mine eyes might not hold their own with it.” In the Ninth Canto,
when he beholds the apotheosis of the Divine Essence, he introduces a
still more far-fetched hyperbole. St. Bernard, guiding Dante in the place
of Beatrice, pleads with the Virgin to grant Dante the favour of being
raised to the Divine Light. His eyes, strengthened, slowly take in the
immense, trinal light, but he says[57]: “I hold that by the keenness of
the living ray which I endured I had been lost had mine eyes turned aside
from it. And so I was the bolder, as I mind me, so long to sustain it as
to unite my glance with the Worth infinite. Oh grace abounding, wherein I
presumed to fix my look on the eternal light so long that I consumed my
sight thereon.”
17. The principal part played by Gabriel in the ascension is to guide
Mahomet and act as his adviser and comforter; and this very role is
assigned by Dante to Beatrice. Gabriel, however, at times plays a further
part, as, for instance, when he prays to God to help Mahomet and calls
upon the Prophet to thank the Lord for allowing him to visit heaven. A
parallel scene appears in the Tenth Canto of the Paradiso. In the sphere
of the sun, Beatrice exclaims[58]: “Give thanks, give thanks to the sun
of the angels, who of his grace hath to this sun of sense exalted thee.”
And in the ensuing verses Dante pours forth heartfelt thanksgivings
and effusions of divine love. The prayers offered up for Dante are too
well known to call for special mention.[59] The most striking analogy,
however, is seen in the following. In the Paradiso Beatrice leads Dante
only as far as the Empyrean, where St. Bernard takes her place[60].
In the Moslem legend, Gabriel leaves Mahomet to accomplish the last
stage alone; and he is conveyed to the Divine Throne by a luminous and
spiritual wreath. And herein lies another noteworthy similarity. The
wreath which descends from on high and bears Mahomet up to the Divinity
has its parallel in the “facella, formata in cerchio a guisa di corona”
that Dante sees in the eighth heaven descending from the Empyrean,
whither it returns escorting the Virgin Mary.[61]
The solutions furnished by Beatrice, or as on occasion the blessed, to
Dante’s problems of theology and philosophy, have each an equivalent in
the Mahometan ascension. Here, although occasionally it is an angel,
such as the Angel of Death and the angel guarding hell, that gives the
interpretation, it devolves chiefly upon Gabriel to explain the riddles
of the Moslem hereafter. Especially remarkable is the likeness between
the final episode of the Moslem ascension, when Gabriel in the highest
heaven explains to Mahomet who the angels inhabiting the celestial
spheres are, and Beatrice’s long dissertation in the ninth heaven on the
nature and being of the various angelic hosts. Further, Beatrice and
Gabriel are agreed upon assigning to the cherubim a place in the circles
nearest to God and the other circles to angels of lesser rank.[62] True,
the Christian angelology, although derived from the same Hebrew theology
and Alexandrine metaphysics, differs from the Islamic on several points;
but, considered from a literary point of view, this does not affect the
analogy in episode.
18. Let the reader now turn to some of Dante’s angelic visions and,
first, to that of the gigantic eagle formed of thousands of angels that
the poet sees in the Heaven of Jupiter.[63] All Dante students have
admired its beauty and originality; and yet it is surely admissible to
proffer the suggestion that the picture was inspired by Mahomet’s vision
of the gigantic cock, at the outset of his ascension. If the unpoetical
nature of this domestic fowl, when comparing it with the eagle, the
king of the air and, in classical mythology, the attribute of Jove,
be disregarded, it will be seen that there is a strong resemblance
between the two conceptions. To begin with, Dante’s eagle is a being
of innumerable spirits with wings and faces. These, the spirits of the
blessed, emit an irridescent light and chant in harmony hymns calling
upon mankind to lead a righteous life. As it chants, the eagle flaps its
wings and then comes to rest.[64]
The cock of the Moslem legend is also a gigantic bird that beats its
wings as it chants religious songs, calling mankind to prayer, and then
sits at rest. Version C certainly makes no allusion to the spiritual
nature of the bird, but other versions and various authentic _hadiths_
expressly state that it is an angel. In addition, in the Moslem legend,
visions of gigantic angels, each comprising a monstrous agglomeration
of wings and faces, repeatedly recur; and these angels too, resplendent
with light, chant with their innumerable tongues hymns of praise. So
consummate an artist as Dante might very well have combined these two
images to produce the hybrid and yet most beautiful picture of the eagle.
The angels with wings of gold that fly over the mystic rose, by which
the abode of bliss in the Paradiso is symbolised,[65] also appear to be
copied from Mahomet’s vision in the first heaven, where an angel of snow
and fire appears. For these angels also: “had their faces all of living
flame ... and the rest so white that never snow reacheth such limit.”
19. But the similarities extend even to the general outlines of entire
passages. In the sphere of the Fixed Stars, Beatrice calls upon Dante to
cast his eyes downwards and endeavour to see how many worlds lie beneath
his feet, in order to prove whether his vision has been strengthened.
Dante exclaims: “With my sight I turned back through all and every
of the seven spheres, and saw this globe such that I smiled at its
sorry semblance.” “And all the seven were displayed to me, how great
they are and swift, and how distant each from other in repair.” “The
thrashing-floor which maketh us wax so fierce, as I rolled with the
eternal twins, was all revealed to me from ridge to river-mouth.”[66]
It is surely obvious that the general scheme of this passage is at once a
faithful copy and skilful combination of two episodes of Version C: when
Mahomet beholds the Divine Throne, whose magnificence makes all former
visions pale into insignificance, and compares its infinite grandeur with
the now dwarfed appearance of the universe; and when, his spirit having
experienced the ecstasy of the Beatific Vision, he is asked by Gabriel to
cast his eyes downwards and test his supernatural power of sight. With
one wondering glance—the legend runs—he embraces the whole universe, his
eyes penetrating the celestial and astronomical spheres beneath his feet
right down to the surface of the earth.
20. A final and irrefutable argument, however, may be based on the
last episode crowning the Paradiso, when Dante beholds the Beatific
Vision of the Divine Essence in all its splendour. An examination of
this vision will prove of interest. The Divine Essence is the luminous
centre of nine concentric circles of angelic spirits who, revolving
unceasingly around it, sing Hosannahs to the Lord. Each circle comprises
countless angels.[67] The two first circles are those of the seraphim
and cherubim. Dante is unable to fix his gaze on the light but soon his
sight is strengthened and he can behold it steadily. He admits that he is
powerless to describe the vision, for the ecstasy of the moment effaced
all memory of it but, even were he able to recall the vision, ’twere
not possible for mortal to describe it. Dante’s attempts to picture
the Trinity and the Incarnation need not be taken into consideration.
His description of the vision is reduced to a vague recollection of
the subjective phenomena: steady and progressive mental contemplation,
a trance in which he is wrapt in admiration, and a feeling of intense
delight and spiritual sweetness that pervades his soul.[68]
Dante students have long and in vain sought the origin of this sublime
apotheosis, for none of the religious legends, so critically studied by
the great scholars, Labitte, D’Ancona, Ozanam and Graf, furnishes the
least resemblance in geometrical conception to these concentric circles
of angels who ever revolve around the Divine Light. Nevertheless, the
striking likeness between Dante’s poem and the Moslem legend conclusively
proves the strength of our argument. In the latter, too, rows of angels,
each row representing a different rank, with the Cherubim nearest,
surround the Divine Throne. These angels also chant anthems in honour of
the Lord and radiate streams of light; and the number of rows again is
nine. Thus do they also in nine concentric circles revolve unceasingly
around the Throne of God—a God who in both stories is depicted as a focus
of ineffable light. Again, both protagonists describe the Beatific Vision
twice—Mahomet, when, before undertaking the last stage of his Ascension
and still accompanied by Gabriel, he first discerns the Divine Throne,
and again when Gabriel has left him; and Dante, when, with Beatrice, he
beholds the Divine Apotheosis from the ninth heaven and a second time
in the final Canto. The psychological effects on both are also similar.
Mahomet, too, is dazzled and fears lest he be blinded; then God bestows
upon him steadiness of vision, so that he can fix his eyes upon the
Divine Light; he also is incapable of describing the Throne and can only
recall that he experienced a rapture of the soul, preceded by a sensation
of intense delight.
The stories have many other minor points in common, but the chief
features of resemblance as given above will perhaps suffice to establish
proof of the affinity between the two.
IV
THIRD CYCLE—FUSION OF THE VERSIONS OF THE “ISRA” AND THE “MIRAJ”
1. The legends of this cycle really form a synthesis of those of
the first two cycles, and their episodes are for the greater part
repetitions of previous ones. Nevertheless, although from our point of
view they are of minor importance, they represent a distinct stage in the
evolution of the legend. In the former cycles the _Isra_, or Nocturnal
Journey, and the _Miraj_, or Ascension, were related separately; but here
the two are fused into one continuous story. One version will suffice
to illustrate the earliest type of non-Christian mediæval legend that
related, as in Dante’s poem, in one uninterrupted story the visit to
hell and purgatory and the ascension to paradise. This version may be
called the earliest, for it has been handed down to us in the voluminous
_Tafsir_, or commentary on the Koran, by the celebrated historian Tabari,
who lived in the 9th century. Briefly summarised, the legend runs as
follows:—
_Sole Version of Cycle III_
2. The introduction is identical with that in Version A of
Cycle 2. Mahomet, either in his house or the Mosque at Mecca,
is suddenly awakened by Gabriel, alone or accompanied by other
angels. He is purified and led on a Nocturnal Journey to
Jerusalem and thence to heaven. The episodes are as follows: At
the outset Mahomet meets an old woman who, decked in finery,
from the roadside endeavours to entice him to tarry with her;
but Mahomet turns a deaf ear and passes on unheeding. Gabriel
explains that this woman is an allegory of the world. Her
tinsel represents the allurements of the world, which like her
is effete, for so short is life on earth that it resembles the
brief years of old age. Immediately after this vision—or before
it in some versions—Mahomet is called upon to halt by two
voices, one from either side of his path. These are the voices
of the Jewish and Christian faiths, that would fain convert
him to their creeds. Proceeding, he encounters the Devil, who
in turn tries to lure him from his path; but, at Gabriel’s
warning, he hastens on. At last, freed from all temptations, he
arrives at a stage where he is welcomed by Abraham, Moses and
Jesus.
The visions that follow either represent allegories or depict
the tortures of hell, some of the latter resembling and others
differing from the punishments of the previous versions.
Firstly, Mahomet beholds men cutting corn sown but the day
before, and, in amazement, he sees the stubble grow as fast
as the corn is cut. These, Gabriel informs him, are symbolic
of the Moslems who devote their all to the spreading of the
faith and whom God rewards seven-hundredfold. Then follows
the torture of the crushed head, as in Version B of Cycle 1,
and thereafter, the punishment of those who failed to make
the offerings required by rite. Clothed in rags, these graze
like beasts, chewing fetid herbs. Further on, the adulterers
sit at a table bearing both wholesome meat and raw and putrid
flesh. The latter they devour in due punishment for their
lewdness, which led them to reject their wives and seek the
embraces of loose women. At this juncture the travellers’
path is barred by the trunk of a tree, and in surmounting it
their clothes get torn. This obstacle is a symbol of the bad
Moslems who lead their brothers off the path of virtue. An aged
wood-cutter, who toils to heap still higher the pile of wood he
has collected, although his strength forbids his carrying his
loads away, next comes into view, symbolising the rich miser
who hoards the wealth he cannot use. Proceeding, they witness
the torture of the hypocritical preachers, who, like the liars
in Versions A and B of Cycle 1, have their tongues and lips
torn. A huge bull, which, rushing out of a narrow shelter, is
now vainly trying to re-enter it, is figurative of the torment
undergone by the conscience of those who speak hasty words they
afterwards regret. The travellers now pass through a valley,
where Mahomet, breathing in the soft perfumed air, listens in
rapture to a song whose words he cannot catch. The valley,
Gabriel explains, represents heaven, and the voice he hears
sings to the Lord, beseeching Him to fulfil His promise to the
faithful. God hearkens to the prayer and renews His covenant to
save all Moslems. A parallel scene in antithetic setting is now
introduced. Mahomet traverses another valley, which, reeking
abominably, represents hell. Another voice is heard invoking
the Lord to punish all sinners, and from on high God answers
that He will wreak His vengeance.
Leaving the valley of hell behind, the travellers reach the
Mosque of Jerusalem, the goal of their Nocturnal Journey. The
scenes laid here are of little interest. Mahomet, surrounded
by angels, prays, and in turn he is greeted by the spirits of
Abraham, Moses, David, Solomon and Jesus. Offered glasses of
milk, water and wine, he drinks of the milk and water, and, as
in Version A of Cycle 2, Gabriel applauds his choice. The story
of the ascension is told in terms that are almost identical
with those of that version. When he reaches the seventh heaven,
however, the passage of Version B of the first cycle, depicting
Abraham, is inserted with slight variations. Abraham is seen as
a venerable old man, seated at the entrance to paradise between
two hosts of men, the one with white, the other with spotted
faces. The latter bathe in three rivers, emerging from the
third with faces as white as those of the other host which they
now join. The one host, Gabriel explains, are the believers
of unspotted soul and the other, penitent sinners. The three
rivers are symbolic of the mercy, loving-kindness and glory of
God. The final stage, as in Version A of Cycle 2, is the visit
to the Lotus-tree of the Boundary. The legend ends with the
familiar intimate colloquy between God and the Prophet.
3. As already suggested, this version is interesting, not from a
comparative point of view, but because it constitutes a fusion of the
versions of Cycles 1 and 2. As the date of the version is not later
than that of the fragmentary tales, it would seem as if the Moslem
traditionists had decided upon such fusion at an early period. This
decision, no doubt, was based on considerations of art rather than
theology, the object being more to satisfy, with one complete story,
the curiosity of the faithful than to justify the existence of so many
fragmentary and often contradictory versions of one and the same event.
That this latter object, implying the necessity of accepting as authentic
all those different versions, influenced the theologians of a later
epoch, will be seen further on. In this version there is no trace of it.
Tabari, by whom the version has been handed down to us, although himself
an eminent theologian, merely records it as the work of story-tellers
and omits all mention of the authenticity or otherwise of the different
fragments and versions.
4. Of the two main parts of the legend, the second (the ascension)
contains little that is new either in descriptive feature or episode. The
first part, on the other hand, could easily be regarded as a reading of
the _Isra_ of a different cycle from those hitherto considered. Its many
new episodes are precisely the visions that do not deal with realities,
but are symbols of abstract ideas, of vices and virtues. A new element,
moral allegory—so marked a feature of Dante’s poem—is thus introduced.
Vossler[69] has pointed out how successfully Dante combines the two
imperfect forms of mediæval visionary style—the religious or apocalyptic,
and the profane or allegorical; and he lauds Dante’s originality, for,
as he truly remarks, his allegories are not derived from Capella,
Prudentius, or Alan of Lille.[70] The free use of allegory in this
version of the Nocturnal Journey is, therefore, of interest. No doubt
few of the visions can be regarded as models of the scenes in the Divine
Comedy; but their mere occurrence in such number in a Moslem legend that
in other respects has been shown to have had so great an influence on
Dante, is significant. It may reasonably be supposed that the origin of
other allegories of the great poem which, in Vossler’s opinion, cannot
have been derived from its Christian or classical precursors, can be
traced back to Moslem literature.
5. A systematic investigation in this direction will be made later on.
Let it here suffice to cite one typical instance of the adaptation to the
Divine Comedy of Moslem symbols. The resemblance between the vision of
the old woman appearing at the outset of Mahomet’s journey as a symbol of
the temptation of the world, and the vision seen by Dante when he reaches
the fifth circle of purgatory, is obvious. The old woman, whom Mahomet
sees, concealing under splendid adornments the ravages that time has made
upon her charms, endeavours to draw him from the path by flattery and
alluring gestures. Not until later does Gabriel interpret the vision.
The old seductress is a symbol of the world, decked in finery to entice
the Prophet. Had she succeeded, the Moslem people had likewise preferred
worldly well-being to eternal bliss.
Dante, having traversed the fourth circle of purgatory,[71] dreams of a
woman who stammers and squints, is lame, one-armed, and jaundiced. Yet
so skilfully does she hide her defects that it is with difficulty that
Dante resists her fascination. Virgil exposes the hideousness beneath
her clothes, but not until later does he interpret the vision. The woman
is the eternal sorceress, as old as mankind, who ruins men with her
allurements, although it is given to all to free themselves, even as
Dante had done.
The general outlines of the two episodes are clearly identical; although
in the detail Dante introduces classical allusions,[72] which are
lacking in the Moslem picture. And indeed all commentators of the Divine
Comedy agree that this vision is symbolic of the false felicity of the
world,[73] just as Gabriel interpreted it to Mahomet as being an allegory
of the fleeting pleasures of earth.[74] The coincidence is significant.
6. Lastly, the resemblance of one of the descriptive features of the
garden of Abraham in this version to Dante’s purgatory is remarkable.
Before entering the celestial mansions, Dante has to be purified thrice
in three different streams: firstly, when he leaves hell and Virgil, on
the advice of Cato, washes away the spots that disfigure his face after
his visit to the infernal regions, restoring the natural colour to his
tear-stained cheeks[75]; and a second and a third time before he leaves
purgatory, when Matilda and Statius in turn immerse Dante in the Lethe
and Eunoe, the waters of which efface from the mind the memory of sin and
renew the supernatural power of the soul for good, thus preparing it for
the bliss of heaven.[76]
The idea of this threefold purification would seem to be taken direct
from the scene where the souls of penitent sinners are washed in the
three rivers of the garden of Abraham. The effects, here also, are both
physical and moral: the natural colour is restored to their faces, and
their souls, cleansed from sin by repentance, are by the grace of God
made fit to enter into the glory of heaven.
V
THEOLOGICAL COMMENTARIES ON THE LEGEND
1. To trace step by step the evolution of this legend would be a task
beyond the scope of this work, even if it were possible with our
restricted knowledge of the bibliography of this branch of Moslem
literature. In any case, the resultant gain, so far as our argument is
concerned, would be but slight. Religious literature is essentially
conservative, and the literature of Islam, pre-eminently so. In
the comparatively brief period of two centuries the legend of the
ascension had assumed a multiplicity of forms, and each version was
authenticated, even by relations of the Prophet himself. Such testimony
went unquestioned by the masses; and thus it came about that the legend
ultimately became crystallised in one definite form, into which the
main versions regarded as authentic were fused. This fusion was the
work of theologians and interpreters of the Scriptures in an endeavour,
chiefly, to harmonise a number of apparently contradictory tales. The
earliest version of the legend in its new form was the one of Cycle 3,
and this version remained final. All that appeared later were either
_commentaries_ upon it or _allegorico-mystical adaptations_ and _literary
imitations_ of it. Certainly, an abundant literature, such as was induced
in Europe a few centuries later by Dante’s poem, grew around the legend.
A brief review of the three aforementioned categories will reveal how,
following upon its definite crystallisation, theologians and men of
letters elaborated the story of the ascension.
Commentaries by theologians preponderated over all the other forms.
The many exegetical works on the Koran all deal with the completion
and interpretation of the first verse of the seventeenth chapter, in
which the ascension is alluded to. The various traditional versions of
the legend are discussed on the evidence of the most authoritative
theologians. The collections of authentic _hadiths_ also devote pages
to the legend in its different forms. To the same category belongs a
profusion of historical works on Islam and biographies of Mahomet and
the prophets. Each book has its chapter on the ascension, which, it must
be remembered, is regarded by all true Moslems as an historical fact
and not unnaturally forms an integral part of the story of the life of
Mahomet.[77]
But the most interesting of these commentaries are the treatises written
by theologians who collated their data from the above-mentioned works.
One such treatise appeared as early as the tenth century. This, the
work of Abu Laith of Samarcand, dealt in particular with the Prophet’s
colloquy with God.[78] Not until the twelfth century, however, did this
form of literature reach its culminating point; at all events, no works
of an earlier date have come down to us in such profusion.[79]
The authors of almost all these treatises are mainly concerned with the
co-ordination of the various versions of the _Isra_ and the _Miraj_;
and they solve the problem either by uniting all the forms into one or
by assuming that several ascensions were made. Other questions, such
as the date of the ascension, the spot whence Mahomet set out, and so
forth, also, however, occupy their attention. Indeed they went farther
and introduced among a host of other points, the mystical meaning of
the purification of the Prophet’s heart; the composition and sequence
of the mansions above the astronomical heavens; and the visibility of
God. However, so far as our comparison is concerned, this literature
reveals one curious coincidence alone: the Divine Comedy of Islam—like
that of Dante at a later date—had a host of enthusiastic admirers, who
studied it in all its phases. The meaning of every word was investigated
and an explanation for the most insignificant details sought with a
scrupulousness arising more from religious than literary motives.
2. This coincidence is only natural, however, and in itself does not
constitute a proof. What is of more moment is that these exegetical
treatises supplement the traditional text of the legend. For in the fused
version there appear many new scenes and episodes, which, as regards
their authenticity and age, can only be attributed to those versions
of the three cycles already examined or to others contemporaneous with
them.[80] Of these new episodes only those that distinctly resemble
scenes in Dante need be considered here.[81]
3. At the outset of his Nocturnal Journey—before his visit to the
infernal regions—an afrite, armed with a fire-brand, bars Mahomet’s way.
Attacked and pursued by the demon, the Prophet is comforted by Gabriel,
who teaches him a prayer, by repeating which he is enabled to extinguish
the demon’s torch.[82]
As Dante and Virgil reach the fifth pit of the eighth circle of hell, a
similar scene unfolds itself.[83] The two poets are pursued by a horde of
demons armed with javelins and led by a fierce and swarthy devil. Virgil
calms Dante’s fears and utters a brief command, whereupon the devil’s
fury subsides and his weapon falls at his feet.
4. But few new episodes are introduced into the ascension proper. The
first and main one is the scene of the ladder stretching from the Temple
of Jerusalem to heaven. Its rungs are of gold, silver, and emerald. By it
the souls of the blessed rise, and on either side angels stand in line.
By means of this ladder Mahomet, with Gabriel, reaches heaven in less
time than it takes to tell.[84]
The similar scene in the Twenty-first and Twenty-second Cantos of the
Paradiso is familiar to all. In the heaven of Saturn the poet sees a
golden ladder that leads to the last of the celestial spheres. The
spirits of the blessed descend by its rungs. Beatrice calling upon him to
ascend, he finds himself at the top in less time than it would take to
withdraw the hand from fire.[85]
5. The prophets inhabiting the heavens visited by Mahomet seldom appear
alone, as in the previous versions; but each is surrounded by a group
of the blessed, their disciples on earth. Thus, in the fifth heaven,
Aaron tells Biblical stories to a group of Jewish unbelievers; others,
like Enoch, Moses, and Abraham, discuss theology with Mahomet.[86] The
Prophet also meets other Biblical and Moslem characters. In the fourth
heaven he sees Mary, the mother of Moses, with the Virgin Mary[87]; and
in the seventh heaven, two hosts of Moslems, the one clad in white and
the other in grey.[88] With the light of the Divine Throne shining upon
him, a man unknown to him is seen by Mahomet. This man, Gabriel explains,
is a symbol of the glory that awaits the contemplative souls.[89] Between
heaven and earth he beholds the prophet Ezekiel begirt by a circle of
light and prostrate in prayer.[90] Bilal, too, he sees, the first Moslem
to hold the sacred office of Muezzin and call the faithful to prayer.[91]
Again, one of his dearest companions, Abu Bakr, appears to him in
fantastic form to act as his guide, when Gabriel leaves him in the final
stages of the ascension.[92] Lastly, a heavenly maiden, the destined
bride of his disciple Zayd, the son of Haritha, reveals her identity and
that of her intended spouse.[93]
Thus, by their wealth of incident and profusion of secondary characters,
these versions offer a plan of the Moslem legend that, unlike the plans
of previous versions, is not so far removed from that of the Divine
Comedy. Dante also imagined the celestial spheres to be peopled by the
blessed, who were allotted to the various heavens according to their
virtues or the profession they followed. The persons in each group
discourse among themselves or with Dante on religion or philosophy. For
the greater part they are Christians, but Hebrews and even Pagans are
also introduced. Further, both sexes are represented. Some are famous
characters of olden times, but the majority are either friends or
relations of the poet, who, with the memory of them on earth still fresh
in his mind, depicts their moral traits in masterly, yet measured, terms.
It is, of course, not claimed that the Moslem legend, at this, the final
stage of its evolution, can compare in its poetical technique with the
Divine Comedy. But in the general scheme of action, as well as in the
roles of the protagonist and other characters, the resemblance between
the two can hardly be said to be either remote or accidental.[94]
VI
ADAPTATIONS FROM THE LEGEND, MAINLY MYSTICAL ALLEGORIES
1. The religious authorities of Islam having at last determined upon
a version that was to be regarded as authentic and as the accepted
revelation, the legend may be said to have crystallised into a definite
form. The imagination of the faithful could now no longer indulge in
further inventions or additions. Nevertheless, the loss of new episode
thus incurred was amply compensated for by another and more fertile mode
of elaboration; in its final form the legend underwent considerable
literary alteration.
The glosses originally added in explanation of obscure words and ellipses
become merged in the text. The simplicity of the primitive versions is
lost in figurative language and other literary adornments. The ascension
is the theme of legends in versified prose and even poems, works in which
the rich fancy of the East is given full play. The lesser characters, as
well as the two protagonists, and even God Himself, engage in lengthy
discourses, interspersed with rhyme and replete with metaphors and
abstruse conceits. At times inanimate objects, such as the Divine Throne,
are represented as living beings; heavenly animals, like the serpent that
encircles the Throne and the beast that carries Mahomet, are personified
and made to hold long speeches. Again, the abodes of the beyond are
described with a wealth of detail taken from the Koran and the _hadiths_
of the Prophet dealing with heaven and hell.[95]
2. This first attempt at elaboration merely expanded the text of the
legend. Followed a host of adaptations, allegorical or mystical, in which
the ascension—supposed to be an historical fact—is applied to other
physical and spiritual beings, that are either real or symbolical and
earthly or heavenly. These ascend to the regions of bliss in practically
the same stages as Mahomet did in his _Miraj_. Brief mention can be made
of only a few of these tales.
3. The most popular is that of the ascension of the soul at death.
On leaving the body, it is led by its guardian angel up through the
astronomical heavens to be judged before the Throne of God. The following
is a short summary of the ascension:—
At the entrance to each heaven the scene depicted in the
_Miraj_ is repeated. The guardian angel is refused entry
until the identity of the travellers is disclosed. The soul
is then either welcomed or abused according to its conduct
during life. In each sphere it undergoes an examination on
one of the precepts of Islam, in the following order: Faith,
prayer, almsgiving, fasting, pilgrimage, honour of parents,
love of fellow-men, religious zeal and purity of heart. From
the Lotus-tree of the Boundary the soul ascends through seas of
light, darkness, fire and water and finally of snow and ice—all
as in Version C of Cycle 2. When the veils that shroud the
Divine Throne are drawn aside the catechism of the soul by God
Himself begins.[96]
4. In other similar legends,[97] the guardian angels are portrayed as
presenting to God each day the good deeds of the believers entrusted to
their care.
In each of the seven heavens the angel at the gate denies
admission to the good deed whenever its author is found guilty
of any sin. Only those good deeds that have been inspired by
Divine love may rise through the seven spheres to the presence
of God, Who declares them accepted in His sight.
5. In these early adaptations, the ascension is accredited solely to
personified metaphysical conceptions or to the souls of the departed.
In each case, moreover, Mahomet himself is made to tell the story, in
order to lend greater authority to it. The deep religious respect felt
for the Prophet forbade any encroachment. Nevertheless, the Sufis or
mystics were not long in arrogating to themselves the role of protagonist
that had hitherto been reserved for Mahomet.[98] The pretext for their
audacity was provided by the interpretation of the _Miraj_, that Mahomet
had been raised by God to heaven in order that he might experience the
supreme delight of the Beatific Vision and his heart be freed from all
earthly ties.[99] It was natural, therefore, for the Sufis to generalise
this interpretation and apply it to the real or symbolical ascension of
the soul, which breaks its worldly bonds and flies towards God, as the
essence of spiritual perfection. Indeed, one of the most famous masters
of early Moslem mysticism, Abu Yazid al-Bistami, who lived in the ninth
century, is credited with an actual ascension to the Divine Throne
through the same stages as were traversed by Mahomet in his _Miraj_.[100]
Thus the legend gradually reaches the climax of its evolution. The Sufi,
as a type of humanity capable of perfection by gradual purification
from passion, rises to such heights of contemplation that he enjoys a
foretaste of eternal bliss in the Beatific Vision.[101]
6. The more interesting of these later adaptations are the work of the
Murcian Muhyi ad-Din ibn Arabi, the prince of Hispano-Moslem mystics,
who died twenty-five years before the Florentine poet was born.[102] One
of these works is based upon the _Miraj_, in which he seeks to discover
a hidden moral. He treats it as an esoteric teaching of the revelations
manifested to the soul of the mystic in the course of its ascension to
God. This work, which unfortunately has not yet been edited, is entitled
“The Book of the Nocturnal Journey towards the Majesty of the Most
Magnanimous.”[103] The poetical fragment, of which a rendering is given
hereunder, will suffice to indicate its general outline.
The Sufis or mystics are the heirs of the Prophet whose life
and doctrine they follow. By devoting all their days to
meditation and the practice of the mysteries of the Koran
and maintaining the memories of their Beloved, they are at
last led into the presence of God. Boraq, the beast of heaven
that conveys them swiftly on their journey, is the symbol of
divine love. The holy city of Jerusalem, the emblem of light
and truth, forms the first stage of the journey. Here, as did
the Prophet, they tarry close to the wall, representing purity
of heart, that bars access to the profane. Having partaken of
milk, the symbol of the true direction of revealed doctrine,
they knock at the gate of heaven, allegorical of bodily
mortification. Beyond the gate they see paradise and hell. With
the right eye they witness the happiness of the blessed; with
the left, they weep over the terrors of the infernal fires.
They reach the Lotus-tree, the symbol of faith and virtue, and
eat their fill of the fruit, whereby the most sublime powers of
man become perfected. Thus prepared, they arrive at the final
stage of their journey. The veils enshrouding the spirit are
drawn aside and the hidden secret of the mystery of mysteries
is made manifest to them.[104]
The significance of this subtle poem in its interpretation of Dante’s
allegories is apparent. Upon the author’s own showing,[105] three
esoteric meanings are conveyed by both the Divine Comedy and the
“Convivio”—the first a personal, and the second a moral, allegory;
whilst the third is anagogical. Seen in this light, the Divine Comedy is
a complex allegory of Dante’s own life and the redemption of mankind.
Dante, representing mankind, has been led from the straight path; but,
guided by reason, faith and grace, he shakes off the fetters of evil;
and the expiation of, and purification from, his sins are symbolised by
his journey to hell and purgatory. Having attained moral perfection, he
ascends by the path of contemplation to the eternal bliss of the Divine
Essence. Thus Dante, like the Moslem Sufis in general and the Murcian Ibn
Arabi in particular, availed himself of the alleged historical fact of
the ascension of a man to the heavens, in order to represent in symbol
the mystical drama of the regeneration of souls by faith and theological
virtues.[106]
This further surprising coincidence of the allegorical intentions of
the two legends must, therefore, be added to the many other analogies
existing between them. As the symbolical character of the Divine Comedy
is, in the eyes of all critics, the most forcible proof of its original
inspiration, a closer enquiry into these wonderful coincidences will not
be amiss. The affinity between another mystical allegory of the Murcian
Ibn Arabi and Dante’s poem is obvious.
7. The Ascension in question appears in a voluminous work entitled
_Al-Futuhat al-makkiya_, or the _Revelations of Mecca_. It is the main
theme of an entire chapter, the heading of which, “The Alchemy of
Felicity,” in itself implies an esoteric allegory.[107] The narrative is
prefaced with a synopsis, of which the following is an abstract.
The aim of the soul, from the day on which the Creator unites
it with the body, is to acquire the knowledge of the essence
of its principle, God. In their search for the path leading to
this end, the souls meet with a messenger sent by God to lead
them towards that knowledge of the Creator wherein lies their
happiness. Some gratefully accept the heavenly messenger’s
guidance[108]; others disdain it on the plea that his powers of
cognition can in no way be superior to theirs. The former then
follow the direction of the doctrine as revealed by God to His
messenger; whilst the latter are merely guided by the light of
their own reason.
Here the mystical allegory begins, the protagonists being two
travellers, one of each category. Thus, a theologian and a
rationalist philosopher set out simultaneously on the path
that is to lead them towards God. The first stages of the
journey represent the perfection and happiness enjoyed by the
soul through restraint of the passions. In these stages the
teachings of philosophy and theology practically coincide,
so that both travellers succeed in shaking off the fetters
that bind them to earth and free themselves from the baneful
influence of passion.
At this point begins the actual Ascension to heaven, the plan
of which is modelled upon the _Miraj_. The first seven stages
correspond to the astronomical heavens—the Moon, Mercury,
Venus, the Sun, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. Each is visited
in succession by the two travellers, who ascend at the same
speed, the philosopher mounted on Boraq, the celestial beast
that carried the Prophet and the allegorical figure of reason,
and the theologian, by means of the Rafraf or shining wreath,
representing the light of Divine Grace, which also conveyed
Mahomet to the Divine Throne. But, although both reach the
gates of the heavens at the same time, their receptions
are different. The theologian is welcomed by the prophets
inhabiting each sphere, but the philosopher is obliged to stand
apart until he is received by the “Intelligences,” who in the
neo-Platonic cosmology move the celestial spheres and to whom
in this allegory the humble role of servants to the prophets
is assigned. The theologian is filled with rejoicing, but his
different treatment causes sadness and pain to the philosopher,
who from afar witnesses the warm welcome given to his companion
and only gleans vague information about the sublime mysteries
revealed to the other by the prophets. Not that the philosopher
is altogether neglected. The “Intelligence” of each sphere
instructs him on problems of physics or cosmology, the
solutions of which are dependent upon the natural influence
exercised by the planet in question on the phenomena of this
lower world. He finds, however, that the prophets explain the
significance of these problems to the theologian from a loftier
point of view and much more clearly than is done by natural
science alone.
By this means the author Ibn Arabi ingeniously introduces many
points from his own theological system, and the work becomes a
veritable encyclopædia of philosophy, theology, and the occult
sciences, set forth in the form of debates or speeches made by
the prophets.
Thus in the heaven of the Moon, Adam instructs the theologian
on the creative influence of Divine names. These are the
prototypes of all creatures and are equivalent to the prime
causes of philosophy. The phenomena of the sublunar world; the
changes in the material elements; the growth of all living
things; the generation of the human body—all are shown to the
philosopher by the “Intelligence” to be effects of the direct
action of this first astronomical sphere. But the theologian
learns their primary and transcendental cause, which lies
hidden in the mystic influence of the Divine names.
In the second heaven, whilst the philosopher is received by the
Intelligence of Mercury, the theologian meets the two prophets
Jesus and John, who discuss with him the subject of miracles,
more particularly those performed by the cabbalistic virtue
of certain words, the creative mystery of the word “Fiat,”
and of the Divine breath that brings beings into existence.
Then Jesus, the Spirit of God, reveals to his disciple the
esoteric working of the miracles he performed in Israel. All
these phenomena of healing, restoration of life, and so forth
are derived from this sphere. When effected _praeter ordinem
naturae_, they are miracles due to the supernatural alchemic
powers of Jesus; when produced naturally, they are the effect
of the virtue possessed by the Intelligence of Mercury. The
latter is all that the philosopher learns.
A similar difference between the results obtained by the two
travellers holds throughout; and it will suffice to summarise
the knowledge acquired in each sphere.
In Venus, the prophet Joseph interprets the mystery of the
order, beauty, and harmony of the Cosmos, and expounds the art
of poetry and the interpretation of dreams.
In the sphere of the Sun, the prophet Enoch explains the
astronomical cause of day and night and its many mystical
applications.
The prophet Aaron, in Mars, talks at length on the government
of nations, and commends to the theologian’s attention the
Revealed Code as a supreme criterion of the Divine policy,
based rather on mercy than on wrath.
In the heaven of Jupiter, Moses expounds the pantheism of Ibn
Arabi. Starting with the interpretation of the miracle when he
transformed the rod into a serpent, he ends with the thesis
that all form in the universe is mutable; but the substance is
ever the same, namely God in different relations, which are
dependent upon the subjective impression produced in the mind
of the contemplator.
Lastly, in Saturn, Abraham, reclining upon the wall of the
House of Habitation, explains to the theologian the problem of
the life hereafter. Meanwhile, the dejected philosopher awaits
him in the dark dwelling of the Intelligence. When, repentant
of his conduct, he would be converted to Islam and share in the
supernatural illumination of the faith, Abraham, the father of
the faithful, rejects him and leads the theologian by the hand
into the House of Habitation.
Here begins the second part of the ascension. The theologian
leaves the temple and ascends again on high; while his
companion waits below.
The stages of this second part of the ascension are, with the
exception of two astronomical spheres, all scenes of mysticism
and theology. The theologian first ascends to the Lotus-tree
of the Boundary, the fruit of which are emblems of the good
deeds done by the faithful. At its foot run four mystic rivers,
representing the Pentateuch, the Book of Psalms, the Gospel and
the Koran. The last is the greatest and is the source of the
others.
Thence the traveller rises to the sphere of the Fixed Stars,
where corruption is unknown and myriads of angelic spirits
dwell in a thousand mansions. Each one he visits and tastes the
supreme delights of God’s elect.
In the last sphere—the Zodiac—are revealed to him all the
marvels of the celestial paradise, which are derived from the
virtue of this sphere. Immediately thereafter he arrives at the
stool on which rest the feet of the Almighty—the symbols of His
mercy and justice—by whose favour he is instructed in the dread
problem of the eternity of reward and punishment in the life
hereafter.
The ineffable light radiating from the Throne and the sweet
harmony of the spheres thrill him to the innermost recesses
of his heart. In an ecstasy, he suddenly realises that he has
been raised to the Divine Throne, the symbol of God’s infinite
mercy. The Throne appears to him held on high by five angels
and the three prophets, Adam, Abraham, and Mahomet; and from
them he learns of the mystery of the Cosmos, which is inscribed
within the sphericity of the body of the universe, which is the
Throne of God.
The remaining stages all belong to the spiritual world, or
world of Platonic ideas. The traveller is finally wafted into
the vapour which is the primitive epiphany or manifestation
of God _ad extra_ and the type of the _prime matter_ common
to Creator and creature in the pseudo-Empedoclean theosophy
of Ibn Arabi.[109] Enraptured, the traveller beholds the
ineffable mysteries of the divine essence and its attributes,
both the absolute and those relative to the creatures. The
sublime vision ending with this apotheosis, the theologian
rejoins the philosopher, who becomes converted to the Moslem
faith so that he too may participate in the glories of mystical
contemplation.[110]
8. The points of contact between this allegorico-mystical journey and
Dante’s ascension stand forth plainly. A perusal of the passages in
Dante’s _Monarchia_ and _Epistola a Can Grande della Scala_, in which he
outlines the esoteric meaning of his Divine Comedy, will clearly show
how his interpretation agrees with that of Ibn Arabi’s allegory. Both
thinkers imagine the journey as a symbol of the life of the soul in this
world, into which it has been placed by the Creator to prepare for the
attainment of its final aim, which is to enjoy the bliss of the Beatific
Vision. Both writers hold this to be unattainable without supernatural
intervention or theology; for, although philosophic reasoning, alone,
can guide man in the first stages of his mystical journey, that is to
say, in the practice of the virtues, only the light of grace can raise
him to paradise, the symbol of the highest virtues. The main difference
between the two allegories lies in the fact that, whereas in Ibn Arabi’s
work there are two protagonists, in Dante’s story there is one, who
is led successively by two guides, Virgil and Beatrice, representing
philosophy and theology. A further difference is that Virgil does not
accompany Dante to the astronomical heavens, to which the philosopher
of the Moslem allegory ascends. This is due to the fact that in Ibn
Arabi’s cosmological system the spheres of the stars, as belonging to the
material world, come within the scope of philosophical speculation. On
this point Ibn Arabi certainly was more logical than the Florentine poet,
who is less interested in Beatrice as a symbol than in her glorification
as a real person. The effect of this difference, however, is practically
annulled by the fact that when he sets out on his ascension with
Beatrice, Dante may be said to be acting in a dual capacity; firstly,
as a philosopher, by the experience gained from Virgil’s teaching; and
secondly, as a theologian, now taught by Beatrice. Thus in some of the
spheres, Dante is seen reasoning as a philosopher independent of the aid
of Beatrice or the blessed, who, on the other hand, enlighten him on
supernatural or mystical problems. And this is precisely what happens in
Ibn Arabi’s story. The philosopher learns in each sphere of the natural
phenomena produced in the sublunar world by its physical virtues; whilst
the theologian from the prophets receives the same instruction as the
philosopher on matters pertaining to nature, supplemented by illumination
of mystical and theological subjects.
A few features of resemblance in episode may help to complete the
parallel.
9. In Dante’s hell the souls of the damned are seen in the dwellings in
which they are destined to remain for all eternity. In paradise, however,
the blessed descend from their abode, the Empyrean, and appear to Dante
in the various astronomical spheres, welcoming him or making him sensible
to the various degrees of bliss. They are, however, supposed to return to
the Empyrean, for, in the heaven of the Fixed Stars Dante again sees them
assembled in one large body.[111]
This same artifice was used by Ibn Arabi in his allegorical adaptation
of the _Miraj_. The prophets in the various spheres descend to bid him
welcome, but in the heaven of the Fixed Stars he beholds all the spirits
of the blessed together, and at the Divine Throne he sees Adam and
Abraham, whom he had previously seen, the one in the first, and the other
in the seventh heaven.
The criterion, in accordance with which the souls as first seen by Dante
are distributed, is twofold—astrological and moral. The blessed either
appear in the heaven of the star that influenced their lives or in a
higher or lower sphere according to the merit of their life.[112] The
same principle is discernible in the allegory of Ibn Arabi. The prophets
do not appear in chronological order; for, whilst Adam is in the first
heaven, Abraham is in the seventh, Moses and Aaron are in different
heavens; and Jesus is in the sphere next to Adam. The guiding principle
is thus either greater dignity or moral excellence. Moreover, the
celestial spheres unlike the preceding versions where they are numbered,
bear the name of their star. Thus a relationship, similar to that between
each heaven and the souls in the Paradiso, is here established between
the spheres and the prophets appearing in them. It is true that the
meaning underlying this relationship is nowhere actually expressed. But
it is significant that Joseph, celebrated for beauty and chastity, should
be assigned to the sphere of Venus; Moses, as law-giver to Israel and
victor over Pharaoh, to the sphere of Jupiter, the vanquisher of the
Titans; and Jesus, the Living Word of God, to Mercury, the messenger of
the gods and himself the god of eloquence.[113]
Lastly, the desire that obsesses Dante to display his learning often at
the expense even of artistic effect has a striking parallel in the Moslem
tale. Dante made of the Divine Comedy a veritable scientific treatise by
attributing to Beatrice and others, for the instruction of the pilgrim,
lengthy dissertations on philosophy, theology and the like. Ibn Arabi
resorts to a similar device to present his theosophical problems, when he
causes these to be discussed in lengthy and complicated discourses by the
prophets.[114]
Thus the two works agree in subject-matter, action and allegorical
purpose; in their principal and secondary persons; in the architecture
of the astronomical heavens; and in the didactic trend of ideas and the
use of literary devices to produce in abstract a national cyclopædia. To
these features of resemblance must be added the similarity in style; both
works are so abstruse and involved at times as to suggest to the reader
the mysteriousness of an oracle. In the face of all these reasons it is
not too much to say that Ibn Arabi’s work is of all Moslem types the
most akin to the Paradiso in particular and the whole Divine Comedy in
general, in so far at least as the latter may be regarded as a moral and
didactic allegory.
VII
LITERARY IMITATIONS OF THE LEGEND
1. To adapt the scenes of the ascension of Mahomet to a story of which
the protagonist, though a saint, is a man of flesh and blood, was
permissible perhaps to the Sufis, who claimed to be able to attain
spiritually to the dignity of prophets and whose aim, in writing such
adaptations, was always a religious one. Presumption, however, would
appear to border on irreverence when the ascension is attributed to a
mere sinner; when the aim is frankly profane; and the style affected is
one of literary frivolity or irreligious irony.
Evidently there are but few such works. One alone has been handed down
to us, and its author, as a writer of audacious satire on Islam, stands
unique.
2. This is the blind poet, Abu-l-Ala al-Maarri, famous to the present
day in Islam, and even in Europe. A Syrian of the tenth and eleventh
centuries of our era, he has been named “the philosopher of poets and
the poet of philosophers.”[115] The _Risalat al-ghufran_, or Treatise
on Pardon, is one of his less-known works.[116] Written in the form of
a literary epistle, it is really a skilful imitation of those simpler
versions of the Nocturnal Journey in which Mahomet does not rise to the
astronomical heavens.
The author appears to have had a dual aim in view. With a touch of irony
so delicate as to be almost imperceptible, he censures the severity of
the moralists as contrasted with God’s infinite mercy, and protests
against the damnation of many men of letters, especially poets, who,
though atheists and sinners, were famous both in ancient and Islamic
Arabic literature. The epistle is a reply to a literary friend, Ibn
al-Qarih, of Aleppo, who, while professing great admiration for
Abu-l-Ala, had inveighed against those poets and men of letters who lived
in impiety or debauchery.[117] Without alluding directly to the problem
of the extent of Divine mercy, he seeks to show with literary skill
that many of the libertine and even pagan poets, who finally repented,
were pardoned and received into paradise. The theological thesis,
however, is of secondary interest. The main object of the epistle is the
interpretation and criticism of the works of the writers in question.
This double purpose he achieves by ingeniously harmonising apologetics
and literary criticism in the narration of a journey, like that of
Mahomet, to the realms beyond the grave.
3. (_a_) In the prologue he tells how God has miraculously
raised Ibn al-Qarih to the celestial regions, in reward for his
writings in defence of the faith.
(_b_) There he first comes to a garden shaded by trees, of
great girth and height, and laden with fruit, beneath which
repentant sinners are seen reclining. Rivers of water, milk,
wine and honey flow through this garden of delight and pour
balm upon the hearts of the poets dwelling therein. Freed
from the envy that embittered their lives on earth, the men
of letters here live in unwonted peace and harmony. Groups
of poets, novelists, grammarians, critics, and philosophers
are engaged in friendly conversation. Drawing near, Ibn
al-Qarih hears Abu Ubayda tell tales of ancient chivalry and
the grammarian, Al-Asmai, recite classical poetry.[118] He
joins in the conversation and expresses sorrow that some of
the pre-Islamic poets, being pagans, should have been denied
admission. Then, mounted on a celestial camel, and chanting apt
verses of old-time poetry, he rides on through the garden. To a
voice suddenly heard asking by whom these verses were composed,
he replies that it was the satirist, Maymun al-Asha, whereupon
the poet himself appears on the scene. He tells the traveller
how, despite his fondness for the flowing bowl, he had been
saved by the Prophet, whose Divine mission he had foretold.
Thereafter Ibn al-Qarih meets many of the ancient poets who,
though infidels, were saved by Divine mercy. With each he
converses at length, discussing their works.
(_c_) The episodes of this miraculous journey are so numerous
that it would be impossible either to refer to them all or
transcribe the series of animated discussions on learned
subjects so ingeniously introduced into the work. The traveller
meets the most distinguished writers, generally in select
groups which gather and disperse, as in passing he recognises
and talks to them, and then proceeds on his way. In the course
of conversation an absent poet is often alluded to and, upon
the traveller’s expressing a desire to converse with him, the
poet’s abode is pointed out or a guide provided to lead the
traveller thither.
(_d_) These wanderings through paradise, though enlivened by
episodes and digressions that enhance the literary value of the
work, are individually of little interest for the purpose of
comparison with Dante.[119]
(_e_) The traveller now attends a celestial feast, followed by
music and dancing, in which all the Chosen join. Eventually he
finds himself in the company of two houris, whose charms he
warmly praises. But his amorous advances meet with derision
from the two beauties, who mockingly ask him whether he does
not recognise them. Upon his replying that surely they are two
heavenly houris, they laughingly explain that they are women
well-known to him on earth—one, Hamduna, the ugliest creature
in Aleppo, who was repudiated by her husband, a ragpicker, for
her foul breath; the other, Tawfiq the negress, who handed
out the books at the Baghdad library. An angel who happens to
pass by explains to the bewildered traveller that there are two
kinds of houris—those created in heaven, and women raised to
paradise in reward for their virtues or repentance.
(_f_) The delights experienced in paradise awaken a desire to
visit hell, in order that the contrast may render him still
more sensible of the bounty of the Lord. Forthwith he sets out
on the second part of his marvellous journey.
(_g_) He first sees strange cities lying scattered in valleys
and but dimly lit by the light from paradise. This region, he
is told, is the garden of the genii who believed in the Divine
mission of Mahomet. At the mouth of a cave sits Khaytaur, their
patriarch. The pilgrim hails him, and together they discuss the
poems attributed to the Jann and the language spoken by them.
Khaytaur satisfies his curiosity and recites to him the epic
poetry of his race.
(_h_) Taking leave of the old genie, the traveller has barely
set out again when his path is barred by a lion of ferocious
aspect. At the sight he pauses, when lo! the beast is moved
by the spirit of God to explain that he is the lion whom the
Almighty tamed in order that he might protect Utba, the son
of Abu Lahab and a relative of the Prophet’s, on a journey to
Egypt. In reward for the service, he has been received into
paradise.
(_i_) This danger past, the pilgrim proceeds, until of a sudden
a wolf rushes out fiercely to meet him. His fears are soon
calmed, however, when he hears the wolf tell how it helped to
spread the Faith by converting an Arab infidel.[120]
(_j_) Pursuing his way to the borders of paradise and hell, he
meets two other pre-Islamic poets: Al-Hutaiya, who has been
saved from hell in recognition of the sincerity of his satires;
and the poetess Al-Khansa, who recites her funereal elegies at
the foot of a lofty volcano, from whose crater pennons of flame
shoot forth. This is the entrance to hell.
(_k_) Thither Ibn al-Qarih fearlessly ascends and from the top
discerns Iblis, the king of the infernal regions, struggling in
vain as he lies bound in iron fetters and held down by fiends
armed with long forks. Heaping curses on helpless Iblis, the
traveller accuses him of having consigned countless souls to
torture. To an enquiry from Iblis he replies that he is a man
of letters from Aleppo. “A sorry trade, forsooth,” retorts
Iblis, “by which a man can barely earn his daily bread, let
alone support a family—and very risky for the soul,” he adds,
“for how many like you has it not ruined? You may count
yourself lucky to have escaped.” He then begs to be told of the
pleasures of paradise.
(_l_) In the course of conversation Baxxar ibn Burd, the blind
but ribald poet happens to be mentioned; and straightway he
rises from the infernal depths, his eyes opened by the fiends,
to add to his torture. Ibn al-Qarih, after lamenting the poet’s
fate, seizes the opportunity to consult him on some obscure
passages in his poems; but the other is in no humour for
talking and makes no reply.
(_m_) The traveller now desires to speak with Imru-l-Qays the
vagabond king, held by Mahomet to be the father of the ancient
poets. Iblis points him out close at hand, and again a lengthy
discourse begins on obscure points in the poet’s _qasidas_. In
the midst of their talk, the traveller catches sight of Antara,
the epic poet who sang of Arabian chivalry. Wrapt in flame, the
bard nevertheless replies to all the other’s questions about
his works. Ibn al-Qarih bewails the sad lot of so excellent a
poet, who to his mind had been worthy of a better fate.
(_n_) Other great pre-Islamic poets appear in succession.
He sees Al-Qama and Tarafa and enquires about their life on
earth and praises their works. But Tarafa rejects all praise,
declaring he would rather have been a simple boor and so have
entered paradise. A similar lament is heard from Aws ibn Hajar,
the poet of the chase and war; who, maddened by thirst, turns
a deaf ear to all enquiries. Proceeding, the traveller sees
another of the damned, whose features are unknown to him;
this, he finds, is the minor poet Abu Kabir al-Hudali, whom he
questions but also in vain; for the poet suffers such exquisite
torture that he can only utter cries of pain.
(_o_) Writhing in flames and roaring like a wild beast lies
another sufferer, whom he also fails to recognise. The demons
tell him it is Al-Akhtal, the Christian poet at the court
of the Ommeyad Caliphs, whose pungent epigrams on Islam
and anacreontic verses have brought this judgment on him.
Over him the visitor gloats, taunting him with the life of
low debauchery he led with Caliph Yazid, the second of the
Ommeyads. The poet heaves a sigh of pain as he recalls the
orgies at the Royal Palace of Damascus, whose walls resounded
with his ribald satires upon Islam, echoed in sacrilegious
appreciation by the Caliph, the supreme head of the Faith.
Carried away by his memories, Al-Akhtal begins to recite one of
those very satires; but this provokes even Iblis, who rebukes
his fiends for letting their charges indulge in such impiety.
(_p_) The traveller is on his way back to paradise, when it
occurs to him that he has forgotten other no less famous poets
in hell. Retracing his steps, he calls aloud for the poet
Muhalhil, whom the demons after some delay point out. In the
lower storeys of hell, too, he sees the Al-Muraqish poets
Ash-Shanfara and Tabatasharran, but, though he plies them with
questions about their lives and loves and verses, they barely
deign to answer him, pleading that they have lost their memory.
Realising the futility of further attempts, the traveller
desists and returns to the celestial garden.
(_q_) On the way other incidents, which are related in the
epilogue to the story, occur. Meeting Adam, he questions him on
some Arabic verses attributed to him. Adam affably points out
that, although he spoke Arabic in paradise, when driven out he
adopted Syriac and only recovered the use of the former when he
ascended to heaven, a repentant sinner; whereas the verses in
question, to judge by their meaning, must have been composed on
earth. After touching upon other literary subjects, the pilgrim
leaves Adam and, passing through a garden in which wonderful
serpents address him by word of mouth, finally reaches paradise.
(_r_) At the gate he is met by the houri appointed to attend
him. In reply to her gentle chiding for tarrying so long below,
he pleads the great desire he felt to talk with the poets in
hell. Now that his wish has been gratified, he can give himself
up entirely to the joys of paradise. Side by side they wander
through fields and gardens gay with flowers, the while his fair
companion recites sweet verses composed by Imru-l-Qays for the
day when he should meet his beloved in paradise.
(_s_) Of a sudden he sees another heavenly maiden standing
on the bank of a celestial river and surrounded by a bevy
of beautiful houris; her loveliness of face and form so far
surpasses the beauty of her companions that the traveller
believes her to be the very beloved of Imru-l-Qays the poet.
(_t_) Awhile he lingers talking with these lovely creatures
and then approaches the abode of the poets who wrote in the
imperfect metre, known as “rejez,” which he discusses with
them. Then assisted by the maidens and pages who attend him,
he is conveyed on a vehicle of gold and topaz to the heavenly
mansion in which he is to live in bliss for all eternity.
4. As will at once be seen from the above summary, this literary
imitation of the Mahometan ascension is rich in analogies with the Divine
Comedy.
In the first place, the supernatural element which is so striking a
feature of the _Isra_ and _Miraj_, is almost wholly absent. Like Dante,
the protagonist is simply a man. Nor are the secondary persons mainly
saints or prophets, but mere sinners, often indeed repentant infidels.
Thus the human and realistic touch imparted by Dante to the two first
parts of the Divine Comedy is to be found in this earlier Moslem work.
The coincidence in the realism of the two stories is, of course, not
absolute; but, if the discrepancies are for the moment set aside, a
systematic comparison will show the features of resemblance to be grouped
under two headings, viz., general artifices, common to both stories, and
actual incidents that are either similar or identical in each.[121]
5. Abu-l-Ala, to achieve his twofold aim of composing a treatise
that should be at once theological and literary, avails himself of
the ingenious device of making the protagonist of his tale, Ibn
al-Qarih, meet a great number of persons in heaven and hell. Thus the
author peoples the realms of the beyond with a host of men and women,
Christians, Moslems and pagans, nobles and commoners, rich and poor,
young and old. These for the greater part are sinners, and almost all
are men of letters or poets; for, as stated above, the author’s main
aim was literary criticism, and his secondary idea, to denounce the
narrow-minded views of the theologians of his day. Nearly all the
persons are historical, and most of them famous writers. Some were his
contemporaries, or lived shortly before his time.
According as they appear in heaven or hell, their distribution differs.
In heaven, the traveller meets them gathered in small groups, each formed
of a certain class of writer, such as philologians, lyrical poets,
satirists, writers in the rejez metre, and so forth. In hell, on the
other hand, they appear alone.
Often the traveller inquires after a writer whom he would like to see,
and they with whom he is conversing point out the other’s dwelling or
provide him with a guide. At times, the desired person himself appears,
when the traveller frequently fails to recognise him and has to ask his
name.
The conversation both in heaven and hell turns mainly on literary points
connected with the poets’ works; but allusions are not lacking to the
virtues or vices that have led to their salvation or damnation.
The liberal principle which guided the author in consigning his
characters to heaven or hell was bound to bring him into conflict with
the narrow-minded clergy and lay masses, to whom it must have seemed
akin to sacrilege to place men in heaven who on earth had been notorious
unbelievers or libertines. Apart from this religious tolerance, the
author is swayed by literary sympathies or personal feeling. The sight of
the damned almost always moves him to pity, for only rarely does he gibe
with bitter sarcasm at some unfortunate sufferer; whilst the good fortune
of the blessed calls forth his warmest congratulations.
Dante has recourse to the same devices, though on the far grander scale
on which the Divine Comedy is planned. Working on the same lines, he
rises above the mere literary aims of the Moslem tale and conceives
the story, much richer in detail than the other, of a transcendental
journey to the realms of the after-life. This gives him a pretext for
displaying his views, not merely on literature, but on the whole field of
intellectual endeavour. The Divine Comedy is, in fact, an encyclopædia
of mediæval learning. Mankind in general; Italy in the thirteenth
century, and Florence in particular; the Papacy and the Empire; religious
institutions; literature and the other arts—the history of all is told
in its tercets, not in an impersonal or abstract manner, but as seen
through the mind of Dante under the influence of his poetic temperament.
Thus, just as Abu-l-Ala aimed almost exclusively at displaying his
literary learning and passing judgment on the great Arabic writers;
so did Dante seek to leave in his divine poem a record of his vast
erudition and his views on religion, politics and art, as practised in
his century. Accordingly, the number of characters in the Divine Comedy
is incomparably greater than in Abu-l-Ala’s tale. But, though more groups
are thus formed, they are of the same variety, the literary categories
of the Moslem story being replaced in Dante’s poem by classifications
according to calling and social position. The personages of the Divine
Comedy, again, are either legendary, historical or nearly contemporary
with the author; and all are portrayed with a vivid realism.
In heaven the souls appear to the travellers in groups and not, as in
hell, singly. Thus, the literary coteries of Abu-l-Ala are equivalent
to the crowns or circles seen by Dante in each heaven and composed of
theologians, soldiers, judges and others.
The colloquies between Dante and the souls begin in a like way. Either
he inquires for a certain soul, and is directed to the dwelling; or of a
sudden a soul appears, whose features the poet fails to recognise, and he
is obliged to ask his name.[122]
It is only natural that the colloquies of Dante should present a greater
variety of subjects than the mainly literary discussions of Abu-l-Ala;
but, in both stories, the conversation repeatedly turns upon incidents
in the life of the souls or the mysteries of the after-world. Moreover,
certain of the discourses of Dante with the poets and artists in hell
or purgatory bear a striking resemblance to the animated _causeries_
of the Moslem tale. Thus, when Dante meets his former master, Brunetto
Latini, they converse on events of their life on earth; Brunetto mentions
the grammarian Priscian and the lawyer Francesco d’Accorso among his
fellow-sufferers; finally, he recommends to him his _Tesoro_.[123] In
purgatory the poet meets Casella, the Florentine musician, and begs him
to sing “Amor que nella mente mi ragiona,” a song of Dante’s that Casella
set to music.[124] Again, Sordello, a poet of Mantua, recognises Virgil
and lauds his verses.[125] The painter, Oderisi, discusses Italian art
with Dante, praising the two Guidos, Guinicelli, and Cavalcanti.[126] The
Latin poet, Papinius Statius, tells Dante and Virgil the story of his
life, and of the influence on his Thebaid and Achilleid of the Aeneid of
Virgil; and when the latter discloses his identity, Statius praises and
quotes verses from the master-poet’s works. In answer to his inquiries
about the fate of other poets, such as Terence and Plautus, Virgil
acquaints him with the lot which has befallen these and other classic
authors.[127] Buonagiunta, a mediocre poet of Dante’s time, makes himself
known to Dante and discusses the “new style” of Dante’s poems, admitting
that they show more poetic inspiration than those of Jacopo da Lentino or
Guittone da Arezzo.[128] Finally, Dante sees the great poet of Bologna,
Guido Guinicelli, being cleansed in fire from the taint of lubricity.
Dante hails him as the father and master of the _dolce stil nuovo_; but
Guinicelli modestly refers him to the Provençal, Arnauld Daniel, whom he
points out close at hand; and, as Dante steps forward to converse with
the troubadour, the latter greets him with verses of great beauty in his
mother tongue.[129]
A further coincidence is apparent in the spirit of tolerance displayed
by both authors in excluding from hell famous pagans or infidels. Thus,
Aeneas, Cæsar, Saladin, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Virgil, Cicero,
Seneca, Avicenna, and Averrhoes are placed in the limbo[130] and Cato
of Utica in purgatory.[131] St. Thomas Aquinas shares the same heaven
as one of his greatest adversaries, Sigier of Brabant, a follower of
Averrhoes[132]; and King David is placed with Trajan and Ripheus of
Troy.[133] On the other hand, many persons, including popes and princes,
Dante condemns to hell out of mere personal or party feeling. Finally,
the spectacle of eternal bliss or torment rouses in Dante’s heart, as in
that of the Moslem pilgrim, the same feelings alternately of admiration
and pity, joy and wrath.[134]
6. A comparison of a few of the episodes of the Moslem journey with
incidents in the Divine Comedy will disclose a resemblance even more
striking than the similarity in general artifice.
One such episode is the encounter of Ibn al-Qarih with Hamduna of Aleppo
and the negress Tawfiq, whom he takes to be houris, until they disclose
their identity.
This scene, were it not for the semi-jocular tone of its description,
closely resembles the passages of Dante’s meeting with La Pia of
Sienna, in purgatory; with Piccarda Donati of Florence, in the heaven
of the Moon; and with Cunizza of Padua, in the sphere of Venus. The two
first-mentioned, like Hamduna, bemoan the trials of their married life;
and Dante admires the wonderful beauty of Piccarda, as Ibn al-Qarih had
marvelled at the fair complexion of the negress Tawfiq. Moreover, just
as the two pseudo-houris revealed themselves to Ibn al-Qarih, so do the
three Christian beauties, in answer to Dante’s inquiries, make themselves
known to him.[135]
7. The journey to hell, undertaken by the Moslem immediately after the
above episode, presents further similarities, though the sequence is
inversed; for Dante visits hell before paradise.
Dante, at the outset of his journey, finds his path barred by a leopard,
a lion, and a she-wolf. Escaping from these dangers, he meets Virgil, the
prince of epopee and patriarch of the classic poets, who leads him to the
garden of the limbo, where dwell the geniuses of antiquity. Later begins
the descent to hell itself.
The Moslem pilgrim before encountering any obstacle meets Khaytaur, the
patriarch of the genii. Chanting their deeds in epic verse the aged
spirit sits at the entrance to the garden wherein they dwell. This
garden, like Dante’s limbo, is an intermediate region between paradise
and hell, of which latter it forms, as it were, the antechamber.
In vain have Dante students endeavoured to discover the meaning the poet
sought to convey by the symbolic figure of the three wild beasts that bar
the way to hell.[136] Innumerable as are the hypotheses that have been
advanced, nowhere is so perfect a prototype for this passage to be found
as in this Moslem tale. For, before he reaches hell, the Moslem pilgrim’s
path is barred by a wolf and a lion, two of the very beasts that attack
Dante. Drawing his inspiration from the Moslem source, the divine poet
would appear to have adapted this episode with some slight changes to his
allegorical purposes.[137]
8. Another Moslem episode very similar to a scene in Dante is the meeting
between Adam and the pilgrim, when, on the latter’s return from hell,
they discuss the language originally spoken by Adam. Dante also meets
Adam (in the eighth heaven), and the burden of their conversation is
likewise the language spoken by the father of mankind when he dwelt in
the garden of Eden.
9. Lastly, the two scenes described on Ibn al-Qarih’s return to heaven
recall the two episodes in Dante’s purgatory immediately preceding the
poet’s ascension to the celestial paradise. The houri who receives the
traveller with gentle words of reproach for his long absence and then
converses with him, as they walk through gardens of flowers, appears
as the prototype of Matilda, who with bright eyes and laughing lips
awaits the poet at the entrance to the wood in earthly paradise, and
with winning grace answers his questions as they walk through meadows
strewn with flowers. Of a sudden, Dante beholds on the bank of a river
of paradise the marvellous pageant of old men and maidens in whose midst
is Beatrice, his beloved. So, too, the Moslem traveller is amazed by the
sight of a throng of houris, who, gathered upon the bank of a celestial
river, form a court of beauty around a heavenly maiden, the fair beloved
of Imru-l-Qays, the poet.
10. A general observation, applying equally to both works, may serve
as a conclusion. Abu-l-Ala, in his literary adaptation of the legend
of the _Miraj_, pursued an aim that was mainly artistic; and this is a
quality that also characterises Dante’s immortal poem. For, whatever
else the Divine Comedy may be—an encyclopædia of theological learning, a
moral allegory, and what not—it is above all a sublime work of literary
art, in which the poet tells the story of a legend of the after-life,
cast in the mould of his inspired tercets. Abu-l-Ala likewise displays
supreme skill in the difficult technique of Arabic metre; and, though it
is not actually written in verse, the _Risala_ is enriched with all the
splendour of that poetic style known in Arabic literature as rhymed prose.
VIII
SUMMARY OF COMPARISONS
1. In the preceding chapters an attempt has been made to outline the
story of the origin and evolution, within the world of Islam, of
the religious legend describing the Nocturnal Journey and ascension
of Mahomet to the realms of the after-life. The different versions
of the legend have been minutely examined and compared with Dante’s
poem; and the features of resemblance between the two tales have been
demonstrated. It would, then, be as well here to sum up the points that
have thus been established.
Around a verselet in the Koran alluding to a miraculous journey of
Mahomet to the realms beyond the grave, popular fancy wove a multiplicity
of versions of one and the same legend. The myth found expression in the
tales of the traditionists, who with a wealth of detail describe the
two main parts of the journey—the visit to hell and the ascension to
paradise. All these versions had become popular throughout Islam as early
as the ninth century of our era; and even in some of the earlier versions
the two parts of the legend are fused to form, as in the Divine Comedy, a
single dramatic action.
2. In almost all these versions Mahomet, like Dante, as the supposed
author, is made to tell the story. Further, both journeys are begun at
night when the protagonists awaken from profound sleep. In an imitation
of the Moslem journey a lion and a wolf bar the road to hell, as do a
leopard, lion and she-wolf in Dante’s poem. Khaytaur, the patriarch of
the genii, whom the Moslem traveller meets, is clearly a counterpart of
Virgil, the patriarch of the classics who leads Dante to the garden of
the limbo. Virgil appears before Dante exactly as Gabriel before Mahomet;
and throughout their journey each guide does his best to satisfy the
pilgrim’s curiosity. The warning of the approach to hell in both legends
is identical, viz., a confused noise and violent bursts of flame. In both
stories again, the wrathful guardians of the abode of pain exclude the
traveller, till their anger is appeased by an order invoked by the guide
from on high. The fierce demon who pursues Mahomet with a burning brand
at the outset of his Nocturnal Journey has his duplicate in the devil who
pursues Dante in the fifth pit of the eighth circle; Virgil, by a brief
word of command, disarms the fiend, just as Gabriel, by a prayer taught
to the Prophet, quenched the fire of the glowing brand.
The general architecture of the Inferno is but a faithful copy of the
Moslem hell. Both are in the shape of a vast funnel or inverted cone and
consist of a series of storeys, each the abode of one class of sinner.
In each, moreover, there are various subdivisions corresponding to as
many subcategories of sinners. The greater the depth, the greater is the
degree of sin and the pain inflicted. The ethical system in the two hells
is also much alike, the atonement is either analogous to, or the reverse
of, the sin committed. Finally, both hells are situate beneath the city
of Jerusalem.
Nor are instances of close resemblance between the torments in the hells
lacking. For instance, the adulterers, who in Dante’s poem are swept
hither and thither by a hellish storm, are in the Moslem legend hurled
upwards and downwards by a hurricane of flame. The description of the
first circle of the Moslem hell exactly tallies with the picture of the
city of Dis—a sea of flame on whose shores stand countless tombs aglow
with fire. The usurers, like the souls in Dante who have been guilty of
crimes of violence, swim in a lake of blood, guarded by fiends who hurl
fiery stones at them. Gluttons and thieves are seen by Dante, tortured by
serpents, as are the tyrants, the faithless guardians and the usurers in
the Moslem hell. The maddening thirst of the forgers in the Divine Comedy
is also suffered by the Moslem drunkards; whilst the forgers with the
swollen bellies have their counterpart in the usurers of another Moslem
version. Again, Griffolino of Arezzo and Capocchio of Sienna scratch the
scab off their leprous sores, as do the slanderers in the hell of Islam.
The _barattieri_, held down in a lake of boiling pitch by the forks of
fiends, suffer like the undutiful children in the Moslem legend, who,
submerged in flame, are at each cry for mercy prodded by demons armed
with forks. Finally, the awful punishment, dealt out in Dante’s poem to
the authors of schisms, of being knifed by demons and brought to life
again, only for the torture to be repeated without end, is the grim
torment appointed in the Moslem hell to murderers.
3. The Moslem traveller, heartened by his guide, toils up a steep
mountain, even as Dante, encouraged by Virgil, ascends the mount of
purgatory. Allegorical visions abound in both legends and, at times,
they agree in symbol and signification. Thus, for example, the woman
who, despite her loathsome ugliness, endeavours in the fourth circle of
purgatory to lure Dante from his path is almost a counterpart of the hag
who tempts Mahomet at the beginning of his journey. Moreover, Gabriel and
Virgil agree that the vision is a symbol of the false attractions of the
world. A river separates purgatory from paradise in both stories, and
each traveller drinks of its waters. Nor is this all; after his visit to
hell, Dante thrice has to submit to lustral ablution. Virgil, upon the
advice of Cato, with his own hands washes Dante’s face, and, upon leaving
purgatory, the pilgrim is immersed by Matilda and Statius in the rivers
of Lethe and Eunoe, the waters of which efface all memory of sin. In the
Moslem legend, the souls are likewise purified three times in rivers that
flow through the garden of Abraham and whose waters render their faces
white and cleanse their souls from sin. At the gates of paradise the
Moslem traveller is met by a comely maid, who receives him kindly, and
together they walk through the gardens of paradise, until in amazement
he beholds the houris on the bank of a stream forming a court of beauty
around the beloved of the poet Imru-l-Qays. Dante, when he enters the
earthly paradise, also meets a fair maiden, Matilda, and is walking by
her side through fields rich with flowers, when on the banks of a stream
he sees the marvellous procession of old men and maidens who accompany
Beatrice, his beloved, as she descends from heaven to meet him.
4. The architecture of both the Christian and the Moslem heavens is
identical, inasmuch as it is based upon the Ptolemaic system. As they
pass through the nine heavens, the travellers meet the spirits of the
blessed whose real home, however, is the last sphere or Empyrean, where
they are ultimately found all together. The denomination also of the
nine spheres is in some cases the same, namely, that of their respective
planets. Occasionally, too, the ethical systems are alike; the souls are
grouped in the spheres according to their different virtues. At times,
again, their distribution in both legends is based upon astrology, or
upon a combination of astrology and ethics.
In some versions of the Moslem legend, the description of heaven may
be said to be as spiritual as the picture that has immortalised the
Paradiso. The phenomena of light and sound are alone used by both
travellers to convey their impression of the ethereal spheres. Both are
dazzled by a light which grows in brilliance at every stage. In fear of
blindness, they raise their hands to their eyes; but their guides calm
their fears, and God empowers them to gaze upon the new light. Both
travellers frequently confess their inability to describe the majesty
of the sights they see. Both again, led by their guides, ascend through
the air in flight, with a speed that is compared to the wind and the
arrow. The duties of both guides are manifold; not only do they lead the
pilgrims and comfort them, but they pray to God on their behalf and call
upon them to thank the Lord for the signal favour He has shown them.
And, just as Beatrice leaves Dante at the last stages of his ascension,
so Gabriel leaves Mahomet when the Prophet is wafted to the Divine
Presence by the aid of a luminous wreath.
In each of the planetary heavens and in the different mansions the Moslem
traveller meets many of the Biblical prophets, surrounded by the souls
of their followers on earth. He also meets many personages famous in the
Bible or Moslem lore. Into the literary imitation of the Islamic legend
there is introduced a host of men and women who, although of all ranks
and faiths, are nearly all writers of note in the history of Islam; many
are contemporaries and even acquaintances of the traveller, and all are
grouped in circles according to their school of literature. Thus it is
that both the heaven and hell of this imitation are peopled by the same
multitude of minor personages that forms so striking a feature of the
Divine Comedy. Both authors, too, have resort to the same device for
introducing new actors into their scenes: either the traveller inquires
where a certain soul is to be found; or of a sudden the latter appears
and remains unrecognised until the guide, or a soul at hand, makes his
identity known to the traveller. In both legends the pilgrims converse
with the souls in heaven and hell on theological and literary subjects,
or on events in the lives on earth of the departed.
Lastly, in allotting the souls to the various regions of the world to
come, the two writers—although at times influenced by personal feeling
are in the main guided by the same spirit of tolerance. Both, as they
behold the souls in bliss or in pain, give vent to feelings of joy or
pity, although occasionally they gloat over the sufferings of the damned.
But it is not merely in general outline that the two ascensions coincide;
even the episodes in the visions of paradise are at times alike, if not
identical.
Dante, for example, in the heaven of Jupiter sees a mighty eagle formed
of myriads of resplendent spirits all wings and faces, which, chanting
exhortations to man to cleave to righteousness, flaps its wings and
then comes to rest. Mahomet sees in heaven a gigantic angel in the form
of a cock, which moves its wings whilst chanting hymns calling mankind
to prayer, and then rests. He sees other angels, each an agglomeration
of countless faces and wings, who resplendent with light sing songs of
praise with tongues innumerable. These two visions merged in one, at once
suggest Dante’s heavenly eagle.
In the heaven of Saturn Dante beholds a golden ladder that leads upwards
to the last sphere. He sees the spirits of the blessed descending by this
ladder and, at the instance of Beatrice, he and his guide ascend by it
in less time than “it takes to withdraw the hand from fire.” Mahomet,
in his ascension, sees a ladder rising from Jerusalem to the highest
heaven; angels stand on either side, and by its rungs of silver, gold,
and emerald the souls ascend; led by Gabriel, the Prophet rises by it “in
less than the twinkling of an eye.”
Dante meets in heaven Piccarda of his native city and Cunizza of Padua,
women well known to him; and in like manner the Moslem traveller (in
the literary imitation of the Mahometan ascension) meets two women,
acquaintances of his, to wit, Hamduna of his own town of Aleppo and the
negress Tawfiq, of Baghdad. In both legends the women make themselves
known to the pilgrim, tell him of the troubles of their married life or
leave him struck with admiration at their matchless beauty.
Like Dante, the same Moslem traveller meets Adam in heaven and converses
with him on the subject of the primitive language he spoke in the Garden
of Eden.
The examination of the theological virtues which Dante undergoes in the
eighth sphere of heaven, is similar to that to which the soul of the
departed is subjected in some allegorical adaptations of the _Miraj_.
The angels flying over the mystic rose of Dante’s paradise, with faces of
flame and bodies whiter than snow, have their counterpart in the angel,
half fire and half snow, seen by Mahomet.
As they stand on high above the planetary heavens, both pilgrims are
urged by their guides to cast their eyes downwards, and they see with
amazement how small the created world is in comparison with the heavenly
universe.
The apotheoses in both ascensions are exactly alike. In each legend the
traveller, exalted to the Divine Presence, describes the Beatific Vision
as follows: God is the focus of an intense light, surrounded by nine
concentric circles of myriads of angelic spirits, who shed a wonderful
radiance around. In a row near the centre are the Cherubim. Twice does
the traveller behold the majestic sight of those nine circles ceaselessly
revolving around the Divine Light; once from afar, before he reaches the
end of his journey, and again as he stands before the Throne of God. The
effects of the Beatific Vision on the minds of the two pilgrims are again
identical. At first they are so dazzled by the brilliance of the light
that they believe they have been blinded, but gradually their sight is
strengthened until finally they can gaze steadfastly upon it. Both are
incapable of describing the Vision and only remember that they fell into
an ecstasy that was preceded by a wondrous feeling of supreme delight.
5. Nor does the similarity between the two journeys end here. A common
spirit may also be seen to pervade the two legends.
The moral meaning that Dante sought to convey in his Divine Comedy had
previously been imparted by the Sufis, and particularly by the Murcian
Ibn Arabi. The Moslem mystics, like Dante, made use of a dramatic
story—which was alleged to be true—of the journey of a man, Mahomet,
to the nether regions and his ascension to the heavens, in order to
symbolise the regeneration of the soul by faith and the practice of
the theological virtues. In Dante’s conception, as in Ibn Arabi’s, the
journey is symbolic of the moral life of man, whom God has placed in the
world to work out his destiny and attain to supreme bliss, as represented
by the Beatific Vision. This he cannot do without the guidance of
theology; for natural reason can only lead him through the first stages
of the journey, which symbolise the moral and intellectual virtues. Those
sublime mansions of paradise, which stand for the theological virtues,
can only be reached by the aid of illuminative grace. Accordingly, the
pilgrim in the imitations of the Mahometan ascension of Ibn Arabi and
others, is no longer Mahomet, or even a saint, but merely a man and a
sinner, like Dante; often, like Dante, he is a philosopher, a theologian
or a poet. The minor characters too, even those appearing in heaven, are
real men and sinners and often repentant infidels. Thus, like the Divine
Comedy, the Moslem ascension combines in one story the antithetical
elements of realism and allegorical idealism.
6. The same involved and enigmatical style characterises Dante’s poem and
the ascension of Ibn Arabi. Moreover, both authors seek to display their
vast erudition by attributing to their characters lengthy and abstruse
discourses on philosophy, theology and astronomy. If, in addition, it is
borne in mind that the Moslem ascension, like that of Dante, had a host
of commentators, who endeavoured to discover the many meanings conveyed
by the slightest detail; that the poet Abu-l-Ala’s work was written
with the definite purpose of handing down to posterity a masterpiece of
literary art and that its rhymed prose presented technical difficulties
as great as, or perhaps greater than, those of Dante’s tercets, in view
of the accumulation of evidence, the following facts must be accepted as
undeniable:—
7. Six hundred years at least before Dante Alighieri conceived his
marvellous poem, there existed in Islam a religious legend narrating
the journey of Mahomet to the abodes of the after-life. In the course
of time from the eighth to the thirteenth centuries of our era—Moslem
traditionists, theologians, interpreters of the Scriptures, mystics,
philosophers and poets—all united in weaving around the original
legend a fabric of religious narrative; at times their stories were
amplifications, at others, allegorical adaptations or literary
imitations. A comparison with the Divine Comedy of all these versions
combined bewrays many points of resemblance, and even of absolute
coincidence, in the general architecture and ethical structure of hell
and paradise; in the description of the tortures and rewards; in the
general lines of the dramatic action; in the episodes and incidents of
the journey; in the allegorical signification; in the roles assigned to
the protagonist and to the minor personages; and, finally, in intrinsic
literary value.
8. The interesting problems to which these coincidences give rise will be
considered at a later stage; but to forestall any objections that might
be made, a few words may be added on the origin of the Moslem legend.
The story of the Nocturnal Journey and the ascension of Mahomet is not
autochthonous in Islam. Its real source is in the religious literatures
of other and older civilisations. But the question of the origin of the
_Miraj_ is of secondary interest. Let it suffice to say that its genesis
may have been influenced by many similar tales, Hebrew, Persian, and
Christian. It is not difficult to find features common to the Moslem
legend and the Judæo-Christian ascensions of Moses, Enoch, Baruch and
Isaiah; or the fabulous journey of Ardâ Virâf to the Persian paradise;
or finally, the descent of Our Lord Jesus Christ to the bosom of Abraham
blended into one story with His glorious ascension and the uplifting of
St. Paul to the third heaven.[138] None of these journeys and ascensions,
however, was so fully developed or expanded in the literature to which it
belonged as the Islamic legend. Appearing, as it did, after the others,
the Moslem tale was able to draw upon them and mould into the form of one
story both the diverse incident they offered and much new matter that
was the spontaneous outcome of Arabian fancy. In Islam, moreover, the
legend was the wider spread among both learned and illiterate, seeing
that it was accepted as an article of faith. To the present day it is
the occasion of a religious festival celebrated throughout Islam and of
a national holiday in Turkey, Egypt and Morocco,[139] which proves how
deep-rooted and widely disseminated is the belief of the Moslem people in
the fabulous ascension of their Prophet.
PART II
_THE DIVINE COMEDY COMPARED WITH OTHER MOSLEM LEGENDS ON THE AFTER-LIFE_
PART II
_THE DIVINE COMEDY COMPARED WITH OTHER MOSLEM LEGENDS ON THE AFTER-LIFE_
I
INTRODUCTION
1. The close resemblance that the Divine Comedy has been shown to bear
to the legend of the _Miraj_ gives rise to a multiplicity of problems in
the history of literature, all relevant to the originality of Dante’s
poem. These problems are so important that a more minute examination of
the poem in its several parts—limbo, hell, purgatory and the earthly and
celestial paradises—is required in order to resolve whether or not many
of the descriptive features and even whole scenes and episodes, although
successfully standing the test of comparison with the _Miraj_, are,
nevertheless, traceable to other Moslem legends and beliefs.
2. As a preliminary, it may be well briefly to set forth the doctrine
of Islam on the future life; for it will be possible to admit or reject
_a priori_ the likelihood of any resemblance between the conceptions of
Dante and the Arabs according as the Islamic doctrine agrees or disagrees
with the teaching of Christianity on the same point.
3. Now, on no question are the two religions in closer agreement than on
that of the future life, in which, according to both, the souls exist in
four different states. By the eleventh century at the latest definite
expression had been given to this doctrine by the orthodox clergy of
Islam, and notably by the great moralist and theologian, Algazel.[140]
The state of everlasting damnation, reserved for the souls of those who
denying God gave themselves up to worldly pleasures is equivalent to the
Christian hell; and, just as in the latter the pain inflicted is both
physical and moral, so in the Moslem state the soul, in addition to being
subjected to the torture of everlasting fire, is made to suffer anguish
through its separation from God.
Everlasting salvation, corresponding to the Christian heaven, is the
state of those souls that lived in the true faith and died either
innocent or repentant, free from all taint of sin. Their reward is
double, for over and above the sensual pleasures promised by Moslem
revelation, they experience the infinitely greater bliss of the
contemplation of the Divine essence.
The two states intermediate between heaven and hell approximate to our
purgatory and limbo. According to Algazel, the punishment in purgatory
differs from that in hell only in that it is not eternal, but temporary.
True, the Christian purgatory is the place where venial sins are
expiated, or deadly sins whose guilt has been washed away; whereas the
Moslem purgatory is assigned to those souls who, although guilty of
deadly sin, have until the moment of death kept the root of faith alive
within their hearts and been deprived by death alone of the possibility
of repentance. As, according to Algazel, the faith that saves is not the
dead but the living faith expressed in religious feeling and good deeds,
this act of living faith in God and in the intercession of the Prophet is
then practically the same as the spirit of contrition required to save
the Christian.
The fourth state, which represents the Christian limbo, is that of the
souls who, having neither served nor offended God, are exempt from
punishment, although denied eternal bliss. This is the condition of
lunatics, idiots, the children of infidels, and those adults who, never
having heard the call of Islam, may be said to have died in ignorance of
their infidelity.
The brief outlines sketched above will suffice to show how similar are
the moral foundations upon which the Christian and Moslem conceptions of
the after-life are based. Nor is this a matter for wonder, seeing that
so great an authority as St. John of Damascus held Islam to be but an
heretical form of Christianity, heretical inasmuch as it denied both
the Trinity and the Divinity of Christ,[141] and that Algazel himself
confessed the whole of the teaching of the Christian faith, apart from
these two points of doctrine, to be infallible truth.[142]
II
THE MOSLEM LIMBO IN THE DIVINE COMEDY
1. The first of the nether regions visited by Dante is that set apart for
such souls as have done neither good nor evil. To this place Dante gives
the name of “limbo.”[143]
The Latin noun “limbus,” the origin of which is obscure, is used by
classical writers, such as Virgil, Ovid, and Statius, with the meaning
of “fringe or border adorning the lower part of a garment.” In the
sixth century it is used with the meaning of “coast.” In the Bible and
ecclesiastical writings the abode of indifferent souls is named the
“Bosom of Abraham,” but never the “limbo”; and it is not known who
introduced the term into Christian literature. It appears suddenly in
the works of the commentators of Peter the Lombard, contemporaries of
Dante, who designate by it both the abode of unbaptised children (_limbus
puerorum_) and the dwelling of the patriarchs of the Old Testament
(_limbus patrum_).[144]
Dante places this abode immediately above hell, as if it were
an antechamber of the latter, and divides it into two parts—the
ante-inferno, a wide plain inhabited by the indifferent souls,[145] and
the angels that remained neutral in Lucifer’s rebellion against God,[146]
and the limbo proper, a deep and shaded valley, in the midst of which
stands a fortress surrounded by seven walls with seven gates leading to a
pleasant meadow.[147]
The limbo is inhabited by children that died innocent, but unbaptised,
and, in addition, by a host of men and women who, though righteous,
were either pre-Christian pagans or true followers of Mahomet and who,
moreover, are famous as poets, moralists, philosophers, or heroes.[148]
The suffering of these spirits is purely moral, and arises from their
insatiable longing to behold God. Debarred from the joys of paradise,
and exempt from the physical punishment of hell, they may be said to be
in suspense (_sospesi_) between heaven and hell.[149] This intermediate
state would appear to give them special opportunities of knowing and
dealing with both the blessed and the damned. Thus Virgil is in direct
communication, from the limbo, with Beatrice[150]; and, as he guides
Dante through hell and purgatory, he names and describes to him the
sinners and fiends, whose features are evidently well known to him.
2. The absence of almost all Biblical or theological precedents for
Dante’s picture need hardly be insisted upon. The name, the picturesque
description of the place, the exact classification of the dwellers, who
are pagans and at times even Moslems, the many details of their life and
condition—none of these can find full justification in Catholic dogma,
which is as discreet on these as on most other points of eschatology.[151]
In Islam it is otherwise. The absence of any one and unquestionable
authority to distinguish between matters of faith and of free thought
enabled a large number of myths and legends to be introduced from
other Oriental religions—especially Judaism, Mazdaism, and Eastern
Christianity—and, being attributed to the Prophet and his companions, to
acquire a weight almost equal with the text of the Koran.
A search in this direction may perhaps provide a clue to the reading of
the riddle of Dante’s limbo, which Christian theology leaves unsolved.
3. The Koran (VII, 44, 46) speaks of a mansion “Al Aaraf” that separates
the blessed from the wicked. The word “Aaraf” by derivation means “the
upper part of a curtain or veil”; it is also used to denote “the mane
of a horse, the crest of a cock and, in general, the highest or most
prominent part of anything”; in its wider sense it is applied to “any
limit or boundary between things.”[152] Thus, it is similar to the
classical _limbus_; but, whereas _limbus_ did not acquire the meaning of
a region beyond the grave until the thirteenth century, the Arabic word
had this meaning, in addition to its ordinary meaning, as early as the
time of Mahomet.[153]
The Moslem limbo is variously described in the legends—as a pleasant
vale studded with fruit trees; as a valley lying behind a lofty
mountain; as a circular wall of great height, with battlements and a
gate, rising between heaven and hell; or simply as an eminence or mount.
These conceptions, grouped together, present a picture not unlike that
of Dante’s limbo; especially, if the picture is completed with the
description, recurrent in the _Miraj_, of the Garden of Abraham and
the entrance to the Moslem hell, which, like the castle that forms the
antechamber of Dante’s hell, also has seven gates. Again, this castle,
surrounded as it is by seven walls with seven gates, is an almost exact
reproduction of the Islamic castle of the garden of paradise, which is
surrounded by eight walls with eight gates[154]; as if Dante, in blending
the Moslem designs of heaven and hell, had sought to symbolise the
neutral nature of the souls dwelling in the limbo.
The Moslem limbo has, on the authority of Algazel himself, been shown
to be the abode of those that lived neither in virtue nor in vice. In
keeping with this doctrine, Moslem tradition specifies the following
groups: Martyrs of holy warfare who are denied the reward of paradise
through having disobeyed their parents; men of learning whose merit was
nullified by their vanity; infant children of Moslems and infidels; and,
finally, angels of the male sex or genii that believed in the Prophet.
These groups correspond very fairly to the groups in Dante’s limbo of
the unbaptised children and the heroes, poets and philosophers whose
virtues and talents were neutralised by their lack of faith. As regards
the angels of male sex, they are indeed as enigmatical as Dante’s neutral
angels.
The only suffering that, according to the Koran and the theologians, is
inflicted on the inhabitants of the Moslem limbo is a vain longing to
enter paradise: “They cannot enter for all their longing.”[155] As the
good they have done is balanced by their sins, they neither sink into
hell nor rise to heaven, but remain in suspense between the two.[156]
Thus placed, they are acquainted and converse with both the blessed and
the damned.[157]
III
THE MOSLEM HELL IN THE DIVINE COMEDY
1. Dante lovers of all ages have dwelt admiringly upon the originality
shown by the poet in his conception of the architecture of hell. His
compatriot Christoforo Landino wrote as follows in the fifteenth
century[158]: “Benche questo poeta in ogni cosa sia maraviglioso,
nientedimeno non posso sanza sommo stupore considerare la sua nuova, ne
mai da alcuno altro escogitata inventione.” And in modern times, Rossi,
after showing how feeble were the stereotyped descriptions of hell prior
to Dante’s and how poor in this respect were the Biblical and classical
sources available to him, concludes by saying: “L’ingegno poderoso
e l’alta fantasia del poeta svolsero e rimutarono con piena libertà
questo abbozzo, fecondarono quegli elementi e ne trassero un tutto
nuovo, originale, grandioso, definito in ogni parte con esatteza quasi
matematica.”[159]
The admiration of the critic is justified. But, before the originality of
Dante’s conception can be regarded as established beyond all doubt, it
must be shown that no similar description existed in the literature of
other religions. This demonstration has often been attempted. Vossler,
for instance, has given a complete summary of the researches made by
Dantists in their endeavour to find religious, philosophical and artistic
precedents for the Divine Comedy.[160] With wonderful scholarship he
has reconstructed what he calls the _prehistory_ of the sublime poem.
The myths contained in religions prior to Christianity, as well as the
teaching of the Old and New Testaments, are drawn upon as sources. One
religion alone is excluded from his survey—the Mahometan.[161] Yet of
all religions Islam is the richest in legends on the after-life.[162]
Islam, the spurious offspring of Judaism and Christianity, blended the
doctrine of the Old and New Testaments with elements drawn from other
Oriental faiths; and the fact that it appeared at a later date and spread
rapidly through countries inhabited by the most religious peoples of
the ancient world aided the process of assimilation. Accordingly, in no
other religious lore do we find so minute and graphic descriptions of the
abodes and life of the blessed and the wicked souls as in the Koran and
the traditions built up around it; and a comparison of the Moslem hell
with Dante’s Inferno may well throw new light upon the question of the
originality of the great poet’s conception.
2. Beginning with the general outlines of the two conceptions, we find
no precise topography of hell in the Koran.[163] But Moslem tradition
agrees with Dante in placing hell beneath the earth’s crust; the tales
represent it as a dark chasm, or concave opening in the earth, so deep
that a stone or ball of lead dropped into it would take seventy years
to reach the bottom.[164] As in the Divine Comedy, its mouth is laid at
Jerusalem, near or behind the Eastern wall of the temple of Solomon.[165]
Dante maintains the unity of his architectural design by placing the
celestial Jerusalem in a vertical line with the city on earth; and the
same vertical projection applies, as will be shown later, to the Moslem
paradise.
But there are further coincidences. In Version B of Cycle 2 of the
_Miraj_ the Moslem hell was seen to be formed, like that of Dante, of a
series of concentric circular strata gradually descending from the mouth
to the bottom. This conception of the structure of hell was invented by
the Moslem traditionists in their endeavour to interpret the Koranic text
(XV, 44), which says: “(Hell) has seven gates; to each gate, a separate
group.” The commentators could furnish no explanation of this verse, if
the current meaning of “door” or “gate” were to be given to the Arabic
word _bab_. Accordingly, a metaphorical interpretation was soon applied
to the word in the sense of “step” or “circular stratum,” which allowed
hell to be conceived as a place of imprisonment consisting of seven pits,
each reserved for one class of sinners.[166] To give this interpretation
greater authority, it was attributed to Ali, the son-in-law of
Mahomet.[167]
“Know ye of what manner are the gates of hell?” he asked his
hearers, and they answered, “as are the gates we know”; but he
said, “not so, for they are thus,” and, as he spake, he laid
one hand flat upon the other.
The idea of parallel planes thus suggested is carried further in other
tales, attributed either to Ali or to Ibn Abbas, Mahomet’s uncle. In
these the words “step” or “circular stratum” are used in place of “gate”;
the seven divisions are expressly stated to lie one above the other; and
the distance between each is measured in terms of hyperbole.[168] The
division into seven is characteristic of Moslem cosmography. The Koran
itself says (LXV, 12): “Seven are the astronomical heavens and seven the
earths, as are seven the seas, the gates of hell and the mansions of
paradise.”[169] Dante, in dividing each of the realms of hell, purgatory
and paradise into ten regions, betrays a similar obsession for symmetry,
coupled with a belief in the esoteric virtue of a given number.[170]
Although the coincidence does not extend to the numbers themselves, the
principle underlying both cosmographies is the same.
Like the different circles of the Inferno, each of the stages of the
Moslem hell has a name of its own and certain physical features peculiar
to it, and is reserved for one class of sinners condemned to one
particular torture. It would be difficult, if not impossible, to reduce
to one scheme the heterogeneous descriptions furnished in the tales.
Nor is it claimed that they agree in detail with Dante’s description of
hell. But a brief review of some of these tales will, notwithstanding the
simplicity of the setting, reveal the general features of resemblance
mentioned above. Thus a tradition dating from the second century of
the Hegira gives the divisions of hell, reckoned downwards, as the
following[171]:—
1. _Jahannam_, or Gehenna, for Moslems guilty of deadly sins.
2. _Lazi_, or glowing fire, for Christians. 3. _Al-Hatma_,
or greedy fire, for Jews. 4. _As-Sair_, or flaming fire, for
Sabians. 5. _Saqar_, or burning fire, for Zoroastrians. 6.
_Al-Jahim_, or intense fire, for polytheists. 7. _Al-Hawiya_,
or abysm, for hypocrites.
Other traditions classify the seven earths into which God divided our
planet and which correspond to the seven stages of hell, as follows[172]:—
1. _Adim_, or surface, inhabited by mankind. 2. _Basit_, or
plain, the prison of the winds, inhabited by men that eat
their own flesh and drink their own blood. 3. _Thaqil_, or
region of distress, the antechamber of hell in which dwell
men with the mouth of a dog, the ears of a goat, the cloven
hoof of an ox and the wool of a sheep. 4. _Batih_, or place
of torrents, a valley through which flows a stream of boiling
sulphur to torment the wicked; the dwellers in this valley
have no eyes and in place of feet, have wings. 5. _Hayn_, or
region of adversity, in which serpents of enormous size devour
the infidels. 6. _Masika_, or store and _Sijin_, or dungeon,
the office where sins are recorded and where the souls are
tormented by scorpions of the size of mules. 7. _As-Saqar_, or
place of burning, and _Athara_, place of damp and great cold;
this is the home of Iblis, who is chained in the midst of the
rebel angels, his hands fastened one in front of and the other
behind him, except when set free by God to chastise his fiends.
It need hardly be pointed out how great the distance is that separates
this scheme, childish in its simplicity, from the complex moral structure
of Dante’s hell. It should be borne in mind, however, that here we are
not dealing with the systematic works of accomplished writers—they will
be discussed at a later stage—but with popular tales that lived, and
still live, in the mouth of the illiterate people; and they are quoted,
not as counterparts of the Inferno, but as rough sketches, in which
analogies, even of detail, with the poem are to be found.[173] Thus, the
second stage is, like Dante’s second circle, a place of winds; and in
the fifth region enormous serpents devour the sinners, as in the eighth
circle of Dante they do the thieves. Again, the glacial region of the
last surface is an exact counterpart of Dante’s lowest circle, with
Lucifer corresponding to Iblis the Moslem king of evil; Iblis, moreover,
appears chained with one hand in front and one behind, just as does the
giant Ephialtes.[174]
As more and more traditions come to be consulted, each adding fresh
picturesque details, the description will be found to lose its original
baldness and acquire a relief as marked as that of Dante’s picture.
These tales were collected by the ascetics of Islam, who have handed
the collections down to us in their writings.[175] A comparison of
the picture of the Moslem hell with the Inferno shows a remarkable
resemblance. Like the latter, the former is depicted with a wealth of
orographic, hydrographic and architectural features—rocks, hills and
mountains, chasms and valleys; rivers, lakes and seas; sepulchres,
dungeons, castles and bridges. As in the Inferno, many of these
topographical features bear special names; and, again, in the naming the
same principles are followed as in Dante. The latter either names the
regions after the sinners suffering in them, such as the abodes of the
traitors[176]; or, like the eighth circle, Malebolge, from the physical
and moral conditions of the place itself. Apart from the names of the
principal stages that are quoted above, the hell of Islam has many names
for special topographical features.
Thus, a mountain formed of the smoke of hell is named _Zal
Yahmum_; a rock on which libertines are tortured is called
_Sijin_, or dungeon; _Khandaq as-sokran_ is the name of a pit
from the bottom of which spring water and blood wherewith
drunkards seek to quench their thirst; _Maubiq_, or perdition,
is a valley through which runs a river of fire; _Atham_, or
place of crimes, is the name of another valley; _Al-Wayl_,
or misery, is the deepest of the valleys, in which the pus
from the sores of the sinners gathers and is drunk by the
polytheists; _Al-Khabal_, or ruin, and _Al-Hazan_, or sorrow,
are the names of two other valleys; _Lamlam_ is the name of a
round valley, the intense heat of which strikes terror into the
hearts of all the dwellers in hell; _Al-Gassaq_, or infection,
is a spring from which flows sweat exuded by serpents, in the
poisonous waters of which the flesh of the damned rots away
from the bone.[177] Some regions take their names from famous
sinners, such as the abode of tyrants, from Pharaoh; that of
the polytheists, from Abu Jahl; and so forth.[178]
From this brief summary it will be seen that the hell of primitive Islam
agrees with Dante’s hell in being an abyss of great depth, formed of
stages, steps or circular strata, each lying at a depth proportionate
to the torture meted out therein; each main stage is subdivided into a
number of secondary storeys; and in both schemes the stages or steps bear
special names and are set apart for certain categories of sinners.
The agreement in outline between the two conceptions cannot be explained
on the ground that both were derived from a common early Christian
model; for the eschatology of early Christianity, both Occidental and
Oriental, is of marked sobriety.[179] Nor is it in Islam that the origin
of this complex architectural scheme must be sought, but farther East,
particularly in Buddhism.[180]
3. The outlines of hell, traced by the early Moslem traditionists, were
filled in with a wealth of detail by the theologians of later centuries;
the mystics, especially, enhanced the tales with fantastic comment and
even endeavoured graphically to represent by means of designs the picture
thus formed.
Prominent among the mystics living before Dante’s time was Ibn Arabi of
Murcia, whose allegorical ascensions have been shown to be curiously
similar to the work of Dante.[181] Entire chapters of his monumental
work, _Futuhat_, are devoted to the description of hell, which is
represented in the traditional manner as a pit or abyss of fabulous
depth, formed of seven steps or circular strata.[182] The innovations
introduced by the Sufi are, however, of great interest. Above all,
the sinners are distributed among the seven circles according to the
nature of their sins and the organ, or part of the body, with which
they committed them, viz., the eyes, ears, tongue, hands, belly,
pudenda, and feet. Thus, the principle governing the distribution is
no longer dogmatic, but, as in the Divine Comedy, ethical. Ibn Arabi,
indeed, combines both principles, inasmuch as he subdivides each circle
into quadrants, reserved for unbelievers, polytheists, atheists, and
hypocrites respectively. In addition, and on a different principle,
each circle is divided into semi-circles—the one for sinners guilty
of _external_ sin, or sin actually committed; the other for those who
committed the same sin _internally_, or in thought. Finally, each circle
is composed of a hundred secondary circles or steps, subdivided into
abodes or cells, the total number of which equals the number of mansions
in heaven.[183] But Ibn Arabi goes further than this. Accustomed to the
use of geometrical design for the illustration of the most abstruse
metaphysical thought, he has recourse to this means for interpreting his
conception of hell.[184] As a follower of the school of Ibn Masarra, he,
like other Spanish Sufis, conceived hell to have the external aspect
of a serpent.[185] And indeed, as the Moslem hell, like that of Dante,
consists of a structure of circular layers or strata, the diameter of
which decreases with their depth, the whole seen from above in ground
plan would provide a figure formed of concentric circles not unlike the
spiral formed by the coils of a serpent. This is, in fact, the plan that
Ibn Arabi has given us in his _Futuhat_[186] and which is here reproduced
in Fig. 1.
The Dantists also, in graphic illustration of the poet’s descriptions,
have drawn designs of the architectural plan of hell and the other
regions beyond the grave. Thus, Manfredi Porena in his “Commento grafico
alla Divina Commedia per use delle scuole” (Milan, 1902) gives a ground
plan of Dante’s hell (see upper part of Fig. 2) that is almost identical
with Ibn Arabi’s design, the main difference lying in the number of
circles, of which there are ten in Dante and seven in Ibn Arabi.
Porena also gives the elevation of the inferno (see lower part of Fig.
2), which resembles the section of an amphitheatre having ten steps or
tiers. The same elevation appears in Fraticelli’s edition of the Divine
Comedy. Ibn Arabi does not give us this figure, but the elevation of
the Islamic hell was drawn by the Sufis and their design appears in the
Turkish encyclopædia, “Maʿrifet Nameh,” by Ibrahim Hakki.[187] A glance
at the reproduction of this design in Fig. 3 will show it to be identical
with the elevation of Dante’s hell.
[Illustration: Fig. 1]
[Illustration: Fig. 2]
[Illustration: Fig. 3]
IV
THE MOSLEM HELL IN THE DIVINE COMEDY—_continued_
1. Having studied the setting, we may now proceed to a consideration
of the personages appearing in hell and the tortures they suffer. The
comparison with the _Miraj_ revealed general features of resemblance in
this respect, such as the observance, in the infliction of the tortures,
of what Dantists aptly term the law of the _contrapasso_. Other analogies
in the systems of punishment may be passed over as being due possibly to
parallel and independent imitation of the mediæval _lex talionis_.[188]
More interesting is the resemblance of picturesque detail to be found in
actual episodes of the two descriptions.
Setting out on our task in the footsteps of Dante and his guide we
are at once struck by the fact that they never turn to the right, but
always to the left. To this apparently insignificant detail the Dantists
have rightly attributed an allegorical meaning. They seem, however, to
have overlooked the fact that this is in reality a Moslem feature; for
the mystics, and particularly Ibn Arabi, taught that in hell there is
no right hand, just as in heaven there is no left hand. The belief is
based on a text of the Koran, which says that the blessed are guided on
their way to glory by the light of their virtues shining on their right
hand—whence Ibn Arabi infers that the damned move towards the left.[189]
2. In the second circle Dante sees the adulterers swept hither and
thither in the darkness of a hellish storm. An outline of this scene
appeared in Version B of Cycle 1 of the _Miraj_; and, as has just been
seen, in the legends describing the division of the Moslem hell into
seven stages or tiers the second is also referred to as the region of
winds. In addition, there is a tale attributed to Mahomet that says:
“In hell there blows a dark storm of wind, with which God torments such
of the wicked as He chooses.”[190] This wind is the same dread gale
that God sent to punish the city of Ad for its wickedness, a scene
that is repeatedly described in terms similar to those used by Dante,
in the commentaries on the Koran and the collections of legends of the
Prophet.[191]
A black cloud or storm, a hurricane wraps all in gloom except
for the sinister light from what appears to be a flame in its
midst; a dry and desolating wind roars as it whirls around;
the ground trembles under the perpetual blast, which sweeps
all before it; with each violent gust men and women are swept
along, thrown up into the air and dashed to the ground; this
hurricane is the dread instrument of Divine vengeance, the
merciless torture of sinners who gave themselves up to the
delights of the senses, to gluttony and lust; tossed hither and
thither by the gale and smitten by the wind, they cry out in
bitter anguish.
Compare this scene with that described by Dante: A hellish storm, a wind
of utter darkness but for streaks of purple light[192] blows furiously
without ceasing; roaring like the sea in tempest, it sweeps the lustful
along in its whirl, turning them around, vexing and bruising them; it
carries them now in this, then in that direction, it throws them up and
casts them down; and, as it wounds them, it wrings cries of pain and
anguish from the sufferers.
As may be seen, the similarity of the descriptions extends to the very
wording of the texts.[193]
3. Let us now descend to the sixth circle of the inferno. Version B of
Cycle 2 of the legend of the _Miraj_ told how Mahomet beheld a sea of
fire, on the shores of which stood cities formed of countless fiery
sepulchres, in which the wicked lie tortured. The literal resemblance of
this scene to the city of Dis in the sixth circle, described in Cantos
IX, X and XI of the Inferno, was remarked upon above.[194] It may be
added here that the punishment of sinners in coffins of fire is mentioned
in several other Moslem legends describing the tortures of hell.[195]
4. The torture of the Sodomites in the third ring of the seventh
circle also has its parallel in the Moslem hell. Dante depicts them as
unceasingly treading the circle they inhabit, under a rain of fire that
sears their naked bodies.[196] One of the sinners is his former master,
Brunetto Latini, and, as he walks awhile with him, he expresses his
astonishment and grief at finding him there, for he remembers the wise
teaching he received from him on earth.
A double series of Moslem traditions may be quoted as prototypes of this
episode. In the first place, the Moslem hell contains a torture very
similar to that of the rain of fire:
A rain of boiling water or molten brass will fall unceasingly
upon their heads and, penetrating their skin, will eat away
their entrails and emanate from between their feet, when the
body will return to its former state.[197]
More specifically, though indeed referring to the fate of the wicked at
the final judgment, it is stated in the Koran (LV, 35): “Upon you shall
God send down flames of fire and molten brass.”
The second group of tales refers to the punishment of the wise men whose
conduct was at variance with their teaching.
“Cast into hell, they will be made to go round and round
without rest, even as a donkey in turning the wheel of a well
or a mill. Some of their disciples, on beholding them from
heaven, will descend and accompany them in their ceaseless
rotation, asking, ‘What has brought you hither, seeing that it
was but from you we learnt?’ In other versions the disciple
exclaims: ‘Master! What has befallen thee? Didst not thou haply
teach us what to do and what not to do?’ In other versions
again they ask, ‘How came ye to enter hell seeing that we
gained heaven but by your teaching?’ To which the sages make
reply: ‘We bade you do what was right, but we ourselves did
otherwise.’”[198]
As will be seen, the similarity between the two texts, the Moslem and the
Christian, extends down to the very form of expression.
5. The first valley of Malebolge, Dante’s eighth circle, contains the
panders, who, as they hurry naked through the valley, are scourged by
fiends.[199] This is the very punishment allotted by Moslem tradition
to those that neglected the rite of prayer or falsely accused people of
adultery—angels or fiends, the tradition runs, shall whip both classes of
sinners, smiting them cruelly on the face, ribs and shoulders.[200]
As for the flatterers, whom immersed in filth Dante places in the second
chasm,[201] their punishment is equivalent to that of the drunkards in
the Moslem hell, whose thirst is quenched with the loathsome lees of
hell, the sweat, the pus and the blood flowing from the wounds of the
other sinners.[202]
The third fosse of Malebolge is set with pits of fire, in which the
Simonists are roasted head downwards. A parallel to this scene is the
Moslem torture of murderers, who are likewise held in pits of fire.[203]
6. On reaching the fourth pit, Dante meets with a procession of sinners
whose necks he describes as being strangely twisted, for their faces
are turned towards their backs. More than once he seeks to describe the
strange sight, by saying that the tears of these souls fell down their
backs, that their shoulders were turned into their breasts, that they
walked backwards, and so forth.[204]
This curious torture, the originality of which has often been commented
on, would seem to be but an adaptation of a passage in the Koran, which
reads:—
“Ye that have received the Scriptures, beware of disbelieving
in what God has sent down from heaven in witness of your holy
books, _lest We should wipe out your features and turn your
faces in the opposite direction_.”[205]
The warning that God is thus supposed to address to the Jews who denied
the truth of the Koran, was variously interpreted both in a literal and
figurative sense. The ninth century commentator Tabari has recorded
the different meanings.[206] But the literal interpretation prevailed,
supported as it was by a belief in Islam, based on Talmudic legend,
according to which some of the demons appear to man in the same distorted
shape.[207] Moslem tales of the Day of Judgment also depict certain
sinners as brought to life again in this condition—with their faces
turned towards their backs they read their sentence, which is fixed to
their shoulders.[208] The very vividness of the picture stamped it on
the Moslem mind with the result that it was used both in the popular
sermons addressed to the Moriscoes and in the works of thinkers such as
Algazel.[209]
7. The torture of hypocrites in the sixth pit of Malebolge also appears
to be an adaptation from two scenes, common in Moslem tradition, blended
into one. Dante depicts them as walking slowly along, groaning under
the weight of leaden mantles, the external gilt of which dazzles the
eye.[210] In the Arabian tales of the Day of Judgment misers are punished
by being obliged to walk on and on without rest under the weight of
the hoards they had gathered on earth[211]; and both the Koran and the
traditions of Islam represent sinners, particularly carnal sinners, as
being clothed in tunics or mantles of metal glowing with heat.[212]
While conversing with two of the hypocrites the poet is horror-stricken
at the sight of the awful suffering of Caiaphas, who lies impaled upon
the ground and writhes in agony as he is trampled under foot by the other
hypocrites.[213]
This is another instance of the artistic blending of scenes
characteristic of the Moslem legends on the after-life. A _hadith_,
attributed to Ibn Abbas, describing in pathetic language the tortures of
the final judgment and hell, contains the following passage:—
“How many youths of tender age and fresh in features will be
crying out in hell: ‘Alas, my unhappy childhood, my luckless
youth! Woe is me that my strength should have failed me and my
young body been so wretched in its weakness!’ For they will lie
in bitter affliction fixed to the ground with stakes.”[214]
The complementary scene is related in the following apocryphal tradition:—
“He who in this life treats his neighbour with contempt will be
brought to life again on the Day of Judgment in the figure of
an ant and all mankind will trample him under foot. Thereafter
he shall enter hell.”[215]
8. The seventh pit of Malebolge is the place where thieves expiate their
crimes. Dante sees them rushing hither and thither in a vain attempt to
escape the hydras that, after seizing and twining themselves around their
victims, sting them in the neck, face and navel with fangs so poisonous
that their flesh is consumed and reduced to ashes, only to reappear for
the torture to be renewed.[216] Dante enhances his description with
features borrowed from the classical poets, more particularly Ovid. If
these are eliminated, the picture will be found to agree very fairly
with several scenes of torture that abound in Moslem tales of the final
judgment and hell, especially the tales of the _Corra_, the collection
that has so often been drawn upon for the purposes of this work.[217] If
allowance is made for Oriental hyperbole, a comparison with the following
will at once suggest a likeness between the two:—
“On the Day of Judgment the miser who had refused to give the
ritual alms will find himself face to face with a serpent of
great size, with eyes of fire and teeth of iron, which will
pursue him saying, ‘Give me thy miserly right hand that I may
tear it from thee.’ The miser will attempt to flee, whereupon
the serpent will say, ‘Where dost thou hope to find refuge
from thy sins?’ and, coiling itself around him, will bite off
his right hand and devour it, when the hand will at once grow
again. Thereupon the serpent will devour his left hand, which
likewise will reappear. At each bite of the serpent, the miser
will utter such a shriek of pain that all around him will be
stricken with horror.”—“In the valley of hell called Lamlam
there are snakes, as thick as a camel’s neck and as long as
a month’s journey, that sting all who neglected the rite of
prayer; the poison they inject burns the flesh throughout
seventy years.”—“There is another valley in hell called the Sad
Valley, in which are scorpions like black mules, each provided
with seventy fangs swollen with poison to sting the sinners
who were remiss in prayer; the virus they deposit burns in
the wounds a thousand years, when the flesh of their victims
rots away.”—“The drunkard will be taken to a den full of
scorpions as large as camels, which will seize hold of him by
the feet.”—“Usurers will lie in hell with their bellies open
and swarming with snakes and scorpions.”—“Adulterers will be
stung by serpents in the very parts of their bodies on which
they bestowed their kisses.”—“The infidel will be seized by the
hydra of the naked head, which will devour his flesh from head
to foot, but the flesh will grow again over his bones so that
the hydra may again devour it from foot to head.”
9. As Dante sets foot in the ninth pit of Malebolge he meets with a sight
so awful that he is at a loss for words to describe it.[218] A crowd of
sinners guilty of having sown discord among men are being driven round
the valley by demons who with sharp swords cut them in twain; but as the
victim moves on the wounds heal, only to be opened afresh on his return.
Three scenes of torture particularly attract the poet’s attention.
Mahomet, with his entrails trailing at his feet, is seen following his
cousin Ali, who appears cut open from chin to belly. Mosca degli Uberti,
whose hands have been cut off, raises his bleeding stumps as he makes
himself known to Dante. Finally, Bertrand de Born appears decapitated,
holding his head by the hair in his hand like a lantern.
The outlines of this scene in general and of the three episodes already
existed in Moslem legend.
“He who takes his own life”—says a tradition[219]—“shall with
the same knife be done to death throughout eternity by the
angels in the valleys of hell.... At each stab a jet of blood
blacker than pitch will spout from the wound, which will heal
again at once for the torture to be repeated without end.”
The picture that Dante draws of Mahomet and Ali occurs in many Moslem
tales of hell, one of which depicts two groups of sinners as follows:—
“Cursing and wailing they tread the space between two circles
of hell; the ones drag their entrails behind them as they go;
the others are spewing blood and matter.”
Variants of these legends depict the sinners treading, like an ass that
turns the wheel of a grindstone, round and round the valley in hell,
with their entrails, torn out by the fiends, trailing behind them. The
very same torture, moreover, was allotted to two men notorious throughout
Islam for their cruelty, the fifth Ommeyad Caliph Abd al-Malik Ibn Marwan
and his bloodthirsty general Al-Hajjaj, whom tradition represented either
as walking in hell with their bowels dangling between their legs, or as
being assassinated seventy times for each murder they had committed on
earth.[220]
The bloody fate of Mosca degli Uberti also has its Moslem counterpart in
the torture of thieves and the avaricious:—
“He who bereaves another of a part of his wealth shall on the
Day of Judgment appear before God bereft of both hands.”[221]
Lastly, the horrifying apparition of Bertrand de Born would seem to be
but an artistic adaptation of a scene in a Moslem description of the
final judgment:—
“On that day the victim of murder will appear before God
carrying in one hand his head hanging by the hair, with the
blood pouring from the veins of his neck and, dragging his
murderer with him, will cry out ‘Oh, Lord! Ask Thou of this man
why he killed me.’”[222]
10. In the last chasm of Malebolge deceivers and falsifiers of all
kinds are seen undergoing various forms of torture; some lie piled one
upon the other or drag themselves along on all fours; itching all over,
they scratch the scab from off their sores or tear one another with
their teeth; others lie with swollen bellies, suffering unquenchable
thirst.[223]
In Version B of Cycle 2 of the _Miraj_ three similar scenes were
described, showing the tortures suffered by slanderers, usurers and
drunkards. Many other tales in Islam also depict the torture of sinners
in terms greatly resembling those of Dante. Thus it is said, “The itch
will seize upon the sinners, who will scratch themselves to the bone;”
or, “They will suffer such pangs of hunger that they will devour their
own bodies”; or, again, “A maddening thirst will consume them and they
will cry out, ‘Oh, but for a sip of water to slake my thirst!’”[224]
V
THE MOSLEM HELL IN THE DIVINE COMEDY (CONCLUSION)
1. To reach the place allotted to the traitors, Dante and his guide are
obliged to cross a deep chasm inhabited by sinners of giant stature
who have been guilty of rebellion against God. The chief of these are
Nimrod and the giants of classical mythology, Ephialtes, Briareus, and
Antaeus. The last-named takes the poets in his hand and gently deposits
them in the abyss of the lowest circle.[225] Dante delights in describing
the giants in terms of hyperbole. The head of Nimrod appears to him as
large as the Cone of St. Peter’s, or rather more than five fathoms in
height and width; his other members are in proportion, so that his total
stature, according to the commentators, would be forty-three fathoms.
The Christian works prior to the Divine Comedy provide no satisfactory
explanation of this scene. True, the personality of the giants is well
defined in the Bible and in mythology, but none of these sources warrants
their being placed in hell. The Moslem sources, however, at once furnish
a key to the riddle. The eschatological books of Islam devote whole
chapters to the tales of the Prophet describing the enormous stature of
the infidels who, like Dante’s giants, occupy the lowest circle of hell
and whose proportions are measured, hyperbolically indeed, but with a
mathematical exactitude similar to that displayed by Dante.[226]
“On the Day of Judgment the infidels will appear with black
faces, their stature increased to a height of sixty fathoms
and their heads crowned with a diadem of fire....” “The bodies
of the sinners are of the size of mountains.... Each of
their teeth is as large as a man and the rest of their body
is in proportion. Their thighs are as big as Mount Albaida
(three miles distant from Mecca). The space they fill when
seated is as the distance from Mecca to Medina. Their bodies
are so massive that a roaring noise, as of wild beasts, is
heard between the skin and the flesh. Their total stature is
forty-two fathoms.”
The object of giving the victim this monstrous size is simply to provide
more material for torture. Finally, the hypothesis of the Moslem origin
of Dante’s picture is supported by two facts—the one, that Iblis lies
in the lowest circle chained in the same curious manner as the giant
Ephialtes, with one hand in front and the other behind[227]; the other,
that Islam relegates Nimrod and Pharaoh, as the prototypes of Satanic
pride, to the same region in which Iblis suffers punishment for his
rebellion.[228] Dante accuses Nimrod of the same sin of rebellion and
places him at the entrance to the lowest circle, that of Lucifer.
2. One and the same torture, that of cold, is suffered by all sinners
in this lowest circle. The lake Cocytus, which fills the entire space,
is kept frozen by the icy blast from the wings of Lucifer; and in its
congealed waters traitors of four different classes are shown in diverse
attitudes.[229]
It need hardly be remarked that Biblical eschatology makes no mention
of any torture of cold in hell. The Moslem doctrine, however, places
this torture on the same footing as torture by fire.[230] True, the
Koran alludes to it but vaguely in saying that the blessed shall suffer
neither from the heat of the sun nor the cold of _zamharir_.[231] But, as
comment on this passage, there arose a number of traditions, attributed
to Mahomet, in which intense cold is acknowledged as a torture of hell
and, indeed, a torture more painful even than that of heat.[232] Its
introduction into the Moslem scheme of hell was due, not merely to
a desire for symmetry and antithesis in torture, but rather to the
assimilation by Islam of a Zoroastrian belief. The theologian Jahiz,
writing in the ninth century, says that this torture is peculiar to the
Persian hell of Zoroaster, by whose religion fire is held sacred.[233]
If, therefore, it is accepted unhesitatingly by Tabari a century
later, it is probable that it had in the meantime been introduced by
Zoroastrians converted to Islam. More interesting, however, than the
question of the remote origin, is the fact that some of the traditions
interpret the Koranic _zamharir_ as a frozen lake.[234] “What is the
_zamharir_ of hell?” they asked Mahomet, and he replied, “It is a pit
into which the unbeliever is cast, in which his members are rent asunder
by intense cold.” If it is borne in mind that the word had the scientific
meaning of “glacial wind” or “air of the atmospheric region intermediate
between the earth and the sphere of the moon”[235] it will be seen that,
as in Dante’s hell, the sinners of Islam suffered the double torment of
exposure to an icy blast of wind and contact with frozen water.
The picturesque description of the various attitudes in which Dante
depicts the different groups of traitors is a feature that constantly
recurs in the pictures of the Moslem hell, though not indeed in
connection with the torture of cold. Thus, a tradition attributed to
Ibn Abbas says that “some are punished standing, some lying on their
sides; others lie stretched out on their backs, or stand leaning on their
elbows; while many are to be seen hanging head downwards.”[236] A very
popular legend of hell adds:
“The fire will be well aware of the guilt of the sinners and
the suffering they deserve.... Thus, in some it will reach the
ankles; in others, the knees, the waist, the chest, and even
the neck.”[237]
One Moslem scene of torture is even identical with the most violent of
the postures in which Dante places the sinners in the frozen lake of
Cocytus:
“The fiends will seize the sinner from behind, will break his
ribs in twain and, bending back his belly, with his hair will
tie his feet.”[238]
3. At the bottom of the lowest pit of hell, that is to say, at the centre
of the earth, Dante places Lucifer, the king of the realm of pain, set in
the ice from the lower part of his chest downwards. Of gigantic stature
and monstrously misshapen, he bears on the trunk three faces, underneath
which are enormous wings shaped like the wings of a bat; the flapping of
these wings produces the icy wind that blows in this region. With his
three mouths he devours three traitors. Dante in terror manages to slip
between the hairy shoulders of Lucifer and the ice and reach the southern
hemisphere through a long subterranean passage. As he escapes, he beholds
the enormous legs of Lucifer hanging unsupported in the air; and Virgil
explains how the fallen angel, on being cast out of heaven, with his head
had struck the surface of the southern hemisphere and, penetrating to the
centre of the earth, had remained fixed there to that day.[239]
The originality of this picture has always been greatly admired. Graf,
bringing all his erudition and insight to bear on the subject, detects
three elements in the demonology of Dante—theological elements, based on
Thomistic doctrine; popular elements, in harmony with opinion current at
his time; and elements peculiar to Dante, such as he may have acquired
in exile, particularly at the University of Bologna.[240] Among the
last-named he includes this description, saying, “Questa mirabile
immaginazione è, per quanto io so, tutta propria di Dante.”
4. However much the power and beauty of Dante’s description are to be
admired, prototypes of it are not lacking in the theological literature
of Islam.
The position of Lucifer, fixed in the lowest pit of hell, has been shown
to be common to many Moslem descriptions. Nor, given the principle of the
division of sinners, could he be conceived in any other place; for the
Iblis of Islam being, like Lucifer, the father of all rebellion against
God, must necessarily suffer the severest torture.
But the similarity of the two conceptions extends even to the very nature
of the torture. Ibn Arabi definitely states that Iblis is exposed to the
torture of ice, and this assertion he bases on the fact that Iblis, like
all demons, is a genie and thus was created from fire; his punishment, he
infers, must therefore by contrast consist in exposure to the severest
cold, or _zamharir_.[241] Contemporaries of Ibn Arabi had on similar
grounds accounted for the immunity of the fiends from the effect of the
fire of hell. Thus, Abu-l-Hasan al-Ashari argues that the demons, being
fallen angels, were created from light and, accordingly, are insensible
to torture by fire.[242]
As to Lucifer’s monstrous appearance, the multiplicity of faces is the
very stigma that for their double-dealing is imposed upon traitors in
the Moslem hell; and Lucifer, it must be remembered, as a rebel against
God, is the arch-traitor and, as such, is confined by Dante in the
traitors’ pit. An early apocryphal tradition says: “He who in this world
has a double face and a double tongue, to him shall God give two faces
and two tongues in hell.”[243] Other early legends depict the fiends
also as two-headed monsters.[244] Even hell itself, considered not as
the place, but as the embodiment of tortures, is vividly represented as
a hydra-headed monster in Moslem legends of the Day of Judgment; with
its many mouths this monster devours sinners of different categories,
and some versions even fix the number at three.[245] Finally, the
many popular tales of fantastic voyages frequently describe similar
monsters—such as the beast named Malikan, which has two wings and
numerous heads and faces and devours the animals of the sea that land
upon its island; or Dahlan, which is depicted as a fiend that rides upon
a bird like an ostrich and seizes on all men that set foot upon its isle
in the Indian Ocean.[246]
There remains to be considered Dante’s description of the fall of Lucifer
from heaven. The only allusion in pre-Dante Christian literature to the
fall of Lucifer is the brief passage in the Gospel according to St.
Luke (X, 18): “And he said unto them, I beheld Satan as lightning fall
from heaven.” The Koran, on the other hand, describes the rebellion and
expulsion from heaven of Iblis in more than seven passages[247]; and,
though no details of his descent are given, these were filled in by the
traditions depicting the punishment God inflicted on Adam and Eve, the
serpent and Iblis.[248] In addition, there exists a cycle of cosmogonical
legends, which serve to complete the myth of the fall of Iblis.
Mention has been made in a former chapter of tales describing the
division of the earth into seven floors or stages, which were identified
with the seven mansions of hell.[249] These tales were intended to
explain the cosmogonical legends above referred to; and all are in the
end but comment on a passage of the Koran to the effect that heaven and
earth were created as one sole mass and only later were separated and
each divided into several strata.[250]
“Immediately after their division,” the legend says, “God sent an angel
from His throne, who, falling upon the earth, penetrated the seven strata
thereof and there remained, sustaining them upon his shoulders, with one
hand stretched towards the East and the other towards the West, his feet
lacking all support.”[251]
The legend does not indeed identify Iblis with this angel, but the fact
that he was sent from the very throne of God and _fell_ to earth would
seem to favour the suggestion.
The two myths, blended together, may well have served as a model for
Dante’s picture. That there exist grounds for this hypothesis may be
shown by a review of the different features of resemblance furnished
by the Moslem descriptions. Iblis is an angel cast out of heaven for
rebellion against God, who, in falling to the earth, penetrates its
several strata and is embedded in the ice, with his feet unsupported;
although of gigantic stature—he supports the different strata—he is yet
an angel and thus provided with wings; but sin has changed his beauty
into hideousness and thus he appears as a many-headed beast that devours
men, as a monster that is half man, half ostrich.[252]
VI
THE MOSLEM PURGATORY IN THE DIVINE COMEDY
1. Through the dark and winding passage leading from the centre of the
earth to the surface of the southern hemisphere Dante and his guide pass
to reach the shores of purgatory, which the poet conceives as a lofty
mountain shaped like a truncated cone and set in the midst of a boundless
ocean. Seven terraces divide this mountain into as many mansions of
expiation, one for each capital sin; and at the foot two mansions form
the antechamber of purgatory, where the disobedient and negligent
spirits await admittance. On the table-land at the top of the mountain
and bordering on the sphere of the ether is the earthly paradise. The
mount of purgatory may thus be variously considered as consisting of
seven, nine or ten mansions, which are connected by a steep and arduous
path. The spirits in purgatory are those guilty merely of venial sin, or
of deadly sins for which full penitence has not been done; these they
expiate in the successive mansions under the guard of angels who guide
them in their ascent—a task that is rendered easier by the prayers of
their friends on earth. Dante, too, though only in a mystical sense, is
subjected to this progressive purification, the guardian angel marking
his brow seven times with the letter P, the symbol of sin, which is
washed away in each of the seven terraces. As they rise, the ascent
becomes easier and, finally, the poets reach the summit, or earthly
paradise, where, by bathing in the waters of two rivers, Dante cleanses
his soul and is prepared for his entry into heaven.
2. Nothing in Christian eschatology seems to warrant so detailed and
precise a description of the site of purgatory. Not until a century
after the appearance of the Divine Comedy did the existence of purgatory
as a special condition of the soul, engaged in temporary expiation of
sin, become a dogma of the Christian faith.[253] The site was never
mentioned, either at the Council of Florence held in that century, or at
the Council of Trent, or on any other occasion, for, as a matter of fact,
the Church has always endeavoured to avoid fantastic descriptions of the
realms beyond the grave, and particularly of purgatory.[254] Not that
purgatory was an innovation of the fifteenth century; indeed, the belief
in it was deeply rooted in scholastic and patristic tradition, as well
as in revealed doctrine. But the dogma never went beyond the admission
of its existence as a state of the soul, and ecclesiastical tradition,
especially of Western Christianity, was ever discreetly silent upon its
site and descriptive detail. Prior to Dante, only a few writers, such as
Hugh of St. Victor, St. Thomas and Ricardo de Media Villa, had made timid
attempts to portray purgatory, and their conceptions differed greatly
from Dante’s picture. Landino, accordingly, concludes his review of all
possible models, classical or Christian, with the remark: “Ma Dante,
huomo di mirabile ingegno e di mirabile inventione, trovo nuovo sito, il
quale niente e contra sustantialmente all opinione christiana.”[255]
3. As has been seen, Islam, the successor of Eastern Christianity,
admitted purgatory as a state of temporary penitence to be undergone by
all sinners that die in the true faith.[256] To determine its locality
and the nature of the trials to which the souls are subjected, it is
necessary to have recourse to the plethora of Islamic legends on the
after-life. The dogmas of the resurrection of the body and the final
judgment caused a certain confusion in the minds of the theologians who
were called upon to decide the question of the penalties and rewards
awaiting the soul during the time between death and the end of the world.
Are the souls alone, or the bodies also, subject to sanction? Can the
dead body feel physical pain and pleasure if it is not resuscitated in
the tomb? Again, what useful purpose can be served by final judgment,
if sentence and sanction are to begin at death? As it is impossible to
make a critical selection of the legends or to distinguish between tales
dealing with expiation immediately after death and those describing
purgation following upon final judgment, a few descriptive features taken
indiscriminately from the whole group of legends will be compared with
the corresponding scenes in Dante.
To begin with, the purgatory of Islam is represented as being near to,
but separate from hell; and, whereas the latter is placed in the interior
of the earth, the former is described as lying outside and above the
earth. This is clearly borne out by a tradition which, in addition to
this topographical feature, gives an outline of the expiation of sin[257]:
“There are two hells, or gehennas; the one the _internal_, the
other the _external_ fire. The former none shall ever leave,
but the latter is the place in which God chastises the faithful
for their sins. Then, when at His will the angels, prophets
and saints intercede on their behalf, the blackened bodies of
the sinners will be withdrawn from the fire and cast upon the
banks of a river in paradise, called the River of Life. When
sprinkled with the waters of the river they will come to life
again like seeds sprouting in dung. Their bodies made whole,
they will be bidden to enter the river and to wash themselves
and drink of its waters, so that later they may be called upon
to enter heaven. In heaven they will be known as the ‘Men of
Hell’ until such time as God shall consent to remove this
stigma, when the brow of each will bear the legend ‘Freedman of
God.’”
Thus, the final episode of Dante’s purgatory, in which, when the poet
enters the garden of the terrestrial paradise, the allegorical mark of
sin is wiped from off his brow and he is washed in the rivers of Lethe
and Eunoe, is given in this Moslem legend with typical details similar in
their turn to those already noted in versions of the _Miraj_.[258]
A tale of another cycle describes purgatory essentially as Dante
conceived it, as “a mount rising between hell and heaven on which the
sinners are imprisoned.”[259] True, purgatory here is either confused
or blended with the limbo, for the region is named _Al Aaraf_, and is
said to be inhabited by Moslem sinners whose sins are counterbalanced by
their virtues. But, inasmuch as these sinners, after being purified of
their sins in the River of Life, are capable of entering heaven, the
characteristics of purgatory may be said to prevail.
So far, then, the purgatory of Islam stands revealed as a hill or mount
definitely situated outside and above hell and rising between it and
heaven. The description is carried further in the legends, adopted by
Islam from Persian eschatology, that deal with the bridge or path that
has to be traversed by the souls before they can enter heaven.[260] The
Persian Chinvat, or luminous bridge, which stretches over the abyss of
hell between heaven and a mountain rising from the centre of the earth,
assumed in Islam the various forms of a path or road; a lofty structure,
vaulted bridge or viaduct; a natural bridge or slippery passage; or,
again, a slope or ramp difficult of ascent. With the exception of the
image of the bridge, these features reappear in the Purgatorio; and even
Dante’s mount is in reality but an enormous bridge, providing as it does
the only means of passing from earth to heaven and rising above hell,
or, rather, like the _sirat_ or path described in the Moslem books of
eschatology, above the back of the abyss of hell.[261]
4. Ibn Arabi, commenting in his _Futuhat_ upon the words attributed to
Mahomet on this point says, “the souls that are not cast into hell shall
be detained in the _sirat_, where strict account shall be taken of their
sins, for which they will be punished.” He adds that “the _sirat_ will be
over the back of hell and form the sole means of entering paradise.”[262]
In another passage he completes the picture saying, as if indeed he were
speaking of Dante’s conception, “the _sirat_ will rise in a straight line
from the earth to the surface of the stellar sphere and end in a meadow
lying outside the walls of the heavenly paradise; the souls will first
enter this meadow, called the paradise of delight.”[263]
In other legends two _sirats_ appear, and the souls that have succeeded
in passing the first without falling into hell are subjected to the
trial of the second. The latter is often represented as a high structure
(_cantara_) between hell and heaven, which serves as a place of temporary
expiation of sin: “in it the souls will be detained until they mutually
restore the debts that by their guilt they contracted on earth, and they
are purified”; whereupon angels will receive them with loving words of
welcome and guide them on the path that leads to eternal bliss.[264]
The resemblance of the purgatory of Islam to that of Dante is most
striking, however, in the form given to it by the mystics, who multiply
the primitive _cantara_, or place of expiation, into a number of
chambers, enclosures or abodes. As usual, it is Ibn Arabi who paints the
picture with the greatest detail.[265] In the legend of the Prophet that
he has handed down to us, there are fifty stations, distributed into four
main groups. Of these the last is the most interesting to us, since, like
Dante’s purgatory, it consists of seven enclosures, called bridges or
slippery passages, beset with obstacles which the souls have to surmount
by ascending seven steep slopes of a height hyperbolically couched in
terms of thousands of years. The principle on which these different
abodes of trial and expiation are distinguished is, as in Dante, ethical;
it is based on the seven capital sins of Islam, which consist in the
breaking of the rules of faith, prayer, fasting, almsgiving, pilgrimage,
ablution, and just dealing with one’s neighbour.
Once started in this direction, the imagination of the faithful soon
overstepped the narrow limits of the scheme outlined above, and the
topography was amplified by the addition of other partial purgatories of
ten, twelve, or fifteen sections. Here, again, the principle is ethical;
although it must be confessed that the distribution is neither logical
nor based on any philosophical or theological system, but is rather the
outcome of a desire on the part of the casuist to leave no wrongdoing
unpunished. The result is thus a heterogeneity of vices and failings.[266]
Judging by the wealth of detail with which the place of expiation is
described in the eschatology of Islam, it is evident, then, that in the
matter of topography Dante’s conception can hardly be claimed to be
original.
5. As for his description of the punishments of purgatory, no such claim
has ever been made. Indeed, having exhausted the whole gamut of suffering
in his picture of hell, he would no doubt find it difficult to conceive
new torments, so that a very brief comparison of Dante’s with the Moslem
scenes will be sufficient for our argument.
The disobedient and neglectful souls are punished merely by being
withheld indefinitely from the place of expiation. At the foot of the
mount they lie, awaiting the help of friends and relations, the prayers
of whom will shorten the term of Divine wrath. It is in this antechamber
of purgatory that Manfred of Sicily and Belacqua make themselves known to
Dante and implore him to give news of their sad fate to their friends on
earth. Under the shade of a rock Belacqua with his head between his knees
sits in an attitude of utter dejection.[267]
In the religious literature of Islam similar scenes abound in the form
of visions of souls in purgatory, who appear to their relations in their
sleep and beseech them to pray for their eternal rest.[268] One scene in
particular bears a striking resemblance to Dante’s description; Abu Dolaf
al-Ijli, a soldier of the time of Caliph Al-Mamun, appears to his son
Dolaf, who thus describes the vision:—
“In a dream I saw my father lying in a place of horror, with
dark walls around it and its floor covered with ashes. Naked
and sitting with his head resting upon his knees, he called
out to me, ‘Dolaf,’ and I replied, ‘May God have thee in His
keeping.’ Then did he recite the following verses: ‘Tell our
family of the fate awaiting them in this dread purgatory and
how account is taken of all our deeds. Hide nothing from them,
but thou, have pity on my awful loneliness and terrible fate.
If in death we were but left alone, it would at least be a
comfort to us! But, alas! We are brought to life again and must
answer for all our deeds.’ And with these words he vanished,
and I awoke.”[269]
6. The torments of Dante’s Purgatorio, like those of the Inferno, are
based on the principle of correlation between punishment and sin. Thus,
in the first circle the souls that are being purified of the sin of pride
are seen wending their way bowed down under a heavy load of stones. This
is the very suffering assigned by Islam to the avaricious and such as
grew rich by evil means. Tales attributed to Mahomet say[270]:—
“Men of my persuasion will come to me on the Day of Judgment,
their shoulders burdened with the goods of this world, and they
will implore my aid.... But I shall turn my back upon them,
saying, ‘the faith ye profess is known to me, but your deeds I
know not.’ For he who stole but a palm of land shall be obliged
by God to bear it upon his neck, down to the bottommost part of
the earth.”
Other legends depict the avaricious as vainly endeavouring to cross the
_sirat_ under the burden of their riches, or as wandering hither and
thither, borne down by the weight of their wealth.
In the second circle Dante portrays the envious with their eyelids sewn
together and weeping bitterly as they pray for pardon.
Blindness, though in a milder form, is also one of the punishments
reserved in Islam for those that failed to practise the virtues they
preached.[271] An apocryphal tradition of Mahomet runs:—
“He who reads the Koran but ignores its teaching shall appear
blind on the Day of Judgment. To his cry ‘Oh, Lord! Why hast
Thou brought me to life again, deprived of my sight, whereas
aforetime I could see?’ God will give answer, ‘Even as my words
reached thine eyes and thou didst heed them not, so shall I pay
no heed to thee to-day.’”
The wrathful, in Dante’s third circle, are enveloped in a cloud of smoke
so dense that although their voices can be heard, they themselves cannot
be seen.
This is the very torment, referred to in the Koran as a plague of smoke
that God will send on the Day of Judgment to punish them that mocked
His prophets.[272] The traditionists, in their comment on this passage,
filled in the details of the picture, which thus comes to bear a striking
resemblance to Dante’s scene.[273]
“The smoke will be so dense that the whole earth will resemble
a house that is on fire; the plague will last forty days and
forty nights, until the earth from East to West is full of
smoke, which will enter the eyes, ears and nostrils of the
infidels, suffocating and blinding them, and even the true
believers will suffer from faintness; men will call out one to
another, but though their voices will be heard, they themselves
will not be seen, so thick will be the fog.”
The punishment meted out in the fourth circle of the Purgatorio to the
slothful, who are made to run without ceasing, may be passed over as of
slight interest. More striking is the torture of the avaricious, in the
fifth circle, who as they lie face downwards on the ground, bound hand
and foot, bewail their fate with bitter tears.
Sadness and moral pain are among the typical features of the purgatory
of Islam that recur in the descriptions of the different abodes or
stations.[274]
“Should the soul have been guilty of any of these failings, it
will remain in its allotted abode a thousand years downcast and
ashamed, naked, hungered and athirst, until such time as it
shall have made restitution unto God.”
The peculiar posture, moreover, in which Dante depicts the avaricious, is
that in which, according to Islam, sinners in general, and inebriates in
particular, are found on the Day of Judgment and in purgatory itself. A
tradition of the Prophet runs: “He, who on earth made you walk upright,
may on the Day of Judgment cause you to walk upon your faces.”[275] And
the author of the _Corra_ describes the punishment of the drunkard as
follows: “He shall come to life again with his hands and feet fettered
and be obliged to drag himself along the ground.”[276] Of the passage of
the _sirat_ a tradition attributed to Mahomet says:
“Some will pass with the swiftness of a race-horse, of the
wind, or of lightning; others will merely run or walk; while
others, again, will crawl on all fours, like an infant, or drag
themselves along on their bellies.”[277]
In Dante’s sixth circle, where the vice of gluttony is punished, the
souls, famished and parched with thirst, are tantalised by the sight and
odour of the fruit of two trees, offshoots of the tree growing on high in
the earthly paradise.
As has just been seen, the cravings of hunger and thirst are
characteristic torments of the purgatory of Islam. It is a further
curious coincidence that in a Moslem legend narrating the passage of
the soul along the _sirat_, or path of expiation, this incident of the
tree should be thrice repeated.[278] Three trees grow by the side of the
path at different stages, the last one standing at the gate of paradise.
The soul, in its painful progress, begs to be allowed to rest in their
shade and eat of their luscious fruit, and God finally grants the prayer.
Though the ending is different, the general outline of the incident is
very similar in both stories.
The last circle of the Purgatorio is the place of expiation of the sin
of lust. Tormented with thirst and scorched by the flames, the souls cry
aloud to God for forgiveness. Dante speaks to several who are known to
him, and they entreat him to intercede on their behalf.
Fire is the most common of all the torments, occurring as it does in
almost every eschatological system; in some, indeed, it constitutes the
only form of punishment. It would, therefore, be superfluous to point
out parallel scenes in Islamic descriptions of the after-life.[279]
The Moslem traditionists, however, are careful to distinguish between
the expiatory flames of purgatory and the eternal fire of hell. The
former, being temporary and merely serving to purify, are limited both
as to duration and extent, proportionately to the nature of the sin for
which atonement is being made. Numerous are the legends describing the
different degrees of this torture and telling of the laments and prayers,
addressed by the sufferers to the angels, Mahomet, and the saints,
begging them to intercede with God on their behalf.[280]
VII
THE EARTHLY PARADISE OF ISLAM IN THE DIVINE COMEDY.
1. The summit of the Mount of Purgatory is a broad table-land, which
Dante describes as a garden of great beauty. This is the earthly
paradise, or Garden of Eden, in which our first ancestors dwelt while
yet in a state of innocence. As he treads the ground, which is fragrant
with flowers, a gentle breeze, laden with the perfumes of paradise,
fans his tear-stained cheeks. In the shade of verdant trees, the
rustling of whose leaves murmurs a soft accompaniment to the song of a
thousand birds, he comes to a limpid stream, whose course he follows;
here he walks, accompanied by a fair maiden, Matilda, who, gathering
flowers as she trips along the further bank, explains to him the nature
of the garden. Virgil’s mission is now ended, and he is soon to leave
Dante; for, of a sudden, they behold advancing from beyond the stream a
marvellous procession of maidens and elders, who, richly attired, lead in
triumph a car in which, surrounded by angelic spirits and greeted with
songs of welcome, appears Beatrice, the poet’s beloved. Calling him by
name, she sternly rebukes Dante for his disregard of the holy counsel she
gave him in his dreams, for his faithlessness in following other less
worthy loves, and for his sins. Dante, confused and repentant, confesses
his unworthiness. He is then immersed by Matilda and the maidens that
serve Beatrice in the stream of Lethe, on whose banks they are gathered,
and upon drinking of its waters loses all memory of sin. Thereafter he
succumbs to sleep in the shade of the tree of paradise, and finally, is
bathed in the waters of Eunoe, from which he emerges “born again, even
as trees renewed with fresh foliage, pure and ready to mount to the
stars.”[281]
Graf, after minute study of the mediæval legends bearing on the earthly
paradise, has shown that there existed precedents for the site chosen by
Dante, inasmuch as others before him had laid this garden in the southern
hemisphere and on the peak of a high mountain.[282] But he asserts that
no one before Dante had thought of placing it precisely on the summit
of purgatory. An examination of Islamic literature will therefore be
of interest, as it may furnish the key to this riddle of topography by
revealing analogies both in outline and in detail with this closing scene
of the Purgatorio.
2. From the earliest centuries in Islam the question of the site of the
garden in which God had placed Adam and Eve had given rise to animated
controversy. The passages in which the Koran tells the Biblical story
in a slightly altered form, led to a confusion between this paradise and
the abode of glory, thus causing it to be laid in heaven.[283] According
to another interpretation, however, it was supposed to be situated on
earth, more precisely, in the East and on the highest of all mountains.
This explanation, whilst more in keeping with the Biblical narrative, had
the advantage of being reconcilable with the words used in the Koran; for
the expulsion of Adam and Eve to the earth would merely mean that God
drove them from the summit to the foot of the mountain[284]; it would
also account for the delights of the Garden of Eden and its difference
from other places on the surface of the earth. This view, though indeed
held from early times, was mainly propounded by the _Mutazili_ heretics,
the philosophers and the mystics. A Spanish _Mutazili_ ascetic of the
ninth century, Mondir ibn Said al-Belloti, who was chief cadi of Cordova,
was its most ardent champion; and in the tenth century it became popular
throughout Islam through the _Rasail_ or encyclopædia compiled by the
_Ikhwan as-safa_, or Brethren of Purity, a heretical sect established in
Basra.
“Lying on the summit of the Mountain of the Hyacinth, which
no human being may ascend, paradise was a garden of the East;
a soft breeze blew day and night, winter and summer, over
its perfumed ground. The garden was well watered by streams
and shaded by lofty trees; it was full of luscious fruit, of
sweet-smelling plants, of flowers of different kinds; harmless
animals lived there and birds of song....”[285]
The earthly paradise that is here depicted in terms similar to those used
by Dante was situated, therefore, on the summit of the highest mountain
of the earth. Exactly which mountain was referred to is not easy to
determine, for on this point opinion differed. Some authors placed it
in Syria or in Persia; others in Chaldea or in India.[286] Eventually
the belief that it lay in the last-named country was the most generally
accepted.[287] The Brethren of Purity refer to the mountain as the “Mount
of the Hyacinth,” which, according to Arab geographers, is the mountain
rising in Ceylon, now known as “Adam’s Peak.”[288] Rising out of the
Indian Ocean to a height of seven thousand feet, it is visible from afar
at sea, and this fact would no doubt account for the exaggerated height
attributed to it, for its summit was supposed to reach to the sky.
The very name the mountain still bears is a perpetuation of the Islamic
legend. Ibn Batutah, of Tangier, the famous fourteenth century traveller,
who journeyed to the ends of the world, as it was then known, has left us
a picturesque description of its difficult ascent, which Moslem pilgrims
were wont to undertake in the belief that a rock on the summit bore the
footprint of our father Adam.[289]
A high mount, rising in the middle of an island in the ocean covering the
southern hemisphere is, in Dante’s conception, the site of the earthly
paradise. According to Islam, it is a high mountain rising in the middle
of an island in the Indian Ocean.[290] Dante’s, it is true, is but a
small isle lying in the antipodes of Jerusalem, whereas the island of
Ceylon is larger and is situated on the equator; but the difference in
topography is slight.[291]
3. As Graf has pointed out, however, Dante’s conception of the site of
the earthly paradise was no novelty in mediæval Christian literature,
so that coincidence with Islam on this point alone would not suffice as
proof of Moslem influence. But, as mentioned above, there is an element
in Dante’s topography that Graf does not hesitate to ascribe to the
poet’s inventive genius, to wit, the position of the earthly paradise
on the summit of the mount of expiation, and its conception as the goal
of the sinner in his arduous ascent and the last stage of purgation, in
which the soul is cleansed of sin and made fit to cross the threshold of
eternal bliss.[292]
Among the many Moslem legends dealing with the entry of the souls into
the theological heaven there is a whole cycle describing their adventures
from the time they finally emerge from the _sirat_ or path of purgatory.
Close to the _sirat_, and forming as it were the last stage of purgatory,
lies the marvellous garden of paradise, which, although not indeed stated
to be the earthly paradise, is depicted with all the features proper to
it. Its pleasant pastures, gay with flowers, are watered by two rivers,
and two only, in which the souls are immersed and cleansed from sin,
and of whose waters they drink; upon emerging, the souls rest, as does
Dante, in the shade of trees and are then led by a choir of angels to
the abode of glory. But a still more remarkable coincidence is, that on
the threshold of the celestial mansion the soul is welcomed by a maiden
of surpassing beauty, his promised bride, who for long has awaited his
coming, yearning to be united with him in a love at once spiritual and
chaste.
4. The resemblance to Dante’s picture borne by this brief sketch is
such as to call for a more detailed examination of these legends and a
comparison of this episode with Dante’s story. Originating in the form of
gloss on a verselet of the Koran, the myth in its earliest and crudest
version reads as follows:[293]
“The souls that are about to enter paradise first come to two
springs; they drink of the waters of the one, and God blots
all rancour and hatred from their hearts; they bathe in the
waters of the other, and their complexions become brilliant,
and the purity and splendour of bliss is seen shining on their
faces.”[294]
These bare outlines were soon filled in by the traditionists, who in the
course of time built up the story that has been handed down to us in
its most complete and classical form by Shakir ibn Muslim, of Orihuela.
Composed in rhymed verse, it is of such extraordinary length that only
the most interesting passages can be given here.[295]
“When the souls have left hell behind them and have traversed
the _sirat_, or path of purgatory, they issue upon the plain
that leads to paradise.[296] Accompanying them are the angels
of Divine mercy, who cheer and guide them on their way to
glory and wish them joy of their victory and salvation.[297]
As they approach the entrance to paradise a gentle breeze,
laden with perfume, brings balm to their souls and wipes away
the memory of the suffering they endured in the course of
their judgment and in the various mansions.... At the gate of
paradise stand two mighty trees, lovelier than any ever seen
on earth. Their fragrance, the richness of their foliage,
the beauty of their blossom, the perfume of their fruit, the
lustre of their leaves—nothing could ever surpass. The birds
on their branches sing in sweet harmony with the rustling of
the leaves....[298] At the foot of either tree there springs a
fountain of the purest water, clearer than beryl, cooler and
whiter than freshly melted snow; these springs are the source
of two limpid streams, whose beds are seen to be of pearls and
rubies....[299] Along their banks spread gardens and groves
of trees in blossom, laden with fruit and harbouring birds of
sweet song.... The souls bathe in the two rivers; from the
one they emerge whole in body and cleansed from the marks of
fire, with the lustre of health and joy upon their faces; they
drink of the waters of the river and, as all memory of past
affliction leaves them, so is all trace of envy, rancour and
hatred blotted from their hearts; they then bathe in the other
stream, and later find peaceful repose in the shade of the two
trees....[300] And, even as they rest, the angels of the Lord
call upon them, saying, ‘Oh, beloved of God, these trees are
not your dwelling; nigh unto God is your appointed place. Rise,
therefore, and march onward, till ye reach the mansion of rest
and everlasting bliss.’[301] And they rise and proceed through
the paths of paradise, following the voice of the angel herald,
who leads them on from garden to garden until they meet with
a brilliant procession of youths and maidens, dressed in rich
attire and mounted on coursers ... who greet each one with
shouts of joy and congratulation upon his triumph.... ‘Be thou
welcome, beloved son of God! Enter thy mansion, covered with
glory and honour.’ As he enters, behold! a damsel of surpassing
beauty, arrayed in robes of brilliant hue, awaits him seated
in a tabernacle ... the splendour of her countenance dazzles
him and his heart is enraptured with the perfection, grace, and
brilliant beauty with which God has endowed her. Indeed, were
it not that God had granted him extraordinary powers of vision,
he would be bereft of both sight and sense by the intensity of
the light shining in her and the splendour radiating from her
presence.[302] The voice of an angel announces to him, ‘Oh,
beloved one of God! This is thy precious bride, thy dearly
beloved partner in the life of heaven; this is the mistress of
the damsels, the coy maiden hidden from the gaze of man.’ But
hardly has she caught sight of him when, unable to restrain the
impulse of her love, she hastens towards him with fond words of
welcome, ‘Oh, beloved of God! How I have yearned to see thee!’”
Of the many points of resemblance shown by this legend to Dante’s story
of the earthly paradise, some are so evident as to be hardly worthy
of mention. The scenic features, for example, are clearly identical,
recourse being had to the same rhetorical figures to depict the beauty
of the gardens—such as the wealth of flowers, the perfumed air, the
soft climate, and the gentle breeze on which is wafted the sweet song
of birds. The rivers in which the souls are washed are two in number in
Dante’s poem and in the Moslem story, as against four in the Biblical
paradise. Lastly, both gardens adjoin the path of purgatory, of which in
fact they constitute the last division, for in them the soul undergoes
final purification from the stain of sin and is prepared for entry
into the realm of glory. The resemblance even extends to the manner of
purification: the soul is bathed in both rivers and, in addition, drinks
of their waters. The effects of the double ablution are also similar;
all physical and moral trace of sin is blotted out and new life imparted
to the soul. After ablution, the pilgrim seeks rest in the shade of a
tree. Finally comes the procession of youths and maidens leading in the
heavenly bride; the meeting of bride and bridegroom and their mutual
recognition.
5. In spite of long and minute research, no literary precedent has so
far been found for this latter scene.[303] Yet, as the Dantists justly
claim, it is of supreme moment for the whole of Dante’s poem, for it not
only sheds light on the riddles that precede it, but also foreshadows
the significance of what is to come; and, indeed, but for this scene
of the meeting of Dante and Beatrice, neither the descent to hell
nor the ascension to paradise would be susceptible of a satisfactory
interpretation. At the same time, it must be admitted that the scene
bears but little trace of the Christian spirit and is in strange contrast
to the asceticism and the horror of sexual love that are characteristic
of ecclesiastic literature in general, and that of the Middle Ages in
particular.[304] To arrange, as the climax of a journey to the regions
beyond the grave, the meeting of the pilgrim with his lost Beloved is a
poetic conceit that will in vain be sought for in any of the Christian
precursors of the Divine Comedy. Dante was well aware of how singular the
note he struck was. So novel did the glorification of Beatrice, which is
the avowed object of his poem, appear to him, that many years before,
when the plan of the Divine Comedy was shaping in his mind, he remarked
about his future poem, “Spero di dire di lei quello que mai non fu detto
d’alcuna.”[305] No doubt this glorification of Beatrice has its immediate
roots in the spirit of chivalry that inspired the troubadours of Provence
and the Italian poets of the “dolce stil nuovo”; in the spiritual and
romantic love of woman underlying that literary movement; and in the
mixture of mysticism and sensuality revealed in the temperament of
Dante, the man and poet. These explanations may, indeed, lay bare the
inner workings of the poet’s mind, but they leave unsolved the riddle
of the outer literary form in which his mentality manifested itself in
this episode of the earthly paradise. In a later chapter of this work
it will be shown that the origin of the “dolce stil nuovo” movement
itself is most probably to be sought outside Christianity and that long
before the appearance of the troubadours in Europe romantic love had
inspired the poets of Arabia, and provided food for the speculative
minds of Moslem mystics.[306] Here it will suffice to point to the
outstanding fact that an episode so typical of the Divine Comedy as the
meeting of Beatrice and Dante, and, being foreign to the very spirit of
Christianity, unprecedented in Christian legend, has a striking parallel
in Moslem tradition. Nor is the tale translated above unique; rather is
it the final stage in the evolution of a series of legends that tell
the fantastic story of the entry of the blessed soul into paradise. The
Moslem heaven, as will be seen later on, is not exclusively the paradise
of coarse delight, as depicted in the Koran and many of the traditions,
that has become stamped on the mind of educated Europe. By the side of
that picture there is another, painted by the ascetics and mystics, that
reveals a heaven of purer love, in which, in addition to the large-eyed
houris and the wives the blessed knew on earth, a spiritual bride also
awaits him. This is his Heavenly Betrothed, who from on high has been
waiting and watching for the advent of her lover, guiding him on the
path of virtue, inspiring him with lofty aims and ever encouraging him
to persevere to the triumphant end, when they will be united in eternal
bliss. When death at last leads the blessed soul to paradise, it is she
who sallies forth to welcome him, radiant indeed with beauty, yet not as
an instrument of carnal delight, but rather as a spiritual companion and
moral redemptress who wishes the soul joy of his victory and reproves
him for having on occasions forsaken her for other, earthly loves. The
picture of this Heavenly Bride is so strikingly like that of Beatrice
that it will not be amiss to quote some of the legends on this subject.
6. A very interesting description of the entry of the blessed soul into
paradise is contained in the tenth century work _Corrat Aloyun_.[307]
The angel Ridwan leads him to the tabernacle where his bride
awaits him. She greets him with the words, “Oh, friend of God,
how I have longed to meet thee! Blessed be the Lord, who has
united us! God created me for thee and engraved thy name upon
my heart. While thou on earth wast serving God in prayer and
fasting, day and night, God bade his angel Ridwan carry me on
his wings so that I might behold thy good deeds from heaven.
The love I felt for thee caused me to watch over thy progress
unbeknown to thee. When in the dark of night thy prayer went
up, my heart was glad within me, and I said to thee, ‘Serve
and thou shalt be served, sow and thou shalt reap! God has
advanced thee in glory, for thy virtues have found favour in
His sight, and He will bring us together in heaven.... But,
when I found thee neglectful and half-hearted, I felt sad.’”
Another legend of the same cycle, attributed to the eighth century
traditionist Ibn Wahab, introduces the reproaches of the bride for her
bridegroom’s earthly loves.[308]
“They will say to a woman in paradise, ‘Would’st thou see thy
spouse who is yet on earth?’ and, as she assents, they will
draw aside the veils that separate her from him, so that she
may look upon his face and long for the moment of his coming,
even as on earth a woman longs for her absent man. It may
be that between him and his spouse on earth there have been
grounds for resentment such as are common among wives and
husbands, and she will reproach him saying, ‘Oh, wretched man!
Why dost thou not forswear (such loves) that, compared with
mine, shall last thee but a night or two?’”[309]
The similarity between these two descriptions and the two scenes in
which Beatrice comes to the moral aid of Dante is surely evident.
Beatrice, when from on high she sees that her beloved poet is in danger
of forfeiting salvation and, therewith, her companionship in paradise,
descends from heaven to implore Virgil’s assistance in setting the
pilgrim on the right path. The scene forms, as it were, the prologue
to the poem.[310] When Dante reaches the earthly paradise, she again
descends and to her greeting adds reproof for his backsliding, his
indulgence in earthly loves, and his neglect of the holy counsel she gave
him in his dreams.[311]
Tales of visions, based on the legends of the same cycle, are common
in Islamic literature. They all tell of a beautiful and angelic maiden
who appears to the devout in their dreams, to inspire them with holy
thoughts and urge them to serve God with the promise that she will be
theirs in the life to come.
A tale attributed to Ali al-Talhi, who lived prior to the tenth century,
reads as follows[312]:—
“In a dream I beheld a woman fairer than any of this world.
‘Who art thou?’ I asked, and she replied, ‘I am a houri.’
I said to her, ‘Pray let me be thy husband,’ to which she
replied, ‘Ask me in marriage of my Lord and name my dowry.’
I asked, ‘What is thy dowry?’ and she answered, ‘That thou
shouldst keep thy soul unspotted from the world.’”
Another story, attributed to the ninth century ascetic Ahmed ibn
Abu-l-Hawari, runs:—
“In a dream I saw a maiden of the most perfect beauty, whose
countenance shone with celestial splendour. To my asking,
‘Whence comes that brilliance on thy face?’ she replied,
‘Dost thou remember that night spent by thee in weeping (and
devotion)?’ ‘I remember,’ I answered, and she said, ‘I took
those tears of thine and with them anointed my face, since when
it has shone in brilliance.’”
A tale, attributed to Utba al-Ghulam, certainly dates before the eleventh
century:—
“In a dream I saw a houri of beautiful features, who said to
me, ‘I love thee passionately and trust thou wilt do no deed
that might keep us apart.’ I replied, ‘Thrice have I abandoned
the things of this world and hope never to regain them, so that
I may be able to meet thee (in heaven).’”
Sulayman ad-Darani, a great ascetic of the ninth century of our era, is
the protagonist of a similar tale[313]:—
“I saw in a dream a maiden of a beauty ‘as splendid as the
moon,’ clad in a mantle that ‘seemed as if made of light.’[314]
Said the maiden to me, ‘Thou sleepest, oh! delight of my soul.
Perchance thou knowest not that I am thy bride? Rise, for thy
prayer is light and thy Lord deserveth thy thanks...!’ and,
with a cry, she flew off through the air.”
Other legends tell of the visions seen by martyrs of holy warfare, the
soldier ascetics of Islam, who later had their counterpart in the knights
of the Christian military orders. In those quoted below, the meeting
with the heavenly bride, who appears either alone or accompanied by her
handmaidens, is described in terms similar to those used by Dante, and
the subject of the earthly loves of the protagonist is also alluded to.
A tale told by Abd ar-Rahman ibn Zayd, of the eighth century, runs as
follows[315]:—
“A youth, moved to devotion by spiritual reading, distributes
all his patrimony among the poor, keeping only enough to buy
a mount and arms, with which he sets off to the holy war.
Whilst on service, he fasts during the day-time and spends
the nights in prayer and vigil as he guards the horses of
his sleeping comrades. One day he cries out in a loud voice:
‘Oh, how I long to be with the large-eyed maiden!’ and to his
companions he explains how in a dream his soul found itself in
a lovely garden watered by a river; on the bank of the river
stood a group of fair maidens in rich attire, who welcomed
him saying, ‘This is the bridegroom of the large-eyed maiden
whom we serve.’ Proceeding on his way, he comes to a second
river, where other maidens again welcome him.[316] A few steps
further, and he meets the heavenly maiden herself enthroned on
a seat of gold within a tabernacle of pearl. When she beholds
her betrothed, she wishes him joy of having come to her, but
warns him that his present coming is not final. ‘The spirit of
life yet breathes within thee, but to-night thou shalt break
thy fast in my company.’”[317]
The following legend was told by Abd Allah ibn al-Mubarak in the eighth
century[318]:—
A soldier in the holy war tells of a vision he had when faint
from wounds received on the field of battle. “I seemed to be
led to a mansion built of rubies, wherein I saw a woman whose
beauty enraptured me. She bade me welcome, saying she was not
like my wife on earth, whose behaviour she then related to me.
I laughed and would fain have clasped her in my arms, but she
held me at a distance saying, ‘To-morrow in the evening thou
shalt come to me,’ and I wept because she would not let me draw
nigh to her.” The legend ends by saying that on the morrow that
same soldier died in battle.
A legend, related by Ismail ibn Hayyan, of the ninth century, also tells
of a vision seen by a martyr of holy warfare as he fainted away:—
He finds himself led by a man to the mansion of the heavenly
maiden, through palaces of paradise inhabited by youths whose
beauty is painted in hyperbolic terms. Finally there comes to
greet him the beautiful woman who tells him she is his bride
and who reminds him of the women of this world with such detail
that she appears to be speaking from a record made in a book.
7. The features of resemblance found in this comparison of Dante’s
story of the earthly paradise with Islamic legend may be summarised as
follows: On either hand, this paradise is represented as a garden of
delight, situated on the summit of a high mountain rising on an island
in the ocean; other Islamic legends tell of a garden lying at the gate
of paradise and forming both the antechamber to glory and the last stage
of purgatory, where the souls undergo final purification by being washed
in the waters of two streams; in this garden also the soul is met and
welcomed by the heavenly bride, a figure who in appearance and attitude
bears a striking resemblance to the Beatrice of Dante.
Versions of the _Miraj_ described a similar garden as being watered by
rivers in which the souls are purified before they enter heaven. That
garden was called the Garden of Abraham. Thus, in Islam, there was a
threefold garden beyond the grave—the Garden of Abraham, or Limbo;
the Garden of Eden, or earthly paradise; and the garden of paradise,
lying between purgatory and the theological heaven. Features of all
three gardens appear blended in the Divine Comedy in a form foreign to
Christian legend, as it existed prior to Dante.
The _Risala_ of Abu-l-Ala al-Maarri, the literary imitation of the
_Miraj_ that was quoted in a former chapter, depicted a similar scene. In
a garden lying at the gate of the celestial paradise the traveller, on
the banks of a river, meets a maiden who has been sent by God to welcome
and guide him; she leads him to the presence of the beloved of the
poet Imru-l-Qays, who appears in the wake of a procession of beautiful
maidens.[319]
It would thus seem that there was nothing to prevent the legend of the
ascension from being extended to include the legends quoted in this
chapter, dealing, as they also do, with the after-life. The idea might
indeed prove tempting to so consummate an artist as Dante, who, saturated
with classical and Christian learning, might well know how to weave into
the outline of the story of Mahomet the scenes provided in these legends
and the features available in mythology and ecclesiastical tradition, in
order to paint his picture of the earthly paradise, in which elements
from the Garden of Eden, the Parnassus of the Ancients, and the Paradise
of Islam are blended into one.
VIII
THE CELESTIAL PARADISE OF ISLAM IN THE DIVINE COMEDY
1. As we have now reached a point in our argument when it might appear
that we were treading on dangerous ground, a few words by way of preface
to this chapter may not be amiss. The very suggestion of a comparison
between Dante’s paradise and the paradise of Islam will most likely
occasion surprise even in the minds of people of moderate culture.
Surely, it will be thought, any such comparison can only serve to
show up the utter antagonism between the two conceptions. Indeed, the
spiritualism of Dante’s paradise seems so far removed from the coarse
and sensual materialism of the paradise depicted in the Koran that, if
the question were to be decided on that issue alone, there could be but
one answer. The Koran, however, as has already been pointed out, does
not stand for all Islam, nor does it constitute the main source of its
dogma. The traditions early attributed to Mahomet, the explanations of
the commentators, and the speculations of theologians and mystics, played
at least as great a part as the letter of the Koran in determining the
essential points of the creed of the Moslem paradise. Of outstanding
interest in this connection is the tradition of the ascension of Mahomet.
This legend in its various forms, and particularly in Version C of Cycle
2, showed very clearly that paradise was by no means generally conceived
on the gross and sensual lines described in the Koran; on the contrary,
the picture drawn there was almost exclusively one of light, colour
and music, which are the very elements that Dante used to express his
conception.
The spiritual interpretation of the delights of paradise must have begun
in the first centuries of Islam. The famous traditionist and kinsman
of Mahomet, Ibn Abbas, was of old credited with a saying which is
significant of its early origin: “In paradise there is none of the things
of this world; only their names are there.” The earliest traditionists
even place in the mouth of the very Prophet who had described in such
glowing terms the sensual joys awaiting the blessed, the same sublime
words by which Isaiah and St. Paul had represented the glory of heaven;
for a _hadith_ attributed to Mahomet says, “I have prepared for my holy
servants such things as the eye hath not seen, nor the ear heard, nor
the mind of man imagined.”[320] To this Divine promise the Prophet
added the verse of the Koran (XXXII, 17): “The soul knows not of the
delights awaiting it in reward for its good deeds.” The Moslem books on
eschatology record many similar _hadiths_ attributed to Mahomet, in which
the Beatific Vision is represented as the supreme bliss reserved for the
souls in paradise.[321] It will thus be seen that from the very first
centuries Islam had begun to conceive, apart from the sensual paradise
of the Koran, a spiritual and essentially Christian heaven, in which
beatitude consists in the contemplation of the splendour of the Divine
essence.
2. To trace back each of the many controversies that arose in the
centuries following would be to exceed the limits of our task. In the
end the idealistic conception of paradise emerged triumphant alike over
the exegesis of the Koran and the arguments against the anthropomorphism
of God of the Mutazili and Kharijite heretics.[322] By the time that the
dogma of Islam was given definite shape by its greatest theologians, the
Beatific Vision was considered to be the principal, if not the only prize
of heaven, and the sensual delights extolled in the text of revelation
were discreetly ignored.
The mystics and the philosophers, imbued as they were with Christian
theology and neo-Platonic metaphysics contributed to the gradual
elimination of the sensual conception of paradise by giving its material
delights a mystical or allegorical meaning. And this line of thought was
followed by the two great thinkers of the twelfth century, the theologian
and mystic, Algazel, and the theologian and philosopher, Averrhoes.[323]
Algazel states that, with the exception of the materialists, who denied
the immortality of the soul, all cultured minds in Islam more or less
openly scouted the idea of any sensuality in connection with the delights
of paradise[324]; the philosophers averred that these delights were
purely imaginary; the mystics went further and denied their existence;
and both philosophers and mystics for the joys depicted in the Koran
substituted the sole and sovereign delight of the intellectual vision or
contemplation of the essence of God, the enjoyment of which they made
equivalent to all the physical and ideal pleasures that man is capable
of feeling.[325] This denial, more or less complete in substance, was,
however, attenuated in form, to avoid disappointing the masses, who were
incapable of so lofty a conception. To save appearances, the philosophers
and Sufis affected acceptance of the material descriptions of the Koran
on the grounds that they were symbols, the spiritual meaning of which was
the patrimony of the enlightened. Algazel and Averrhoes, the champions
alike of faith and reason, found means to reconcile the points of view
of both the learned and the vulgar by declaring that heaven, as the
supreme aim and ultimate bliss of all men, would be a state in which
each would attain his particular desire. Those who in this life were
tied down to things material, would in heaven be capable of deriving joy
only from sensual delights, though they could not say of what these were
to consist; whilst those whose conceptions and desires were free from
all material taint, would find delight in the enjoyment of the Beatific
Vision alone.
Thus, Algazel and Averrhoes in their picture of the mediæval beliefs
of Islam provide us with two heavens—the one, material, and the other,
ideal. A few years later, Ibn Arabi of Murcia expressed his views on the
question in the same concise terms.[326]
“There are two heavens—the one, sensible; and the other, ideal.
In the one, both the animal spirits and the rational souls
enjoy bliss; in the other, the rational souls alone. The latter
paradise is the heaven of knowledge and intuition.”
Not content with this formula, he proceeds to explain the psychological
motives that led Divine Providence to lay greater stress upon the
sensible than upon the ideal paradise in the Koran, in contrast to the
teaching of Christian revelation. And Ibn Arabi’s explanation, arguing as
it does the Christian origin of the spiritual conception of paradise in
Islam, is so significant that it is worthy of literal transcription.[327]
“God has depicted paradise in accordance with the different
degrees of man’s understanding. The Messiah defined the
delights of paradise as purely spiritual, when, in concluding
the instructions given to his disciples in his testament, he
said, ‘Should ye do as I have bidden you, ye will sit with me
to-morrow in the Kingdom of Heaven by the side of my Lord and
your Lord and behold around His throne the angels singing His
praise and glorifying His holiness. And there ye will enjoy
all manner of delights and yet will partake not of either food
or drink.’[328] But, if the Messiah was so explicit on this
point and had recourse to none of the allegories found in our
Book, it was simply because his words were spoken to a people
conversant with the Torah and the books of the prophets, whose
mind was thus prepared for his words. Not so with our Prophet
Mahomet. His Divine mission fell among a rude people, who dwelt
in deserts and on mountains; who lacked the discipline of
learning and believed neither in the resurrection nor in the
future life; who were ignorant even of the pleasures of the
princes of this world, let alone those of the kings in heaven!
Accordingly, most of the descriptions of paradise in his book
are based on the body, in order that they might be understood
by the people and serve as an incentive to their minds.”
3. The evidence furnished by the Moslem thinkers, Algazel, Averrhoes
and Ibn Arabi, is fully confirmed by the writings of the two Christian
scholastics who were most versed in Islam—the Spaniards, Raymond Lull and
Raymond Martin. Far from falling into the common error of attributing
to all Moslems the belief in a voluptuous paradise, they repeat almost
literally what those thinkers had affirmed; and Raymond Martin even
quotes passages from Algazel, full of the loftiest metaphysical thought,
in which this prince of Moslem mystics pictures the sublime delights of
the Beatific Vision.[329]
If, therefore, at the very time at which Dante was composing the Divine
Comedy two Christian theologians knew of a Moslem paradise just as
adaptable as Dante’s to the purest and most spiritual Christian doctrine,
the idea of comparing the two conceptions, based as they are on dogmas
that are so much alike, can no longer be considered as out of place.
That a connection between the two artistic conceptions does exist will
appear the less unlikely if it is borne in mind that Dante’s paradise has
no precedent in Christian mediæval literature. Dantists have shown that
in none of the so-called “precursors” of the Divine Comedy could the
poet have found inspiration for his delicate picture. Whereas, to Dante
paradise is pure light, and the life of the blessed, one of ecstatic
contemplation and Divine Love, in the rude conception of most of his
Christian predecessors—who were merely monks or _jongleurs_—life in
heaven is but a grotesque exaggeration of the life of the refectory and
the choir, or of the life at the court of a feudal lord.[330] Thus, the
question of determining the values to be attributed to the conceptions of
paradise current in the Middle Ages may in all fairness be reduced to the
following terms: In the Moslem world two antithetical ideas flourished
almost simultaneously—the coarse and sensual paradise of the Koran,
and the spiritual picture of the philosophers and the mystics. In the
Christian world, the same two ideas existed—the materialistic conception,
equivalent to that of the Koran, which flourished prior to the Divine
Comedy, and the spiritual picture, which was solely the work of the
Florentine poet.[331] Dante himself appears to disdain the conceptions of
his Christian predecessors when, in announcing his ascension to paradise,
he says, “If God ... wills that I may behold his court in a manner quite
outside modern use.”[332]
Once the mind is free from the prejudice, as common as it is ill-founded,
that regards all Islamic conception of paradise as materialistic, it will
the more readily grasp how it came about that Islam, as early as the
eighth century of our era, conceived so spiritual a picture of heaven
as that found in Version C of Cycle 2 of the legend of the _Miraj_.
The many striking features of resemblance borne by that description to
the paradise of Dante were exhaustively dealt with in the first part of
this work, and the wealth of coincidence afforded room for so minute a
comparison that but little is now needed to complete the parallel.
4. To begin with the general scheme of the Paradiso, we know that Dante’s
paradise is formed of the nine astronomical heavens of the Ptolemaic
system. In the first seven heavens it is only by chance that the poet
sees the blessed, who are distributed according to their merits. Their
real residence is in the Empyrean, or immobile sphere, which is thus the
true paradise or theological heaven. There Dante pictures them as seated
on thrones, benches or seats of light in the form of an amphitheatre,
which gives the whole assembly the appearance of an immense rose of
light, in the centre of which God stands revealed to the contemplation
of His Chosen. The Empyrean is the celestial Jerusalem and lies in the
vertical projection of the earthly Jerusalem, whilst beneath the latter
opens the abyss of hell. The most perfect symmetry exists between the
realm of reward and the realm of punishment. Both contain ten mansions
and, just as the depth of each infernal mansion indicates the gravity of
the sin punished therein, so does each degree of merit find its reward in
a correspondingly high mansion in heaven.[333]
Most, if not all, of the architectural features of this plan have already
been shown to exist in one or other of the versions of the legend of the
_Miraj_. Thus, many of those versions represent the astronomical spheres
as being inhabited by saints, prophets, and angels, who were seen to be
allotted to the spheres according to their merit.[334] This conceit,
though shared by Dante and Islam, had however no Biblical foundation;
for neither the Old nor the New Testament definitely mentions the
astronomical heavens as being the dwelling-places of the blessed. The
idea can only have been derived either from the Cabbalists or some of the
apocryphal Christian writers[335]; for the Fathers of the Church and the
early ecclesiastical writers were careful not to attempt any specific
localisation of the theological heaven.[336]
One outstanding feature of Dante’s general scheme of paradise has been
universally admired for its originality. The site of glory, or celestial
Jerusalem, he places directly above the Jerusalem on earth, which
according to the poet occupies the centre of our northern hemisphere.[337]
Exactly the same conception existed in Islam as early as the seventh
century, that is to say, in the time of Mahomet himself. A legend
attributed to the famous traditionist and companion of the Prophet, Kaab
al-Akhbar, a Jewish convert who introduced many rabbinical myths into
Islam, runs: “Paradise is in the seventh heaven, opposite Jerusalem and
the rock (of the Temple); if a stone were dropped from paradise, it would
surely fall upon the rock.”[338] Similar rabbinical sayings, attributed
to the same traditionist, or to another Jewish convert, Wahb ibn
Munabbih, and sometimes to the kinsman of the Prophet, Ibn Abbas, must
have contributed to spread the belief that paradise lay in the vertical
projection of Jerusalem and its Temple. Indeed, geographical treatises of
the tenth century describe Jerusalem as follows[339]:—
“Jerusalem is the navel of the earth. The Gate of Heaven stands
open on its temple. In Jerusalem is the Divine Light and the
Divine Fire. To visit Jerusalem is to enter heaven. God said of
the rock (of the Temple), ‘Thou art My lower throne; from thee
heaven rises unto Me; underneath thee stretches the earth; in
thee lie My heaven and My hell.’ From Jerusalem Jacob saw the
ladder that rose to heaven. Jesus ascended into heaven from
Jerusalem and thither He will descend again. That part of the
earth that is nearest to heaven is Jerusalem.”
It should be remembered that in several versions of the _Miraj_ Mahomet
began his ascension from the same rock of the Temple of Jerusalem, and
this the commentators explain by quoting in a slightly altered form the
legend mentioned above as told by Kaab al-Akhbar: “The Gate of heaven,
named the Mount of the Angels, lies opposite Jerusalem.”[340]
This obsession for symmetry in design is characteristic of Moslem
eschatology, in which the world beyond the grave was conceived on the
lines of this world. All versions of the Mahometan ascension tell of
a temple in heaven called the “House of Habitation,” which is but the
counterpart of the Holy Shrine at Mecca; and, as the Caaba is supposed to
have been built by Abraham, so the latter is represented as residing near
the heavenly temple. Moreover, in some legends this temple of paradise
is supposed to lie in the vertical projection of the Caaba, just as the
Celestial Jerusalem lies directly above the Jerusalem on earth. One of
these legends Ibn Arabi quotes: “Were the House of Habitation to fall to
the earth, it would assuredly fall on the temple of the Caaba.”[341]
Nor does this desire for symmetry, which so imbued the minds of Moslem
traditionists, end there. The realms of pain and of reward, hell and
heaven, correspond in design just as perfectly as they do in Dante’s
design. This may be seen from the general plan that Ibn Arabi traces with
almost mathematical precision.[342]
“The degrees of heaven are as many in number as the degrees of
hell; for each degree in the one has its counterpart in the
other. This is but natural, for man can but comply, or fail to
comply with any one precept. If he complies with it, he gains a
degree of glory commensurate with his merit; but, if he fails
to do so, he suffers condign punishment in hell. Thus, were a
stone to fall from any one degree in paradise, it would of a
surety fall in a straight line on the corresponding degree in
hell.”
5. The actual description of Dante’s abode of glory is contained in
Cantos XXX, XXXI, and XXXII of the Paradiso.[343] As the rays spread
from the centre of Divine Light throughout the Empyrean, they create a
number of luminous circumferences of immense diameter on planes that
lessen in extent as they gradually descend. Each of these circles, like
the tier of an amphitheatre, is formed of a row of seats, benches or
thrones. The ranks thus formed Dante likens to the petals of an immense
rose, each petal of the mystic flower representing a seat in glory, and
the petals on one and the same plane, a circle or tier of the celestial
amphitheatre. Dante also compares the abode of bliss to a realm, a
garden, or a hill around which the blessed are grouped in ecstatic
contemplation of the Divine Light; but the simile he mainly uses is that
of the mystic rose, which, although he never actually employs the figure,
he derived, no doubt, from the more graphic image of an amphitheatre.
The moral principle underlying the distribution of the blessed in the
various tiers of the amphitheatre is applied with as strict a regard
for symmetry as is shown in the geometrical design. All is governed by
law and nothing is left to chance. The greater or lesser height of each
circle corresponds to the greater or lesser degree of holiness attained
by the souls, who, again, occupy a position on the left or right in each
circle according to the nature of their faith before or after the advent
of Christ. Further, the saints of the Old Testament are separated from
those of the New Testament by subdivisions within each sector, some of
which are in a vertical, others in a horizontal, sense. Men and women,
children and adults, all are grouped in their respective classes in
the various parts of the rose. Perfect symmetry marks the whole scheme
throughout. Thus we find that Eve, the mother of human sinners, sits
underneath Mary, the Mother of Christ the Redeemer; on the left of Mary
sits Adam, the father of mankind, and on her right, St. Peter, the father
of the Church. The blessed occupy their seats in Glory for one or the
other of two reasons—either owing to their works plus grace, or to Divine
grace alone; in the former category are the adults, in the latter, the
children who were only saved through the faith of their parents. A third
class, formed of the children and adults who sit in the places left
vacant by rebel angels, might indeed be added. In conclusion, the spirits
occupying the principal seats in the first circles, though not actually
so classified by Dante, fall into three groups—the patriarchs and
apostles, such as Adam, Moses, John the Baptist, St. Peter, and St. John
the Evangelist; beneath them, the holy doctors of the religious orders,
such as St. Francis, St. Benedict, and St. Augustine; and, still lower,
the laymen and clergy who followed the teaching of these doctors.
In spite of these differences in degree, the life of the blessed is
essentially one and the same. With their gaze fixed on the focus of
Divine light, they contemplate God and know Him more or less perfectly
according to the strength of their vision, which, in turn, depends
on the purity and intensity of the Divine love they felt on earth.
The difference in degree is made outwardly manifest by the greater or
lesser brilliance each spirit emits; but it does not imply any essential
difference either in the vision itself or in the spiritual delight of
the souls; nor can it give rise to any desire on the part of those in
the lower ranks to occupy a higher seat, and still less can it cause
any feeling of envy, for this would be incompatible with the spirit of
brotherly love that unites them in the love of God; each, moreover, is
aware that the joy experienced in the degree allotted to him is greater
than he could possibly deserve.
6. Of this clearly defined scheme the Dantists have been able to trace
but little to other Christian authors; indeed, with the exception of
the situation of paradise in the Empyrean, almost the whole of Dante’s
architecture of heaven has been attributed to the inventive faculty of
the poet himself. Again, therefore, before pronouncing final judgment on
the originality or otherwise of the conception, we would suggest that the
Moslem sources be consulted. In this respect especial interest attaches
to the works of the mystical writers of Islam, and more particularly to
the detailed and picturesque descriptions of the realm of glory given by
the Sufi of Murcia, Ibn Arabi.
The division of heaven into seven mansions, in diametric opposition
to the seven stages of hell, dates from the early centuries of Islam.
Ibn Abbas, in a _hadith_ that is repeated again and again in the holy
books of Islam, refers to these divisions indiscriminately as gardens,
gates, mansions, stages or circular strata; and with names derived from
the Koran he enumerates them in the following order[344]: The first and
highest is the mansion of the Divine Majesty; the second, the mansion of
peace; the third, the Garden of Eden; the fourth, the garden of refuge;
the fifth, the garden of eternity; the sixth, the garden of paradise; and
the seventh, the garden of delight. Other versions of the _hadith_ change
the order of the mansions, add one to their number, or vary the names
given above.
As early as the tenth century a moral principle, in the form of a
graduation of the bliss of glory, was introduced into the architectural
scheme. The author of the _Corra_, who lived at Samarcand in that
century, says that at intervals, according to their merits, God grants
the Beatific Vision to His blessed; they, for example, who mortified
their flesh and gave their whole life to His service, shall enjoy the
vision every Friday; those who indulged in the pleasures to which youth
is prone, shall behold it but once a month; and they who only served God
toward the end of their days, but once a year; whilst such as spent their
life in sin and only repented on their death-bed, shall see the vision
but once throughout eternity.[345]
Other _hadiths_ attempt to connect the seven or eight mansions of bliss
with as many categories of blessed.[346] One such classification may
serve as an example: The first heaven is reserved for the prophets,
the envoys of God, the martyrs, and the saints; the second for such as
fulfilled the rites of prayer and ablution; the third for men of holy
meditation; the fourth, for the devout in religious practice; the fifth,
for the ascetics; the sixth, for those militant in the spiritual strife
with passion; the seventh, for pilgrims; and the eighth, for those who
were chaste and charitable towards their neighbours.
From these _hadiths_ the mystics gradually elaborated their doctrine
of the Beatific Vision, which, besides being originally Christian,
was influenced by the neo-Platonic tradition of Moslem philosophy.
Ibn Ayshun, of Toledo, who lived in the first half of the tenth
century, describes the vision of the countenance of God as being like
the contemplation of the sun or moon when unhidden by clouds.[347]
Two centuries later, Shakir Ibn Muslim, of Orihuela, enumerates the
different aspects in which God appears to the blessed according to his
attributes of perfection, beauty, eloquence, mercy, bounty, wisdom,
and kindness.[348] The author of the _Tadhkira_, in the middle of
the thirteenth century, completes the doctrine by stating that even
after each vision of the Divine essence the eternal light continues to
reign in the souls of the blessed, so that the bliss of glory may be
uninterrupted.[349] The Cordovan ascetic further establishes a difference
of degree in the enjoyment of the vision, according to the merit of the
soul; to each precept of the Divine law there corresponds a degree of
bliss that can only be attained by compliance with that precept.[350]
In the twelfth century, the famous Oriental theologian and philosopher,
Fakhr ad-Din ar-Razi, availed himself of the elements contained in the
Koran and the _hadiths_ to trace a general scheme of paradise showing
eight main divisions, subdivided into a hundred degrees or stages.[351]
Thus, in the centuries immediately preceding the Divine Comedy the
structure of paradise, as conceived in the mind of Eastern and Western
Islam, appears complete in outline and detail.
IX
THE CELESTIAL PARADISE OF ISLAM IN THE DIVINE COMEDY—(CONCLUSION)
1. Of the doctrine of paradise in general it may be safely said that
nobody succeeded like the Murcian, Ibn Arabi, in blending all previous
conceptions into one harmonious whole. Not only is Ibn Arabi’s scheme
embellished by the artistry of its author, but it is so illustrated
by means of geometrical sketches that the general plan of his various
heavenly mansions can be seen at a glance. This, from our point of view,
is its most interesting feature.
In the cosmology of Ibn Arabi, the entire universe is represented by a
circle or sphere[352]; and the plan of the cosmos consists of a series
of concentric spheres, which rise one above another with progressively
increasing radii. At present we are only concerned with the units
comprised between the earth and the Divine Throne. These, beginning at
the bottom, are in turn[353]: the spheres of the earth, water, air and
ether; then, in the astronomical world, follow in succession the spheres
of the moon, Mercury, Venus, Sun, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, and that of the
Fixed Stars; still further is the sphere without stars or the _primum
mobile_, where the astronomical world ends, and, finally, above all,
shining like a focus of eternal light, the Throne of God Himself.
The paradise of the elect Ibn Arabi places between the heaven of the
Fixed Stars and that of the _primum mobile_. Here, other eight concentric
spheres, rising, as before behind and above each other, represent the
eight mansions of the celestial paradise. These appear in the following
order: 1. The abode of grace; 2. The mansion of perseverance; 3. The
abode of peace; 4. The garden of eternity; 5. The garden of refuge;
6. The garden of delight; 7. The garden of paradise; 8. The Garden of
Eden.[354]
Each of these eight spheres[355] is divided into innumerable _grades_—Ibn
Arabi, like Dante, claims that the number of these is considerably more
than several thousand—which are grouped to form one hundred different
categories. These in turn represent a still more limited number of
classes of the chosen, which, if the followers of Mahomet only are
considered, do not number more than twelve. Each grade contains countless
individual _mansions_ or _dwelling-places_.[356]
[Illustration: Fig. 1]
2. Now, no great effort of imagination is required to trace the analogy
between this fantastic conception and Dante’s rose. True, Ibn Arabi does
not employ the simile of the rose in his text; but a mere glance at his
plan, which, drawn with geometric precision, he himself has handed down
to us, will at once suggest such a simile.
The figure given here (see Fig. 1) is as it appears in the _Futuhat_,
III, 554, with the Arabic names translated. In its construction it is
identical with the figure appearing under the number 32 in Manfredi
Porena’s _Commento grafico alla Divina Commedia_ as the plan of
Dante’s rose (see Fig. 2). Porena in his description compares it to an
amphitheatre the tiers of which are occupied by the elect.
3. Apart from this similarity in geometrical design, there is a further
affinity between Dante’s rose and a Moslem myth whereby paradise is
likened to a tree. Ibn Arabi, availing himself of a tradition very
popular in Islam,[357] introduces into his plan a mighty tree depending
from the heaven of the _primum mobile_, or roof of the abode of glory,
whose foliage spreads throughout the seven celestial spheres and each
branch of which penetrates one of the countless individual mansions of
bliss. This tree he calls the tree of happiness, or bliss (see Fig. 1).
Now, if this tree were to be depicted on Ibn Arabi’s plan of the mansions
of glory, the effect of its myriad branches extending to their set places
on each of the seven strata of paradise would be to give the whole figure
the appearance of seven concentric circles of leaves; and this is exactly
the impression one gets on looking into a rose.[358]
[Illustration: Fig. 2]
[Illustration: Fig. 3]
Nor does this mythical tree of Islam, growing downwards from the heaven
of the highest sphere, appear to have been out of Dante’s ken. His
conception of the astronomical spheres (and they also from time to time
serve as mansions of the blessed) is likewise that of a huge inverted
tree, each one of whose branches corresponds to one of the astronomical
spheres and whose roots are in the Empyrean. This image he forms when he
reaches the sphere of Jupiter.[359] It must be admitted, however, that
Dante’s simile is not nearly so closely related to the Moslem model as
is the same simile of one of his imitators. We refer to Federigo Frezzi
in his _Quadriregio_[360]:
“Poscia trovammo la pianta più bella
Del paradiso, la pianta felice
Che conserva la vita e rinnovella.
_Su dentro al cielo avea la sua radice_
_E giù inverso terra i rami spande_
Ov’era un canto che qui non si dice.
Era la cima lata e tanto grande
Che più, al mio parer, che duo gran miglia
Era dall’una all’altra delle bande.”
The other similes Dante uses in describing paradise—when he compares it
to a walled garden, to a kingdom over which Christ and Mary reign, and to
a hill around which the elect gather to contemplate the Divine light—are
also to be found in Ibn Arabi. To him, indeed, the whole of paradise is
simply a huge garden divided into seven circular parts by means of seven
walls or luminous spheres[361]; and its most sublime mansion, Eden, Ibn
Arabi terms the palace or mansion of the King,[362] because here there
rises a “hill of exceeding whiteness around which the elect gather to
contemplate the Almighty.”[363]
4. We will now proceed to compare the moral structure of Dante’s paradise
with that of Ibn Arabi. The outstanding feature of both works is the
tendency of the writers to exaggerate the number of divisions and
subdivisions of the various categories in which the elect are placed.
Ibn Arabi, indeed, insists that “no good deed that ever was performed
is without its own appropriate reward in paradise.”[364] The chief
categories are eight in number, just as in the human body there are eight
organs, controlled by the soul: the eyes, ears, tongue, hands, stomach,
pudenda, feet, and heart. It will be remembered that this principle
formed the basis of the moral structure of hell, for Ibn Arabi, as well
as Dante, held that the strictest symmetry should be observed in the
conceptions of the two worlds of the after-life. Of the eight categories
in question, then, each has its reward in one of the eight spheres or
strata of the celestial paradise.
Further, these eight rewards are subdivided into a multiplicity of
grades, each one of which is assigned to a specific virtuous deed. The
age of the blessed—to cite but one example, which is eminently Dantean—is
taken into consideration when the rewards are administered, so that an
old man, who has led a sinless life in the faith of Islam, is appointed
to a higher grade than a younger man of equal innocence, even although
both may have been distinguished for the same virtue.
Another striking similarity between the two works is to be found in the
allotment of the various places that the elect occupy in each of the
eight spheres of glory. According to Ibn Arabi, three reasons determine
the allocation: the first, grace alone, in which category are placed
children who died before reason came and adults who lived according to
the natural law; the second, personal virtue or good deeds performed
by adults; and the third, inheritance of the celestial mansions left
unoccupied by the damned.[365] To strengthen the parallel, Ibn Arabi
points out that the second reason does not imply that the happiness of
glory is only the due reward for good done on earth. It is, he explains,
something much greater than a mere recompense.[366]
By way of exemplifying how the elect are distributed, Ibn Arabi
enumerates four of the principal categories in the higher grades: first,
the prophets or God’s messengers, who occupy pulpits in the highest
grade; secondly, the saints, who, as disciples of the prophets, are
seated on thrones in the next grade; thirdly, the wise men, who, having
in life acquired a scientific knowledge of God, are placed in chairs in
a still lower grade; and fourthly, the pure in heart, who, having only
gained a knowledge of Divine things through revelation, occupy gradins
beneath the others.[367] Dante’s distribution is on the same lines. In
the highest seats he places the prophets, such as Adam and Moses, and
the apostles, St. Peter, St. John, and so forth; beneath these, the
doctors of the religious orders, St. Francis, St. Benedict, and St.
Augustine; and lastly, the faithful, who obeyed the commandments.[368] It
is also worthy of note that Dante in his description of the seats of the
blessed uses the same terms as Ibn Arabi, namely, _thrones_ or _chairs_,
_gradins_ or _forms_.[369]
In the four general categories in question Ibn Arabi again distinguishes,
although somewhat vaguely, between the Moslem elect and those who,
before Islam, professed the other religions revealed by the prophets of
Israel, of whom, according to Moslem theology, Christ was one.[370] This
vagueness is surprising, seeing that the Dantean division of the two
elects had been established in Moslem tradition long before Ibn Arabi’s
time. A _hadith_, attributed to Ali, son-in-law of the prophet, clearly
defines it[371]:
“At the Divine Throne are two pearls, one white and the other
yellow, each of which contains 70,000 mansions. The white pearl
is for Mahomet and his flock; the yellow for Abraham and his.”
The analogy between this idea and Dante’s distribution is obvious. In
the mystic rose the prophets, patriarchs and saints of the Old Testament
are placed in the left sector and those who lived after Christ in the
right.[372] The similitude, however, extends to the actual details. Just
as Ibn Arabi couples Mahomet with Adam in the same degree of the Beatific
Vision, so does Dante place Adam with St. Peter in the mystic rose.[373]
5. Let us now study awhile the scene of the glorious triumph of the elect
as depicted by the Murcian mystic. Briefly, the _Futuhat_ description is
as follows:
“The blessed gather around the snow-white hill to await the
epiphany of the Lord. As they stand, each in his respective
grade and place and magnificently arrayed,[374] a dazzling
light shines forth before which they fall prostrate. Through
their eyes into the inmost recesses of their bodies and souls
the light penetrates, so that each of the blessed becomes all
eye and ear and sees and hears with his entire spirit, such
is the virtue conferred on them by the light. Thus are they
prepared for the presence of the Almighty. And then the Prophet
appears before them, saying, ‘Prepare, then, ye chosen, for the
manifestation of the Lord.’ The three veils that enshroud the
Almighty—the veils of glory, majesty and power—are drawn aside
at His will, and the truth is revealed, one vision, yet in the
dual epiphany of the two names, the beautiful and the good. The
magnificence of the Lord leaves the elect spellbound, and the
brilliance of the wonderful vision pervades their beings.”
“This vision, although in itself one and the same so far
as the elect are concerned, has, nevertheless, different
aspects.[375] Those prophets, who only acquired their knowledge
of God through the faith received from God Himself and did
not increase that knowledge by reason and contemplation, will
behold the vision through the eye of faith. The saint whose
faith in God was inspired by a prophet will see it through the
mirror of that prophet. If, however, he also gained a knowledge
of God through contemplation, then will he have two visions,
one of science and the other of faith. And so also will it be
with the prophet. Similarly, the saint who, unenlightened by
any prophet, acquired his knowledge, either through his own
reason or direct from the Almighty, or in both of these ways,
will be ranged in the Beatific Vision with the men of science
or those of simple faith, or with both of these classes. Those
who obtained from God the mystic intuition only will occupy a
grade in glory apart from all the other elect. To sum up, the
three aspects which God presents to the elect correspond to
the different ways in which a knowledge of Him was gained on
earth; and he who acquired that knowledge in all three ways
will witness three Divine manifestations in the same instant.
The visions of the elect in these three categories are graded
thus: the prophets who received supernatural inspiration from
God excel those saints who followed their teaching; while
those who were neither prophets nor their disciples but simply
saints and friends of God will, if they achieved the desired
end by rational contemplation, be inferior in the Beatific
Vision to the mystics, because reason, like a veil, will
intervene between them and the Divine truth, and their efforts
to raise it will be of no avail. In like manner the followers
of the prophets will be unable to raise the veil of prophetic
revelation. And so it is that the Beatific Vision, pure and
unalloyed, will be the heritage exclusively of the prophets
and those mystics who, like the prophets, received Divine
inspiration on earth.”
“In each grade of vision a relative degree of bliss will
be experienced.[376] Thus, the joy of some of the saints
will be purely intellectual and that of others, emotional,
physical, or imaginative, as the case may be. As for the
mass of the faithful, the enjoyment derived by each from the
Beatific Vision will also be proportional to his capacity for
understanding the theological dogmas of his master. Further,
as the mentality of the multitude is chiefly imaginative,
so will be their knowledge of God and their participation
in the Beatific Vision. This, too, will be the lot of the
majority of the men of rational science, few of whom, although
superior to the multitude, are on earth able to conceive the
absolute abstraction from all matter. Hence it is that the
greater part of the truths revealed by God through religion
have been presented to the multitude in a form adapted to
its understanding, though invariably accompanied by vague
allusions, which are intelligible only to a select few of
those of superior intellect.”[377]
Continuing, Ibn Arabi from time to time gives further interesting
details[378]:
“In the Beatific Vision God manifests Himself to the elect in
a general epiphany, which, nevertheless, assumes various forms
corresponding to the mental conceptions of God formed by the
faithful on earth. There is, then, one single epiphany, which
is multiple only by reason of the difference of forms in which
it is received. The Vision impregnates the elect with Divine
light, each experiencing the Vision according to the knowledge
of the Divine dogma or dogmas gained by him on earth.”
“The Divine light pervades the beings of the elect and radiates
from them, reflected as if by mirrors, on everything around
them. The spiritual enjoyment produced by the contemplation of
this reflection is even greater than that of the Vision itself.
For, at the moment when they experience the Beatific Vision,
the elect are transported and, losing all consciousness, cannot
appreciate the joys of the Vision. Delight they feel, but the
very intensity of the delight makes it impossible for them to
realise it. The reflected light, on the other hand, does not
overpower them, and they are thus able to participate in all
its joys.”
The fact of there being different grades of glory engenders no bitter
feeling, much less envy, in the minds of those of the elect that occupy
the lower grades. Ibn Arabi makes this point clear.[379]
“Each knows his allotted grade and seeks it as a child seeks
its mother’s breast, and iron, the lodestone. To occupy or
even aspire to a higher grade is impossible. In the grade in
which he is placed each sees the realisation of his highest
hopes. He loves his own grade passionately and cannot conceive
that a higher could exist. If it were not so, heaven would
not be heaven but a mansion of grief and bitter disillusion.
Nevertheless, those in the superior participate in the
enjoyment of the lower grades.”
6. From this description, so rich in detail, in picturesque images and in
philosophico-theological ideas, we may now select those cardinal theses
that are prominent in Ibn Arabi and compare them with Dante’s ideas.[380]
Firstly, the life of glory, according to the Murcian mystic, consists
fundamentally in the Beatific Vision, which is conceived as a
manifestation, revelation, or epiphany of the Divine light. God is a
focus of light, the rays of which serve to prepare the elect to look upon
the Almighty.
The parallel between this conception of Ibn Arabi and that of Dante need
not be insisted upon; both in idea and artistic execution the two are
identical.[381] For the latter, mediæval Christian literature furnishes
no precedent whatever. The former, however, the idea or theological
thesis of the necessity of a Divine light with which to behold the
Almighty, had been conceived and discussed by the scholastics long before
Dante’s time. St. Thomas Aquinas freely refers to a _lumen gloriae_,
which strengthens the human understanding for participation in the
Beatific Vision.[382]
At the same time it is certain that St. Thomas Aquinas himself admits
seeking inspiration, not among the Holy Fathers and scholastic
theologians, but among the Moslem philosophers.[383] It is the authority
of Alfarabius, Avicenna, Avempace and Averrhoes that he quotes, when he
attempts to explain the Beatific Vision in terms of philosophy, and it
is the theory of Averrhoes, of the vision of the substances separated by
the soul, that he accepts as the one most suitable for the elect’s vision
of God.[384]
That Aquinas should not have recourse to patristic or scholastic
literature was but natural, seeing he would find there little or no
information about so abstruse a theme. The chroniclers of dogma recognise
that the philosophic explanation of this article of the Christian faith
is not to be found in the Holy Fathers nor in the early theologians.
St. John Chrysostom even denies the vision of the Divine essence. St.
Ambrose, St. Augustine, and with the latter all the Latins up to the
eighth century, placed the blessed, according to the Scripture, _face to
face_ with the Divinity in the Vision; and they make the least possible
comment on the sacred text to avoid falling into any anthropomorphic
error, maintaining that it is impossible for the human eye to look
upon the Vision.[385] Those that go more deeply into the subject,
like St. Epiphanes, merely arrive at the conclusion that the soul
requires assistance before it can look upon God.[386] What the nature
of this assistance is, neither the Scriptures nor the Holy Fathers have
determined. This is admitted by Petavius. Although the sacred texts tell
of a Divine _lumen_, this has no bearing on the scholastic theory of the
_lumen gloriae_. St. Thomas, indeed, held that the _lumen gloriae_ is a
principle of vision, as it were a habit or faculty of seeing (akin to
the sensitive faculty inherent in the eye), by means of which principle
the human mind is trained to behold God. On the other hand, the _lumen_
of the Psalms (XXXV, 10), “In lumine tuo videbimus lumen,” was regarded
by Origenes, St. Cyril, the pseudo-Dionysius, and St. Augustine, as a
synonym of Christ, in Whose light we should see the Father. From which
Petavius concludes that the theory of the _lumen gloriae_ is a novelty
introduced by the scholastics.[387] He finishes by citing Plotinus as the
only thinker that saw even vaguely the necessity, for the Vision of God,
of a _lumen_ which is God Himself. Had there only been added to his great
store of patristic learning some knowledge of Moslem theology (which
was unknown in his century), he would have completed the cycle of his
historical investigations and filled the gap of centuries that separates
Plotinus from the scholastics.
He would have found, indeed, in Algazel and in the Spaniards, Ibn Hazm
and Averrhoes—to mention but three great theologians—the roots from which
the theory of the _lumen gloriae_ sprouted. Algazel dedicates a complete
chapter of his _Ihia_ to the development of this theory.[388] Long
before St. Thomas, he defined the Beatific Vision as a perfection of the
understanding and, in order to convey an idea of the vision of glory, he
establishes a complete, although metaphorical, parallel between it and
the physical vision. He says:
As the physical vision is a complement and perfection of the
fantastic representation of the object, the Beatific Vision
is a clearer and more perfect perception of God as He appears
to the mind in this life. He proceeds[389]: “God will reveal
Himself to the elect in all the splendour of His manifestation.
This epiphany, compared with the knowledge of God possessed
by the elect, will be like the manifestation of an object in
a mirror compared with a fantastic representation of it. That
epiphany of God is what we call the Beatific Vision. It is,
then, a real vision, provided it is clear that here we do
not understand by _vision_ a complement of the imaginative
representation of the imaginable object, represented in a
concrete form, with dimensions, site, etc. The knowledge which
you have gained of God on earth will be completed in heaven
and will become presence or experience. Between this presence
in the future life and the knowledge acquired on earth there
will be no more difference than what comes from a greater
manifestation and clearness.”
Ibn Hazm, the great eleventh-century theologian of Cordova, expounds a
similar doctrine:
“We do not admit the possibility of seeing God with a sort of
human vision. We simply maintain that God will be seen by means
of a power distinct from that which we have in our eyes, a
power that will be inspired in us by God. Some people call it a
_sixth sense_. And the proof lies in the fact that, as we now
know God with our souls, which in this life He has strengthened
to that end, so afterwards God may strengthen our vision in
order that we may behold Him.”[390]
We have already seen how Averrhoes’ theory was accepted by St. Thomas as
an explanation of the Beatific Vision. But he goes further. In one of his
theological treatises,[391] dealing with the texts of the Koran which
compare God to a light, he says:
“God, being the cause of the existence of all beings and the
cause of our being able to see them, has rightly been called
_Light_; for the same relation exists between light and the
colours, that is to say, light is the cause of their existence
and also of our being able to see them. Nor can any doubt exist
about the dogma of the vision of God, which is a light, in the
life to come.”
And after refuting all objections, he concludes, like Algazel, by
asserting that the Vision will consist in an increased knowledge of the
Divine essence.
7. The analogies, however, between Dante’s conception and that of Ibn
Arabi are not limited to the general theory of the _lumen gloriae_. Other
even more striking similarities are:
Secondly. In both descriptions the elect are in the same attitude, their
gaze fixed on the focus of Divine light.[392] The different grades in
the Beatific Vision depend, according to Dante, on the degree of love
that each of the elect shows for God, whereas in Ibn Arabi it appears to
be the nature of the knowledge that the souls possessed of the Divinity
that counts.[393] It would seem, then, that Dante adopted the point of
view of a voluntaryist, and Ibn Arabi, that of an intellectualist. The
difference, however, is more apparent than real. For Dante frequently
appears to adopt Ibn Arabi’s standpoint as an intellectualist; on several
occasions he attributes the grade of glory to the nature of the faith or
the illuminating grace with which the soul knew God.[394] Further Ibn
Arabi, like all Moslem mystics, is essentially a voluntaryist; virtue, in
his opinion, is based, not on theological knowledge or dead faith, but on
divine love, at once the cause and the fruit of the knowledge that the
soul has gained of God. He therefore reserves a prominent grade in the
Beatific Vision for the contemplative mystics and places in an inferior
position such saints as were also philosophers.[395] This doctrine was
expounded by Algazel before Ibn Arabi. The happiness of heaven—he writes
in his _Ihia_[396]—will be proportionate to the intensity of the love for
God, just as this love will be commensurate with the knowledge of God
gained by the elect on earth and called by Revelation, faith.
Thirdly. The difference in grades is shown, not in the Beatific Vision
itself, but in the variety of forms in which the Divine light is made
manifest to the elect and in the greater or lesser brilliance of the
light they receive and reflect.[397] These three ideas of Ibn Arabi have
also their respective parallels in Dante’s conception. In _Par._ XXX,
121, he says: “There, distance makes no difference, for where God governs
the natural law has no power whatever.” In this way Dante establishes the
essential unity of the vision in its different grades. If in these grades
there is any difference, it is not in the thing seen but in the way of
seeing it. Accordingly, in _Par._ XXXIII, 109, he adds: “Not because
there were more than one aspect of the light I saw, which itself is
immutable, but because my vision, strengthened by its contemplation, was
able to see it in another manner.”
Finally, that the light acquired is reflected by the elect, and its
greater or lesser brilliance distinguishes their greater or lesser
glory, are points frequently alluded to by Dante in the Paradiso.[398]
The Dantists have explained this theme by the Thomist doctrine of the
endowments of the glorious body, one of which is the radiance it derives
from the glory of the soul.[399] Now, we have already seen how Ibn Arabi,
before St. Thomas, likewise explains the radiance of the elect by the
superabundance of Divine light, which pervades the body of each blessed
and is reflected from all around it. Nor was this an original idea of
Ibn Arabi’s, but merely a repetition of the doctrine of the _Ishraqi_
mystics. Indeed, in the tenth century of our era, the author of the
_Corra_, having discovered it in some _hadiths_ of a still earlier date,
used the theme in his description of paradise. In those pictures of
the glorious life, the external brightness of the elect indicates the
grade of glory of each. The following passages put the matter beyond all
doubt[400]:
“He who belongs to the highest category of the elect so
illumines the others that the whole of heaven is bright with
the radiance of his face.” Again, it is stated that “the elect
see one another in paradise as we see stars shining in the
sky”; that “if one of the elect were to descend to earth, he
would eclipse the light of the sun”; that Fatima, the daughter
of Mahomet, is called the Brilliant, the Splendid, on account
of the intensity of her light; that “the robes of the blessed
reflect the Divine light”; that “when the Almighty appears in
the Beatific Vision and the light of the Divine countenance
falls on the faces of the elect, it causes them to shine with
such brilliance that they appear transfigured with ecstasy”;
and, lastly, that after the Beatific Vision the elect marvel at
their own greater brilliance, increased by the reflection of
the countenance of God.
Fourthly. The Beatific Vision will engender joy or delight, proportional
to the various grades of the Vision, but so intense as to produce ecstasy
in the soul. As is well-known, this idea of Ibn Arabi’s reappears in
full in Dante’s work.[401] The idea of proportion may, it is true,
have been taken from the Thomist doctrine rather than from Islamic
sources.[402] Not so the idea of the ecstasy; of this there is not a word
in the Thomist doctrine, which confines itself to an explanation of the
philosophic origin of the three endowments of the blessed soul: vision,
delectation, and comprehension of the Divine essence. Whereas, if the
ecstasy in Dante be psychologically analysed and compared with that in
Ibn Arabi, various constituent elements common to both will be found:
loss of memory, somnolence or semi-consciousness, produced on the soul by
the intensity of delight.[403]
Fifthly. The fact of there being different grades in the Beatific Vision
excites no feeling of envy or sadness among those in the lower grades.
Each accepts his share of the glory as if it were impossible even to
desire anything greater. And this is so, because all love the grade they
occupy; and, further, because, if it were not thus, heaven would not be a
mansion of peace and delight.[404]
Dante puts the same explanation in the mouth of Piccarda[405]: “Our
desires, awakened only by the love of the Holy Spirit, are satisfied
in the way that He determined.” To Dante’s inquiry whether there is no
desire on the part of the souls to attain to a higher place, Piccarda
replies: “Brother, a feeling of charity quells such a desire, and we long
for nothing more than what we have. Were we to aspire to a higher sphere,
our wish would be at variance with the will of the Almighty, and such
disagreement does not exist in the kingdom of heaven.” Dante, satisfied
with the explanation, concludes: “Then I understood why in the heavens
all is paradise, notwithstanding the different degrees of bliss.”
8. The identity thus established between the five fundamental theses of
the Murcian Ibn Arabi on the Beatific Vision and Dante’s is strong enough
to render comment unnecessary. In comparison, the other similarities,
such as picturesque details and artistic devices, used in both
descriptions in an attempt to delineate by geometrical figures the Divine
truth as seen in the glorious vision, are vague.
The analogy that was revealed in the discussion of Version C of the
second cycle of the _Miraj_[406] between the apotheosis witnessed by
Mahomet and that described by Dante need not be dwelt upon. It is as well
to recall, however, that the image representing the Divinity in that
version, which dates back to the eighth century, is identical with that
employed by Dante: a focus of light, surrounded by concentric circles,
composed of tiers of resplendent angels. This description was perpetuated
in Islam, and Ibn Arabi frequently reproduced it in his _Futuhat_,
notably in his portrayal of God at the final judgment.[407]
But the similarity extends further. Dante, having arrived at the
spiritual cusp of his glorious ascension, attempts to explain the mystery
of the Trinity by means of the same geometrical circular symbol: three
circumferences, of equal size and multi-coloured, the first two of which
seem to be a reflection of the other, after the manner of two rainbows,
and the third as of fire, emitted by the other two.[408] Now, the more
shrewd among the commentators, although acknowledging the ingenuity shown
by Dante in his conception, admit that this geometrical symbol of the
three circles, as a representation of the persons of the Trinity, is more
of an enigma than it is explanatory. No details are given of the colour
of the first two circles or of the geometrical relationship between the
three, whether they are concentric or eccentric, whether they are tangent
to or cut each other—in fact, no help whatever to interpret the symbol is
given.[409] One fact, however, stands out: Dante uses the symbol of the
circle to represent God in all His aspects—as One in the Essence, as the
Father, as the Son, and as the Holy Ghost. Thus, the symbol of the circle
represents God conceived both as the principle of emanation and as the
emanation itself.
Now, it is well known that the same use of the circle as a symbol of the
Divinity was made in the Plotinian metaphysics.[410] The _Apocryphal
Theology_ of Aristoteles, as also the apocryphal book of Hermes
Trismegistus and the _Liber de Causis_, made this symbol known to the
Moslems and the scholastics; but it was the Moslems, the _Ishraqi_
mystics in particular, who had recourse to the circle on every possible
occasion to explain their ideas on emanation, both in their metaphysics
and their cosmology.[411]
The Murcian Ibn Arabi, more than any of the _Ishraqis_, employs circles,
concentric and eccentric, secant and tangent, to represent the Almighty,
whether in His abstract individuality, in His attributes, names and
relations, in His manifestations _ad extra_, or in His emanation.[412]
A circle of white light on a red background, also of light, with two
radii projecting from it, as it gently moves but never changes, is the
symbol by which he represents the individual essentiality of God.[413]
The procession of the beings who emanate from God the essence is also
symbolised in the _Futuhat_ by a circle.[414] The centre, like a focus
of light, is God, from Whom the contingent beings emanate, just as the
radii of a circle proceed from one central point to terminate in a
series of points which, when joined together, form the circumference,
symbolical of the cosmos; and just as these points are in their essence
indistinguishable the one from the other, so also in the emanation of
God is there a unity of substance and a multiplicity of epiphanies; the
beings are merely the aspects, or the names and forms under which the
Divine light appears.
These emanations likewise are represented by circles[415]; at the
innumerable points on the first circumference, the centre of which is
God, an infinity of other circumferences cut the circle; and these in
turn produce other circles, secant as before, and so on _ad infinitum_.
As the circles multiply, the centre of their origin, God, becomes hidden,
nevertheless, all reflect the light of His first epiphany. All the
ingenious and paradoxical similitudes which Ibn Arabi deduces from this
symbol of the Divine emanation are founded upon one main idea, the basis
of his pantheism, half emanative, half immanent. God and the creatures
are one and the same substance; the multiplicity of the emanations in no
wise changes the essence of their origin; and these emanations are merely
distinct affinities, who represent the immanence of the origin from which
they spring.
This general plan of the Divine emanation becomes less involved when Ibn
Arabi proceeds to represent the ontological categories alone by the
symbol of concentric circles.[416] The supreme series of these consists
of three substances, hypostases or emanations from the One Absolute:
first, the Spiritual Substance, from which proceed all those beings who
are not God; secondly, the Universal Intellect, which is the Divine
light by which the beings of the Spiritual Substance receive objective
reality; thirdly, the Universal Soul, likewise an emanation from the One,
through the Intellect.[417] This triad of substances, which to Ibn Arabi
represents the essence of God, is shown in the _Futuhat_ by a geometrical
figure composed of three circles: the largest, which encircles the whole
figure, represents the Spiritual Substance; inside, two smaller eccentric
circles, almost tangent to one another, symbolise the Intellect and the
Soul. Ibn Arabi gives no reasons for these graphic details of his plan,
but the mere fact of his using the three circles as a symbol for the
three hypostases of his Trinity, to wit, the principle of prime aptitude
for the existence of all beings, the principle of active potency to give
such existence, and the principle of life of the cosmos, is in itself an
interesting point and one that will repay the study of those who, while
appreciating the subtle ingenuity of the Florentine poet, are not content
merely to admire his artistic creations but are eager to find out whence
he derived his ideas.[418] For, in spite of there being an abyss of
differences between the pantheistic triad of Ibn Arabi and the Catholic
dogma of the Trinity,[419] this in no wise affects the symbolical
representation of the two conceptions by a geometrical plan. To adapt
this plan to a representation of either conception would constitute
neither an absurdity in metaphysics nor a danger from the point of view
of dogma, provided that the key to the enigma were kept discreetly hidden
and concrete details in its interpretation were omitted; and this is
exactly what Dante did. In describing his symbol of the three circles,
he confines himself to stating that the three are one only as regards
“continenza,” i.e., substance, and that they are of different colours, to
distinguish the Three Divine Persons, in the unity of essence.[420]
[Illustration]
X
SYNTHESIS OF ALL THE PARTIAL COMPARISONS
1. The many minute comparisons made in this second part of our work will
now enable us to present, in the form of a synthesis of the partial
results, the following conclusions:
A considerable number of the details and topographical descriptions in
the Divine Comedy, although they have no parallels in the _Miraj_, have,
nevertheless, their precedents in Islamic literature, whether it be in
the Koran, in the _hadiths_, in the Moslem legends of the final judgment,
or in the doctrine of the theologians, philosophers, and mystics.
2. Among all the Islamic thinkers, the Murcian Ibn Arabi stands out as
the most likely to have furnished Dante with his model for the hereafter.
The infernal regions, the astronomical heavens, the circles of the mystic
rose, the choirs of angels around the focus of Divine light, the three
circles symbolising the Trinity—all are described by Dante exactly as
Ibn Arabi described them. This similarity betrays a relation such as
exists between copy and model. That it should be a mere coincidence is
impossible. The historical facts are these: in the thirteenth century,
twenty-five years before the birth of the Florentine poet, Ibn Arabi
introduced into his _Futuhat_ plans of the hereafter, all of which were
circular or spherical in design. Eighty years after, Dante produces a
marvellous poetical description of the after-life, the topographical
details of which are so precise that they enabled the poet’s commentators
in the twentieth century to represent them graphically by geometrical
plans; and these plans are essentially identical with those designed by
Ibn Arabi seven centuries before. If imitation by Dante can be disproved,
the manifest similarity is either an insolvable mystery or a miracle of
originality.[421]
3. Over and above this identity in construction there is a striking
analogy in decoration. Indeed, the Aaraf seems to be the prototype of
the limbo: the Gehenna, the model of the Inferno; the Sirat of the
Purgatorio; the meadow between purgatory and hell, of the Terrestrial
Paradise; and the eight gardens, of the Mystic Rose or Dantean Paradise.
4. The same unity in architectural design and the same hankering after
symmetry, physical as well as moral, are exhibited in both descriptions.
Jerusalem is the pivot on which the other world revolves; beneath it is
hell, in the last storey of which Lucifer is imprisoned; vertically above
Jerusalem is the theological heaven, where dwell the Divinity and the
elect; here, the number, as well as the subdivision, of the mansions is
identical with that of the infernal regions, with the result that each
place in hell has its antithesis in heaven.
5. The likeness between the two extends to many of the episodes
and scenes, some of which are literally identical. For instance,
the classification of the inhabitants of the limbo and their moral
suffering are analogous to those of the Aaraf; the black tempest of the
adulterers is the Koranic wind of Ad; the rain of fire that beats down
upon the Sodomites, who are driven round in a circle; the punishment
of the soothsayers, whose heads are reversed; Caiaphas, crucified upon
the ground and trampled upon; the robbers, devoured by serpents; the
authors of schism, with their bowels protruding and their arms cut
off, or with their head, talking, in their hands; the giants, whose
abnormal proportions are described in parallel terms; the torture of
the ice, which is the Moslem _zamharir_, suffered by traitors; the
picture of Lucifer, fast in ice like the Islamic Iblis; the dense smoke
that envelops the passionate in purgatory, identical with that which,
according to the Koran, will appear on the Day of Judgment; the double
ablution in the two rivers of the earthly paradise, and the meeting of
Dante with Beatrice, which is a parallel scene to that of the entry of
the soul into the Islamic paradise, after ablution in two rivers, and of
the meeting with its heavenly bride; and, lastly, the description of the
Beatific Vision as a Divine _lumen_, which produces outward brilliance,
intellectual clarity, and ecstatic delight.
6. If to all these analogies of architecture, topography, and setting,
are added those that were brought out in full relief in the first part
of this work, it will be apparent that the religious literature of Islam
alone, in the sole theme of the after-life—a theme mainly developed
around the _Miraj_—offers to investigators a more abundant harvest of
ideas, images, symbols, and descriptions, similar to those of Dante, than
all the other religious literatures together that have up to now been
consulted by Dantists in their endeavours to explain the genesis of the
Divine Comedy.
7. And here our study might be concluded, were it not for one important
doubt that may assail the mind of the investigator.
The artistic devices and theological-philosophic conceptions introduced
by Dante into his poem are attributed by Dantists to the poet’s own
inventive genius, stimulated to a certain extent by his acquaintance
with sundry popular legends that were broadcast throughout Europe in the
centuries immediately preceding his appearance. These mediæval legends
are technically referred to as the “precursors of the Divine Comedy.”
Now, it is certain that none of these furnishes the same explanation for
so many elements of Dante’s work as does the legend of the _Miraj_, and,
taken altogether, they fail to throw light upon many details which the
_Miraj_ and Islamic literature in general explain in full. Further, the
analogies between the Divine Comedy and its precursors are too slight to
establish any relation such as exists between model and copy.
In spite of all this, however, it might be possible to ignore the
hypothesis of Moslem influence over Dante’s poem and fall back on the
theory that the poem was conceived in the womb of Christian literature
and evolved from the seeds of eschatology contained in its mediæval
precursors. To rebut this theory and render the argument in favour of our
hypothesis conclusive, further investigation is, therefore, necessary.
The origin of the eschatological elements in the precursory legends must
be inquired into, in order to ascertain whether they were indeed all of
native Christian growth, or whether they do not also show signs of Moslem
ancestry such as the Divine Comedy has revealed to us.
PART III
_MOSLEM FEATURES IN THE CHRISTIAN LEGENDS PRECURSORY OF THE DIVINE COMEDY_
PART III
_MOSLEM FEATURES IN THE CHRISTIAN LEGENDS PRECURSORY OF THE DIVINE COMEDY_
I
INTRODUCTION
1. The belief in the immortality of the soul and the natural desire of
man to lift the veil shrouding the mysteries of the after-life appear
to have been the psychological motives that inspired the authors of the
many legends, popular throughout mediæval Christian Europe, the main
theme of which is the picturesque description of a fantastic journey
to the realms beyond the grave. These are the legends that, in the
opinion of the scholars, provided Dante with the raw material for his
poem.[422] Accordingly, they have been collected and analysed with
scrupulous care by the leading critics, who, needless to add, consider
them to be of purely Christian origin, either the spontaneous outcome
of popular imagination or the result of centuries of monastic learning
embellished by the artistic fancy of the troubadour.[423] The main
centre from which these legends radiated over Europe appears indeed to
have been the monasteries of Ireland. But it is interesting to note the
marked difference between the legends that appeared before and those
that appeared after the eleventh century. The monastic tales prior to
that century are so poor in material and inartistic in treatment, the
scenes representing the future life of the soul so trivial and at times
coarse that, even had Dante known of their existence, they could scarcely
have served as models for his work. This is admitted by D’Ancona
himself. Later on, however, fresh tales appear, revealing a more fertile
imagination and greater refinement on the part of the authors. These
D’Ancona calls “veri abbozzi e prenunziamenti del poema dantesco.”[424]
2. How is this sudden change in the development of the eschatological
theme in Western Christian literature to be accounted for? The hypothesis
of the influence of elements, foreign to Western culture but adaptable
thereto—inasmuch as their origin may in the end be traced back to the
same early Christian stock—would not appear to be extravagant. Graf
has observed that many particulars of the universal myth of paradise,
although omitted from the Biblical narrative, reappear in these Christian
legends; and he adds significantly that _it is not known whence they
came nor by what means they were transmitted_.[425] Yet Graf made most
methodical use of all the sources available to modern European erudition.
The eschatological literature of Islam alone seems to have escaped the
attention of this keen critic, for the Arabic texts, when not translated
into some European tongue, were as a sealed book to him. In the following
pages an attempt will be made to fill this gap by examining the Moslem
legends for evidence of poetic features that may have influenced the
Christian legends and thus explain their remarkable efflorescence in the
eleventh century.
3. General evidence of such influence may be found in a feature observed
by Graf himself. He notes that in many of the more popular legends of
that date the souls of the deserving, before being admitted to eternal
bliss, are led to a place other than the theological heaven, there
to await the day of resurrection and judgment. But, as Graf states,
from the fifth century onwards it was a dogma of the Church that the
righteous were straightway admitted to the Beatific Vision, and any
doctrine to the contrary was accursed.[426] Can stronger evidence exist
of the non-Catholic origin of those legends? Islam, on the other hand,
holds that from the time of death until the day of resurrection the
souls of the just await judgment either in their graves, miraculously
transformed into dwellings of temporary bliss, or in a garden of
happiness lying apart from heaven.[427] The souls of martyrs alone appear
to be immediately admitted to heaven, or rather to a Divine bower at the
gate leading to the theological heaven. As will be shown hereunder, the
scenes of this life of bliss prior to judgment bear a strong resemblance
to several episodes of the Christian legends; and this similarity in
descriptive detail, added to the coincidence of dogmatic belief, would
seem to confirm the hypothesis of the Moslem origin of those legends.
Nor is this belief, which, while still alive in Islam, had long been
abandoned as heterodox by Western Christianity, the only proof of Moslem
inspiration. Ozanam and D’Ancona state that many of the more poetic and
edifying of these legends never received the official approval of the
Church,[428] as if the latter had divined the existence, beneath the veil
of poetic adornment, of a doctrine not altogether compatible with the
orthodox creed. Indeed the palpable evidence of Islamic influence that
will be found in many of these mediæval legends fully justifies that
attitude.
4. In the following chapters the comparison of these legends with the
Moslem tales is based—be it frankly admitted—not upon their entire texts,
but upon the summaries furnished by the critics. Less minute, therefore,
than the comparison aimed at in the two former parts of this work, it
will serve to give a brief survey rather than a definite solution of this
interesting literary problem.
Nor is any attempt made to group the Christian legends according to
any new system. Where not already collected in cycles, they will be
considered separately, even at the risk of repetition. Such repetition
will not extend, however, to particulars the Islamic origin of which
has already been proved. To these brief allusion only will be made and
special attention paid to new features for which no Moslem precedent has
so far been found.
II
LEGENDS OF VISIONS OF HELL
1. _Legend of the Three Monks of the East or of St.
Macarius._[429]—Labitte and D’Ancona ascribe this legend to the sixth,
seventh or eighth century; but Ozanam maintains that it must be later
than Islam, seeing that in the epilogue the saint inquires of his
guests what news they have of the Saracens. Graf considers it to be of
Græco-Christian origin, but the mystery surrounding the person of the
saint himself contributes to render the origin of the story still more
obscure.
2. We will briefly examine the descriptive features that may point to a
Moslem origin.
In the course of their long and adventurous pilgrimage the
three monks cross Syria, Persia and Ethiopia. Passing through
a country inhabited by dog-headed men, they traverse a land of
pygmies and reach a territory swarming with dragons, basilisks,
asps and other venomous creatures. Pursuing their way, they
cross a desert region strewn with stones and rocks and, passing
through the country of elephants, finally come to a land
of deep shadow, behind which rises the monument erected by
Alexander the Great as a boundary marking the end of the world.
The early Moslem tales referred to in a former chapter as being the
remote prototypes of Dante’s hell, and notably a _hadith_ of the time of
Mahomet, give a similar division of the earth into seven regions, some of
which are identical with those of the legend. Thus, the dog-headed men
appear in the third earth of the _hadith_; the fifth is full of serpents
and scorpions; and the fourth is formed of sulphurous stones.[430]
Finally, the region of darkness recurs in all the versions of the tale
of Dulcarnain, who in Arabic legend is identified with Alexander the
Great; and the monument appears as a wall built, according to the Koran,
by Dulcarnain as a protection against the peoples of Gog and Magog, who,
according to a version of the Islamic legend—like the pygmies of the
Christian legend, whose stature was only an ell—measured but a hand and a
half in height.[431]
The three monks then penetrate into the infernal regions and there
witness tortures, some of which are noteworthy for their resemblance to
Moslem punishments already mentioned. Thus, as in all the versions of
the _Miraj_, sinners are seen tormented by serpents in a lake of burning
sulphur; further on, the monks behold a giant chained in the midst of
flames—a figure that also appeared in the _hadiths_ depicting hell[432];
again, a woman is shown tormented by an enormous serpent in a manner as
horrible as that of the Moslem tortures[433]; and so on.
3. The Moslem character of the tale, however, is most apparent from the
following episode:
The pilgrims have left hell behind them and now enter a wood
of lofty trees, upon the branches of which sit a multitude of
souls reincarnate in the form of birds. These cry out to God
with the voices of human beings begging Him to forgive them
their sins and explain to them the wonders they have witnessed.
Graf, in seeking to account for the frequent occurrence of this myth
in mediæval legend, finds no precedent but that of early Christian
symbolism, in which the soul is represented in the form of a bird. But
in Christian symbolism the dove alone represented the Holy Ghost and
only very occasionally, on the monuments of the Catacombs, the souls of
the faithful. Moreover, the legend does not speak of symbols, but of
the reincarnation of souls in birds, which live in a wood close, it is
precisely stated, to paradise—features that will be seen to have a more
satisfactory explanation in Moslem _hadiths_.
From early times it was a general belief in Islam that the spirits of men
who fell in Holy Warfare and, occasionally, the souls of the faithful
lived, incarnate in birds such as starlings, in a garden or wood at the
gates of paradise, awaiting the day of resurrection. These birds, some of
which are white and others green, fly freely through the garden and rest
on the branches of the trees, the fruits of which they eat. They drink
of the waters of the rivers flowing through the garden and spend their
time in converse with God. The souls of Moslem children are likewise
transferred to little birds, which fly about among the others. All these
birds know and speak to one another. According to other _hadiths_, they
are as white as doves or of a brilliant white like foam.
Some _hadiths_ quote the colloquies God is supposed to hold with these
birds, and the text remotely resembles the words attributed to the human
birds in the Christian legend. Thus[434]:
God asks them, “Know ye perchance of a better fate than that
reserved unto you?” and they answer, “No. Our sole desire
were that our spirits might return to our bodies once more to
fight and be sacrificed in Thy service.” In other _hadiths_,
the birds in which live the souls of the faithful other than
martyrs, are made to utter the prayer, “Gather us, O Lord, to
our brethren and grant us that which Thou hast promised unto
us.”
This belief was so deeply rooted in Islam that it gave rise to other holy
legends as well as to theological polemics.[435] In the legends, a bird
incarnating the spirit of an ascetic or mystic is supposed to appear on
earth. In their polemics, the theologians in all earnestness discuss the
nature of this being, which in the body of a bird harbours the mind of a
man.
4. _Vision of St. Paul._[436]—The passage in the Second Epistle to the
Corinthians (XII, 2-4), in which the Apostle refers to his being wafted
to the third heaven, was the nucleus round which this legend grew. It
first appeared in the form of an Apocalypse written in Greek about the
fourth century, and does not seem to have spread to Western Christianity
before the ninth century. Indeed, as a vision it only dates from the
twelfth, and in its more literary forms from the thirteenth century. In
transmission from East to West it underwent considerable changes, which
have not yet been explained.[437] A comparison of the later texts with
similar Moslem legends may therefore be of interest as pointing to the
hidden channel by which the tale reached Western Europe.
5. As in the _Miraj_, Mahomet was accompanied by Gabriel, so St. Paul in
his nocturnal ascension is led by the Archangel Michael.
The first torture of hell witnessed by St. Paul—that of the avaricious,
hanging by their feet, their tongues, or ears from the branches of
trees—is evidently an adaptation from the Isra; and it must be confessed
that in the Moslem story there exists a relation between the sin
committed and the member tortured that is altogether lacking in the
Christian legend.
Over a turbid river, in the Pauline vision, stretches a bridge _as
fine as a hair_, connecting this world with paradise; this bridge the
righteous souls cross with ease, but the wicked fall into the river. Here
the plagiarism is flagrant; for this is clearly a copy of the “sirat”
or Moslem bridge crossed on the Day of Judgment, according to a Koranic
myth, the Persian origin of which has been explained above.[438] Indeed,
one of the early traditionists, Abu Said al-Khadari, in describing the
“sirat” as being _finer than a hair_, uses the very same simile as the
author of the Pauline vision.[439] It need hardly be pointed out that the
position of this bridge, stretching from the earth to heaven across hell,
is the same in both Christian and Moslem legends.
A wheel of fire that in ceaseless rotation torments the sinners is
another instance of a torture copied from Islam. It will be remembered
that in several _hadiths_ a precedent was found for the torture
appointed by Dante to Sodomites[440]; among them is one dating from the
eighth century that says, “In hell there are people bound to flaming
wheels, the wheels of wells that turn in ceaseless rotation.”[441]
6. Although other picturesque features may be passed over as of minor
importance,[442] the end of this apocryphal vision is remarkable for
two scenes of singular poetic beauty. In the first of these, St. Paul
from hell sees angels leading a righteous soul to paradise, while demons
drag off a wicked soul to torture. All the religious books of Islam
devote a chapter to this subject. Thus, the author of the _Tadhkira_
comments at length on a _hadith_, in which the death of the righteous
man is contrasted with that of the sinner; and the fate of their souls,
as they are led by angels or demons to heaven or hell, is depicted in
awe-inspiring scenes.[443] But, as this scene of the Pauline vision
recurs in many other Christian legends, all bearing upon the same
struggle between angels and devils for the possession of the soul, its
study may be held over until later, when these particular legends will be
dealt with in detail.
The final vision of St. Paul is summarised by D’Ancona as follows:
The sinners humbly beg the Apostle to intercede on their
behalf. The _Miserere_, uttered by millions of souls, fills the
four heavens and reaches to the throne of Christ, Who thereupon
descends and sternly rebukes the reprobates. For the sake of
His disciple, however, He grants them a weekly respite from
torture, from the ninth hour of Saturday to the first hour of
Monday.
In the summary of the Greek Apocalypse, given by Graf, the analogous
scene is as follows:
The Archangel Gabriel descends with the heavenly hosts, and the
damned implore his assistance. St. Paul, who has wept over
the indescribable tortures he has just witnessed, joins the
angels in their intercession on behalf of the sufferers. Christ
appears and, moved to pity by their prayers, grants the sinners
an annual respite on Easter Sunday, the anniversary of His
resurrection.[444]
Graf has pointed out that the main difference between the Greek
Apocalypse and the Western _Visio Pauli_ lies in the fact that, whereas
in the former the respite from torture is annual, in the latter it is
weekly.[445] When and by whom was this change introduced? Islamic legends
prior to the _Visio latina_ show the same belief in a weekly day of rest
for the damned, extending from the eve of Friday to the morn of Saturday.
The point will be more fully dealt with when the cycle of Christian
legends on this subject of a respite comes under discussion. Meanwhile,
the conclusion to be drawn is, that the _Visio Pauli_ reached Western
Europe through Moslem adaptations of the Greek Apocalypse. A brief survey
of these Islamic legends will complete the comparison.
One, current in the ninth century, forms but a new episode in the legend
of Mahomet’s ascension.[446]
Mahomet from heaven hears the cries of pain uttered by the
undutiful children in hell and, moved to pity, intercedes with
God on their behalf; but God refuses to grant his request,
unless the parents join him in his prayers. After witnessing
the torture of the children, Mahomet returns weeping to the
Throne of God and thrice repeats his entreaties, only to meet
with the same answer. The Prophet then appeals in pleading
tones to the parents, who are in heaven; but they, remembering
the ingratitude of their children, are loth to act. However,
in the end he succeeds in softening their hearts and obtains
permission to lead them to hell, where at the sight of their
tortured children they burst into bitter tears. The sinners
reply with cries for mercy, and the entreaties of the parents,
added to those of the Prophet, finally obtain the pardon of the
sinners.
A similar legend, telling of the delivery from hell of the Moslem
sufferers through the intercession of the Prophet, is given in the
_Tadhkira_.[447]
From the bottommost pit of hell the damned, with cries of
anguish, call on Mahomet to intercede on behalf of his flock.
At the same time they beg the Lord to forgive them their sins,
addressing Him in terms similar to those of the _Miserere_ of
the Pauline vision, “Have mercy upon us, O Lord!” God grants
their pardon and sends Gabriel to deliver the believers from
hell.
III
LEGENDS OF VISIONS OF HELL—_continued_
1. _Legend of Tundal._[448]—As the protagonist lived in 1149, there is no
doubt that this legend dates from the second half of the twelfth century.
The author of the Latin version, an Irish monk, states that he composed
it from a text written in a barbarous tongue.[449] Was this an Arabic
text? The great number of Moslem features, several of them very striking,
would seem to suggest it.
The legend tells of a journey, undertaken by the soul of Tundal upon his
apparent death, to the realms beyond the grave, and describes many scenes
the Moslem origin of which has already been sufficiently proved—the
tortures by fire, by intense cold, and by the fiends wielding red hot
prongs; the river of sulphur, the narrow bridge that only the righteous
succeed in crossing, and many others.
2. But there are other more interesting visions. Thus, at the further
side of the bridge of hell is a monster, named Acheronte, which, with its
mighty jaws opening wide, is seen devouring two sinners. The literary
device whereby hell is represented as a monstrous fiend rather than as
a place of torture is to be found in Islam many centuries earlier.
The Moslem _hadiths_ on the final judgment describe a monster, called
Gehenna, which, according to some versions, with its many mouths devours
three sinners.[450]
Tundal further tells of a place of expiation for souls that, being
neither good nor wicked, are spared the torments of hell, but are not
worthy of association with the saints. The prototype of this region has
been shown to be the Moslem Aaraf.[451]
In another part of hell Tundal sees demons, who with heavy hammers deal
furious blows at sinners stretched upon anvils. This vision is evidently
an adaptation of the Moslem scene of the _punishment in the grave_.[452]
Two demons, black and of sinister and repulsive mien, appear
before the sinner as soon as he is buried. So misshapen are
they that they cannot be likened to angels, men, or animals. In
his hands each bears, for the purpose of Divine vengeance, an
iron hammer, so heavy that not all the men in the world could
lift it. In thunderous tones they begin to question the soul on
the sincerity of his belief in God and the Prophet. Paralysed
with terror at the sight of the monsters, whose eyes flash
like lightning in the darkness of the grave, the sinner is too
conscious of his guilt to give a ready reply to the fiends, who
at each faltering answer bring down their hammers with terrific
force seven times alternately upon the wretch’s head.
The picture is so vivid that the story must undoubtedly have created a
profound impression; and, indeed, it is to be found in an adapted form in
many a mediæval legend. Thus, the tale of Hugh, Margrave of Brandenburg,
tells how, when hunting in a wood, he came across some men of a black
colour and deformed shape torturing souls by beating them with hammers
as they lay stretched on anvils.[453] This picture agrees even more
literally with the Islamic model than does the scene in the legend of
Tundal.
3. There remain three episodes that unquestionably are copies of Islamic
descriptions. These are the very three scenes that prompted D’Ancona to
remark,[454] “Never perhaps has man shown such wealth of imagination
in the invention of infernal tortures as did the anonymous monk that
composed this legend”—a remark that the eminent critic would surely not
have hazarded, had he known of the existence of the Moslem originals. The
first of these scenes depicts Lucifer.
Surrounded by demons and chained to a red hot grill, he roars
in agony; and, as if seeking vengeance for his own suffering,
with his hundred hands he clutches at innumerable souls and
crushes them between his fingers even as a man would crush
a bunch of grapes. The mangled bodies are then to be seen
floating in the fiery vapour of his breath, alternately
attracted and repelled by the respiration of the monster.
The posture of Lucifer, chained down amidst his fiendish host, is a
Moslem feature that has already been referred to.[455]
The idea of the alternate attraction and repulsion of the bodies by his
breathing appears to be taken from the scene of the _Isra_ in which the
bodies of the adulterers are shown floating up and down in the heat of
the furnace. The most striking feature—that of Lucifer crushing the
bodies of the sinners in his numerous hands—is modelled upon a _hadith_
of the eighth century, which reads as follows:
“God has created an angel with as many fingers as there are
sinners condemned to fire, and each sinner is tortured by a
finger. I swear by Allah that the firmament would melt with
heat, were that angel to place but one of his fingers upon
it!”[456]
4. The second episode is prefaced by D’Ancona with the following remark:
“The sole aim of the legend of Tundal is to provoke terror. With a
refinement of torture truly mediæval, the souls of the damned are first
taken to see the delights of the life led by the elect, in order that
their suffering be all the greater: _ut magis doleant_.”[457]
This pathetic scene is frequently to be found in the religious works of
Islam. According to the Moslem creed, identical on this point with the
Christian, the moral suffering of sinners is intended to be far greater
than their physical suffering. Algazel develops this theme in his _Ihia_.
The grief of the sinners over their exclusion from heaven, he avers,
would not be so intense were it not that God, to add to their punishment,
has ordered them to be shown paradise from outside.[458] In proof, he
quotes the following _hadith_:
On the day of judgment God will ordain that some of the damned
be led to heaven; but, when they are near enough to inhale the
delicious perfumes with which the air is laden, and behold the
castles of paradise and the delights awaiting the blessed, a
Voice will of a sudden be heard saying: “Withdraw them, for
they are unworthy of a place in heaven”; and as they are turned
away, they will be filled with a sorrow such as no one yet has
felt or ever will feel. Then will they cry out, “Oh, Lord!
Hadst Thou but cast us into hell without showing us the rewards
prepared for Thy chosen, it had been easier for us to bear our
torment”; and God will answer, “To-day shall ye taste the pain
of torture, ye to whom I have denied the prize.”[459]
This scene, in which cruelty is blended with sarcasm, shows no trace of
the sweet message of pity preached by the Gospel, but rather breathes the
spirit of vengeance that is characteristic of the Old Testament and is
transparent in more than one passage of the Koran. Some of these passages
are glossed in the _Tadhkira_ with other _hadiths_, attributed to the
converted Jew, Kaab al-Akhbar, describing various practical jokes played
upon the sinners. Thus, the gates of hell are opened, as if to let the
sufferers escape, to be quickly closed again whenever an attempt is made
to pass through them; or, a pretence is made of allowing the sinners to
enter paradise, the gate of which is then slammed in their faces. Under
the heading of “Tricks played upon the Damned,” these cruel hoaxes prove
that the comic and grotesque element found in many of the pre-Dante
Christian legends was not wanting in the tales of Islam.
5. The last episode in the legend of Tundal that may be said to be of
Moslem origin forms a striking picture:
The protagonist confesses to having stolen a cow from a
fellow-priest and, as a punishment, his angel-guide obliges him
to cross the narrow bridge leading to paradise at the same time
warding off the attacks of that very cow.
D’Ancona points out a similar scene in the vision of the usurer
Gottschalk, in which the Burgrave of Reiningen is condemned to be tossed
and trampled upon by a mad cow, of which he had once robbed a poor
widow.[460]
The episode appears to be a copy of an early Moslem _hadith_:
“I swear by Him in whose hands lies my soul that every owner of
a sheep, a cow, or a camel, who has omitted to pay the ritual
tax, will be confronted on the day of judgment by the animal
in the fiercest form it ever assumed on earth; it will gore
him with horns of fire and trample upon him until his ribs are
broken and his belly split in twain; in vain will he cry out
for help, for in the form of a wolf or a lion the beast will
continue to torment him in hell.”[461]
6. _Legend of Purgatory of St. Patrick._[462]—This legend appeared in
Ireland in the second half of the twelfth century and rapidly became
popular throughout Christendom. Calderon immortalised it in his drama
of the same title, and there is hardly a nation in Western Europe that
has not drawn upon the legend for some literary purpose or other. The
theme is a journey to the realms of the after-world by one Owen, an
Irish knight, who is bold enough to penetrate into the cave by which,
according to tradition, St. Patrick communicated with the other world.
As D’Ancona observes, the legend is not remarkable for originality.
“The visionaries,” he says, “begin to copy one another, and this is but
natural, seeing that their imaginative powers have become exhausted.” The
remark is very true and applies exactly to the present thesis; for most,
if not all, of the picturesque features of this legend existed in Moslem
eschatology.
7. Thus, Moslem models exist for the following scenes, common to so many
of the legends: the torture by serpents; the submersion of sinners in
a river of molten metal, on the banks of which stand demons ready to
harpoon them; the passage of the narrow and slippery bridge; the monster
whose breath alternately attracts and repels the bodies of the sinners;
the wheel of fire; the pit of sulphur; the sinners hanging by their
eyelids or nostrils, or head downwards, over flames of sulphur.
Other features of greater interest also appear to be of Islamic origin.
Thus, the sinners lying crucified to the ground existed, as was shown in
connection with Dante’s picture of Caiaphas, in the Moslem hell.[463]
The blast of bitterly cold wind to which other sinners are exposed, is
but the _zamharir_ of Islam in one of its accepted meanings.[464]
Finally, the burning sepulchres in which some of the sinners lie buried,
and the garments of fire covering others, have been shown to be of
Islamic origin.[465]
IV
LEGENDS OF VISIONS OF HELL (CONCLUSION)
1. _Vision of Alberic._[466]—This legend is here included, not because
the scenes depicted in it are in any way original, but because ever since
the first publication of the Latin text in 1824 by the Abbé Cancellieri
the Dantists have considered it to be one of the most important
precursors of the Divine Comedy. Like the vision of St. Patrick, it dates
from the thirteenth century, but was written in Italy, at the monastery
of Montecasino. The monk, Alberic, is the protagonist and narrator of
this journey to the realms of the after-life, which he is represented as
having made in his childhood while unconscious during an illness.
The main episodes of the vision are those that have repeatedly been
shown to be of Moslem origin. Thus, the lascivious are punished by being
submerged in ice; apostates are shown devoured by serpents; murderers lie
in the traditional lake of boiling blood; wicked mothers hang by their
breasts from hooks, while adulteresses hang over fires. Then there is the
scene of the monster whose breathing attracts and repels bodies, and that
of Lucifer bound with heavy chains in a deep pit in the centre of hell.
Finally, we have the most common scene of all, the narrow bridge that
leads to heaven.
2. _The Song of the Sun in the Edda._—Among the forerunners of the
Divine Comedy, Ozanam includes the famous Solar Liod contained in the
Edda Saemundar.[467] Remote as the origin of these tales may be, the
Solar Liod itself does not seem to be much older than the eleventh
century. Ozanam himself observes that the poet depicts the realms of
the after-life in a manner differing from the pagan traditions of his
country. Moreover, the picture contains three distinctly Moslem features.
In the first place, the lower world is divided into seven regions, as in
the Islamic tales. Secondly, the souls in hell are represented as birds
whose plumage is blackened by smoke. Now, just as in the discussion
of the legend of St. Macarius it was shown to be a common feature of
Moslem tales to depict the souls of the righteous as incarnate in birds
of white or green plumage, so in a later chapter it will be shown that
the incarnation of the souls of the wicked in birds of black plumage is
an idea also prevalent in Islam. Lastly, the author of the Solar Liod
depicts thieves as moving in groups in hell, laden with burdens of lead.
Surely this scene also is derived from a Moslem _hadith_, which says: “On
the day of judgment the rich man who failed to serve God shall be obliged
to carry his riches on his back and at the passage of the bridge he
shall stagger under his burden.”[468]
3. _Vision of Turcill._—This thirteenth-century vision contains, in
addition to many Moslem features common to other legends, the scene in
which a lawyer is forced to swallow his illicit gains.[469] The ninth
century legend of Wettin showed the powerful of this world similarly
expiating their crimes of rapine.[470] But this striking punishment was
found in the _Isra_, where at one stage the faithless guardians and
usurers are tortured by having stones of fire and darts of iron, symbolic
of their ill-gotten gains, thrust down their throats, and in another
scene lie helpless on the ground, their bellies swollen with the proceeds
of their usury. The great age of the _hadiths_ relating this torture is
confirmed by Tabari in his ninth century commentary.[471]
4. _Vision of the Abbot Joachim._—This twelfth-century vision contains
the scene, so common in Moslem _hadiths_, of the narrow and slippery
bridge leading across a river of burning sulphur that runs through hell.
The souls of the righteous cross this bridge _with the swiftness of an
eagle_.[472] The same simile occurs in a _hadith_ which reads: “Some
will cross the bridge with the speed of lightning, others like the wind,
_others again like birds_.”[473]
At the farther side of the bridge rises a wall, upon which the garden of
paradise is built. This picture appears to be a copy of the Aaraf, which
is represented in the Koran as a garden and a wall rising between hell
and paradise.[474]
5. _Vision of the Bard of Regio Emilia._—This is an apocalyptic treatise
composed in the thirteenth century in verse and in the vulgar dialect.
Vossler states that it is difficult to understand how a nameless
travelling minstrel could by his own unaided efforts have conceived
so clear and comparatively logical a system of the after-world; and
this very symmetry leads the critic to attach prime importance to this
vision as being a prototype of Dante’s conception.[475] The troubadour
imagines hell as divided into eight regions, each of which has a name and
distinctive features of its own.
The first, called Ago, is full of fire; the second, Tartaro,
is the region of discord; the third, Averno, of cruelty; the
fourth, Asiro, of evil memories; the fifth, Gena, is a region
of sulphur; the sixth, Grabasso, is a place of trial; the
seventh, Baratro, is characterised by depth; and the eighth,
Abisso, is full of fiery furnaces and boiling pitch. The total
circumference exceeds a thousand miles. Access is afforded by
means of ten gates lying a hundred miles apart; each gate has
its special features and is reserved for one particular class
of sinners. Mountains, rivers and lakes of fire are seen at
the entrance. The first gate is called the Gate of Tears, and
the others are the Gates of Pain, Terror, Chains, Sulphur,
Serpents, Thirst, and so forth.
6. The comparison made in a former chapter of the symmetric plan of
Dante’s hell with its Moslem prototypes shows how little originality
exists in the conception of the Italian troubadour.[476] The two meanings
of _storey_ and _gate_, given in Moslem exegesis to the Koranic word
_bab_, he placidly accepts and simply adapts his facts to the double
interpretation by representing hell as having ten gates besides eight
regions or storeys. The same solution finally predominated among the
Sufis, for the Murcian Ibn Arabi imagined hell as having seven strata and
seven gates. The dimensions of hell are stated with similar precision,
though with greater hyperbole, in the _hadiths_, which fix the distance
between the gates as equal to what a man might cover on foot in seventy
years.[477] Again, according to some _hadiths_, there are mountains and
rivers of fire at the entrance to hell.[478] Lastly, it has repeatedly
been shown that each stage of the Moslem hell had a name and special
features of its own and was reserved for one category of sinners. Indeed,
to judge by the names, the bard of Regio Emilia may well be suspected of
having availed himself of the _hadith_ of Ibn Jurayj.[479] For, having
exhausted his stock of classical and Biblical names with Tartaro, Averno,
Baratro and Abisso, he seems to have resorted to transcribing roughly
the Arabic terms. Thus, while Ago appears to be derived from Haguia,
Asiro is clearly copied from Asair, and Gena from Gehenam.[480]
V
LEGENDS ON THE WEIGHING OF SOULS
1. Throughout a whole cycle of legends, which D’Ancona groups with the
political legends, there recurs a scene the immediate, though not remote,
origin of which is Islamic. The protagonists of these legends are the
Emperors Charlemagne and Henry III., and King Rudolph of Burgundy.
These princes are brought up before the Divine tribunal, and
their sins are cast on to the balance by demons; but, just as
the scale is about to sink under the heavy weight, a saint,
such as St. James, St. Denis or St. Lawrence, throws on the
other scale all the good deeds of the prince, the sanctuaries
he erected, the ornaments he presented to churches and abbeys,
and so on. These outweigh the sins, and the soul is saved from
hell.[481]
2. That the religious myth of the weighing of the souls on scales at
Divine judgment had its early origin in Egypt is well known.[482] The
myth reappeared in the Persian eschatology of the Avesta,[483] and it
had penetrated into Arabia by Mahomet’s time, as is shown, among other
passages, by Ch. XXI, 48, of the Koran: “We shall set up true scales on
the Day of Judgment. No soul shall be unjustly dealt with, though the
works to be judged should weigh no more than a grain of mustard seed.”
The traditionists, needless to say, soon seized upon the theme and
adorned it with realistic scenes, some of which are identical with those
of the Christian legends.[484]
A Moslem is brought up before the Divine tribunal on the Day
of Judgment. His sins, recorded in ninety-nine books, are read
out to him and, after he has confessed, the books are placed
on one of the scales, which naturally falls; whereupon God
Himself places on the other scale a scrap of paper containing
the profession of faith made by the sinner in his lifetime. The
scales are turned, and the Moslem is saved. According to other
legends Mahomet intervenes by placing on the right hand scale
a scrap of paper representing the prayers addressed to him
by the sinner. Often the realistic effect is enhanced by the
substitution of objects for the pieces of paper. Thus, a small
bag containing a handful of earth, which the sinner once threw
on the grave of a fellow-man that his soul might have peace,
alone suffices to outweigh a heap of sins. In many legends the
sinners are shown co-operating towards their mutual salvation:
Those rich in virtue assist their needy brethren by lending
them their surplus merits; and often the anxious sinner is to
be seen threading his way through the groups of souls in search
of a friend who can oblige him with the one virtue he may lack,
by the weight of which he hopes to turn the balance in his
favour.
As it is inconceivable that in that obscure age Western Christianity
should have had direct knowledge of the Egypto-Persian myth, the
immediate origin of the Christian legends must be sought for in the
Islamic tales. This hypothesis is confirmed by the fact that in both the
_hadiths_ and the Christian legends the same _Deus ex machina_ effect is
introduced.
3. The same explanation may throw light upon a point in mediæval art that
has hitherto remained obscure. Mâle, in his work “L’art religieux du
XIIIme siècle en France,” calls attention to the fact that in the porches
of the Gothic cathedrals of France St. Michael is represented with scales
in his hand weighing the good and evil deeds of men.[485] Apart from a
few vague phrases of St. Augustine and St. John Chrysostom to the effect
that the deeds of men will be weighed “as in a balance,” Mâle finds no
authority for this scene and concludes, that the image must have been
formed in the popular mind by spontaneous evolution from those allusions
of the Saints, and may thus have reached the artists.
A more specific explanation is provided by the effect of Moslem influence
in producing legends in Christianity similar to those existing in Islam.
In the Bible and in Christian doctrine generally, St. Michael is the
_princeps militiae coelestis_, and as such he is represented, clad in
armour, in early mediæval monuments, notably in an eighth-century window
of the Cathedral of Châlons-sur-Marne. In paintings and bas-reliefs of
a later date, however, as in Van der Weyden’s Day of Judgment in the
Hospital of Beaune, and in that of Memling at Dantzig, he is always
shown with the scales in his hand. The inference to be drawn is that the
myth of the scales was introduced in the ninth or tenth century and,
in the course of adaptation, the Archangel Gabriel (who in Islam was
entrusted with the weighing) was replaced by the Archangel St. Michael,
one of whose functions indeed, according to the doctrine of the Church
is to lead the souls of the deceased to the Divine throne and introduce
them into heaven.[486] This adaptation was not only unauthorised by the
Catholic Church, but condemned by learned religious critics. Thus, the
seventeenth century Spanish friar, Interián de Ayala, in his work “El
pintor cristiano y erudito,” says: “It will appear even stranger to see
the Archangel Michael himself depicted with scales in his hand; the
origin of this, I must frankly confess, is unknown to me.”[487]
4. Nor is this instance of the influence of Islam upon mediæval art by
any means exceptional. Both Mâle and Friar Interián point out other
scenes of the day of judgment as equally unauthorised by Catholic
tradition,[488] and notably the scene of intercession. In the sculpture
of several French cathedrals of the thirteenth century; in the fourteenth
century Day of Judgment at the Campo Santo of Pisa; in that of Fra
Angelico at the Academy of Florence belonging to the fifteenth century—in
all the Virgin Mary is shown, either alone or accompanied by St. John the
Baptist, kneeling at the throne of Christ, the Judge, and interceding for
the sinners. The scene is, of course, quite contrary to the spirit of
that day of wrath, when there shall be neither intercession nor pardon.
With the Moslem creed, however, it is in perfect agreement. Algazel—to
quote the highest authority only—states that, after the Moslem sinners
have been sentenced, God in His mercy will hearken to the pleading of the
prophets and saints that stand highest in His favour.[489] As evidence he
adduces many passages in the Koran and _hadiths_ of the Prophet, in which
the scene is described in picturesque detail.
Mahomet, the leader of the prophets, draws nigh to the seat of
the Divine Judge casting, as he passes, a look of compassion
on the unhappy throng of Moslem sinners. In vain have the
other prophets interceded for them; their sole hope now lies
with him. Moved to pity by their entreaties and at the special
request of Jesus, he prostrates himself before the throne of
God and obtains the desired pardon.[490]
Lastly, the scenes in mediæval and renaissance pictures of the day of
judgment in which the sinners are shown coming to life again naked, are
denounced by Friar Interián as shameless and unchristian.[491] Those
scenes, though indeed lacking all authority of the Church, are strictly
in accordance with Moslem doctrine, which categorically states that on
the day of judgment all men will meet before the throne of God naked and
uncircumcised.[492] In fact, their very nakedness is a cause of physical
suffering; for, as the sun will on that day draw nearer to the earth,
they will sweat exceedingly and suffer greatly from thirst. This detail
was even objected to by the early Moslems, and Aysha, the Prophet’s wife,
pointed out how unseemly was such promiscuous nakedness. But Mahomet
replied:
“Oh, Aysha! On that dread day none will bethink himself of
casting eyes upon his neighbour, for each one will be intent
upon his own thoughts.”[493]
Nevertheless, _hadiths_ of a later date sought to lessen the crudeness of
the scene by reserving such nakedness to infidels.[494]
VI
LEGENDS OF PARADISE
1. D’Ancona paid due heed to the materialism shown in the conceptions
of paradise in almost all the Christian legends precursory of the
Divine Comedy, and concluded that Dante, in tracing his spiritual and
ethereal picture of paradise, was uninfluenced by those legends. The
contrast between Dante and his Christian predecessors was referred to
in the discussion of the Paradiso,[495] when it was suggested that the
materialistic pictures of heaven appearing in the mediæval Christian
legends were themselves based on Moslem models. Now is the occasion to
prove that assertion.
To begin with, these Christian legends bear a general resemblance to the
Moslem tales in that they often make no distinction between the earthly
and the heavenly paradise.[496] This confusion, it will be remembered, is
characteristic of Islamic stories, and particularly of some versions of
the ascension of Mahomet. In these, a garden of bliss, watered by clear
streams, is the scene of the theological paradise, which, although not
specifically laid on earth, is not supposed to be in the firmament of the
heavens.[497]
This Moslem conception of paradise as a garden reappears in some poetical
legends of thirteenth-century Christian Europe. For instance, in the
poem “Le vergier du paradis,” published by Jubinal,[498] paradise is
represented as a garden watered by limpid streams and shaded by trees;
the air is scented with rare perfumes and the sweet music of instruments
and the song of birds enchant the ear; within the bowers of this garden
are castles of marvellous beauty, built of gold and precious stones. Were
it not for some exclusively Islamic features, the picture might indeed
have been evolved from the Celestial Jerusalem of Revelations.[499] Some
of these features are of interest.
2. The protagonist of the legend of Turcill, in passing through
the garden of paradise, sees Adam seated at the foot of a
miraculous tree, close to the source of the four Biblical
rivers.[500] He observes that “Adam appeared to be smiling with
one eye, and weeping with the other; smiling at the thought
of those of his descendants who would find eternal life, and
weeping at the thought of those destined to eternal damnation.”
This episode, for which Graf quotes no precedent, is undeniably based
upon a scene in the ascension of Mahomet[501]; and the fact that the
version in question is included in the collection of Bukhari and Muslim
is proof that it was current in Islam before the ninth century.
3. But, apart from mere episode, in many Christian legends of paradise
the general outline of the conception is of Moslem origin. This
conception is mostly modelled upon one type; paradise is conceived as
the court of a feudal lord who receives his retainers at a brilliant
gathering enlivened by music and dancing. The _Cour du paradis_, the
work of an anonymous Provençal troubadour of the thirteenth century,
describes the reception as follows[502]:
On All Saints Day the Lord holds a festive meeting at His
court. St. Simon and St. Jude are sent to each dwelling in
paradise to invite the blessed to the party; they call in turn
at the mansions of the angels, the patriarchs, the apostles,
the martyrs, the confessors, the innocent children, the virgins
and the widows. In these groups the blessed flock to the
reception, where they sing songs of heavenly love and tread the
same measures as are danced on earth; Mary and Mary Magdalene
lead the singing and dancing.
The _Visione dei gaudii de’ santi_,[503] a legend of Dante’s time,
depicts the blessed as barons and paradise as a feudal castle with
battlements and towers of crystal and precious stones. This picture is
reproduced in the poem of the minstrel Giacomino of Verona, in which
the saints are represented as knights militant under the banner of the
Virgin, who in reward crowns them with wreaths of flowers of a perfume
sweeter than musk or amber, and bestows upon them precious gifts of
harness set with gold and emeralds and of chargers swifter than the hart
or the wind chasing over the sea.[504]
In other legends, the festival in paradise is conceived on less worldly
lines, more as a religious ceremony; in place of the cavalcade of knights
is a holy procession led by the Lord, and then follows a meeting, at
which St. Stephen recites the Epistle, and St. John the Gospel.[505]
It is significant that long before the tenth century there existed in
Islam a whole cycle of _hadiths_ the very title of which—“The Court of
Holiness”—suggests a resemblance to the Christian legends. As a matter of
fact, the same general ideas underlie both. Paradise is conceived either
as a courtly gathering where there is music and dancing, or, again, as
a religious festival. The likeness extends down to actual detail, which
would seem to be undeniable evidence of imitation.
This cycle of _hadiths_ comprises, not only those legends upon which the
Beatific Vision of the mystics was founded, but others created by the
traditionists to satisfy the ruder tastes of the early Moslems, whose
only interests ever lay in the direction of the miraculous.[506]
The _hadiths_ of the “Court of Holiness” begin, like the Christian
legends, with the invitation of the blessed to the reception at the
heavenly court. The invitation is for Friday, the festive day of Islam,
on which the elect, in addition to their continual bliss, are granted
the special favour of gazing upon the face of the Almighty. Thus the
enjoyment of the Beatific Vision is not constant, but weekly; and in the
“Cour du Paradis” the blessed only behold the Almighty once a year. The
point is important in that it is quite unauthorised by Christian doctrine.
Early on Friday morn angel messengers call upon the blessed in
their mansions and deliver a sealed invitation to each together
with rich gifts of jewelry for his adornment. The reception is
held in two castles, built of pearls, that stand in the gardens
of paradise—the one destined for the men, under Mahomet, and
the other for the women, under Fatima. Reclining on soft
cushions, the guests listen to houris chanting hymns of praise
to the Lord to the accompaniment of countless flutes that hang
from the trees and are sounded by the softest of breezes.
Enraptured by the music, the blessed feel an impulse to dance;
so, in order that they may be spared the physical exertion,
they are provided with instruments fitted with wings, on which
they sway hither and thither to the rhythm of the music. After
the dancing follows the reception by God, Who speaks to each
guest in turn, whereupon they retire each to his dwelling.
The analogy of this version to the “Cour du Paradis” is obvious. In other
versions, the reception is followed by a religious ceremony.
The blessed beg to be allowed the pleasure of holy prayer,
which was their delight on earth. God bids David ascend the
pulpit, and in an inspired voice he chants one of his Psalms.
Thereupon Mahomet in even more impressive tones recites a
chapter from the Koran. Finally God shows Himself to each of
the guests, who then retire to their mansions.
A third version of the _hadith_ appears to be the prototype of the
Christian legends that represent the heavenly festivity as a brilliant
cavalcade. After the prologue of the invitation common to all the
readings, the story proceeds as follows:
After all the guests have mounted, the men on horses of the
purest breed and the women on she-camels, they are led by
Mahomet and Fatima to the court. Mahomet, mounted on Boraq,
hoists the Green Standard of the Glory of God, which is borne
by angels on a staff of light above his head. The prophets
Adam, Moses, and Jesus join the procession, as it passes their
castles. In other versions, Mahomet is surrounded by Abu Bakr,
Adam, and Omar and preceded by the first muezzin Bilal, who
rides at the head of the heavenly muezzins. The cavalcade
follows the flowery banks of the river Kauthar till it reaches
the golden walls of the castle of the King of Heaven. Gabriel
climbs to the battlements and summons all the blessed to join
in the festivity. They arrive in groups led by their respective
prophets and take up their place behind Mahomet and his flock.
Inside the castle walls the sward is perfumed and shaded by
trees, whose branches are laden with fruit and peopled with
countless birds of song. Here the reception is held in a manner
similar to that already described.
The resemblance between this version and the Christian legends of the
cavalcade of knights extends even to descriptive detail. Mary presents
her knights with coursers such as never were seen on earth, red in
colour, and swifter than the hart or the wind sweeping over the sea;
their trappings are of gold resplendent with emeralds. The terms of the
Moslem legend are almost identical:
God saith to His angels, “Give My elect steeds of the purest
breed, yet such as they have never ridden.” And the angels
proffered them coursers of a ruby red, the trappings of which
are set with emeralds; with their wings of gold and hoofs of
silver, they can outrun the swiftest race-horse and fly faster
than lightning....[507]
VII
LEGENDS OF SEA VOYAGES
1. Through the Christian literature of the Middle Ages from the eleventh
century onwards runs a rich vein of legend, which Dante students have
explored in search of a possible clue to the genesis of the Divine
Comedy. The theme, it may be said, is also a visit to places, which,
being inaccessible to the ordinary mortal, may readily be identifiable
with the regions beyond the grave. These legends, having three main
characteristics in common, may be grouped in one cycle. They are tales
of wonderful voyages to fantastic islands; the protagonists are either
adventurers, or saints, or conquerors, who are invariably more mythical
than historical; and the aim of these is generally a religious one—to
spread the Gospel, to do penance, to find the isle of earthly paradise
or the fountain of life, or to seek the immortal prophets, Enoch and
Elijah.[508]
These legends may be roughly subdivided into three groups corresponding
to the natures of the protagonist. Tales of mere adventure are the
voyages of Harold of Norway and Gorm of Denmark; the Celtic voyages
of Maldwin, of the sons of Conall Dearg Ua-Corra, and of Snedhgus and
MacRiaghla. Of the adventurous pilgrimages by sea the most celebrated is
the voyage of St. Brandan, a veritable monastic odyssey, imitations of
which are the stories of the voyages of St. Barintus, St. Mernoc, St.
Malo, St. Amarus, and the Armorican monks. Voyages of conquest are the
parallels to the voyage of Alexander the Great, such as the legends of
Hugh of Bordeaux, Baldwin of Seeburg, Ugger the Dane, Hugh of Auvergne,
and Guerin the Mean.
2. By the tenth century, at the very latest—the epoch of flourishing
trade in the Persian Gulf and Indian Ocean—Islam had produced and
given widespread popularity to a whole cycle of similar legends; and
the hypothesis that their influence was responsible for the genesis of
the Christian legends is strengthened by the fact that they show the
same three characteristics mentioned above. They also are stories of
wondrous adventure in fabulous islands. The protagonists are seldom
historical persons and, like the heroes of the Christian legends, are
either adventurers or conquerors, religious devotees or pseudo-prophets.
Thirdly, the aim of most of these voyages is religious. The adventurers
set out to seek Mahomet or spread the gospel of Islam; to visit hell and
the paradise of saints and martyrs; or to find the abode either of the
prophets Enoch and Elijah or of the fabulous pseudo-prophet Khidr, who is
the protagonist of some of the legends.
Like their Christian counterparts, these Moslem legends may be grouped,
in accordance with the nature of the protagonist in each, under three
headings. The voyages of Sindbad the Sailor, of Hassan of Basra, of
Azim, of Ganisa, and of the Prince of Karizme, are purely voyages of
adventure. The heroes of the religious voyages are prophets or ascetics,
who are either wholly mythical or are historical personages clothed in
mythical garb, such as Khidr, Moses, Joseph, Jonah, and Boluqiya. To this
group also belong the tales of the birth of Mahomet, the tales of Abd
al-Mutallib the Wise, Yarab the Judge, Tamim Dari the Soldier, Abu Talib
the Lawyer, Zesbet, Abu al-Fawaris, and Sayf al-Muluk. The third group
comprises the expeditions that are partly warlike and partly religious;
typical of these is the Koranic legend of Dulcarnain, a mythical figure
that in Moslem legend is strangely interwoven with the figure of
Alexander the Great as depicted by the pseudo-Callisthenes.
3. This similarity in outline shown by the two legendary cycles is in
itself significant of Moslem influence. But there is further evidence.
Victor Chauvin, in his monumental work on the bibliography of Moslem
fiction, has traced a number of episodes and descriptive features from
the Moslem to Christian tales.[509] Thus, the legends of Herzog Ernst, of
Heinrich der Loewe, of Reinfried of Brunswick, of Hugh of Bordeaux, and
of Guerin the Mean, would all appear to be derived from the Arabic story
of the Prince of Karizme. Hence Chauvin’s conclusion that “the direct or
indirect influence of Oriental tales of marvellous voyages is to be seen
in several works of mediæval fiction.”[510] In addition, there is the
testimony of the Dutchman, De Goeje, the eminent Arabic scholar, whose
inquiry into the close relationship between the “Voyage of St. Brandan,”
the most typical of Irish tales, and the voyages of Sindbad the Sailor,
has won at least the partial adhesion of so great an authority on Romance
philology as Graf.[511] Thus, the problem may be regarded as practically
solved, and there only remains to add a few data corroborative of De
Goeje, and to point out the hitherto unsuspected Arabic origin of some
other Christian legends.
4. A typical instance of imitation from a Moslem source is provided
by the “Voyage of St. Brandan.” De Goeje attributes its origin to the
voyages of Sindbad the Sailor and a few other tales of adventurous
voyages that are briefly recorded by Al-Idrisi. Even more likely
sources, however, would appear to have been the tales of Boluqiya and of
Dulcarnain, which, having been handed down by Thaalabi, must have been
known before the eleventh century. Other Islamic tales of remote date
also come into consideration.
St. Brandan chances upon an uninhabited castle on an island, and in the
castle a table laden with the richest food, of which he and his followers
eat their fill.[512]
Boluqiya, on arriving at an island, likewise finds beneath a
tree a table set with food of different kinds. A bird greets
him from the branches of the tree and invites him to partake of
the food, which has been prepared by the order of God for all
His servants who come on foreign pilgrimage; and Boluqiya eats
his fill.[513]
On another island, visited by St. Brandan and his monks, grow trees, from
which they cut wood and make a fire to cook their food. But what appeared
to them an island was, in fact, an enormous whale, which, upon feeling
the heat of the fire upon its back, begins to move and the monks throw
themselves into the sea and swim to safety.
This episode, as has been pointed out by De Goeje, and before De Goeje by
Reinaud and D’Avezac, is identical with that of the island-whale which
Sindbad and his companions come across on the first of their voyages.
This fact, however, does not dispose of the difficulty; for the legend
of St. Brandan, though none of its extant versions dates back further
than the eleventh century, is by some supposed to be derived from earlier
Irish sources. Hence it is that Schroeder even goes so far as to suppose
that the episode of the whale passed from Ireland to the East, and Graf
himself does not deny the possibility of this.[514] Weighty arguments
can, however, be adduced against this theory. For one thing, the myth
is contained in remote works of Oriental literature,[515] for both the
Talmud and the Avesta mention a sea-serpent or tortoise on whose back
the same scene is enacted; so that, as any direct imitation of these
works by the author of the legend of St. Brandan is out of the question,
it is reasonable to suppose that Arabic literature was the medium of
communication. Is it possible that the tale of Sindbad the Sailor formed
this connecting link? In default of any documentary evidence of the date
of the Arabic tale, De Goeje has recourse to an argument which, though
interesting, is not conclusive. “In the oldest forms of the legend that
I know,” he says, “the island-whale is devoid of all vegetation. The tale
of Sindbad and the _Navigatio_ (of St. Brandan) alone mention trees as
growing on the fish.” Accordingly, he argues, as it appeared in the East
in its simple as well as its more complex form, the tale originated there
rather than in Ireland, where it appeared only in the latter form, and
that at a comparatively late time. De Goeje’s argument would have been
strengthened had he been able to produce an Arabic document giving the
myth in its more complex form before the tale of Sindbad appeared. Such
a document does exist in the _Book of Animals_, written by Al Jahiz,
of Basra, who lived from 781 to 869 A.D., or more than a century prior
to the date attributed to the tale of Sindbad,[516] and certainly long
before the composition of the Irish tales that have been regarded as
the sources of the “Voyage of St. Brandan.”[517] Al Jahiz, speaking of
monsters that are supposed to live in the sea, mentions the sea-serpent
or dragon, a certain crustacean of the sea called “_sarathan_,” and an
enormous fish, which undoubtedly is the whale. He is inclined to doubt
the existence of the two first-mentioned animals.[518]
“To tell the truth,” he says, “we have never heard of these”
(the sea-serpents) “except in tales of magic and in sailors’
yarns. To believe in the existence of the sea dragon is akin
to believing in the existence of the phœnix. Never did I hear
the dragon spoken of, but those present called the teller of
the tale a liar.... As to the _sarathan_, I have never yet met
anybody who could assure me he had seen it with his own eyes.
Of course, if we were to believe all that sailors tell ...
for they claim that on occasions they have landed on certain
islands having woods and valleys and fissures and have lit a
great fire; and when the monster felt the fire on its back,
it began to glide away with them and all the plants growing
on it, so that only such as managed to flee were saved. This
tale outdoes the most fabulous and preposterous of stories....
However, as for the fish, I state that it is as true as I am
alive that I have with my own eyes seen the fish of enormous
size called _Albala_ (the whale) and it was killed with
unerring aim.”
Originating in Persia, the myth lived on in the neighbouring countries
and, seeing that Al Jahiz gives it as a common theme of the sea legends
of his time, must have passed into Islam at least as early as the eighth
century. Thus, it is included in the popular tenth-century story of
Sindbad the Sailor, and is handed down in various Arabic works to the
twelfth century. Algazel refers to it in his _Ihia_, written at the
beginning of that century. Speaking of the immensity of the ocean, he
says, “in it live animals of so great a size that when the back of one of
them appears upon the water it is taken for an island and sailors land
upon it; but should they perchance light a fire, the monster, feeling the
heat, moves and the sailors become aware that it is alive.”[519]
The further arguments adduced by Schroeder in support of his theory, that
the myth of the whale arose in the north, are feeble. His assertion that
the whale is only to be found in the northern seas we have just seen
categorically denied by Al Jahiz. Surely the myth would be more likely to
arise among a people to whose seas whales would only come from time to
time rather than in the northern countries, where their appearance was
too common an occurrence even to suggest such a fable.
The next island to which St. Brandan comes is inhabited by a multitude of
birds which are gifted with speech and conceal certain angelic spirits
beneath their plumage.
Boluqiya, it will be remembered, also meets a marvellous bird, endowed
with the gift of speech, which invites him to partake of the food spread
upon a table. It explains that it was one of the birds of paradise
sent by God to offer Adam, after he was driven out of Eden, food from
that very table. Later it is this same bird, or another, also of white
plumage, that is charged with carrying Boluqiya on its wings from
the island to his home. It is seen, then, that the Moslem legend also
mentions birds of white plumage, that are gifted with speech and act as
angels or messengers of God. Moreover, in the discussion of the legend
of St. Macarius, Moslem precedents were shown to exist for the idea of
supposing human souls incarnate in birds gifted with speech from the time
of death until the day of judgment. Some _hadiths_ even go further[520];
speaking precisely of white birds, endowed with the gift of speech, they
say that they incarnate, not human souls, but angelic spirits, to wit,
the angels that are entrusted with the duty of judging the soul after
death. Again, several religious legends attest the Moslem belief that
flocks of white birds, beyond all doubt angels incarnate, attended the
burial of ascetics as if to receive their souls and lead them up to
heaven.[521] The strong hold this myth had on the Moslem imagination
explains why in all books on the interpretation of dreams birds are said
to signify angels.[522]
Proceeding on his voyage, St. Brandan lands on another island, inhabited
by holy monks whose only sustenance is the bread that falls from heaven;
these monks observe strict silence and are subject neither to illness nor
old age.
This episode is simply an amalgamation of two scenes appearing in some
versions of the expeditions of Dulcarnain—the scene of the island of the
monks and the island of the wise men.[523]
On the former island Dulcarnain finds ascetics so emaciated by
the austerity of their holy life that they appear as black as
coal; the fish and herbs provided for them by God are their
only nourishment, yet they assure Dulcarnain that they feel
no desire for the things of this world. On the other island
the wise men ask him whether with all his vaunted power he can
vouchsafe them eternal life and freedom from sickness. To his
answer that he cannot, they reply that God has granted them
this, and many other things besides.
Another island in the voyage of St. Brandan is described as bearing
enormous vines, from which hang bunches of grapes of monstrous size; the
seeds alone are as large as apples and suffice to satisfy the hunger and
slake the thirst of the saint and all his companions.
This incident is undoubtedly founded on the _hadiths_ telling of the
gardens of paradise, in which grow vines of monstrous size.[524]
“Does the vine grow in heaven?” asked one of the first
disciples of Mahomet, and upon the Prophet’s answering that
it did, the disciple inquired, “Of what size are the fruit?”
“As the distance covered by a raven in a month’s uninterrupted
flight,” was the answer. “And what is the size of the seeds?”
“Of that of a large jar.” “Then, with a single seed I and all
my family could eat their fill?” “And thy whole tribe as well,”
concluded Mahomet. Other _hadiths_ even state the exact length
of each bunch of grapes to be twelve cubits.
Continuing his pilgrimage, St. Brandan comes to an enormous column of the
clearest crystal; rising from the bottom of the sea it appears to touch
the sky, and around it is what seems to be a great pavilion formed of a
silvery substance with large meshes.
Two very similar descriptions are found in the Islamic fables of Solomon,
which depict a submarine dome and an aerial city.[525]
Solomon sees rising from the bottom of the sea a pavilion,
tent, tabernacle, or tower, vaulted like a dome, which is made
of crystal and is beaten by the waves; from a gate emerges
a youth, who proceeds to relate to him his life of solitary
devotion beneath the waters. The aerial city is erected by the
genii at the order of Solomon, who bids them build him a city
or palace of crystal a hundred thousand fathoms in extent and
a thousand storeys high, of solid foundations but with a dome
airy and lighter than water; the whole to be transparent so
that the light of the sun and the moon may penetrate its walls;
a white cupola, surmounting the highest storey and crowned by
a brilliant banner, with a resplendent light lit up the route
of Solomon’s army during the night, when the king, floating
through space in his aerial castle as in an airship driven by
the wind, sallied forth on an expedition.
Upon reaching the regions of the damned, St. Brandan and his companions
find Judas sad, and naked but for a rag over his face, seated upon a rock
in the midst of the ocean. Other similar Christian legends show Judas
standing in a pool or pit through which flow all the waters of the world;
or again, he is represented as being consumed internally with fire in
spite of the waters that beat incessantly upon him. The picture is an
adaptation from the Moslem legends of the torment of Cain, one of which,
dating from the eighth century, reads as follows:
A man of the Yemen, named Abd Allah, with various companions
set out on a voyage, in the course of which they came to a
sea that was wrapt in darkness. For several days they sailed
onwards until suddenly the veil of darkness lifted and they
found themselves close to an inhabited coast. “I went ashore,”
said Abd Allah, “in search of water, but all the houses I
came to were closed; in vain I knocked at the doors, for no
one answered. Of a sudden two horsemen appeared, mounted on
snow-white steeds, who said to me: ‘Abd Allah! follow yonder
path and thou wilt come to a pool of water; drink thy fill and
be not afeared at what thou seest there.’ I inquired of them
about the empty houses through which the wind whistled, and
they told me they were the dwellings of the souls of the dead.
Upon arriving at the pool, I found a man leaning head downwards
and seeking to reach the water with his hand. When he saw me,
he cried out: ‘Abd Allah, I pray thee, give me to drink,’ and I
filled the cup to give him water, but lo! my hand was stayed.
I said to him, ‘Oh, servant of the Lord! thou hast seen that I
would fain have served thee. Tell me, then, who thou art!’ And
he answered, ‘I am the son of Adam who first shed blood upon
earth.’”
Another tale, also dating from the eighth century, is similar:
A shipwrecked sailor saves himself by clinging to a spar and is
flung upon the shore of an island. Proceeding along the shore,
he comes to a stream the course of which he follows to a spot
where the water seems to flow from the bottom of the earth.
There he finds, chained by the feet just out of reach of the
water, a man who begs him to slake his thirst, saying he is
the son of Adam that slew his brother and since that deed is
chastised for every murder that is committed on earth.[526]
The last incident in the voyage of St. Brandan that is worthy of note is
his meeting with the hermit Paul, who lives on a rock in the middle of
the ocean, fed by a lark for the last hundred and forty years, and will
there remain alive until the day of judgment.
Here, blended into one, we have two characters—the historical person of
St. Paul the Hermit, who, fed by a raven until his death, lived in the
desert of Thebes, and the mythical figure of Khidr, in the conformation
of which Islam combined features of Elijah, Elishah, the Wandering Jew,
and St. George. Khidr, like Elijah, is immortal, and in many legends is
depicted as a sea-hermit, praying in the midst of a desert island, or on
a rock beaten by the waves, where he is fed by a bird, which brings him
food and water in its beak, or from a table sent down from heaven. There,
it is said, he will live until the day of judgment and, having often been
seen by shipwrecked sailors, he is regarded in Islam as the patron saint
of mariners.[527]
St. Brandan now approaches the Isle of Paradise, which is the goal of his
pilgrimage; but, like Abd Allah of the Yemen, and like Dulcarnain in his
search for the Fountain of Life, he first has to pass through a region
of darkness. The German version of the voyage, moreover, contains two
interesting features. The ground of the Isle of Paradise is, like the
ground traversed by Dulcarnain, strewn with precious stones; and from
a fountain spring four rivers, of milk, of wine, of oil, and of honey,
similar to the rivers that water the gardens of paradise in the Koran
(XLVII, 16-17).
5. It would thus seem that everything points to the same conclusion,
namely, that an Eastern or, to be more precise, an Islamic origin must be
given to this legend—the legend that Renan regarded as “the most perfect
expression of the Celtic ideal and one of the most admirable creations of
the human mind,”[528] and that Graf, though admitting the influence of
the story of Sindbad the Sailor, nevertheless believes to be Gaelic in
foundation. Other Romance scholars, however—owing to their lack of all
documentary evidence, they could never go beyond mere suppositions—came
nearer to the truth. Labitte, for instance, was struck by “le tour,
l’imagination brillante et presque orientale qu’elle décèle”;[529]
and D’Ancona admits that Eastern fables are mixed among its other
elements.[530] The very monotony of rhythm in the narration; the precise
number of seven voyages, corresponding to the seven seas through which
Boluqiya also sailed; the fantastic adventures, which led St. Vincent
of Beauvais and the Bollandists to describe these legends as _apocrypha
deliramenta_; and, lastly, the many episodes traced to Islamic sources
by De Goeje[531] and in the above pages—all go to warrant the conclusion
that, if the voyage of St. Brandan and other similar legends were indeed
written by an Irish monk on a basis of Celtic tradition, the plethora of
Islamic elements that were grafted on to the native stock was such as to
change their original character.
6. The same conclusion may be drawn from an examination of the other
tales of voyages that are more warlike expeditions than mere pilgrimages.
In these legends traces of the Arabic stories of the fabulous Dulcarnain
are frequently to be found.
Thus, in the legend of the Frisian sailors, narrated by Adam of Bremen
in the eleventh century, the adventurers, after traversing a dark region
of the ocean, arrive at an island the inhabitants of which hide in caves
while the sun is on the horizon, that is to say, at midday, the time of
the arrival of the strangers.[532]
This detail is characteristic of the country described in the legends
of the voyage of Dulcarnain as being that in which the sun rises, “the
inhabitants of which do not build houses, but take refuge in caves until
the sun goes down, when they sally forth to seek their living.”[533]
The tenth century Moslem record is based on _hadiths_ of a much earlier
date, and they in their turn were written as gloss on a passage of the
Koran (XVIII, 89), which alludes to the fabulous voyage of Dulcarnain
to “the country where the sun shines on people to whom We have given no
protection from its rays.”
A more striking instance of imitation from the Arabic is seen, however,
in the final episode of the Latin and German versions of the voyage of
Alexander the Great to the earthly paradise.[534]
The guardian of paradise presents Alexander with a precious
stone, the hidden virtues of which, he says, will cure him
of his ambition. Alexander returns with the stone to where
his army awaits him, and of all his followers a wise Hebrew
alone is capable of solving the riddle. The stone, he finds,
outweighs whatever quantity of gold is put in the balance, but,
when covered with a little dust, it at once loses its weight
and becomes as light as a feather. The aged Hebrew concludes
his interpretation with the words: “This precious stone is an
image of the human eye; when alive, it is insatiable, but, when
dead and covered with earth, it aspires to nought.”
Graf, after tracing the story to its most ancient sources both in
Greek and Hebrew lore, comes to the conclusion that its model is to be
sought in a tale of the Babylonian Talmud, though that tale mentions
a real human eye. A more likely model, however, is provided by the
Arabian story, recorded in the tenth century and attributed to Ali, the
son-in-law of Mahomet[535]:
Alexander, or rather the Koranic Dulcarnain, with his army
reaches the region of darkness that lies before the Fountain
of Life, and, beyond this region, he beholds a palace rising
to an enormous height. Advancing to the gate, he speaks to
the youthful guardian, who hands him an object like a stone,
saying, “If this be satisfied, thou also wilt be satisfied; if
it be hungry, then wilt thou be hungry too.” Alexander returns
to his companions with the stone and summons the wise men to
discuss the riddle. They test the stone in the balance with
first one, then two, and finally a thousand similar stones, and
find to their amazement that it outweighs them all. Khidr, a
counsellor of Alexander’s, upon seeing that all the sages are
unable to solve the riddle, thereupon intervenes and places
on one of the scales an ordinary stone and, on the other, the
miraculous stone covered with a handful of dust; and, to the
amazement of all, the scales now balance. To Alexander, Khidr
then explains the riddle as follows: “God has granted thee the
utmost power achievable by man, yet thou art not satisfied. For
man is never satisfied until dust cover him and the earth fill
his belly.” According to another, longer, version, Khidr ends
his explanation with the words: “The stone is the human eye,
which, whilst alive, even though it should possess the whole
world, is insatiable, and which only death can satisfy.”[536]
VIII
LEGENDS OF SLEEPERS
1. Graf has reviewed all the legends on this theme that were common in
Christian Europe from the thirteenth century onwards.[537] In the main
they tell the same story. The protagonists are monks or princes who,
after visiting the earthly paradise, return to their homes believing that
their absence has lasted but a few hours or days; whereas in reality
long years, even centuries, have passed; astonished at the change in
their surroundings, they try to make themselves known, only to meet with
incredulity; in the end they succeed in establishing their identity
either by the testimony of some venerable old man, who vaguely remembers
the story of their disappearance, or by the aid of books of record.
Of the three principal legends of this cycle, the Italian one of the
monks of the Jihun dates from the fourteenth century:
Three monks set out to seek the earthly paradise, and after
many adventures succeed in finding it. They return under the
delusion that they have been absent but three days, whereas
three whole centuries have elapsed. The monastery still stands,
but the monks are strangers who do not recognise them. With the
aid of old records they manage to prove their identity, and
forty days after recounting their experiences they turn into
dust.
The German legend of the Cistercian monk, Felix, also dates from the
fourteenth century:
Felix doubts that the bliss of heaven can last eternally
without cloying the elect. But one day, listening in the garden
to the sweet song of a little bird of white plumage, he falls
into a trance. The clanging of the bell calling to Matins
awakens him and he hastens towards the monastery to find that
he is unknown to the porter, who, on hearing his explanations,
believes him to be either drunk or mad and turns him away. Nor
do the monks recognise him, although one of them, a centenarian
and infirm, does remember that when he was a novice a monk
named Felix disappeared; and it is found that the books record
his supposed death. A century had passed in what seemed to
Felix a single hour.
Another Italian legend, which is later than the eleventh century, tells a
similar story of a young prince:
Three days after his wedding, the prince sets out from his
castle and is miraculously led to a garden of paradise, where
he remains for three hundred years, which to him appear but
three hours. On his return, he finds his home strangely
changed; for his wife and parents, having given him up for
dead, had converted the castle into a monastery and his hall
into a church. On the tower, where formerly had flown the
standard of his family with the eagle, he sees a banner with
the cross. He makes himself known to the porter and tells his
story to the monks and people of the village, who listen to him
in awe. The story is recorded, but the prince, upon eating the
bread of man, ages and dies and is buried by the side of his
wife.
Occasionally, this theme is introduced into stories of fabulous voyages,
as in the legend of the Armorican monks, which is an imitation of the
voyage of St. Brandan[538]:
After visiting the isle of paradise, the monks return to their
monastery and find everything changed; church and town have
disappeared, and a new king rules over a strange people. They
have been absent for three hundred years.
The Spanish legend of San Amaro, which is still current in Spain, belongs
to the same group:
After many wonderful adventures at sea, the saint visits the
earthly paradise and, on returning to the place where his
companions were to await him, finds a city built by them; and,
in a monastery erected to his memory, he dies. His absence,
which he had believed to be but of an hour’s duration, had
lasted two centuries.
2. From the eighth century onwards there existed in Islam two groups of
legends, which deal with this subject pretty much after the manner of
the Christian legends. The protagonists are either prophets—Hebrew or
mythical—or noble Christian martyrs, who, after a sleep of centuries,
which to them appear brief hours, return to their homes where they
finally succeed in proving their identity by means either of witnesses of
venerable age or of ancient documents.
3. The tales of the first group were composed by companions of the
Prophet as gloss on a passage of the Koran (II, 261), in which the theme
is outlined as follows:
Behold him who, passing one day by a ruined and deserted city,
cried out, “How shall God bring this dead city to life again?”
God laid the hand of death upon this man for a hundred years
and then, bringing him to life again, asked him: “How long
hast thou lain here?” “A few hours, or maybe a day,” answered
the man. And God replied: “Thou hast lain there for a hundred
years. Behold thy food and thy drink, they are yet good; and,
lo! there is thine ass. We have proposed thee as a sign (of
wonder) to the people. Behold how the bones are brought to life
again and are clothed with flesh.” And when (this miracle) was
made manifest (the man) exclaimed: “Verily, I see that God is
all-powerful.”
Around this nucleus, which had its origin in a Talmudic source, three
legends appeared, one of which, dating from the eighth century, reads as
follows[539]:
Nebuchadnezzar destroys Jerusalem and its temple and carries
off the surviving Israelites into captivity at Babylon.
Jeremiah (in other versions, Esdras), who had sought refuge in
the desert, returns to find the city in ruins and he doubts
whether God will be able to rebuild the city and its temple.
God sends him into a profound slumber, which lasts for a
hundred years. In the meantime, the ass he was mounted on dies,
but the wine and figs he carried with him remain intact. God
shields the prophet from beasts and birds of prey and renders
him invisible to man. A hundred years later, and thirty years
after God has caused Jerusalem to be rebuilt, Jeremiah is
brought to life again and, when he opens his eyes, he sees the
bones of the ass lying scattered on the ground. A voice from
heaven calls upon them to unite and clothe themselves with
flesh and skin, and the ass returns to life. God asks Jeremiah
how long he thinks he has slept and, when he answers “a few
hours or a day,” tells him that he has slept a hundred years.
The second tale dates from the seventh century:
Esdras, who had been carried off into captivity at Babylon in
his boyhood, escapes some years later and, mounted on an ass,
sets out for his native country. Passing on his way through a
deserted village on the banks of the Tigris, he eats his fill
of the fruit of the trees and, having drunk the juice of the
grapes, he stores the remainder in a pitcher and some figs in
a basket. He does not believe that God could ever rebuild the
ruined village and, having tied up his ass, he falls asleep.
God sends death upon him for a hundred years and then brings
him to life again. The angel Gabriel asks him how long he
thinks he has been asleep, and he replies “A day or less.”
Gabriel tells him that he has slept a hundred years and bids
him observe that the ass, the figs and the wine are intact.
Thereupon Esdras returns to his native country and finds that
his children and grandchildren have grown old, whilst his own
hair and beard are still black.
The third legend is attributed to Ibn Abbas, and provides the conclusion
to the two former versions:
Upon awakening from his hundred years’ sleep, Esdras returns
to his native village, where no one will believe his story. At
last he finds an old woman who had been his father’s servant
and is now a hundred and twenty years of age, blind and
paralytic. “Esdras,” replies the old woman to his story, “was
hearkened to by the Lord in his prayers. If thou art he, pray
then to God that He restore my sight, that I may see thee.”
Esdras cures the old woman of her infirmities, and she leads
him to the house where a son of his is still alive, although a
hundred and eighteen years old. Even his grandchildren are of
great age. None will believe either him or the old woman, until
finally his son recognises him by a birth-mark he bears between
his shoulders.
According to a variant version, he is recognised by his knowledge of the
Torah[540]:
During their captivity at Babylon, the Israelites lose their
knowledge of the Mosaic Law. Esdras, on his return, is scoffed
at as a liar and is only believed when he recites by heart and
writes out the whole of the Torah and the text is found to
agree literally with an old copy found buried in a vineyard.
4. The Islamic tales belonging to the second group of this cycle were
also woven around a passage of the Koran (XVIII, 8-24), which in its
turn was based upon a Christian legend of the East, the tale of the
Seven Sleepers of Ephesus. The fact that this Islamic myth had its
remote origin in Christianity renders it of little interest as far as
our argument is concerned, so that especially as Guidi has published an
Italian version of the Oriental texts, both Christian and Moslem, we need
give here only the outline of the Moslem tale, as it appears in the four
versions handed down by Thaalabi and translated by Guidi[541]:
During the persecution under Dacian seven Christian nobles
of Ephesus seek refuge in a cave where, after a frugal meal,
they fall asleep for three hundred years. Their kinsmen give
them up for lost, and record on a tablet the story and date
of their disappearance. At the end of the three centuries
God restores them to life, and they awake thinking they have
slept but a day. Under this delusion, one of them sets out for
Ephesus to purchase provisions and secretly bring back tidings
of the persecution. As he proceeds, his astonishment increases
at the changes he sees on every side. Over the gate of the
city a banner bearing the inscription, “There is but One God,
and Jesus is His Spirit,” puzzles him greatly. In the city
the people are all strange and, when he tenders a coin of the
time of Dacian in payment of bread, he arouses suspicion and
is led before the authorities on the charge of having found
secret treasure. In vain does he attempt to vindicate his
story, for the authorities refuse to listen to him until he
can find someone who can identify him. He ultimately succeeds
in reaching his own house, when a grandson of his, though
blind and infirm with great age, recognises him. The tablet
recording his disappearance is also found and thus his story
is corroborated. The authorities and townsfolk seek out his
companions, who now definitively die and are buried with great
pomp.
5. The close resemblance of the Islamic tales of both the above-mentioned
groups to the Christian mediæval legends related by Graf is too evident
to be ignored. But, it will be asked, is this resemblance to be
attributed to Moslem influence upon Christian folklore? Graf, with all
his erudition, makes no mention of the precedents that these Christian
tales may have had in other literatures.[542] And, indeed, the question
is not an easy one to answer. Guidi has shown[543] that the Islamic
tales of Jeremiah and Esdras are derived from rabbinical stories, the
protagonist of which is either Abimelech or the Rabbi, Joni Hamaggel.
Now both of these probably lived before the third century of our era,
but there is no evidence to prove that these Jewish tales, as such, ever
spread to the West. On the other hand, the Islamic legends of the Seven
Sleepers are based on a Syrian legend that appeared, also in the East, in
the sixth century; and this tale, we know, in that very century passed
to the West, where it is found in a Latin version that St. Gregory, of
Tours, included in one of his books on the saints.[544] But are we, on
that account, to suppose that the Christian mediæval tales mentioned by
Graf grew solely from the seed sown by St. Gregory and were uninfluenced
by the Islamic legends? If so, how can it be explained that that seed
should have taken over six centuries to germinate and did not produce its
crop of legends until the thirteenth century?
That is the problem, in so far as the influence of the myth of the Seven
Sleepers on the similar Christian tales of the thirteenth century is
concerned. But there still remains the other group of Islamic legends, of
which the protagonists are Jeremiah and Esdras. The resemblance of these
to the Christian tales is no less striking; and here there can be less
doubt about the direct Moslem influence, for there is nothing to show
that the early rabbinical models ever passed to Christian Europe.
IX
LEGENDS OF THE RESPITE FROM TORTURE
1. Until the sixth century the question whether the sufferings of the
sinners in hell were to be regarded as eternal or not was still debated
by the Fathers of the Church. Indeed some doctors, mainly of the Eastern
Church, favoured temporality.[545] Western opinion prevailed, however,
and by the Council of Constantinople the doctrine of everlasting
punishment was definitely established as part of the Catholic dogma. It
is, then, all the more strange to find, in the eleventh century, legends
popular in Western Christendom treating mainly of a respite from, or
mitigation of, the sufferings of the damned.[546] The myth first appeared
in the vision of St. Paul. But, as was pointed out in the discussion of
that legend, the primitive Greek version spoke of a _yearly_ respite,
whereas in the Latin versions, dating from the twelfth century, the
respite is _weekly_.[547] The difference is significant, as explaining
the genesis of the later forms of the legend from Moslem models; for,
whilst the doctrine of a weekly respite lacks foundation in Christian
tradition, and particularly in that of the West, it was indeed fully
justified in the dogma of Islam.
2. Even more striking influence of Islamic influence is shown by another
Christian tale, told in substantially the same terms by St. Peter Damian,
in the eleventh century, and Conrad of Querfurt and St. Vincent of
Beauvais, in the twelfth.[548]
A cavern situated in the volcanic region of Pozzuoli, to the
west of Naples, or on the volcanic island of Ischia in the gulf
of the same city, and washed by black and evil-smelling waters,
was supposed to be the mouth of hell. At sunset every Saturday,
birds of a sulphur-blackened plumage and fearsome aspect were
believed to rise from the waters of that cave and fly away to
the neighbouring mountains. There they would stay stretching
and pruning their wings until the early morn of the following
Monday, when they would return and enter the waters of the
cave. These birds were generally believed to be the souls of
the dwellers in hell, who thus enjoyed a respite from their
tortures.
3. It was a doctrine of Islam,[549] quoted even by Graf, that the torture
of both believers and infidels ceased for the day and night on Friday,
during which time the soul is allowed to visit its tomb and there receive
the prayers offered up on its behalf. The belief, which inspired many
very popular legends,[550] is based on the sanctity of the day and is as
old as the Moslem religion; indeed from the first century of the Hegira
onwards it was held for certain that Moslems who died during the day or
night of Friday were exempt from the private judgment of the soul that is
peculiar to Islam.[551]
That the souls of the wicked are incarnate in birds of black plumage is
a belief attributed to Mahomet himself, just as the myth that holds the
saintly soul or angelic spirit to be incarnate in white birds has been
shown to be of Moslem origin.[552]
“The souls of the host of Pharaoh are imprisoned in hell in the
body or belly of birds of a black hue; these birds sit on nests
of fire in the bottommost depths of the seventh earth and eat
and drink fire.”[553]
That these black birds rise to the surface, in respite from their
torture, and precisely from the waters on the seashore, is told in a
Moslem legend so strikingly similar to the Christian tale as actually to
appear to be its model or prototype. The legend in question is attributed
to Al-Awzai, a writer of the eighth century, and is related by Ibn Abu
Aldunya, of the ninth century[554]:
A man of Askalon inquired of Al-Awzai, “Oh, Abuamer! We see
birds of a black plumage rise from the sea and when they return
at night, behold! their plumage is white.” And Al-Awzai said
to him, “Dost thou not know what those birds are?” And he
answered, “Yes.” And Al-Awzai proceeded, “In the entrails of
those birds are the souls of the host of Pharaoh; they are
exposed to the fires of hell, which burn and blacken their
plumes. After a while they lose those plumes, but, when they
return to their nests, once again they are burnt in the fire.
Thus shall they continue to the day of judgment, when a Voice
shall say: Cast the host of Pharaoh into the bottommost pit.”
4. Closely related to this subject of respite from torture is that of the
mitigation of suffering when a debt is paid. Graf quotes, among others,
the legend related by Cæsar of Heidenbach in the thirteenth century.[555]
After his death a soldier appears before a certain man and
tells him that he is in hell for an act of robbery. He begs the
man tell his children of his wish that the property be restored
to its rightful owner, so that his punishment may be lightened,
but the children turn a deaf ear to the other’s pleadings.
It was a Moslem belief, borne out by numerous _hadiths_, that debts left
behind on earth either delayed or hampered the soul in its ascension to
heaven[556]:
Thus, at a certain funeral Mahomet decreed that no prayers
should be said for the deceased until his debts had been paid.
On another occasion, he addressed the children of the deceased
thus, “Your father stands at the gates of heaven, detained by a
debt. If ye wish, ye may yet ransom him; if not, ye must leave
him to be dealt with by the wrath of God.” In other _hadiths_,
Mahomet is represented as ordering a son of the deceased to
pay the debts in order to obtain a remission of his father’s
suffering.
Around these _hadiths_ there grew up legends very similar to the
Christian tale described above. One such legend, dating from the ninth
century, runs as follows:
To two ascetics, who lived in the eighth century, there
appeared a man who, seated on boards floating in the bottom
of a pit, cried out to them in a hoarse voice, saying he was
a citizen of Antioch who had just died and was held prisoner
in that pit until a debt of his were paid. He added, “My
children live at Antioch unmindful of me and of my debt.” The
two ascetics proceed to Antioch and pay the debt, and the next
night the deceased again appears to them and thanks them for
their act of charity.[557]
5. In conclusion, it was a common belief in mediæval Europe that prayers,
fasting and almsgiving served to obtain mitigation, not merely of
the expiatory suffering in purgatory, but even of the punishments of
hell.[558] This belief persisted in the face of the opposition of the
Church, which adhered the more rigidly to the doctrine of everlasting
damnation as being the one feature distinguishing hell from purgatory.
But the rigidity of the official theology was set off by what Graf
happily terms the theology of sentiment, as expressed in many popular
legends. These, Graf is of opinion, were the spontaneous outcome of the
feelings of pity to which the masses are ever prone. That such feelings
may lead to popular reactions, unconsciously heterodox, against the
strictness of doctrine based on intellectual exegesis, is undeniable; but
the growth of the belief in question may have been stimulated by contact
with Moslem eschatology, which on this point was much more benign than
the official Christian doctrine.
Islam, as is well known, condemns only the infidel and the polytheist
to eternal punishment; the true believer, however sinning, will one
day see an end to his suffering. And even this temporary torture may
be alleviated by the prayers of those on earth. Suyuti, with many
other authors, has left us a collection of authoritative texts on this
point.[559] These show that prayer, almsgiving, pilgrimage, fasting,
and even such pious or merely beneficent works as the erection and
endowment of mosques, hostels, schools, or the construction of bridges
and irrigation works, all serve to influence the lot of the soul; but
special importance is attached to the offering up of prayers on Fridays
on the tomb of the deceased. Thus Islam, in adopting the milder views of
a minority of Eastern churchmen, may have been the medium through which
this belief was transmitted to the West after it had been unanimously
rejected as heretical by the Councils, the Fathers, and the Doctors of
the Roman Church.
X
LEGENDS OF THE DEBATE BETWEEN ANGELS AND DEVILS FOR POSSESSION OF THE SOUL
1. A common subject of Christian mediæval legend is the inquest held on
the soul immediately after death by angels and devils as a preliminary to
final judgment. Graf, in _Demonologia di Dante_,[560] and Batiouchkof,
in _Le débat de l’âme et du corps_,[561] have analysed these legends, the
main elements of which are the following:
i. Every soul has one or more angels and devils to guard and
tempt it during life.
ii. At death these angels and devils fight for possession of
the soul.
iii. Often the debate is conducted with the aid of two books,
one recording the sins, and the other the virtues of the soul.
iv. In other legends, the virtues and vices appear in person to
bear witness.
v. Or again, the members of the body accuse the soul of the
sins they committed.
vi. The balance is also used to decide the debate.
vii. Finally, the angels or devils carry off the soul to heaven
or hell.
2. Christian doctrine furnishes but scant authority for these features,
especially the more striking ones enumerated under iv, v and vi. These
are precisely the elements that were most common in Islam, which had
derived them from other Oriental religions, particularly the Zoroastrian
religion.
The belief in a guardian angel, based as it is on the Gospel and
conserved in patristic writings, formed part of the Christian faith both
in the East and West. From the fifth century onwards it was, though
not dogma, commonly believed that, in addition, everyone had a devil
to tempt him. That, at death, the angel and devil fought for the soul,
was again merely a popular belief, the earliest documentary evidence
of which is to be found in a seventh century vision of the after-life
composed by St. Boniface, the apostle of Germany. It reappears in the
ninth century Germanic poem _Muspilli_[562]; and it is noteworthy that
both these legends are enhanced by the introduction of elements iv and v
personifying the virtues and vices and the members of the body, features
of Islamic or Zoroastrian origin,[563] which then make their first
appearance in Christian eschatology.
3. Islam, in contrast to Christianity, contained in its early _hadiths_
the sources of all the elements detected in the mediæval legends. These
tales, with the exception of those dealing with the balance[564], are
briefly summarised on the following pages:
1. _Hadiths on Topic_ i
Algazel records the following _hadith_ without mentioning the companion
of the Prophet who related it:
“At his birth each man has an angel allotted to him by God, and
a devil by Satan, who whisper good and evil suggestions into
his right and left ear respectively.”[565]
A _hadith_ by Jabir ibn Abd Allah, of the seventh century:
In this tale Mahomet says that God has appointed a guardian
angel to each man and two other angels to record his good and
evil deeds. At his death these angels return to heaven, whence
they will descend to bear witness on the day of judgment.[566]
A _hadith_ by Al-Hasan, of the seventh century, says:
“To every man lying on his death-bed there appear his
guardians, who show him his good and evil deeds. At the sight
of the former, he smiles; at the sight of the latter, he
frowns.”[567]
A _hadith_ by Salman, also of the seventh century, reads:
“A man who lay on his death-bed told the Prophet that a black
and a white figure had appeared before him. The Prophet
inquired, ‘Which stood the nearer to thee?’ and the man
replied, ‘The black figure.’ ‘Then,’ said the Prophet, ‘great
is the evil and little is the good.’”[568]
Finally, a _hadith_ by Wahb ibn Al-Ward, of the eighth century, says:
“To everyone at his death there appear the two angels who
during his life were the guardians of his deeds....”[569]
2. _Hadiths dealing mainly with the fight for the soul_
A _hadith_ by Ibrahim, son of Abd ar-Rahman ibn Awf, of the seventh
century:
Abd ar-Rahman, who had been given up for dead, tells how,
as he lay prostrate, two demons of fearsome aspect appeared
before him, saying, “Rise, for we will lead thee to the Supreme
Judge.” On their way they met two angels of mercy, who cried
out, “Whither would ye lead him? Leave him to us, for God has
destined him to enter heaven.”[570]
A seventh-century _hadith_ of the Caliph Muawya, but attributed to
Mahomet:
A murderer, moved to repentance, proceeds to a monastery to end
his days in prayer. But death overtakes him on the way. The
angels of wrath and of mercy appear on the scene and fight for
his soul. The dispute is decided by the soul being allotted to
the nearest dwelling. This, upon measurement, is found to be
the monastery, and the murderer is saved.[571]
_Hadith_ of Abu Hurayra, also of the seventh century:
A person relates his experiences during a trance. A man of
beautiful features and sweet-smelling breath had hardly placed
him in his grave, when a woman of repulsive mien and evil
odour appeared and accused him of his sins. She then disputes
with the other for his soul. During the dispute he withdraws
at the woman’s bidding and, in a mosque near by, finds a man
reciting the same verses of the Koran that he used to delight
in reciting. These verses are adduced in his favour, and the
man of the beautiful countenance claims him as saved.[572]
Legend of Daud ibn Abu Hind, of the eighth century:
Daud, as he lies sick, sees a black figure of monstrous shape
appear, whom he takes to be a demon come to carry him off to
hell. At that moment two men in white tunics descend through
the ceiling, who, after warding off the other, seat themselves
at the foot and head of Daud’s bed; they feel his palate and
toes and conclude that both show signs of a life of prayer.[573]
The legend of the seventh-century traditionist, Shahr ibn Hawshab, is
similar:
Two white angels seat themselves on the right of the sick-bed,
and two black angels, on the left, and dispute over the soul.
An examination of the dying man’s tongue, which shows traces of
having uttered a certain prayer, finally settles the dispute in
his favour.[574]
3. _Legends introducing the books of record_
These legends are all based on the passages of the Koran[575] treating
of the two books in which angels record the good and evil deeds of each
man. These books were mentioned in one of the tales of Group i, and many
other similar legends might be quoted. Thus, a _hadith_ attributed to Ibn
Abbas[576] tells of the recording angels and describes minutely the pens,
the ink, and the sheets they use.[577]
4. _Legends treating mainly of the personification of virtues and vices_
This feature, though also of Zoroastrian origin, attained its full
development in the eschatological lore of Islam.
A _hadith_ quoted from earlier traditionists by Ibn Abu Aldunya, of the
ninth century, says:
“No man dies but his good and evil deeds appear in person
before him, and he turns his eyes away from the evil towards
the good deeds.”[578]
A _hadith_ attributed to Mahomet says:
“At the death-bed of the believer attend his prayers, his
fasting, the alms he gave....”[579]
A _hadith_ quoted by a companion of the Prophet reads:
At the judgment of the soul the Koran will appear in its
defence before the angels Munkar and Nakir. It will ask the
soul, “Dost thou know me? I am the Koran which thou didst
recite and which delivered thee from evil. Fear not.”[580]
Other similar _hadiths_ relate as follows[581]:
To the righteous soul there appears in the grave a man of
great beauty, dressed in fine garments and scented with rare
perfumes, who says, “I am thy good deed.” To the wicked soul
appear its vices, in evil shape.
His prayer places itself on the right of the virtuous soul; his
fasting, on the left; the Koran, at his head; the virtue of
walking to the Mosque, at his feet; his fortitude in adversity,
at the side of the tomb. The punishment of the soul, which then
appears in person, is driven off by these virtues.
5. _Legends in which the members of the body are personified_
A typical legend of this group, though attributed to Mahomet, is recorded
in the tenth-century _Corra_:
An adulterer is brought before the Divine Judge, and the thigh
relates the sin it committed. The accused indignantly denies
the charge, but God imposes silence on the lying tongue. Each
of the members then confesses its share in the sin, and their
evidence is borne out by the recording angels and the earth. At
God’s bidding the angels seize the sinner and cast him into the
pit.[582]
6. _Legends of feature_ vii.
All the legends of this group are variants of the _hadith_ of the Prophet
relating the death of the upright man and the sinner.[583] A brief
outline is here given:
The angel of death extracts the soul from the body gently or
violently, according as it is righteous or sinning. The angels
guard the body as it is lowered to the grave. The devil, upon
seeing a soul escape him, turns in anger upon his host of
demons, who explain that they were powerless, as the soul was
free of sin. The soul is then led through the astronomical
heavens to the Throne of God. A similar, but antithetical,
story is told of the death of the sinner.[584]
4. Summarising the partial comparisons contained in this third part
of our work, we may divide the Moslem features appearing in the
mediæval Christian legends precursory of the Divine Comedy into two
categories.[585] The first category is formed of those Islamic features
that reappeared in Dante’s poem and accordingly were treated at greater
length in the first and second parts of this work. These, with the
Christian legends in which they appear, may briefly be enumerated as
follows:
Division of hell into seven regions (_St. Macarius_, _Edda_), or eight
storeys (_Bard of Regio Emilia_). Typical tortures of hell, such as the
tunics of fire (_St. Patrick_); fiery sepulchres (_St. Patrick_); molten
metal and sulphur (_St. Patrick_ and _Tundal_); immersion of the sinners
in a lake (_St. Macarius_, _St. Patrick_, and _Alberic_); graduation of
the fire (_St. Paul_); demons armed with prongs (_Tundal_); torture by
the monster (_Tundal_); attraction and repulsion of the damned by its
breathing (_Tundal_, _St. Patrick_, and _St. Paul_); sinners hanging head
downwards (_St. Patrick_, _Alberic_, and _St. Paul_); or crucified to the
ground (_St. Patrick_); or devoured by serpents (_St. Macarius_, _St.
Patrick_, and _Alberic_); or laden with burdens (_Edda_); or forced to
swallow their illicit gains (_Turcill_); the torture of ice (_Tundal_,
_St. Patrick_, and _Alberic_); the picture of the giant held in chains
(_St. Macarius_); and Lucifer bound in the bottommost pit of hell
(_Alberic_).
The second category consists of Moslem features detected in the Christian
legends, but not appearing in the Divine Comedy. These features, not
having been mentioned in the two former parts of this work, have been
dealt with in this part at greater length. The more important among them
are the following:
The myth of the balance (_Ch. V_); the slippery bridge (_Tundal_, _St.
Patrick_, _St. Paul_, _Abbot Joachim_); the torture of the sepulchre
(_Hugh of Brandenburg_, _St. Brandan_); the intercession at the final
judgment (_Ch. V_); the nakedness of sinners (_Ch. V_); the torture by
the mad cow (_Tundal_); the vision of heaven granted to the sinners in
order to increase their suffering (_Tundal_); the devil with the hundred
hands (_Tundal_); the damned incarnate in birds of black plumage (_Edda_,
and others in _Ch. IX_); the saintly souls and angels incarnate in white
birds (_St. Macarius_, _St. Brandan_); Adam in paradise, smiling and
crying at the same time (_Turcill_); the life of glory conceived as a
courtly or religious festival (_Cour du Paradis_, _Vergier du Paradis_,
_Visione dei gaudii de’ santi_). Finally, the main characteristics of
the cycles examined in the last four chapters: the voyages, particularly
the voyage of St. Brandan with its scenes, such as the table decked
with food, the enormous vines, the torture of Judas, the description of
the sea hermit, the island-whale; the legends of sleepers; the tales of
respite from torture; the legends of the debate for the soul, with the
striking features of the books of record, the personification of virtues
and vices, and the accusation by the members of the body.
In view of the abundance of Islamic features present in the pre-Dante
Christian legends, there is but one conclusion to be drawn: The many
poetic conceptions of the after-life current throughout Europe before
Dante’s time had grown from contact with Islam rather than from the
native stock, for several of those poetic myths or their descriptive
features had no foundation in Christian doctrine but owed their origin to
other religions of the East, whence they were transmitted in a new and
richer form by Islam.
5. The doubt that had assailed the mind at the end of the second part of
our work is thus dispelled. The natural inference to be drawn at that
stage of our inquiry from the great number of analogies detected in
the Divine Comedy and the eschatological literature of Islam was that
there existed some relation connecting the poem with that literature.
To that hypothesis, however, it was possible to object the hypothesis
put forward by the Dantists, that the conception of the divine poem
could only have been influenced, and that indirectly, by the precursory
Christian legends. But, once it has been shown that these legends also
bear unmistakable signs of Moslem influence, that objection falls to the
ground, and Dante now appears connected to Islam by a double tie—the
indirect relation of the Islamic features present in his Christian
precursors, and the direct relation of the Islamic elements contained in
the Divine Comedy.
One question arises at this culminating point of our investigation: could
Dante have known of the Moslem works on the after-life, and, if so, by
what channels? The answer to this question will complete the chain of
reasoning.
PART IV
_PROBABILITY OF THE TRANSMISSION OF ISLAMIC MODELS TO CHRISTIAN EUROPE
AND PARTICULARLY TO DANTE_
PART IV
_PROBABILITY OF THE TRANSMISSION OF ISLAMIC MODELS TO CHRISTIAN EUROPE
AND PARTICULARLY TO DANTE_
I.
INTRODUCTION
1. Whenever it is required to prove—in so far as historical matters
admit of proof—a case of literary imitation, an answer must first be
found to three pertinent questions.[586] Firstly, do there exist between
the alleged copy and its model so many and so striking features of
resemblance as to render it morally impossible to attribute them to mere
chance or to derivation from a common source? Secondly, can that which
is assumed to be the model be shown to have existed prior to the copy or
imitation? Thirdly, could the author of the supposed copy have known of
the original; or, alternatively, is it evident that the two writers were
separated by so wide a gulf as to make all communication impossible?
The first and second questions, which really furnish the key to the
problem, have been sufficiently determined above. The third is of less
interest. For, even if the historical data about the connection between
the model and the copy were vague, this would not detract from the force
of the argument based upon their likeness, especially when the points of
resemblance are so clearly defined and so recurrent that the likeness
cannot be ascribed to chance.
2. This is the case with the present problem. For it might be possible
to attribute to mere coincidence, or to a common Christian origin,
the _general_ features of resemblance between Dante’s and the Islamic
solution of the theological problem of the after-life, that is to say,
the _ideas_ or doctrines common to both eschatological conceptions. But,
when these doctrines appear clothed in the same artistic form, when the
ideas are represented by the same symbols and described with similar
details, then the hypothesis of chance coincidence can no longer be
maintained.
The difference is obvious. The ideas or doctrines are limited in number.
Being the outcome of a trend of thought followed by mankind throughout
the ages, they all necessarily fall within a few main categories. Not
so the images. These, which are but the reflexion of the _actual_
forms of _material_ objects, are as numerous and varied as the objects
themselves. It is morally impossible, therefore, that two conceptions
of one and the same idea actually agreeing in detail should be formed
in two minds, unless there existed a connecting link between the two.
Such a miracle would be all the more unlikely, as the coincidence would
be one, not of the conceptions of two particular minds, but of the
artistic fancy of an individual, and the imaginings of a collective
body such as Islam. In other words, it would be necessary to admit the
possibility of Dante’s having, by his sole mental effort, conceived
in a few years the same fantastic picture of life beyond the grave as
took the Moslem traditionists, mystics and poets centuries of artistic
endeavour to elaborate. The claim to so marvellous an originality would
require to be substantiated by evidence showing how this miracle came to
be accomplished by Dante Alighieri. The burden of proof would thus be
on the Dantists, and it would be for them to explain the enigma of the
coincidences between Dante’s poem and the Islamic legends, were it not
that there did indeed exist a link between the two and evidence of that
contact that is indispensable to all imitation.
3. This evidence may be furnished under three headings. It may be shown,
firstly, that the Christian peoples of mediæval Europe, by their contact
with Moslems, acquired a knowledge of their beliefs and conceptions of
the after-life; secondly, that Dante may well have drawn, directly or
indirectly, upon Moslem sources for the material of his poem; and,
lastly, that there are indications of his having been influenced by those
sources.
II
COMMUNICATION BETWEEN ISLAM AND CHRISTIAN EUROPE DURING THE MIDDLE AGES
1. Islam, after the conquest of the countries bordering on Arabia, spread
rapidly throughout the north of Africa, Spain, the south of France and
southern Italy, and extended its dominion over the Balearic Isles and
Sicily. The effect of war in imparting to the belligerents an intimate
knowledge of each other is notorious; but in times of peace, too, contact
between the two civilisations of Christianity and Islam was established
across their eastern and western frontiers through the medium of commerce.
From the eighth to the eleventh century an active trade was carried on
between Moslem countries of the East and Russia and other countries of
northern Europe. Expeditions left the Caspian regularly and, ascending
the Volga, reached the Gulf of Finland and so through the Baltic to
Denmark, Britain, and even as far as Iceland. The quantities of Arabic
coins found at various places in this extensive commercial zone bear
witness to its importance.[587] In the eleventh century trade was
conducted by the easier sea route across the Mediterranean, chiefly by
means of Genoese, Venetian or Moslem vessels. Large colonies of Italian
traders settled in all the Moslem ports of the Mediterranean, and
merchants, explorers, and adventurers sailed at will across its waters.
Benjamin of Tudela has left us trustworthy evidence, in his “Itinerary”
of the twelfth century, of the busy intercourse between Christians and
Moslems at that time.
To the stimulus of trade must be added the impulse of the religious
ideal. Pilgrimages to the Holy Land, which had been suspended owing to
the early conquests of Islam, were renewed and, with the establishment
under Charlemagne of the Frank Protectorate over the Christian churches
of the East, were assured by conventions and assisted by the foundation
of hostels and monasteries in Moslem lands. During the ninth, tenth,
and eleventh centuries the number of pilgrims grew, until some of the
expeditions comprised as many as twelve thousand; these expeditions were
the forerunners of the Crusades.[588]
The influence of the Crusades in bringing Islam and Christian Europe
together need hardly be insisted upon. The Christian States founded after
the first Crusade may be likened to a European colony implanted in the
heart of Islam, between the Euphrates and Egypt. The civil administration
and the army of these States were formed on the Moslem model, and even
the habits, food, and dress of the Orientals were adopted by the Frankish
knights, who poured into Syria in Crusades from all parts of Europe even
as far distant as Scandinavia.[589]
The failure to destroy Islam by the sword begot in its turn the idea of
the pacific conquest of souls, and led in the thirteenth century to the
establishment of the Missions to Islam. The Franciscan and Dominican
Friars who formed this new tie of spiritual communication were obliged to
make a thorough study of the language and religious literature of Islam,
and to reside for many years amongst Moslems.[590]
2. More important and more interesting, however, from our point of view
than any of these general channels of communication, is the contact of
the two civilisations in Sicily and Spain. Beginning in the ninth century
with piratical raids upon the coasts of the Atlantic and Mediterranean,
the Normans gradually formed settlements in Moslem towns of the Peninsula
(such as Lisbon, Seville, Orihuela and Barbastro) and in Sicily.[591]
The latter island, indeed, which had become permeated with Islam, was
conquered in the eleventh century and ruled by a dynasty of Norman Kings
until the thirteenth century. Throughout that period the Sicilian
population was composed of a medley of races professing different
religions and speaking several languages. The court of the Norman King,
Roger II, at Palermo, was formed of both Christians and Moslems, who were
equally versed in Arabic literature and Greek science. Norman knights and
soldiers, Italian and French noblemen and clergy, Moslem men of learning
and literature from Spain, Africa, and the East lived together in the
service of the King, forming a palatine organisation that in all respects
was a copy of the Moslem courts. The King himself spoke and read Arabic,
kept a harem in the Moslem manner, and attired himself after the Oriental
fashion. Even the Christian women of Palermo adopted the dress, veil, and
speech of their Moslem sisters.
But the time when Palermo most resembled a Moslem court was the first
half of the thirteenth century, during the long reign of Frederick,
King of Sicily and Emperor of Germany. A philosopher, free-thinker
and polyglot, the Emperor, even as his predecessors had done in war
and peace, surrounded himself with Moslems. They were his masters and
fellow-students, his courtiers, officers and ministers; and he was
accompanied by them on his travels to the Holy Land and throughout
Italy. His harems, one in Sicily and the other in Italy, were under
the charge of eunuchs; and even the tunic in which he was buried bore
an Arabic inscription. The Popes and other Kings of Christendom raised
public outcry against the scandal of the court of such an Emperor, who,
though representing the highest civil authority of the Middle Ages, was
Christian only in name.
This patron of literature and learning formed a unique collection of
Arabic MSS. at the University of Naples, which he founded in 1224; and he
had the works of Aristotle and Averrhoes translated, and copies sent to
Paris and Bologna. Not only did he gather to his court Hebrew and Moslem
philosophers, astrologers and mathematicians, but he corresponded with
men of learning throughout Islam.
It was at the court of Frederick that the Sicilian school of poetry,
which first used the vulgar tongue and thus laid the foundations of
Italian literature, arose. The Arab troubadours assembled at his court
were emulated by the Christians; and the fact is significant inasmuch as
it affords an instance of contact between the two literatures, Christian
and Moslem.[592]
3. Important as Norman Sicily was as a centre of Islamic culture, it is
nevertheless eclipsed in this respect by mediæval Spain. Here were to
be found the same phenomena as in Sicily, but on a much larger scale
and with the precedence of centuries. For Spain was the first country
in Christian Europe to enter into intimate contact with Islam. For 500
years, from the eighth to the thirteenth century, when the Florentine
poet came into the world, the two populations, Christian and Mahometan,
lived side by side in war and peace.
The Mozarabs formed the first link between the two peoples. As early
as the ninth century the Christians of Cordova had adopted the Moslem
style of living, some even to the extent of keeping harems and being
circumcised. Their delight in Arabic poetry and fiction, and their
enthusiasm for the study of the philosophical and theological doctrines
of Islam, are characteristically lamented by Alvaro of Cordova in his
_Indiculus luminosus_.
The contact thus established in the early centuries of the Islamic
conquest became, as may be imagined, more pronounced in the course of
time. With intervals of intermittent strife, the intermingling of the
two elements of the population steadily continued. And thus we find the
Mozarabs of Toledo, the ancient capital of the Visigoths, using the
Arabic language and characters in their public documents as late as
the twelfth century, after the reconquest of the city. The suggestion
that these Christians, who had become half Arabs, communicated to their
brethren in the north of Spain, and even in other parts of Europe a
knowledge of Islamic culture, may, therefore, be readily accepted. The
hypothesis is strengthened by the fact of the constant emigration of
Mozarabs northwards from Andalusia.[593]
To the Mozarab influence must be added another factor in the
communication of Moslem culture—that of the slaves of Christian origin.
Drawn from northern Spain and all parts of Europe, even as far as Russia,
large numbers of slaves served in the court and in the army of the Emirs
of Cordova. Many, no doubt, remained in their adoptive country where they
had acquired both rank and fortune; but some, it may well be believed,
would return to their native country in their old age.[594]
To attempt to enumerate the many other channels of communication between
Christian Europe and Moslem Spain, we should require to re-create in
our imagination the wonderful picture of Moslem society in Spain. As
the centre of Western culture, Moslem Spain irresistibly attracted
the semi-barbarous peoples of Christian Europe. From all parts came
travellers, bent on study as well as trade, and eager to behold the
wonders of this new classic civilisation of the Orient.
To paint the picture in detail it would be necessary to include the
Jewish traders as other instruments of communication. With their
flourishing international trade and their aptitude for languages and the
sciences, they knit ties both material and spiritual between Moslem Spain
and the chief cities of Christian Europe. Nor should we omit the part
played by prisoners of war returning often after many years’ absence to
their native country; nor the effects of the frequent visits of Christian
Ambassadors to the Moslem courts of the Peninsula.[595]
4. With the gradual reconquest of Spain by the armies of the Christian
kings, the Mudejars, their subdued Moslem subjects, took the place of
the Mozarabs in transmitting Islamic culture. The undeniable superiority
of this culture commanded the respect of the Christians, and the kings
were prompt to adopt the policy of attracting the Mudejar element,
thereby contributing to the more rapid and easy assimilation of Moslem
civilisation. Further political alliances through marriage between the
royal houses of Castile or Aragon and the reigning Moslem families were
frequent.
Thus Alphonso VI, the conqueror of Toledo, married Zaida, the daughter
of the Moorish King of Seville, and his capital resembled the seat of a
Moslem court. The fashion quickly spread to private life; the Christians
dressed in Moorish style, and the rising Romance language of Castile was
enriched by a large number of Arabic words. In commerce, in the arts and
trades, in municipal organisation, as well as in agricultural pursuits,
the influence of the Mudejars was predominant, and thus the way was
prepared for literary invasion, that was to reach its climax at the court
of Alphonso X or the Wise.[596]
Toledo had throughout the twelfth century been an important centre for
the dissemination of Arabic science and _belles-lettres_ in Christian
Europe. In the first half of that century, shortly after the city had
been captured from the Moors, Archbishop Raymond began the translation
of some of the more celebrated works of Arabic learning. Thus, the whole
encyclopædia of Aristoteles was translated from the Arabic, with the
commentaries of Alkindius, Alfarabius, Avicenna, Algazel and Averrhoes;
as also the master works of Euclid, Ptolemy, Galen, and Hippocrates, with
the comments upon them of learned Moslems, such as Albatenius, Avicenna,
Averrhoes, Rhazes, and Alpetragius. Translated into the Romance language
of Castile with the help of learned Mudejars and Hebrews, these works
were in turn rendered into Latin by Christian doctors drawn from all
parts of Christendom.[597]
5. Alphonso the Wise, who had been educated in this environment of
Semitic culture, on ascending the throne personally directed the work of
translation, and gathered to his court as collaborators wise men of the
three religions, an instance demonstrative of the tolerance of his time.
Besides contributing new works on physics and astronomy, he also devoted
considerable attention to subjects that would appeal more to the popular
mind. His father, Ferdinand the Saint, had encouraged the compilation
of the _Libro de los doce sabios_ and _Flores de filosofia_, in which
Oriental influence is first seen; and Alphonso caused similar books, such
as _Calila y Dimna_, _Bocados de Oro_, and _Poridad de poridades_ to be
translated and works on Oriental pastimes compiled. From Arabic sources
he wrote his _Grand e General Estoria_, and he ordered the translation of
Talmudic and cabbalistic works, and, lastly, of the Koran.[598]
The advance of the Reconquest opened up a new field of action, and
Murcia and Seville, after their recapture, became centres of philosophy
and literature that rivalled Toledo. During the lifetime of his father,
Alphonso had been Governor of Murcia, where he had a school built
specially for Muhammad ar-Riquti, in which the Moslem sage lectured to
Moors, Jews, and Christians alike.[599] Before 1158, another learned
Moslem, Abd Allah ibn Sahloh, had taught mathematics and philosophy to
Moors and Christians at Baeza, and in his school discussed theological
questions with the Christian clergy.[600] Encouraged, no doubt, by these
precedents, the king decided to give official sanction to the fusion of
the two civilisations, of Christendom and Islam. He founded at Seville a
general Latin and Arabic college, at which Moslems taught medicine and
science side by side with Christian professors.[601] This in itself
is eloquent of the close relationship between the two elements of the
population in the first half of the thirteenth century.
III
TRANSMISSION OF THE MOSLEM LEGENDS ON THE AFTER-LIFE TO CHRISTIAN EUROPE
AND DANTE
1. Any one of the channels mentioned may have served as the means of
communication, even to the farthest ends of Europe, for the news of the
legends on the after-life that were popular throughout Islam.[602] It
has been shown that the legends that sprang up in Ireland, Scandinavia,
France, Germany and Italy—the so-called precursors of the Divine
Comedy—were most probably based on Islamic models. These may have been
introduced into Christian Europe by pilgrims, Crusaders, merchants or
missionaries; or, again, by Norman adventurers, slaves, men of learning
or simple travellers. Once the possibility of a connecting link has been
established, the hypothesis of imitation tends to become that moral
certainty that historical demonstration requires and is content to accept.
It must be borne in mind that the majority of the Christian legends prior
to the Divine Comedy originated later than the tenth century, whereas
the _hadiths_ on the after-life date much further back. That these
_hadiths_ were of popular origin is, moreover, evident. Until the ninth
century they were transmitted solely by word of mouth, a fact that helped
to spread them and rendered the creation of new legends easier.[603]
Not until the formation by the two great critics, Bukhari and Muslim,
of the collections of authentic _hadiths_ can the era of invention be
considered closed. Their popularity did not, however, diminish on that
account. Moslems everywhere, of all ages and every social rank, acted as
transmitters, often undertaking long journeys to hear new tales and so
increase their stock of religious lore; for, apart from the attraction
that the fantastic nature of the theme held for the masses, it was
considered an act of faith to learn these tales and share in their
dissemination. No wonder, therefore, that the teachers of _hadiths_ prior
to the ninth century were reckoned by thousands.
2. It may be said that from the earliest times Spain was the country most
addicted to the study of these legends; for the intolerance of the Faqihs
alone produced a superabundance of traditional lore. Indeed, in the ninth
century, it was regarded as the home of the traditions of the Prophet
and of all these it was but natural that the story of the _Miraj_, or
ascension of Mahomet, should have the widest diffusion, as narrating
an important part of the biography of the Prophet—the story of the
performance of his supreme miracle, which has been accepted as a dogma,
and is solemnly commemorated to this day throughout Islam.
Knowledge of these Moslem tales would, sooner or later, inevitably
filter through the slender barrier separating the two peoples in their
conception of the hereafter.[604] Indeed, poor as are the records of
the beliefs of Islam left us by mediæval Christian writers, there is
evidence that the Christians in Spain were, from the first centuries of
the conquest, aware of these legends, and especially of the legend of the
_Miraj_.
3. At the very outset of the ninth century, in the apologetic writings of
the Mozarabs of Cordova, mention is made of Moslem _hadiths_. Alvaro of
Cordova, in his _Indiculus luminosus_; St. Eulogius, in his _Memoriale
Sanctum_; and the Abbot Esperaindeo, in his _Apologetico contra Mahoma_,
repeatedly allude to tales “leves et risu dignas” describing the life and
miracles of the pretended prophet.[605] In his _Apologeticus Martyrum_
St. Eulogius interpolates a brief biography of Mahomet. Founded largely
upon spurious data, it is in the main a baseless fabrication that,
nevertheless, shows a considerable knowledge of the Koran and the
_hadiths_.[606]
4. This biography of Mahomet, St. Eulogius found at the Monastery of
Leire in Navarre, which proves that as early as the ninth century the
legend had penetrated to the north of Spain. This explains why Spain
should have been the country from which it first passed into Western
literature. Indeed, in 1143 a Latin version of the Koran was written by
the Archdeacon of Pamplona, Robert of Reading, an English ecclesiastic
who had formerly worked at the college of translators founded at Toledo
by Archbishop Raymond. Together with this version, the archdeacon wrote a
treatise entitled “Summa brevis contra haereses et sectam Sarracenorum”
and derived from Arabic sources.[607] It is unlikely that a polemical
work of this kind would omit to mention the _Miraj_, which by its
very extravagance would readily lend itself to refutation; but it is
impossible to make any definite assertion on the point, as the treatise
in question has not been preserved complete.
5. Another document of the same century still exists however—the
“Historia Arabum,” written in Latin by Archbishop Rodrigo Jimenez de Rada
of Toledo.[608] In the prologue the author states that his compendium
will start from the time of Mahomet, and that his data upon the origin,
teaching and government of the Prophet will be taken “ex relatione fideli
et eorum scripturis.” Nor should this have been difficult, seeing that
he wrote in Toledo, where at the time many Arabic books on religion,
science, and lighter literature were then being translated.[609] In
Chapter V of this “Historia Arabum,” which is entitled “De sublimatione
Mahometi in regem et de jussionibus mendaciter excogitatis,” the author
relates the raising of Mahomet to the dignity of king, after the taking
of Damascus; and he adds that Mahomet then began to impose upon the
Arabs with stories in which he professed to be a prophet, with the
object of obtaining a firmer hold upon his subjects. He then inserts a
literal version of the legend of the _Miraj_, culled from what he terms
the “second book” of Mahomet. This can be no other than the canonical
collection of _hadiths_ on the Prophet, second from an authoritative
point of view only to the Koran, which latter the Archbishop would
consider to be the first book of Islam. Indeed this version is almost
identical with Versions A and B of the second cycle given in the first
part of the present work, as recorded in the collection of authentic
_hadiths_ compiled by Bukhari and Muslim.
From the “Historia Arabum” it passed to the “Crónica General” or “Estoria
d’Espanna,” which King Alphonso the Wise himself compiled or had compiled
in the Romance language of Castile between 1260 and 1268, and where
it appears with some slight additions,[610] no doubt made from other
Arabic sources current at the time. The greater interest attaching to the
“Crónica,” and the fact that it was written in Romance would ensure the
wider diffusion of the legend.
6. Indeed not long afterwards, towards the end of the thirteenth century,
another document appeared showing how widespread the legend was among
Christian Spaniards. This was the “Impunaçion de la seta de Mahomah,”
written during his captivity at Granada by St. Peter Paschal, Bishop of
Jaen and Friar of the Order of Mercy.[611] Born at Valencia in 1227,
of captive or Mozarab parents, he not unnaturally was a master of
Arabic, a fact that would stand him in great stead in his mission of
redeeming prisoners. Appointed tutor to the son of the King of Aragon,
he accompanied his charge to Toledo when the latter was raised to the
dignity of Archbishop, and there he devoted himself to fostering and
extending throughout Castile the Order of Mercy, which was then in its
infancy. His work in this connection led him to undertake a journey to
Rome, where his learning and religious zeal excited the admiration of
Pope Nicholas IV. On his return, he stayed a while at Paris, and at the
university there gained fame as a theologian. Appointed Bishop of Jaen
in 1296, he was taken prisoner by the Moors of Granada in the following
year and was martyred in 1300. During the four years of his captivity he
wrote, among other books, the apologetic work against Islam mentioned
above.[612]
The knowledge of Islam he displays is considerable. At every step he
quotes the Koran and authentic versions of the _hadiths_; the latter
he calls “Alhadiz,” and occasionally “Muslimi,” in reference to the
canonical collections made by the critic Muslim. He also mentions a book
on paradise and hell, which is, no doubt, one of the compendiums of
_hadiths_ common among the Moslems of Spain; and refers to other “Libros
escriptos de los Moros,” which must also have been collections of legends
on the after-life.[613] More interesting, however, are his quotations
from a book the title of which he variously transcribes as “Elmiregi,”
“Miragi,” “Miráj” or “Elmerigi.” This is evidently the _Miraj_ or
ascension of Mahomet, or, as the Saint has it, “the book in which he told
how he rose to the heavens”; “the book which tells how Mahomet rose as he
says to heaven, where is God, and how he spoke with God and saw paradise
and hell and the angels and devils and the tortures of hell and the
delights of paradise.”[614] But he does more than merely quote from this
book. In Chapter 8 of the first part of the “Impunaçion” he inserts the
entire legend of the _Miraj_, adding a burlesque commentary in refutation
of its fabulous episodes and miraculous visions; these the Saint airily
disposes of as “mere fancy, vanities, lies, humbug and idle talk.”[615]
The version of which he availed himself belongs to the third cycle, in
which the Nocturnal Journey and the ascension of Mahomet are fused into
one story. The ascension proper, however, is related according to Version
C of the second cycle, where in spirituality the visions of paradise
approach nearer to Dante’s conception. Finally, there are introduced into
the general scheme of the legend many _hadiths_ dealing with the day of
judgment, the “Sirat” or purgatory, the topography of hell, and life in
paradise, the resemblance of which to the descriptions of Dante has been
duly demonstrated.
7. If, therefore, the legend of the _Miraj_ was well known in Spain,
at any rate as early as the thirteenth century, is it unlikely that it
should also reach Italy, bound as that country was by ties of close and
constant communication with Spain?[616] St. Peter Paschal, who knew
the legend well, resided for a time in Rome during the Pontificate of
Nicholas IV, _i.e._, between 1288 and 1292, and, though it would be idle
to base an argument on this mere fact, it may at least serve as a typical
example of the hidden channels through which the legend might have
reached the Florentine poet. At that time the plan of his divine poem,
the first part of which, the Inferno, was finished in 1306, was maturing
in Dante’s mind. Moreover, in 1301, Dante himself visited the Papal Court
as the Ambassador of Florence to Pope Boniface VIII.[617]
8. But there are other surer channels by which the legend could have been
transmitted. Dante received his literary training from Brunetto Latini, a
scholar of encyclopædic knowledge and a notary of Florence, who rose to
fill the highest offices of state.[618] More than a master, Brunetto was
a literary adviser and friend for whom the young poet felt the greatest
respect and admiration, and whose counsel and guidance were a source of
constant inspiration to him. The affectionate discourse Dante feigns to
hold with his master on meeting him in hell is eloquent testimony of the
spiritual tie that Dante himself admits bound him to Brunetto Latini and
his work.[619] This connection has long been apparent to the commentators
on the Divine Comedy[620]; and some Dante students have even sought in
the writings of Brunetto, particularly in the allegorical and didactic
poem of the “Tesoretto,” the model and idea that inspired the Divine
Comedy. Although the hypothesis has been rejected by the Dante students
themselves,[621] there yet remains the important fact of the link between
the studies of the pupil and the oral and written doctrine of the master.
The written doctrine is contained in the “Tesoretto” and the “Tesoro,”
which respectively are a small and large encyclopædia of mediæval
learning. To obtain the mass of data required for the latter work
Brunetto, without ignoring classical and Christian sources, drew, as did
all his contemporaries, upon the Arabic works on science then available.
Sundby, the learned Dane who half a century ago investigated the sources
of the “Tesoro,” restricted his research to the works that were then more
easy of access, that is to say, the Christian and classical writers. But
many of the passages, the origin of which he admits he does not know,
may easily be traced to Arabic models.[622] Thus the classification
of philosophy given at the beginning of the work is copied from
Avicenna[623]; the version of the _Nichomachean Ethics_ of Aristotle that
Brunetto used, appears to have been a translation of an Arabic text from
Spain; and the Bestiaries or collections of animal legends, of which he
availed himself, were mostly of Arabic origin. Lastly, Brunetto’s own
references to Oriental authors form a strong argument in favour of a like
origin being attributed to other passages which it has been impossible to
connect with any previous Christian or classical works.[624]
9. In addition, the Tesoro contains a biography of Mahomet, in which,
coupled with a puerile belief in certain legends deriding the Prophet,
Brunetto shows considerable knowledge of the doctrine and customs of
Islam.[625] As the Italian Codices of the Tesoro have not yet been
edited, it is difficult to say whether the legend of the _Miraj_ is
contained in this biography, among the fables attributed by Brunetto to
Mahomet. But, even if it were not included, the hypothesis that Brunetto
may have known of the legend and communicated it by word of mouth to his
disciple cannot be rejected as improbable.
For Brunetto Latini was in a position to acquire his knowledge of Arabic
culture at first hand, when in 1260 he was sent as Ambassador of
Florence to the court of Alphonso the Wise, the patron and director of
the famous Toledan school of translators.[626]
The details of this mission are not known, but the mere facts of
Brunette’s having stayed at Toledo and Seville, where the court resided
at the time, is significant. It is easy to imagine how deep would be the
impression produced on so cultured a mind, ever eager to acquire more
knowledge, by these two brilliant centres of learning. Living at the
court of a king, whose learning was unique in mediæval Europe, and in the
midst of a hybrid society that was influenced by classical, Christian
and Oriental traditions alike, he cannot fail to have been impressed;
and it is unlikely that his ambassadorial duties should not have left
him leisure to satisfy his curiosity as a scholar. At the Toledan School
of Translators, and the inter-denominational University of Seville,
Christians and Moslems were continually engaged on the production of
literary and scientific works, and only four years before had rendered
into Romance Castilian the “Historia Arabum,” which contained the very
legend of the _Miraj_. As a matter of fact, on his return to France,
Brunetto almost immediately wrote his two main works, the “Tesoretto”
and the “Tesoro.” The latter, as has been seen, contains traces of the
influence of Arabic works, and nowhere could these have been more readily
available than in Toledo and Seville; the former is even supposed to have
been dedicated to Alphonso the Wise.
Everything thus would seem to bear out the suggestion that the master of
Dante Alighieri received more than a merely superficial impression from
his visit to Spain,[627] and may well have been the medium through which
some at least of the Islamic features apparent in the Divine Comedy were
transmitted to the disciple.[628]
The documentary evidence, however, consisting in the likeness shown
between the divine poem and the Islamic sources, is in itself sufficient,
even though it may not be possible to demonstrate through what hidden
channels communication actually took place.[629] For do not the
characteristics of each style of architecture found on a monument of
varied design betray the influence of its respective school, even though
history may have left no actual record of the association between these
schools? Documentary evidence, should it exist, would not strengthen the
expert’s conviction; it would but confirm the inferences he had already
drawn.
IV
THE ATTRACTION FELT BY DANTE TOWARDS ARABIC CULTURES CONFIRMS THE
HYPOTHESIS OF IMITATION
1. The possibility that the Moslem models of the Divine Comedy may easily
have reached Italy and the Florentine poet from Moslem sources having
been sufficiently proved, one question alone remains to be answered. Was
the mentality of Dante, as revealed in his works, antagonistic to the
ready assimilation of these models? For, obviously, no contact, however
close, could beget imitation if diversity in language, religion, race,
philosophy and art had inspired the Florentine poet with an aversion to
the culture of the Arabs. In answer to this question, it may at once be
said that all the evidence points to the contrary.
2. In the first place, Dante Alighieri was in matters of learning and
literature open to influence from all quarters. Dante students have one
and all laid stress upon this mental receptivity. Ozanam repeatedly
dwells upon the passionate desire for knowledge that urged on the poet
in his search for truth and beauty.[630] D’Ancona has explained how
Dante studied and mastered a vast range of subjects; how in his mind
inspiration was reconciled with a respect for tradition, and inventive
faculty with erudition.[631] Umberto Cosmo, more recently, asserts that
in its receptiveness the mind of Dante might be likened to a sea that
receives its waters from all parts. Dante, he says, gathered intellectual
nourishment from the whole culture of his time, and in his mind were
reflected and recast in a new, personal form the sentiments and ideas of
the past and the present.[632]
Opinions of such weight would seem to establish _a priori_ that the
culture of Islam, dominant in thirteenth-century Europe, must have been
known to Dante. It is inconceivable that he, leading a life of such
mental activity, should have ignored Moslem culture, which at the time
was all-pervading; that he should not have felt the attraction of a
science that drew men of learning from all parts of Christian Europe
to the court of Toledo, and of a literature the influence of which was
paramount in Christian Europe, which it initiated in the novels, the
fables and the proverbs, as well as the works on moral science and
apologetics, of the East.[633]
The prestige enjoyed by Islam was largely due to the Moslem victories
over the Crusaders.[634] Roger Bacon, a contemporary of Dante, attributed
the defeats of the Christians precisely to their ignorance of the Semitic
languages and applied science, of which the Moslems were masters.[635] In
another field of learning, Albertus Magnus, the founder of scholasticism,
agreed with Bacon on the superiority of the Arab philosophers[636];
and Raymond Lull even recommended the imitation of Moslem methods in
preaching to the people.[637]
Rarely can public opinion have been so unanimous in admitting the mental
superiority of an adversary. This view was upheld by Moslem men of
learning, who adjudged the European races to be unfit for civilisation.
This curious assertion was actually made by two Moslem thinkers of Spain
in the eleventh century, Ibn Hazm of Cordova, and Said of Toledo. In
their respective works, the Critical History of the Religions and the
History of the Sciences, they declared that the peoples of Northern
Europe were by nature unfitted for the cultivation of the sciences and
arts, which flourished in Moslem Spain.[638]
3. In view of the universal admiration for Islamic culture, it is not
astonishing to find a certain leaning towards it on the part of Dante.
It was at one time believed that Dante had a knowledge of Semitic
languages, especially of either Arabic or Hebrew, the inference being
based on two solitary verses of the Divine Comedy. Modern opinion,
however, favours the view that in these verses the poet merely intended
to introduce meaningless phrases, though it is admitted that the words
attributed to Nimrod contain Semitic elements.[639] Be this as it may,
if it cannot be proved from Dante’s writings that he knew the Semitic
languages, neither can it be proved that he was ignorant of them. It
may at least be supposed that he knew of their qualities and aptness as
a means of social intercourse; and, indirect as his knowledge may have
been, it was sufficient to enable him to compare them with the Romance
languages, to the disadvantage of the latter. For, treating in his work,
_De vulgari eloquio_, of the multitude of languages spoken in the world,
he, although a native of Florence and by race and language a Latin, does
not allow himself to be prejudiced in favour of his mother tongue; rather
does he show proof of his characteristic breadth of mind when he admits
“that there are many other nations speaking tongues more pleasant to the
ear and more expressive than those of the Latin peoples.”[640]
4. It need hardly be added that such attraction as Dante felt towards
Oriental culture does not imply a liking for the Moslem faith, for the
sincerity of his Christian belief is beyond all doubt. His sympathies
were merely literary, and scientific; and his mental attitude is revealed
in two typical passages of the Divine Comedy. Avicenna and Averrhoes he
places in the limbo,[641] but Mahomet, in hell.[642] And even Mahomet
is not punished as the founder of Islam, but as a sower of discord and
an author of schism; he is placed along with men the effect of whose
actions cannot be compared with the profound upheaval—religious, social
and political—that Islam caused in the history of the world and, to her
unutterable loss, in the history of the Church. The leniency of this
punishment is significant of Dante’s sympathies for Arabic culture.
In his eyes, Mahomet is not so much a repudiator of the Trinity and
Incarnation as a conqueror whose violence cut asunder the ties uniting
mankind. Incomplete as his picture may be, it does not display the
absurdity marked in the mediæval fables of the Prophet. The Christian
historians of Dante’s age outvied one another in weaving the most
extravagant and contradictory tales about Mahomet. According to some,
he was a pagan; to others, a Christian. He was given in turn the names
of Ocin, Pelagius, Nicholas, and Mahomet. Some depict him, rightly, as
illiterate; others, as a magician, or even a scholar of Bologna. He is
represented as having been a Spaniard, a Roman, and even a member of the
family of Colonna. Some historians, again, confuse the Prophet with his
mentor, the Nestorian monk Bahira, and make of him a deacon or cardinal
who, aspiring to the Papacy, set out for Arabia from Constantinople,
Antioch or Smyrna.[643] Before the gross ignorance displayed in such
crude misrepresentations, the sober picture drawn by Dante stands as a
silent rebuke to his contemporaries. One is tempted to think that Dante
was content to depict Mahomet as a mere conqueror, not because he was
unaware of the other sides to his character, but because the portrayal of
these would have been incompatible with the absurd image stereotyped on
the minds of his readers.
That the restraint shown by Dante is not due to ignorance is abundantly
borne out by one fact. The poet shows Ali suffering the same torture as
his cousin and father-in-law, Mahomet. The role played by Ali in the
history of Islam is nowadays a matter of general historical knowledge.
It is well known that the Caliphate did not pass to his sons or their
descendants, who were hunted down by the Ommeyad and Abbaside Caliphs;
but they soon found eager partisans who, under the name of Shiites,
dominated Persia, Syria, Egypt and Barbary down to the twelfth century.
The history of the bloody struggles provoked by this undoubted schism
down to the time of Saladin, fully justifies the placing of Ali, the
unwitting cause of the great split, among the authors of schism. But,
natural as this may now appear, it was quite beyond the understanding of
the Christian historians of Dante’s age. To them the figure of Mahomet
himself was an enigma, let alone that of his cousin Ali. Accordingly,
the early commentators on the Divine Comedy are at a loss to account for
his appearance alongside of the Prophet.[644] The contrast between the
ignorance of the Christian writers and the thorough knowledge displayed
by Dante in itself argues a considerable acquaintance on his part with
Islamic lore.
But there is still further evidence. The figure of Ali is sketched with a
sober realism that is no mere creation of the poet’s imagination, in fact
it is strictly in accordance with historical data.[645] The assassin Ibn
Muljam, the Moslem chroniclers state, with one stroke of the sword cleft
open Ali’s skull, or, according to others, struck him in the forehead
with a dagger, which split open his head and penetrated into the brain.
The tragic scene must have vividly impressed the early Moslems, for
legends soon arose according to which Mahomet, or Ali himself, prophesied
the sad fate awaiting the latter. “Thy assassin—said Mahomet to him—will
strike thee there—and pointed to his head—and the blood from the wound
will flow down to here—and he touched his chin.”[646]
5. In addition to a knowledge of Islamic tradition, Dante displays a
general sympathy with Moslem philosophers and men of science. In his
minor prose writings he frequently quotes, and occasionally makes use of,
the works of the astronomers, Albumazar, Alfraganius and Alpetragius, and
the great philosophers, Alfarabius, Avicenna, Algazel and Averrhoes.[647]
Thus, Paget Toynbee has shown how some of the passages in the _Convito_
and the _Vita Nuova_ are based upon the astronomical theories of
Alfraganius or the ideas of Averrhoes on the lunar spots. In his _De
vulgari eloquio_ (I, 6) Dante himself admits having read books on
cosmography, and the most common of these at that time were Arabic.
This accounts for the benevolent treatment accorded by Dante to men like
Saladin, Avicenna, and Averrhoes, whom he places in the limbo—a treatment
that, judged upon theological principles, is indefensible. No one, and
certainly not Dante, could have been unaware of the hostility shown by
Saladin to everything Christian, and of how he had overrun Palestine
and wrested the Holy City from the grasp of the Crusaders. Neither the
military qualities nor the magnanimity of Saladin can be regarded as
natural virtues sufficient in themselves to warrant the exemption from
eternal punishment of one who did such grievous harm to the faith of
Christ. The same may be said of Avicenna and Averrhoes. However blameless
their conduct may have been, their learning excluded all possibility of
their defence on the plea of utter ignorance of Christ that, according to
the doctrine guiding Dante, could alone have justified their deliverance
from hell. Averrhoes, moreover, stood in the eyes of the Christian Europe
of the time as the embodiment of rationalistic unbelief.[648]
6. Dante’s sympathies for Islamic science in general, and for Averrhoes
in particular, furnish the key to another enigma, as has recently been
shown in a clever study by Bruno Nardi.[649] This was the hitherto
incomprehensible presence in Dante’s paradise, side by side with St.
Thomas Aquinas, of Sigier of Brabant, the champion of Averrhoism, who
died under the ban of the Church. How, it was asked, could this defiance
of public opinion be justified? For, it should be noted that the poet not
only exempts this heretic from the punishment of hell, but even exalts
him to the mansion of the theologians, and, with a crowning presumption
bordering upon sarcasm, places in the mouth of his irreconcilable
adversary, St. Thomas, words of praise for the outcast that are
equivalent to a rehabilitation of his memory.
7. Nardi, to solve this problem, reopens the question of the sources of
Dante’s philosophy, hitherto regarded as exclusively Thomist. By a close
comparison of Dante’s works with the writings of other scholastics of
the neo-Platonic school and the systems of Avicenna and Averrhoes, he
shows that Dante, far from appearing as an unconditional Thomist, was a
scholastic, but of eclectic tendencies, who accepted theories from all
thinkers ancient and mediæval, Christian and Moslem, and embodied them
in a system of his own that was intermediate between the philosophy of
St. Thomas and that of Avicenna and Averrhoes, although more akin to
the latter. The main points in Dante’s philosophy that Nardi has shown
to be of Arabic filiation relate to cosmology, theodicy and psychology:
God is Light, whose rays grow weaker as they travel further from their
Centre. The Intelligences of the Celestial Spheres reflect these rays and
thereby imprint the various forms upon Matter. Creation must, therefore,
be conceived as a gradually decreasing emanation of the Divine Light,
and is brought about, not by God directly and exclusively, but through
the medium of the Celestial Spheres. The intellective part of the human
soul is distinct from the vegetative-sensitive part; the former alone is
created. Intellection begins by Divine illumination and needs the help of
Faith before it can attain to super-sensible Truth.
Nardi proceeds to show how these ideas of Dante, although found in part
in the Augustinian tradition, are rather derived from the neo-Platonic
philosophy of the Arabs and, more particularly, from the systems of
Alfarabius, Avicenna, Algazel and Averrhoes.
V
THE CLOSE RESEMBLANCE BETWEEN DANTE AND THE MYSTIC, IBN ARABI OF MURCIA,
FURNISHES FURTHER PROOF OF THE THESIS OF IMITATION
1. The conclusions arrived at by Nardi are more than sufficient to
indicate that, as in his artistic representation of the after-life,
so in his trend of thought Dante betrays signs of Arabic influence.
Should further proof of our thesis be required, the poet’s philosophical
system might be traced back to its actual sources in Islam, which are
to be found not so much among the philosophers as in the works of the
Illuministic Mystics, and of the Murcian Ibn Arabi in particular. The
Illuministic, or _Ishraqi_ and pseudo-Empedoclean school, was founded
by Ibn Masarra of Cordova; and from Spain its ideas were transmitted to
the so-called Augustinian scholastics, among others to Alexander Hales,
Duns Scotus, Roger Bacon, and Raymond Lull. As has been shown in the
discussion of the Paradiso, an essential part of _Ishraqi_ teaching—the
metaphysical doctrine of light—reappears in the Divine Comedy, where
it is illustrated, moreover, by the same symbols as are used by the
Moslem mystics. Creation, too, is conceived as an emanation of Divine
light, the teleological cause of which is love, and its primary effects,
universal and formless matter.[650] Thus a new vista is opened up. Seen
in this wise, Dante would appear to have been but one more follower of
the Illuministic school, and pre-eminent by his art alone. It has been
demonstrated above that almost all of the artistic forms used in Ibn
Arabi’s picture of the realms beyond the grave were reproduced a century
later in the Divine Comedy. The suggestion now presents itself that many
of the Illuministic theories of Dante were derived from the same Ibn
Arabi, the leading exponent of _Ishraqi_ ideas, rather than from the
other Arabic philosophers with whose systems Nardi compares them.
2. The solution of this problem is beyond the limits of the task at
present before us, which is restricted to the search for evidence of a
leaning on Dante’s part towards Islamic culture. Nevertheless, it may be
of interest to establish a general parallel between the two thinkers,
Dante and Ibn Arabi. This should bear, not so much upon the ideas common
to both, as upon the images and symbols by which they gave expression
to these ideas and the literary devices to which both writers resort
to expound their views. As already stated, coincidence in imaginative
detail more readily suggests imitation than sympathy in doctrine,
although, naturally, conviction is strengthened when both ideas and
images agree.
As regards the images, Ibn Arabi uses the same symbols as Dante to
express the metaphysics of light, an essential part of the thought of
both. God is pure light, and his manifestation _ad extra_ is described by
similes of light—diffusion, illumination, reflexion and irradiance—which
are all typical of Dante’s imaginings. The metaphor of the mirror, used
by Dante to exemplify the influence of superior upon inferior beings,
appears, like that of the flame of the candle, frequently in the works
of Ibn Arabi. The geometrical symbol of the circle and its centre,
representing the cosmos and its Divine principle, recurs even more
often in Ibn Arabi than in Dante, and gives rise to similar paradoxes
in the works of both writers. As light is the symbol of God and His
manifestations, so is darkness of matter. Opacity and transparency
respectively characterise the body and the mind in both Dante’s and Ibn
Arabi’s conception.
3. A comparison of the expository methods of the two authors will prove
still more interesting. The cabbala of letters and numbers is seen from
all his works to be an obsession of Dante. Secret virtues are attributed
to special numbers, or the numerical values of certain letters are
associated with their ideological values. The flavour of occultism thus
imparted to Dante’s style is exactly like that found in all the works of
Ibn Arabi, whose worship at the cabbalistic shrine argues the sincerity
of his conviction. Entire chapters of his _Futuhat_ and whole books are
devoted to this superstition; and he even goes so far as to base many
of his philosophical demonstrations on the numerical relations thus
established.
Another superstition common to the two writers is their belief in
astrology. It is needless to dwell upon the many passages in the Divine
Comedy and the _Convito_ that testify to the blind faith shown by Dante
in the absurd subtleties of astrology. Ibn Arabi, in his whimsical
conceits, indulges in still wilder flights of fancy.[651]
The literary artifice of personifying abstract entities is seen in
Dante’s _Vita Nuova_, where the vital, the animal, the visual and natural
spirits reason and discourse with one another. Ibn Arabi has no equal in
the use, or rather abuse, of prosopopoeia. God and His names, the spirits
of Being and of Nothingness, Matter and Shape, engage at each step in the
_Futuhat_ in lengthy discussions, like persons of flesh and blood.
Finally, whole passages in the _Vita Nuova_ and the Divine Comedy,
which purport to be autobiographical, are devoted to the description
and mystical interpretation of dream visions. Ibn Arabi also narrates
a multitude of dreams, hidden in which he discovers the loftiest
metaphysical thought.
4. Of all the visions thus described by Dante, one is of particular
interest.[652]
Dante in a dream sees a youth robed in white, seated near him
in a pensive attitude. The youth sighs, as he raises his eyes
to him, and to Dante’s question why he is so sad, replies:
“Ego tamquam centrum circuli, cui simili modo se habent
circumferentiae partes; tu autem non sic.” The poet calls
upon him to explain the meaning of this symbol, but the youth
replies: “Non dimandar più che utile ti sìa.”
Common in the extreme among Moslem mystics is the dream vision of God
appearing to them in the image of a youth. A _hadith_ attributed to the
ninth-century traditionist, Tabrani, tells how Mahomet first saw the
vision.
I saw the Lord my God in a dream—begins the _hadith_—seated on a stool, a
beardless youth of great beauty....[653]
Ibn Arabi himself claims to have seen similar visions, in which his
Divine beloved, God, appeared to him in human form.[654]
“These apparitions,” he says, “left me in such a state that for
days I could take no food. Each time that I sat down to eat He
appeared standing at the end of the table, gazing upon me and
saying in words that I actually heard, ‘and wilt thou eat in
My presence?’ and eat I could not. In truth I felt no hunger,
for His presence filled and well-nigh intoxicated me ... for
throughout those days His vision haunted me wheresoe’er I went.”
True, none of these visions contains the same cryptic words that Dante
places in the mouth of the youth. But these words undeniably have their
interpretation in the metaphysics of Ibn Arabi. In his geometrical
symbolism, God is the independent centre of a circle and His creatures
the points on the circumference, that are dependent for their existence
on the centre. God, then, is the centre of gravity towards which all
creatures are drawn by the love inspired in them by the infinite beauty
of the Divine essence.[655]
It may be argued that this interpretation does not necessarily
furnish the key to the enigma of Dante’s vision, but it does offer an
explanation. In the obscure words attributed to the youth Dante would
indeed seem to express the love he felt in his heart towards God, the
centre of creation. This is the very doctrine he unfolded later in the
Divine Comedy, where he asserts that the entire universe is swayed
by the love of God, which is the principal and the final goal of all
movement.[656]
5. Coincidences of literary artifice even more striking will be found
by comparing the _Cancionero_ and the _Convito_ with two books of Ibn
Arabi, “The Interpreter of Love” and its commentary, “The Treasures
of Lovers.”[657] Indeed, it will be seen that the literary principles
underlying the works of both authors are the same. The intermingling of
verse with prose, which is characteristic of the _Convito_, is to be
found in almost all the works of Ibn Arabi, but no two works of the poets
coincide so remarkably as “The Interpreter of Love” and the _Convito_.
Both poets represent their work to be autobiographical, and the theme and
mode of expression in each are almost identical.
In the _Convito_ Dante declares his intention to interpret the esoteric
meaning of fourteen love songs which he had composed at an earlier date
and the subject of which had led to the erroneous belief that they
dealt with sensual rather than intellectual love. The poet desires to
clear himself of the accusation of sensuality, and thus has written
the _Convito_ as a commentary on those songs and in explanation of the
allegory underlying the literal meaning.
The literal sense is the love of the poet for a fair and virtuous maiden,
learned yet modest and devout, of a winning grace and courteous manner,
whose bodily and moral perfections the poet extols in an outburst of
impassioned verse. Beneath this cloak of voluptuousness Dante avers there
is hidden the love for the Divine science of philosophy, personified by
the maiden. Her eyes represent the demonstrations of wisdom; her smiles,
its persuasions; the rays of love that descend from the heaven of Venus
upon the lover are the philosophical books; and the love-sick sighs he
heaves are symbolic of the anguish of the mind tortured by doubt and the
longing for truth.[658]
Finally, Dante explains how he came to write the original songs. One day
after the death of his beloved Beatrice, Dante is walking alone, when
of a sudden he meets a gentle maiden of great beauty and learning, with
whom he falls in love; not daring to declare his passion, he seeks solace
in the ecstatic contemplation of his idol and sings his emotions in
melancholy rhymes.[659]
An identical occurrence and motive inspired Ibn Arabi to compose the love
poems contained in his “Interpreter of Love” and write the commentary
upon it known as the “Treasures of Lovers.” In the prologue to the
commentary the author furnishes an explanation, of which the following is
a summary:
When I resided at Mecca in the year 598 (1201 A.D.) I made the
acquaintance of a number of worthy people, pre-eminent among
whom was the learned doctor Zahir ibn Rustam, a native of
Ispahan, who had taken up his abode at Mecca. This master had a
daughter, a tall and slender maiden. Virtuous, learned, devout
and modest, she was a feast for the eyes and bound in chains of
love all who beheld her. Were it not that pusillanimous minds
are ever prone to think evil, I would dwell at greater length
upon the qualities with which God had endowed both her body and
her soul, which was a garden of generous feeling.
It was from her that I drew the inspiration for the poems,
telling of the sweet fancies of a lover. In them I sought to
convey some of the passionate feelings treasured in my heart
and to express the tender longings of my soul in words that
should suggest how dearly I loved her and how the thought of
her filled my mind in those bygone days as it haunts me even
now. Thus every name mentioned in this work refers to her,
and hers is the dwelling of which I sing. But also, in these
verses I make constant allusion to spiritual revelations and
to relations with the Intelligences of the Divine spheres.
This is customary in our allegorical style, for to our mind
the things of the future life are preferable to those of
this world; moreover, she herself knew full well the hidden
meaning underlying my verse. God forbid that the reader should
attribute unworthy thoughts to the writers of poetry such as
this—men whose aims are loftier and who aspire but to the
things of heaven.
My reason for composing this allegorical commentary upon my
songs was that my pupils had consulted me about them. They had
heard learned moralists of Aleppo deny that holy mysteries lay
hidden in my poems and allege that, in trying to affirm this,
I merely sought to conceal the sensual love which I had felt.
I therefore set to work to write this commentary upon all the
amorous poems I had composed during my stay at Mecca in the
months of Recheb, Shaban, and Ramadan. In all these poems I
constantly allude to spiritual mysteries and to the teachings
of philosophy and ethics. If, to express these lofty thoughts,
I used the language of love, it was because the minds of men
are prone to dally with such amorous fancies and would thus be
more readily attracted to the subject of my songs.
Ibn Arabi then introduces a fragment from his book of songs, in which he
enumerates the more usual among his poetic metaphors and interprets their
general allegorical meaning. He adds:
“All these figures of speech should be regarded as symbolic of sublime
mysteries and Divine illuminations vouchsafed to me by the Lord God. Turn
thy thoughts, oh! reader, from the mere words and seek the hidden meaning
that thou mayest understand.”
Having thus duly warned the reader, Ibn Arabi begins his commentary with
the fictitious story of the vision of a beautiful maiden.
“One night,” he says, “I was in the temple of the Caaba,
walking, as required by rite, round and round the holy
dwelling. My mind felt at ease and a strange peace overcame my
soul. To be alone, I went out of the temple and started to walk
along the roadway. As I walked, I recited aloud some verses,
when, of a sudden, I felt a hand softer than velvet touch me
on the shoulder. I turned and lo! a Greek maiden stood before
me. Never had I beheld so beautiful a countenance, nor heard so
soft a voice; never had I met a woman more endearing or with
speech so refined, who expressed such lofty thoughts in more
subtle language. Verily she surpassed all the women of her day
in delicacy of mind, in literary culture, in beauty and in
learning....”
Prefacing his work with the narration of this fictitious episode in his
life, which he alleges led to the composition of his songs, the author
proceeds to give the allegorical meaning of each verse. His beloved, he
explains, is the symbol of Divine wisdom[660]; her virgin breasts, the
nectar of its teachings; the smile on her lips, its illuminations.[661]
Her eyes are the emblems of light and revelation.[662] The mournful sighs
of the lover represent the spiritual longings of the soul.[663] Among
a host of other subjects, the author deals with the origin and destiny
of the human soul, the nature and phenomena of love, and the essence of
spiritual beauty. In matters of faith, he discusses the relations between
reason and belief, the hidden trinal sense of the conception of God,
the transcendental value of universal religion in comparison with other
religions, and Islam as a religion of love.
6. The coincidence here shown between the _Convito_ of Dante and the
_Treasures_ of Ibn Arabi may prove of further interest, as furnishing an
answer to the vexed question of the origin of that form of lyrical poetry
known in Italy as _dolce stil nuovo_. In this new school of poetry, of
which Guido Guinicelli, Guido Cavalcanti and Dante were the contemporary
creators, the theme of each song is love. The emotion of the poet at the
sight or remembrance of his beloved is described in two forms—either it
is a mystical adoration, a sweet beatitude of the soul that in ecstasy
longs for spiritual union with its beloved and thus strives heavenward;
or else it is an affliction of the heart torn by anguish, a morbid fever
that consumes the life blood of the lover, a dread disorder of the mind
that pervades his whole being and makes him long for the approach of
death as a relief from the torture he is suffering. In subtle inquiry
into the emotional processes of love, Cavalcanti stands supreme, more
especially when dealing with love as an affliction. His songs are tragic
outbursts of this mode of feeling which is found to a less degree in
Guinicelli and Dante, who treat love rather as a gentle melancholy, or as
an ecstatic contemplation or mystical and semi-religious aspiration.
Another characteristic of the _stil nuovo_ poetry is the analysis and
philosophic interpretation of the emotions. The psycho-physiological
faculties and spirits controlling the heart are distinguished and even
personified. This scholastic manner, which robs the poetry of much of its
charm, is used to excess in Cavalcanti’s “Donna mi prega.”
The mere possession of the woman they love is far from being the sole
desire of these poets. On the contrary, their elect appears to them
rather as an ethereal image, a being who is worthy of Platonic love.
Indeed to them real love lies, not in marriage, but rather in a perpetual
state of chastity; and the figure of their beloved they idealise either
as an angel of heaven or the symbol of Divine wisdom or philosophy. In
either conception, she is the instrument by which God inspires the lover
with noble feelings and sublime ideas. And so, earthly and heavenly love
are merged in one.
Vossler has pointed out the absence in either classical or Christian
literature of anything that might serve to account for this hybrid theory
of a love that is at once earthly and spiritual; this curious and new
form—to quote his own words—of Platonism, which yet is not directly
derived from Plato.[664] There is nothing in the doctrine of the Church,
in Ovid, or in Aristotle, to explain such an idealistic and romantic
conception of woman, so spiritual a love, which, as Vossler says, must
have appeared grotesque to the philosophers and theologians of the Middle
Ages. Vossler’s efforts to find an explanation are more remarkable as
examples of ingenuity and erudition than they are convincing. The ideas
expressed by the Italian poets of the _dolce stil nuovo_ he traces back
through the songs of Provençal troubadours to the chivalry and psychology
of the Germanic race.
7. But Vossler’s argument, based on complicated transformations of social
psychology, is brought to nought by one outstanding fact: far earlier
than the first of those many stages, Islam in the East and in Spain had
furnished works, both of prose and poetry, treating of love in the same
romantic spirit.
The common prejudice—common both by its wide diffusion and the absence
of all logical foundation—denying all idealism to the conception of love
of the Arabs, and Moslems in general, is quite contrary to fact. The
Yemen tribe of the Banu Odhra, or “Children of Chastity,” were famous for
the manner in which they upheld the tradition of their name. “I am of a
race that, when it loves, dies,” said one of them. Jamil, one of their
most celebrated poets, died mad with love for his lady, Butayna, upon
whom he had never dared lay hands. Two other poets of the same tribe,
the lovers Orwa and Afra, died together consumed by the flame of a
lifelong passion, which left them in a state of chastity to the end. The
romanticism that prefers death to the defilement of the chaste union of
the souls is a feature of all the melancholy and beautiful songs of these
poets.[665] The example of abstinence and perpetual chastity set by the
Christian monks of Arabia may well have influenced the Banu Odhra. The
mysticism of the Sufis, directly inherited from the Christian hermits,
also drew its inspiration from the lives and writings of the romantic
poets of Arabia.[666] Regardless of the fact that neither the Koran
nor the life of Mahomet himself furnishes the slightest ground for so
idealistic an interpretation of love, they do not hesitate to attribute
to the Prophet the saying: “He who loves and remains chaste unto death,
dies a martyr.” Ibn Arabi adopts this motto[667]; and the doctrine is
followed by many Sufis who, although married, stand as heroic examples of
perpetual chastity. Thus idealised, the wife is no longer the sexual mate
of the Sufi, but rather his companion or sister in asceticism; and his
love for her is part of his love for God.
This new trend of thought is promptly reflected in the literature both of
the East and the West. Ibn Daud of Ispahan, in his _Book of Venus_ of the
ninth century, analyses and defends romantic love. Ibn Hazm of Cordova,
who lived in the eleventh century, has left us in his book called the
“Necklace of the Dove,” but better known as the “Book of Love,” and in
a smaller work, “Characters and Conduct,” a whole treatise dealing with
the passion of love and breathing the purest romanticism.[668] He regards
the essence of love as consisting not in the commerce of the bodies but
in the union of the souls. Moreover, his “Necklace” abounds in authentic
stories of Spanish Moslems, drawn from all ranks of society, whose love
is Platonic and who render silent homage to their beloved and worship her
with an almost mystical adoration. At times, in his anguish, the lover
writes letters bathed in tears or even written in his blood. Many, in a
paroxysm of despair, meet with a tragic end in madness or death.
But this romantic form of love, as sung by the poets of the Banu Odhra
and described and classified in the books of Ibn Daud and Ibn Hazm is
perhaps rather than ascetic continence an ultra-refinement of an erotic
sensibility that has been worn out by excess. Accordingly, it appears at
three epochs and in three centres that in this respect had reached the
zenith of hyperæsthesia—in the Yemen, where the pre-Islamic poets had
exhausted the theme of sensual love, and at the highly civilised courts
of Baghdad and Cordova, where decadence had begun to set in.
8. We are thus still far from the Platonic conception of woman, idealised
as an angel and a symbol of philosophy. The origin of this strange
conception would seem to be due to an attempt to idealise the sensual
coarseness of the Koranic paradise. The houris of the Koran, although
celestial, are intended solely to be instruments of carnal delight. This
idea was incompatible with the spiritual longings of the later Moslem
mystics, who had been profoundly influenced by the asceticism preached
and practised by the Christian monks. But it was impossible to eliminate
from the Koran the verses proclaiming those sensual joys. The mystics,
therefore, in their legends of the after-life replaced the houris by one
celestial bride, a spiritual being whose love is chaste and whom God
has appointed to each of the blessed.[669] In all those legends, this
heavenly spouse is depicted as a guardian angel, who serves to inspire
her lover with a desire for spiritual perfection and a greater love for
God during his life on earth.
Later, when to the asceticism inherited from the Christian monks the
Sufis applied a pantheistic and neo-Platonic form of metaphysics,
the idealisation of sexual love reached the acme of subtlety and
abstruseness. This has been shown by the erotic poems of Ibn Arabi, in
which the beloved is a mere symbol of Divine wisdom and the passion felt
for her allegorical of the union of the mystic soul with God Himself.
The psychological phenomena attendant upon love he analyses with a
surprising delicacy and penetration, and shows himself far superior,
especially in the _Futuhat_, to any of the Italian poets of the _dolce
stil nuovo_.[670] Not content with distinguishing between the different
degrees of feeling that separate love from sympathy, from affection, from
passion and from desire, he probes into the subconscious states of the
heart and mind, and interprets them in a mystical sense. The sighs, the
tears and mental anguish of the lover; his languor and melancholy; his
bewilderment and his secret grief mingled with jealous anger; his fits
of brooding and dejection, of ecstasy and rapture—the whole gamut of the
psychology of love is closely analysed in the pages of the _Futuhat_,
which is at the same time a metaphysical exegesis of the passion. For,
after admitting a threefold aim in love, viz., the union of the sexes,
the union of the souls, and the spiritual union with God, he has the
sublime audacity to assert that it is God who appears to every lover in
the image of his beloved.[671] In order that we may learn to love Him, He
assumes the form of the fair Zaynab, of Suad, of Hind, of Layla—of all
those beauties of whose charms the poets sing, little suspecting that in
their songs of love they are praising the only Beauty of the World, God,
incorporate in those sensual forms.
9. Let us at this juncture glance backwards and collect the threads of
the argument presented in this last part of our work.
The numerous symptoms of a leaning towards Islamic culture that have
been discovered in the writings of Dante are proof that his mind, far
from being averse from the influence of Moslem models, was rather
inclined towards their assimilation. In a previous chapter it was shown
how likely the transmission of these models from Moslem Spain to Italy
and the Florentine poet was. In the first two parts of this work the
great wealth of Moslem feature in the Divine Comedy was demonstrated
after minute examination. In the third part it was seen how the majority
of pre-Dante Christian legends are also derived from the literature
of Islam. It would seem, therefore, that the chain of reasoning is
complete, and that no serious objection can be raised to the assertion
that imitation did indeed exist, once we have established as facts the
_resemblance_ between the model and the copy, the _priority_ of the
former to the latter, and _communication_ between the two.
Nor is it possible any longer to deny to Islamic literature the place of
honour to which it is entitled in the stately train of the forerunners of
Dante’s poem. For this literature, in itself, furnishes more solutions to
the many riddles that surround the genesis of the poem than all the other
precursory works combined.
But at every step of the long journey we have travelled in the research
into the Islamic models of the Divine Comedy, the figure of one writer
has stood out as the most typical and the most likely to furnish in his
works the key to what is still obscure in Dante. We refer to the figure
of the Spanish mystic and poet Ibn Arabi of Murcia. His works in general,
and particularly his _Futuhat_, may indeed have been the source whence
the Florentine poet drew the general idea of his poem. There also Dante
could have found the geometrical plans of the architecture of hell and
paradise, the general features of the scenery in which the sublime drama
is laid, the vivid picture of the life of glory led by the chosen, the
Beatific Vision of the Divine Light, and the ecstasy of him who beholds
it. Moreover, it would be difficult to find two thinkers whose poetical
and religious temperaments are so alike as those of Dante and Ibn Arabi;
for the resemblance extends not only to their philosophical thought,
derived from the illuministic school of Ibn Masarra, but also to the
images by which their ideas are symbolised and the literary means by
which they are expressed. Nowhere is this seen more clearly than in the
_Convito_ and the _Treasures_. Conceived and composed in the self-same
manner, these works were written with the same personal object; and
both authors follow the same method in the allegorical interpretation of
the amorous theme of their songs. The share due to Ibn Arabi—a Spaniard,
although a Moslem—in the literary glory achieved by Dante Alighieri in
his immortal poem can no longer be ignored.
The gigantic figure of the great Florentine need not thereby lose one
inch of the sublime height it has reached in the eyes of his compatriots
and of all mankind. Blind admiration of genius is not the most
appropriate form of homage. Nor could the worship of his memory, inspired
by a mere spirit of patriotism, satisfy a man who placed above his love
for Italy and the Latin race, the lofty ideals of humanity and religion;
who laid proud claim to the title of a citizen of the world; and who
breathed into the exquisite form of his divine poem an universal and
eternal spirit of morality and mysticism that was the natural expression
of the deepest Christian feelings.
In the end we find that it is that perennial source of poetry and
spirituality, the Divine religion of Christ, that furnishes the real key
to the genesis of Dante’s poem and its precursors, both Christian and
Moslem. For Islam, be it once more said, is but the bastard offspring
of the Gospel and the Mosaic Law, part of whose doctrines on the
after-life it adopted. Lacking the restraining influence of an infallible
authority whereby the fancy of its believers might have been checked, it
assimilated elements from other Eastern sources and thus came to deck and
overlay with all the trappings of Oriental fancy the sober picture of
the life beyond the grave that is outlined in the Gospel. Dante could,
without altering the essence of Christian teaching on that life, draw for
the purposes of his poem on the artistic features furnished by the Moslem
legends. In so doing he was but reclaiming for Christianity property that
was by rights its own, heirlooms that had lain hidden in the religious
lore of the East until restored to the stock of Western culture greatly
enhanced by the imaginative genius of Islam.
FOOTNOTES
[1] ASÍN PALACIOS has published this summary, under the title of
_Historia crítica de una polémica_, simultaneously in four reviews:
_Boletín de la Real Academia Española_ (Madrid, 1924); _Il Giornale
Dantesco_ (Florence, 1924); _Revue de littérature comparée_ (Paris,
1924); _Litteris_ (Lund, Sweden, 1924).
[2] ASÍN, _Abenmasarra_, p. 120. The complete bibliography of all books
consulted will be found in the Appendix.
[3] When making this assertion I was unaware of the works published two
years before in Italian reviews by the erudite Dante critic, Bruno
Nardi, the first and only writer to attribute a neo-Platonic affiliation
to the philosophy of the Florentine poet. We shall refer to the works of
Nardi in Part IV, chap. IV, § 7.
[4] Cf. ASÍN, _Abenmasarra_, p. 163.
[5] When writing the third part of my book, dealing with the Moslem
elements in the pre-Dante Christian legends, I discovered from TORRACA
(_Precursori_, 331) that the influence of the Mahometan ascension over
Dante had previously been suspected by Blochet. But, Blochet, in his
essay, _Les sources orientales de la Divine Comédie_, failed to state
the problem in its real terms and his hypothesis, being unsupported by
documentary evidence, remained a mere surmise. Accordingly, Torraca
easily disposes of it, saying:—
“Egli ragiona così; Dante conobbe le narrazioni occidentali di altri
viaggi al mondo di là; ma queste narrazioni derivano dalla leggenda
orientale (i.e. the _Miraj_); dunque essa è la fonte prima della Divina
Commedia.”
The difference between this argument and the one on which the present
work is based will be readily apparent to the reader.
[6] OZANAM, p. 373.
[7] OZANAM, p. 498 _et seq._
[8] D’ANCONA, _Precursori_, pp. 108 and 113.
[9] Reference to the Divine Comedy will be omitted when the resemblance
is one that affects the whole of a scene spread over several pages. For
such the reader may consult any of the summaries of Dante’s poem.
[10] _Inf._ I; _Purg._ IV.
[11] _Inf._ III, 26, 28.
[12] Of Version B there are four varieties which, to avoid repetition,
are here reduced to one by the elimination of details common to A and B.
[13] _Inf._ V, 4 _et seq._
[14] _Inf._ XXXIV, 114; _Purg._ II, 3.
[15] See Rossi, I, 146, who summarises the _contrapasso_ in the Divine
Comedy, and compare with the tortures described in Versions A and B.
[16] _Inf._ V, 31 _et seq._ It should be added that, at the approach to
this region, Dante, like Mahomet in Version B, hears the cries of the
damned (Ibid. 25 _et seq._).
[17] _Inf._ XII, 46 _et seq._ The coincidence may extend to the crime,
for the Arabic text of Version B reads: “those who ate of usury,” while
Dante says literally (_Inf._ XII, 104) that “Ei son tiranni, che dier nel
sangue e _nell’aver di piglio_.”
[18] _Inf._ XIV and XV.
[19] _Purg._ XXXI, 102. Cf. _Purg._ XXXIII, 138.
[20] Cf. _Koran_, LII, 4.
[21] _Koran_, LIII, 14.
[22] Cf. ROSSI, I, 140, 142, 143; FRATICELLI, 47, n. 8 and PORENA, p. 9.
[23] _Inf._ III, 82-100; V, 4-24.
[24] _Inf._ VII, 1-15.
[25] _Inf._ VIII, 13-24; 82 _et seq._
[26] _Inf._ IX, 79-106.
[27] _Inf._ XII, 11-27.
[28] _Inf._ XXI, 58 _et seq._
[29] _Inf._ III, 133-4.
[30] _Inf._ VIII, 67-75.
[31] _Inf._ IX, 109 _et seq._
[32] _Inf._ VI, 13-33; XXIV, 82 _et seq._; XXV, _passim_.
[33] _Inf._ XXX, 49-57; 81-84; 102; 106-7; 119; 123.
[34] _Inf._ XXIX, 79-87.
[35] _Inf._ XXI, _passim_.
[36] _Inf._ XXVIII, 22-42.
[37] The cock was to some extent revered by the primitive Moslems. Its
crowing at dawn announced the time for prayer, and the more pious among
the masses were wont to set to its notes words exhorting the faithful to
pray. This might have given rise to the belief that the crowing of all
the cocks on earth could only be simultaneous by being the echo of the
crowing of a celestial cock. Some _hadiths_ indeed attribute an angelic
nature to this heavenly cock. Cf. DAMIRI, I, 388-9.
[38] _Koran_, CVIII, 1.
[39] _Koran_, XIII, 28.
[40] See my work, _Abenmasarra_, ch. IV, V and VIII.
[41] Cf. ROSSI, I, 165, 168.
[42] To quote all these passages would be tantamount to writing out the
entire _Paradiso_. See mainly Cantos V, VII, VIII, IX, X, XII, XIII, XIV,
XV, XVIII, XXII, XXIII, and XXVII-XXXIII.
[43] Compare chiefly the following passages of the _Paradiso_: VII,
1-6; X, 139-144; VIII, 28-31; XII, 7-9, 22-30; XIV, 118-126; XX, 73-75,
142-144; XXI, 139-142; XXIV, 112-114; XXV, 97-99, 130-135; XXVI, 67-69;
XXVIII, 94-96; XXXII, 94-99, 133-135.
[44] _Par._ II, 23-24; V, 91-92.
[45] _Par._ VIII, 22-24; XXII, 99.
[46] _Par._ I, 4-9; X, 43-47; XXIII, 55-59; XXX, 19-22; XXXI, 136-138;
XXXIII, 55-56, 106.
[47] _Par._ XXXIII, 90, 121-3, 139, 142.
[48] _Par._ III, 128-9.
[49] _Par._ XIV, 77-8; 82.
[50] _Par._ XXV, 118-121.
[51] The quotations on this and the following pages are from the English
version by the Rev. P. H. WICKSTEED, M.A., “The Temple Classics.” Edit.
J. M. Dent, London.
[52] _Par._ XXIII, 28-33.
[53] _Par._ XXIII, 76-84; 118-9.
[54] _Par._ XXVIII, 16-18; XXIX, 8-9.
[55] _Par._ XXX, 46-51.
[56] _Par._ XXX, 55-60.
[57] _Par._ XXXIII, 52-54; 76-84.
[58] _Par._ X, 52-54. Cf. _Par._ II, 29-30.
[59] _Par._ XXXI, XXXIII.
[60] _Par._ XXXI, 58-60.
[61] _Par._ XXIII, 94 _et seq._
[62] _Par._ XXVIII, 94, 98-101, 118-120.
[63] _Par._ XVIII-XX.
[64] _Par._ XVIII, 100-101; 103-108. XIX, 1-6; 34-35; 37-39; 95-97. XX,
73-74. XVIII, 76-77; 85-86; 91, 93. XIX, 10-12; 20-21.
[65] _Par._ XXXI, 13-15.
[66] _Par._ XXII, 133-135; 148-153.
[67] _Par._ XXVIII, 16-18; 25-34; 89-93. XXX, 100-105.
[68] _Par._ XXXIII, 57-63; 93-94; 97-99.
[69] VOSSLER, II, 216.
[70] _Ibid._, 211.
[71] _Purg._ XIX, 7-36; 55-60.
[72] The fable of Ulysses and the syrens.
[73] Cf. FRATICELLI, 310, n. 7. LANDINO, fol. 269. SCARTAZZINI, 536 and
539.
[74] In Moslem oneirology the vision, seen in a dream, of a woman, a
prostitute with naked arms, is interpreted as a symbol of the world.
[75] _Purg._ I, 94-99; 124-9.
[76] _Purg._ XXXI, 100-103. XXXIII, 127-129; 142-145.
[77] VICTOR CHAUVIN has compiled a complete list of the biographies
of Mahomet in his _Bibliographie des ouvrages arabes ou relatifs aux
Arabes_, IX, _passim_. For the special literature of the _Miraj_ v.
ibidem, X, 206-8.
[78] Cf. BROCKELMANN, I, 196.
[79] Reference to the works quoted by CHAUVIN shows that of the
better-known treatises on the _Miraj_ one is of the 10th century, another
of the 13th, two of the 14th, one of the 15th, four of the 16th, two of
the 17th, four of the 18th, and one of the 19th. As in all literatures,
the more modern drive the older treatises out of circulation. Thus the
treatise on the _Miraj_, now printed in Cairo in preference to all
others, is that of Ghiti (16th century), which is sometimes published
with the glosses of Dardir (18th century). For the purposes of the
present work, in addition to the two printed treatises, others as yet
unedited and contained in the Gayangos Collection have been consulted,
viz. MS 105, fol. 70-93 (16th century), cf. BROCK, II, 304; fol. 94-166
(17th century), cf. BROCK, II, 317; fol. 211-250, dated 1089 Heg.
[80] Indeed, the authors of these works invariably, by the testimony of
the oldest traditionists and companions of the Prophet, seek to establish
the authenticity of these episodes. The author of the first treatise in
MS 105, quoted above (see p. 39, footnote 3), gives in the form of an
appendix (fol. 92, recto) a complete list of the thirty-eight companions
of the Prophet who are supposed to have narrated the _Miraj_ in whole or
in part.
[81] The episodes are taken from the printed and unedited treatises
mentioned above. Reference to the actual passages will be made in each
case.
[82] Cf. GHITI, 41, and DARDIR, 7. Also MS 105, Gayangos Collection, fol.
120.
[83] _Inf._ XXI, 22-33; 58-105.
[84] GHITI, 44, and DARDIR, 14. Likewise MS 105 of the Gayangos
Collection, fol. 123 and 232 vᵒ.
[85] _Par._ XXI, 28-33; 136-7; XXII, 68-9; 100-111.
[86] GHITI, 44 _et seq._; DARDIR, 14 _et seq._
[87] MS 105 Gayangos Coll. fol. 124 vᵒ, line 7.
[88] _Ibid._, fol. 126 vᵒ.
[89] _Ibid._, fol. 127 vᵒ.
[90] _Ibid._, fol. 232 vᵒ.
[91] _Kanz_, VI, 293, No. 5,079.
[92] MS 64 Gayangos Coll. fol. 115 vᵒ.
[93] TABARI, _Tafsir_, XV, 12.
[94] One detail in the description calls for mention. Over the gate of
paradise Mahomet sees an inscription extolling the virtues of almsgiving
and lending free of interest (GHITI, 86, and DARDIR, 20). It will be
remembered that in the version of Cycle 3 Mahomet hears a voice from hell
describing the torments prepared and calling upon God to deliver up the
sinners. In addition, there is the inscription branded on the forehead
of the sodomite and the murderer in the Moslem hell, saying that they
have “despaired of God’s mercy” (_Corra_, 31, and _Kanz_, VII, 2,086, No.
3,173), which is similar to the “Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate.”
If Dante was indeed acquainted with these features, it would be easy
for him to combine and embody them in his inscription over the gate of
hell; for the spiritual conception of his paradise precluded all idea of
material gates and inscriptions.
[95] Cf. MS 105 of the Gayangos Coll., fols. 216, 218, 223 vᵒ, 225,
245 and 246, in which fragments in rhymed prose and verse are inserted
dealing with the _Miraj_.
[96] _Tadhkira_, 18, and IBN MAKHLUF, I, 51-52. The examination to which
the soul is subjected in each heaven in this legend may be compared with
Dante’s catechism on the three theological virtues in the eighth heaven
(_Par._ XXIV-XXVI). Noteworthy also is the close relation between each
heaven and a corresponding virtue peculiar to the souls that succeed
in ascending to it; this is what characterises the moral structure of
Dante’s paradise. Cf. ROSSI, I, 147.
[97] _Minhaj_ of Algazel, p. 69.
[98] This presumption on the part of the Sufis was regarded as a sin
against the faith. Proof of this is furnished (in _Al-Yawaqit_, II, 174)
by Ash-Sharani’s denunciation of the Murcian Ibn Arabi who claimed to
have visited heaven and hell. Such arrogance may be explained by the Sufi
doctrine which admits of the possibility of the saint’s acquiring the
dignity of a prophet. Cf. ASÍN, _Abenmasarra_, 82.
[99] Cf. _Tafsir_ of QUMMI, XV, 6. Other Sufi interpreters account for
the inclusion of the _Miraj_ in the Divine Scheme by the necessity of
Mahomet’s being able to explain the mysteries of the after-life with the
authority of one who had been an eye-witness. Cf. MS 105 Gayangos Coll.,
fol. 213; also AL-HORAYFISH, 104.
[100] Cf. MS 105, fol. 214, line 2 inf.
[101] Avicenna, in his _Risala at-tayr_, pp. 26-32, adapts the _Miraj_ to
the flight of birds, symbolising the exaltation of the souls of sinners
which, having cast off all worldly ties, fly towards God over eight
mountains towering one above the other.
[102] Cf. ASÍN, _Abenmasarra_, 110-115, where other works by the author
and his master Ribera on the life and system of Ibn Arabi are quoted.
[103] Extant at the Kgl. Bibliothek, Berlin (Nos. 2,901/2) and at Vienna
(No. 1,908), according to BROCKELMANN, I, 443, No. 16. Another copy is
in the possession of the author, to whom it was presented by his learned
friend Hassen Husny Abdul-Wahab, Professor of History at the Khalduniya
of Tunis. The _Book of the Nocturnal Journey_ comprises 108 folios,
of which the greater part is commentary. In the prologue, Ibn Arabi
states that the theme is a _Miraj_ of the soul written both in verse and
prose and in a style combining allegory with literal fact. He begins by
saying: “I set out from the land of Alandalus (Spain) in the direction
of Jerusalem my steed the faith of Islam, with asceticism as my bed and
abnegation as provision for the journey.” He meets a youth of spiritual
nature, sent from on high to act as his guide; but in the Ascension from
Jerusalem is guided by another, “the envoy of Divine Grace,” with whom he
ascends through the celestial spheres into the presence of God.
[104] Similar allegorical and mystical adaptations of the _Miraj_ recur
in several of the lesser works of Ibn Arabi. In the _Futuhat_, III,
447-465, he devotes a whole chapter, No. 367, to this subject of the
_Miraj_. It contains a brief mystical commentary on the legend of the
Prophet; an adaptation of the legend to the Ascensions or spiritual
raptures of the Sufis and saints; and a long _Miraj_, in which the
author, following the same route as Mahomet, is supposed to have risen to
the heavens and to have conversed at length on theological and mystical
subjects with all the prophets.
[105] In his _Epistola a Can Grande della Scala_ (_Opere minori_, III,
epist. XI, No. 7, p. 514).
[106] Cf. _Monarchia_ (_Opere Minori_, II, 404). Likewise FRATICELLI,
pp. 28-31 of Preface to his edition of the Divine Comedy. Also ROSSI, I,
152-157.
[107] _Futuhat_, II, Chap. 167, pp. 356-375. The allegory of the
Ascension proper begins on p. 360.
[108] Note the interest this prologue offers for the allegorical
interpretation of the prologue to the Divine Comedy.
[109] For the value of these symbols in Ibn Arabi’s system, cf. the
author’s _Abenmasarra_, p. 111, _et seq._
[110] The close relation existing between this allegory and that of Ibn
Tufayl in his _Self-taught Philosopher_ or _Epistle of Hayy ibn Yaqzan_
is noteworthy.
[111] ROSSI, I, 151.
[112] ROSSI, I, 147.
[113] Ibn Arabi adheres to the astrological principle much more closely
than Dante, with whom he disagrees on the relationship between each
sphere and its inhabitants.
[114] It is precisely on account of the abstruseness of these discourses
that the analysis of the allegory, which is of extraordinary length,
has been curtailed above. Ideas from all branches of philosophical and
theological lore are developed in them, and allusions are made to the
cabbala of numbers and letters, to magic, astrology, alchemy and other
occult sciences. In short, Ibn Arabi endeavoured to introduce into his
allegory, as Dante did later into his poem, the whole encyclopædia of his
age. A precedent for the literary device of the discourses is provided
by versions of the _Miraj_, in which, as has been seen, theological
discussions are attributed to the prophets and Gabriel.
[115] Abu-l-Ala Ahmed, the son of Abd Allah al-Maarri, was born at
Maarrat Alnoman, a village in Syria lying between Hama and Aleppo, in 973
A.D. At the age of four he lost his eyesight as the result of an attack
of smallpox; nevertheless his powers were so brilliant that under the
sole direction of his father he soon acquired vast learning in the domain
of Arabic philology and literature. By intercourse with philosophers he
added to his culture and sharpened his critical faculties. After residing
only one year at Baghdad, the centre of learning and literature of his
time, he returned at the age of thirty-five to his native village, where
he died in 1057 A.D. Apart from poetry, he wrote mainly critical works
on the Arabic classics. Influenced by Indian philosophical thought, he
certainly appears to have been a free-thinker. Cfr. BROCKELMANN, I, 254.
Also YAQUT’S Dictionary, pp. 162 _et seq._ ASÍN, _Algazel, Dogmática_,
pp. 110 _et seq._
[116] Nicholson described and translated fragments in the JRAS of 1900
to 1902. Cfr. also NICHOLSON, _Hist._ pp. 313-324. The _Risala_ really
consists of two parts; the first, to p. 118, contains the miraculous
journey to the realms beyond the grave; the second is a piece of literary
criticism on the verses and ideas of certain poets who were reputed to be
free-thinkers or atheists.
[117] Abu-l-Hasan Ali, the son of Mansur, known as Ibn al-Qarih, was born
at Aleppo in 962 and died at Mosul sometime after 1030. A professor of
literature in Syria and Egypt, he was also a mediocre poet, cf. YAQUT’S
Dictionary, VI, 5, p. 424. Ibn al-Qarih’s epistle, to which the _Risala_
is a reply, has not been preserved.
[118] For particulars about the writers named in the _Risala_ the general
reader should consult the histories of Arabic literature by NICHOLSON,
BROCKELMANN, or HUART.
[119] One of the poets he consults begs to be excused on the plea that
he lost all memory of his poetry in the fright he received at the time
of Judgment, when he was in imminent danger of falling into hell. The
traveller takes this opportunity to relate his adventures prior to
entering paradise. The story is told with so fine an irony, that the
reader is continually in doubt as to whether it is to be taken seriously
or not. For, after depicting in vivid colours the severity of the Judge
and the terror of the souls condemned to fire, the traveller proceeds to
relate the artful dodges by which he managed to escape his due reward and
enter heaven. After a vain endeavour to suborn the angels at the gates,
he appealed to Hamza, an uncle of Mahomet, who referred him to Ali;
the latter demands the certificate proving his repentance and this the
traveller remembers he must have dropped in the confusion of the judgment
scenes when called upon to intercede in favour of a literary master. In
vain he offers to provide witnesses in place of the missing document,
and he is on the point of being dragged off to hell, when he espies
Fatima, the daughter of Mahomet, approaching in a brilliant procession
accompanied by Khadija, the Prophet’s spouse and his sons, mounted
on steeds of light. Fatima allows him to seize her stirrup and he is
carried to the bridge leading to the celestial mansions; this he crosses
riding on the back of one of her maidens. A final obstacle remains to
be overcome on the other side; the angel janitor refuses to admit him
without a ticket, but one of Mahomet’s sons intervenes and drags him
inside paradise.
[120] Some of the many miracles attributed to Mahomet consist in his
making animals, such as the ass, goat, gazelle and particularly the wolf,
preach his Divine mission to the Arabs.
[121] The main differences may here be briefly stated. Naturalism is
so pronounced a feature of this journey that at times the imitation
sinks to the level of a mere parody of the Mahometan ascension; and,
in this respect it clearly bears no resemblance to the Divine Comedy,
the solemn earnestness of which is only very rarely interrupted by an
introduction of the burlesque element. Nor is there any resemblance in
the architecture of the realms, for Abu-l-Ala’s journey is practically
effected on one plane and, though hell is laid at the bottom of a
volcano, the traveller does not visit its mansions. Other fundamental
differences are that the protagonist is not the author of the story; the
order of the realms is inversed, heaven being described before hell;
and, finally, the story begins _in medias res_, for the incidents of
his entrance into heaven are told by the traveller in the course of
conversation with the poets he meets in paradise.
[122] Cf. ROSSI, I, 163, 164, 166, 167.
[123] _Inf._ XV.
[124] _Purg._ II.
[125] _Purg._ VI-VIII.
[126] _Purg._ XI.
[127] _Purg._ XXI-XXIII.
[128] _Purg._ XXIV.
[129] _Purg._ XXVI.
[130] _Inf._ IV.
[131] _Purg._ I.
[132] _Par._ X.
[133] _Par._ XX. Cf. _Par._ IX, 31-6, where Cunizza, famous rather for
her amorous adventures than her penitence, is placed in heaven.
[134] Cf. ROSSI, I, 163.
[135] _Purg._ V, 133; _Par._ III, 49; IX, 32.
[136] Cf. FRATICELLI, _Della prima e principale allegoria del poema di
Dante_ (in _La Divina Commedia_), pp. 18-27. For the bibliography on this
point see ROSSI, I, 173.
[137] VOSSLER, II, 169, quotes Jeremiah V, 5, in which the lion, wolf,
and leopard are mentioned; but in the story of the Moslem journey the
analogy is more complete, for a wolf and a lion are mentioned as _barring
the pilgrim’s path to hell_.
[138] Cf. FRANÇOIS MARTIN, _Le Livre d’Henoch_; EUGÈNE TISSERANT,
_Ascension d’Isaie_; R. CHARLES, _The Assumption of Moses_; R. CHARLES,
_The Apocalypse of Baruch_. For the Judæo-Christian origin of these
legends Cf. BATIFFOL, _Anciennes Littératures chrétiennes; La Littérature
grecque_, p. 56. HIRSCHFELD, in his _Researches into ... the Qurân_,
p. 67, note 64, quotes a rabbinical legend of a journey through hell
and paradise and points out certain analogies to a _hadith_ of Bukhari.
For the influence of the Persian ascension of Ardâ Virâf, see BLOCHET,
_L’Ascension au ciel du prophète Mohammed_, and prior to BLOCHET,
CLAIR-TISDALL in _The sources of Islam_, 76-81. Cf. MODI, _Dante papers;
Virâf, Adaaman and Dante_, a work I have not been able to consult.
[139] The festivity of the _Miraj_ is celebrated on the 27th day of the
month of _Recheb_, the seventh of the Moslem calendar. At Constantinople
the Sultan attended with his court at the services held at night in the
mosque of the Seraglio. LANE, on p. 430 of his book, _An account of the
manners and customs of the modern Egyptians_, describes the processions
and festivals held in honour of the _Miraj_ at Cairo. Throughout Morocco,
the _Miraj_ is celebrated in the same manner; it is a day of fast and
almsgiving for the stricter Moslems, and the Government offices are
closed.
[140] _Ihia_, IV, 17-23. Cf. _Ithaf_, VIII, 548 _et seq._
[141] Cf. _De Haeresibus_ (_Opera Omnia_), Paris, vol. I, 110-115, No.
100.
[142] Cf. _Qistas_, p. 60: “Should someone say to thee, ‘Say that
there is but one God and that Jesus is His Prophet,’ thy mind would
instinctively reject the statement as being proper to a Christian only.
But that would but be because thou hast not sufficient understanding to
grasp that the statement in itself is true and that _no reproach can be
made to the Christian, for this article of his faith, nor for any of the
other articles_, save only those two—that God is the third of three,
and that Mahomet is not a prophet of God. _Apart from these two all the
other articles (of the Christian faith) are true._” For the influence
of Christianity on Islam, and particularly on Algazel, cf. ASÍN, _La
mystique d’Al-Gazzali_, pp. 67-104, and _Abenmasarra_, pp. 12-16.
[143] _Inf._ IV, 45.
[144] Cf. PETAVIUS, _Dogm. Theolog._ IV (Pars sec.) lib. 3, cap. 18, §
5. The texts DUCANGE refers to in his _Glossarium_ (s.v.) are later than
the twelfth century. St. Thomas in the _Summa theologica_ (pars 3, q. 52)
calls the limbo of the Patriarchs _infernus_ and _sinus Abrahae_, but
in the _Supplementum tertiae partis_ (q. 69) he already adopts the name
_limbus_.
[145] _Inf._ III, 34.
[146] _Inf._ III, 38.
[147] _Inf._ IV, 106, 110, 116.
[148] _Inf._ IV, 28, _et seq._
[149] _Inf._ IV, 28, 42, 45. Cf. _Inf._ II, 52.
[150] _Inf._ II, 53, 75.
[151] Cf. St. Thomas, _Summa Theol._ pars 3, q. 52, and _Supplementum_,
q. 69. PERRONE, in his _Praelectiones theol._, II, 157, says of the
limbo: “Reliqua autem, quae spectant sive ad hunc inferni locum, sive ad
poenarum disparitatem ... fidem nullo modo attingunt, cum nullum de his
Ecclesiae decretum existat.”
[152] _Tacholarus_, VI, 194, s.v. _Ithaf_, VIII, 564. KHAZIN, _Tafsir_,
II, 90. Cf. FREYTAG, _Lexicon_, and LANE, _Lexicon_, s.v.
[153] The theological meaning of the word Al Aaraf may be derived from
the eschatology of St. Ephrem (_id._ 373), who divided the celestial
paradise into the summit, slopes and _border_; in the latter penitent
sinners who have been pardoned dwell until the Day of Judgment, when they
will ascend to the summit. Cf. TIXERONT, _Hist. des dogmes_, II, 220.
[154] Cf. _Futuhat_, I, 416; III, 567, 577. _Tadhkira_, 88.
[155] _Koran_, VII, 44. Cf. _Ithaf_, VIII, 565; _Kanz_, VII, 213, No.
2,312. The Koran here refers to the dwellers in the limbo and not,
as Kasimirski has it on p. 122 of his French translation, to _les
réprouvés._ Cf. KHAZIN, _Tafsir_, II, 91; also _Tafsir_ of AL-NASAFI and
FIRUZABADI in _Tafsir_ of Ibn Abbas, I, 102.
[156] Compare the passages quoted above of the _Ithaf_ and the _Tafsir_
of KHAZIN with _Inf._ II, 52, and IV, 45.
[157] Other less striking features of resemblance might be quoted. Thus
the crowd running behind the flag in the Ante-inferno (_Inf._ III, 52)
is reminiscent of many Moslem tales of the Day of Judgment, which depict
groups led by standard-bearers.
Thus, Moslems will be led by Mahomet bearing the banner of the Glory of
God. The prophet Xoaib with a white banner will lead the blessed that are
blind; Job, with a green banner, the patient lepers; Joseph, likewise
with a green banner, the chaste youths; Aaron, with a yellow banner, the
true friends who loved each other in God; Noah, with a many-coloured
banner, the god-fearing; John, with a yellow banner, the martyrs; Jesus
will be the standard-bearer of the poor in spirit; Solomon, of the rich;
the pre-Islamic poet Imru-l-Qays will be the ensign of the poets in hell;
and the traitor will bear a banner of shame. Cf. IBN MAKHLUF, I, 154, and
II, 8 and 14.
As to the swarms of wasps and flies that plague the inhabitants of the
Ante-inferno, the Moslem hell is depicted as “swarming with insects of
all kinds, except bees.” Cf. _Al-Laali_, II, 245.
[158] Cf. LANDINO, on the 14th page of the preliminary study.
[159] ROSSI, I, 139-140. Cf. D’ANCONA, _Precursori_, 28-31, 36, _and
passim_.
[160] VOSSLER, I, 21.
[161] It is difficult to account for his silence on this point, for
evidently any influence the Egyptians, Assyrians, Babylonians and
Phœnicians may have exercised over the Divine Comedy must have been more
remote; yet he devotes a separate paragraph to each of these peoples and
not a single line to Islam.
[162] Cf. CHANTEPIE, _Hist. des rel._ Reference to the quotations in the
index, s.v. _Enfer_, will show that the Moslem hell is superior to all
others in wealth of descriptive detail.
[163] Cf. KASIMIRSKI’S translation of the Koran, p. 122, footnote and
refer to the index, s.v. _Enfer_.
[164] Cf. _Kanz_, VII, 244, Nos. 2,756 to 2,791.
[165] Cf. ROSSI, I, 140, and see the general plan _Figura universale
della D.C._ in FRATICELLI, p. 402. For the Moslem traditions cf. _Kanz_,
VI, 102, Nos. 1, 538; 1,546 and 1,601; and VII, 277, Nos. 3,076/7. The
belief that the mouth of hell is situated beneath Jerusalem is still held
in Islam, for the Moslems believe that below the subterranean chamber
underneath the present Mosque or dome of the rock (_Qubbat al-sakhra_)
standing in the precincts of the Temple, lies the pit of the souls (_Bir
al-arwah_).
[166] This metaphorical interpretation is not justified on philological
grounds, for the Arabic lexicons only give the following indirect
meanings:—chapter; sum of a calculation; mode, category or condition,
etc. LANE in his _Lexicon_ (I, 272), however, suggests that in Egypt the
word was applied to a sepulchral chamber, or cave in a mountain, and was
derived from the Coptic “bib.”
[167] _Kanz_, VIII, 278, No. 3,079.
[168] Cf. _Kanz_, _ibid._ No. 3,078. Also TABARI, _Tafsir_, XIV, 25, and
KHAZIN, _Tafsir_, III, 96. Cf. also MS 234, Gayangos Coll., fol. 100 vᵒ.
“Ibn Abbas says that hell is formed of seven floors, separated one from
another by a distance of five hundred years.”
In other _hadiths_ the words _gate_, _floor_, and _step_ are replaced by
the word _pit_. Cf. _Kanz_, III, 263, No. 4,235.
[169] A collection of _hadiths_ dealing with this division into seven may
be found in _Qisas_, 4-11; on p. 7 is a _hadith_ by Wahb ibn Munabbih,
which says:—
“Of almost all things there are seven—seven are the heavens, the earths,
the mountains, the seas ... the days of the week, the planets ... the
gates and floors of hell....”
[170] Cf. ROSSI, I, 141.
[171] _Hadith_ of Ibn Jurayj in KHAZIN, _Tafsir_, III, 96-97. Cf. MS 64
Gayangos Coll., fol. 22.
[172] THAALABI, _Qisas_, 4. Cf. _Kanz_, III, 218, No. 3,407. Also _Badai
az-Zohur_, 8-9.
[173] How popular these descriptions of hell were is shown by the fact
that they passed into the Arabian Nights Tales. Thus, Tamim Dari and
Boluqiya each visit hell, where the latter finds seven floors of fire,
containing: (1) impenitent Moslems; (2) polytheists; (3) Gog and Magog;
(4) demons; (5) Moslems forgetful of prayer; (6) Jews and Christians; and
(7) hypocrites. The severity of torture increases with the depth; the
floors are separated by a distance of a thousand years, and in the first
there are hills, valleys, houses, castles and cities to the number of
seventy thousand. Cf. CHAUVIN, _Bibliographie_, VII, 48 and 56.
[174] _Inf._ XXXI, 86.
[175] The _Tadhkira_ of the Cordovan, or Memorial of the Future Life, is
one of the richest of such collections and was popular in the East and
West. It is the one mainly drawn upon for the present purpose.
[176] See the list of such names quoted in the index to Fraticelli’s
edition of the Divine Comedy.
[177] _Tadhkira_, 19, 39, 74. Cf. _Kanz_, III, 76, No. 1,436; V, 217,
Nos. 4,479 and 4,484; VII, 245, Nos. 2,777 and 2,784. _Corra_, 12.
_Al-Laali_, II, 245. TABARI, _Tafsir_, XXIII, 114. Many of the proper
names of the mansions of hell are appellative names taken from the Koran.
[178] _Corra_, 12 and 31. _Al-Laali_, II, 196.
[179] St. Thomas finds no precise topography of hell in Christian
tradition and can only record the probable opinion of the theologians
that “ignis inferni est sub terra,” though formerly he had accepted the
statement of St. Augustine: “In qua parte mundi infernus sit, scire
neminem arbitror” and of St. Gregory, “Hac de re temere definire nihil
audeo” (cf. _Summa Theol._ Supplementum tertiae partis, q. 97, art. 7).
St. Isidore of Seville supposed hell to be “in superficie terrae, ex
parte opposita terrae nostrae habitabili,” but in the thirteenth century
this opinion was no longer common. Thus in a Mapa mundi extant in MS in
the Biblioteca Nacional of Madrid and the Biblioteca Escurialense (cf.
Boletín de la Real Sociedad Geográfica, vol. L, p. 207) and attributed
to St. Isidore though it really belongs to the thirteenth century,
hell is described as lying in the middle of the earth “at the lowest
and bottommost spot.” Curiously enough, unlike Dante’s and the Islamic
picture, hell is here conceived as being narrow at the top and wide at
the bottom; this probably is due to the faulty interpretation of Moslem
documents.
[180] Not in the Vedas. Cf. CHANTEPIE, _Hist. des rel._ 346 and 382.
Also ROESKÉ, _L’enfer cambodgien_ (in _Journal Asiatique_, Nov.-Dec.
1914, 587-606). For the rabbinical hell cf. BUXTORF, _Lexicon chaldaicum_
(Basle, 1639), p. 231 a.
[181] Cf. _supra_, pp. 45-51.
[182] _Futuhat_, I, 387-396; II, 809; III, 8, 557, 575-577. Other
picturesque features might be added to those mentioned above; thus, in
hell there is both heat and cold; the heads of sects suffer special
torture, and Iblis, the Lucifer of Islam, undergoes the severest torture
of all; suffering in hell is of two kinds, physical and moral. As in
Dante (cf. ROSSI, I, 151), the sufferers may not leave the pit to which
they are condemned, but move freely within its limits (_Futuhat_, III,
227). Finally, Ibn Arabi imparts a strong flavour of realism to his
pictures by painting them as if he had actually seen the originals in
visions. Thus, on p. 389 of vol. I, he says:—
“In this vision I saw of the circles of the damned ... such as God was
pleased to show me. And I saw an abode, called the Abode of Darkness, and
descended some five of its several steps and I beheld the tortures in
each one....”
[183] The theme of the symmetry between the hell and heaven of Islam will
be developed further in the discussion of the latter.
[184] Cf. ASÍN, _Abenmasarra_, pp. 111 and 161.
[185] _Futuhat_, I, 388. Cf. _Abenmasarra_, 109. The figure of the
serpent he no doubt derived from Ibn Qasi, a disciple of the Masarri
school and head of the Muridin, who ruled as sovereign in Southern
Portugal until 1151 A.D.
[186] _Futuhat_, III, 557.
[187] It is here reproduced from the Turkish author’s two general plans
of the Cosmos given by CARRA DE VAUX in _Fragments d’Eschatologie
musulmane_, pp. 27 and 33.
[188] Infernal tortures based on this principle were found in several
versions of the _Miraj_, but they recur in far greater number in other
traditions depicting the torments of the sinners or the scenes on the Day
of Judgment.
In them, thieves suffer amputation of both hands; the liar has his lips
torn asunder; the nagging wife and the false witness are shown hanging
by their tongues; unjust judges appear blind; the vain, deaf and dumb;
hired mourners go about barking like dogs; suicides suffer throughout
eternity the torture of their death; the proud are converted into ants
and trampled upon by all the other sinners. Some categories of sinners
are obliged to bear the _corpus delicti_ as a stigma; thus, the drunkard
carries a bottle slung round his neck and a glass or a guitar in his
hand; the tradesman who gave short weight carries scales of fire hanging
from his neck; and the reader of the Koran who was puffed up with pride
at his accomplishment appears with a copy of the holy book nailed to his
neck; and so forth.
Cf. _Corra_, 12-25, 31, 37, 43. _Al-Laali_, II, 195. _Kanz_, VII, 2,086,
No. 3,173. Gayangos Coll. MS 64, fol. 15 vᵒ; MS 172, fol. 33 v°.
[189] _Inf._ XVIII, 21; XXIX, 53; XXXI, 82. The Koranic texts are LVII,
12, and LXVI, 8, glossed by Ibn Arabi in _Futuhat_, I, 412, line 14.
[190] Cf. _Kharida_, 182.
[191] See index of KASIMIRSKI’S translation, s.v. _Ad._ Cf. KHAZIN,
_Tafsir_, II, 104, and _Qisas_, 40.
[192] _Inf._ V, 89: “l’aer perso.” In _Convivio_, IV, 20, Dante himself
gives a definition: “Perso è un colore misto di purpureo e di nero, ma
vince il nero e da lui si denomina.”
[193] Compare _Qisas_, 40, lines 18 and 21; 24; 22; 27 and 33; 32, 34
and 37 with _Inf._ V, 31, 49 and 51; 89; 51; 86; 32, 33, 43 and 49
respectively.
[194] Cf. _supra_, p. 16.
[195] _Corra_, 3 and 20. _Kanz_, VIII, 188, No. 3,288.
[196] _Inf._ XIV, XV and XVI.
[197] _Kanz_, VII, 246, No. 2,800. IBN MAKHLUF, II, 41. Cf. KHAZIN,
_Tafsir_, IV, 348-9.
[198] _Kanz_, V, 213, No. 4,383; 214, No. 4,415; 217, Nos. 4,479 and
4,484. IBN MAKHLUF, II, 37. _Tadhkira_, 74.
[199] Before leaving the circle in which Dante finds Brunetto, Virgil
explains to him the hydrography of hell, the four rivers of which have
their common source in the island of Crete. On Mt. Ida stands a monument,
in the form of a statue of a Great Old Man, composed of gold, silver,
brass, iron and clay; in every part, except the gold, there is a fissure
from which drop tears, which flowing downhill form the rivers (_Inf._
XIV, 94 _et seq._). Whatever be the esoteric meaning of Dante’s allegory
and however evident the analogy with the statue of Daniel is, it is of
interest to note that tales dealing with the common source of the four
rivers of paradise were very popular in Islam. According to these tales,
the Nile, Euphrates, Jihun and Sihun spring from a monument in the form
of a dome, made of gold or emerald, standing on a mountain and having
four mouths or fissures. The obscure origin of the sources of the Nile
gave rise to similar legends, which describe its waters as flowing from
the mouths of eighty-five statues of bronze, or else from a mountain on
which stands the figure of an old man, the mythical Khidr. Cf. _Badai
az-Zohur_, 21-23.
[200] _Corra_, 8; _Al-Laali_, II, 195. Cf. _Inf._ XVIII, 35.
[201] _Inf._ XVIII, 113.
[202] _Al-Laali_, II, 195. _Tadhkira_, 77. _Corra_, 17. IBN MAKHLUF, II,
83. Cf. _Koran_, XXXVIII, 57; LXXVIII, 25.
[203] _Inf._ XIX. _Corra_, 72. Their peculiar posture is also mentioned
in some descriptions of hell attributed to Ibn Abbas. Cf. MS 234,
Gayangos Coll., fol. 105.
[204] _Inf._ XX, 11, 23, 37, 39.
[205] _Koran_, IV, 50.
[206] _Tafsir_, V, 77.
[207] Cf. _Qazwini_, I, 373.
[208] _Tadhkira_, 47, line 10.
[209] _Colección de textos aljamiados_ by Gil, Ribera and Sánchez
(Saragossa, 1888), pp. 69 and 71. ALGAZEL, _Ihia_, IV, 21-22; _Ithaf_,
VIII, 561.
[210] _Inf._ XXIII, 58-72.
[211] _Kanz_, III, 251, No. 4, 013.
[212] _Koran_, XIV, 51. Cf. TABARI, _Tafsir_, XIII, 167-8; _Corra_, 26.
[213] _Inf._ XXIII, 110-126.
[214] MS 234 Gayangos Coll., fol. 100.
[215] _Al-Laali_, II, 195.
[216] _Inf._ XXIV-XXV.
[217] _Corra_, II, 25, 37, 65. _Kanz_, VII, 280, No. 3,087.
[218] _Inf._ XXVIII.
[219] _Corra_, 71.
[220] _Kanz_, VIII, 188, No. 3,288; V, 214, No. 4,415; SUYUTI, _Sudur_,
30 and 121.
[221] _Kanz_, V, 327, No. 5,717. _Corra_, 65.
[222] _Kanz_, VII, 287, No. 3,201. Cf. also Nos. 3,218, 3,220, 3,221,
3,223, 3,224.
[223] _Inf._ XXIX-XXX.
[224] _Kanz_, VII, 247, No. 2,826. MS 172 Gayangos Coll., fol. 34.
_Corra_, 12.
[225] _Inf._ XXXI.
[226] _Tadhkira_, 75. Cf. _Kanz_, VII, 212, No. 2,301; 237, Nos. 2,668,
2,671 and 2,801-2,808. Moreover, the existence of giants in hell was
traditional in Islam, for the dwellers in Ad, who were condemned to
hell by the Koran, were of gigantic stature. In _Qisas_, 39, the head
of one of these giants is compared to the dome of a great building. The
coincidence in stature of the giants of Dante and those of Islam is also
curious. According to the _Tadhkira_ (p. 75, line 4 inf.) the latter
measure 42 fathoms; and Landino, basing his calculations on Dante’s text,
says of Nimrod: “Adunque questo gigante sarebbe braccia quarantatre o
più” (p. 30 of his prologue to the Divine Comedy).
[227] Cf. _supra_, pp. 89-90.
[228] _Ihia_, III, 240, and _Futuhat_, I, 393. Cf. _Al-Laali_, II, 196.
[229] _Inf._ XXXII—XXXIV.
[230] _Futuhat_, I, 387.
[231] _Koran_, LXXVI, 13.
[232] Cf. Gayangos Coll. MS 172, fol. 34, and MS 234, fol. 105.
[233] Jahiz, _Hayawan_ (_Book of Animals_), V, 24. A summary of the life
and writings of Jahiz is given in the author’s _Abenmasarra_, Appendix I,
133-137. According to OSCAR COMETTANT, _Civilisations inconnues_ (quoted
in LAROUSSE, _Dict. Univ._ s.v. _Purgatoire_), torture by cold also
occurs in the Buddhist hell.
[234] _Tadhkira_, 69.
[235] Cf. _Qazwini_, I, 93.
[236] MS 234 Gayangos Coll., fol. 105. Cf. _Inf._ XXXII, 37; XXXIII, 92;
XXXIV, 13.
[237] _Tadhkira_, 82; and _Kanz_, VII, 246, No. 2,810. Cf. _Inf._ XXXII,
34; XXXIV, 11.
[238] MS 172 Gayangos Coll., fol. 34. Cf. _Inf._ XXXIV 15.
[239] _Inf._ XXXIV, 28-139.
[240] GRAF, _Demonologia di Dante_, in _Miti_, II, 79-112.
[241] _Futuhat_, I, 391.
[242] MS 64 Gayangos Coll., fols. 1-27.
[243] _Al-Laali_, II, 196.
[244] _Qazwini_, I, 373, gives a _hadith_, telling of the dealings of
Solomon with genii and demons, that is of interest for the study of the
demonology of Islam, which shows marked resemblance to that of Dante,
particularly in the matter of the names. On this point cf. DAMIRI, I,
237; KHAZIN, _Tafsir_, III, 201; and DHARIR, 188.
[245] _Kanz_, II, 109, No. 2,652; _Tadhkira_, 70; Gayangos Coll., MS 64,
fol. 24, and MS 234, fol. 94.
[246] _Kharida_, 87 and 95.
[247] Cf. Kasimirski’s translation, _Table des matières_, s.v. _Eblis_.
[248] _Qisas_, 26, ch. 7.
[249] _Supra_, p. 88.
[250] _Koran_, XXI, 31.
[251] _Qisas_, 3, line 10 inf. The immediate purpose of this legend was
indeed to explain the stability of the earth in the midst of space, but
the adaptation to other purposes of a picturesque description is a common
feature in literary imitation.
[252] So great is the wealth of picturesque detail in the descriptions
of the Moslem hell that minor features of resemblance to Dante have been
omitted as being open to doubt. Thus the Koran repeatedly mentions a tree
in hell, called _Az-Zaqum_ (cf. KASIMIRSKI, s.v.), the fruit of which is
bitter and repugnant like the heads of demons (cf. KHAZIN, _Tafsir_, IV,
18 and 116; _Tacholarus_, VIII, 326; _Ihia_, IV, 381; _Ithaf_, X, 515).
In itself this tree bears little resemblance to the human trees into
which Dante converts the suicides (_Inf._ XIII), which cry out when their
branches are torn and which Dante admits he copied from Virgil’s episode
of Polydorus (Aeneid, III). In Arabian tales of miraculous journeys to
hell, however, there are frequent descriptions of trees the branches
of which resemble human heads and cry out on being torn (cf. CHAUVIN,
_Bibliographie_, VII, 33 and 56; _Qisas_, 222; also René Basset’s
“Histoire du Roi Sabour et de son fils Abou’n Nazhar” in _Rev. des trad.
popul._, XI, 273, 278, and 280).
[253] Cf. TIXERONT, II, 200, 220, 350, 433 and III, 270, 428.
[254] Cf. PERRONE, II, 122: “Omnia igitur quae spectant ad locum,
durationem, poenarum qualitatem, ad catholicam fidem minime pertinent,
seu definita ab Ecclesia non sunt.”
[255] LANDINO, prologue to _Purg._, fol. 194 vᵒ; also to _Inf._ III,
fols. 25 vᵒ and 26.
[256] Cf. _supra_, p. 80.
[257] _Kanz_, VII, 242, Nos. 2,725 and 2,730; VII, 218, No. 2,376.
[258] Cf. _supra_, p. 9.
[259] _Ithaf_, VIII, 566. The _hadith_, attributed to Ibn Abbas, cannot
date later than the tenth century.
[260] For a collection of these legends cf. _Tadhkira_, 58 _et seq._; IBN
MAKHLUF, II, 25; _Ithaf_, X, 481 _et seq._
[261] It should be borne in mind that Dante’s mount of purgatory rises
above the southern hemisphere, which is entirely covered with water, and
reaches to the ether, the last sphere of the sublunar world, bordering on
heaven; its base stands on the back of hell, the entrance to which is in
the northern hemisphere, near Jerusalem.
[262] _Futuhat_, I, 411. Cf. _Ithaf_, X, 482.
[263] _Futuhat_, III, 573.
[264] IBN MAKHLUF, II, 33. Cf. _Kanz_, VII, 237, No. 2,677.
[265] _Futuhat_, I, 403-406.
[266] Thus, the ten purgatorial mansions serve for the expiation
successively of: (1) acts forbidden by canonical law; (2) the holding of
advanced opinions on questions of faith; (3) disobedience to parents; (4)
failure to comply with one’s duties towards children and subordinates in
the matter of religious education; (5) harsh treatment of servants and
slaves; (6) and (7) non-compliance with duties towards kinsfolk and blood
relations, respectively; (8) the vice of envy; (9) deceitfulness; and
(10) treachery.
[267] _Purg._ IV, 100-135.
[268] Special books were written on this theme, such as the oft-quoted
_Sudur_ by SUYUTI, the _Tadhkira_ of the Cordovan, and the work by IBN
MAKHLUF.
[269] _Sudur_, 121.
[270] _Kanz_, III, 252, No. 4,013; VIII, 175, Nos. 3,054, 3,017, 5,736.
[271] _Al-Laali_, II, 196. Blindness, both physical and moral, is a
common punishment of infidels. Cf. _Koran_, LXXXII, 6, and _Tadhkira_, 73.
[272] _Koran_, XLIV, 9-10.
[273] KHAZIN, _Tafsir_, IV, 112-113, and _Tadhkira_, 131. Cf. _Purg._ XV,
142-145; XVI, 5-7, 35-36.
[274] _Futuhat_, I, 404-406.
[275] _Kanz_, VII, 246, No. 2,809.
[276] _Corra_, 19. Cf. _Purg._ XIX, 71-72, 94, 97, 120, 123.
[277] _Ihia_, IV, 376.
[278] _Tadhkira_, 80.
[279] The natural consequences of this torture, viz. the violent thirst
and bitter weeping of the tortured, are described with true Oriental
hyperbole. Cf. _Corra_, 15. “God will give them such thirst as will burn
their entrails.” Cf. also _Kanz_, VII, 246, No. 2,811: “The wicked will
weep, as they are burnt, until their tears are spent; they will then weep
tears of blood, which will wear furrows in their cheeks.”
[280] Cf. _Tadhkira_, 81, for a description of the purgatorial fire:
The souls raise their voices to Mahomet in lament and pray for his
intercession. God orders his angelic ministers to apportion the torture
to the measure of the sin by preserving from the fire such members of
the sinner’s body as he had used in His service. “And the fire, which is
cognisant of the degree of their guilt, reaches in some to the ankles, in
others to the knees, and in others again, to the breast.” When God has
wreaked his vengeance, He lends ear to the intercession of Mahomet and
the prayers addressed to Him directly by the sinners. Finally Gabriel is
ordered to withdraw the sinners from the fire, and, as he does so, he
immerses their blackened bodies in the River of Life, which flows by the
gate of paradise, and thus completes their purification.
In other tales the intercessor is an ordinary human being.
[281] _Purg._ XXVIII-XXXIII. Cf. ROSSI, I, 150.
[282] GRAF, _Miti_, I, 5.
[283] Ibn Qaim al-Jawziya, of the fourteenth century, in his _Miftah_
(I, 11-34), has left us a record of the various opinions and their chief
exponents both in Eastern and Western Islam.
[284] _Koran_, II, 33, 34.
[285] _Rasail_, II, 151. Cf. BROCKELMANN, I, 213.
[286] Cf. D’HERBELOT, _Bibliothèque Orientale_, s.v. _gennat_, pp. 378,
773, 816.
[287] Cf. DIYARBAKRI, _Tarikh al-Khamis_, I, 61.
[288] The Moslem belief was in its turn based upon a Buddhist myth. Cf.
RECLUS, _Géogr. Univ._ VIII, 581; and especially GRAF, _Miti_, I, 59-61.
GUBERNATIS, in his work _Dante e l’India_, which I have not been able to
obtain, identifies Dante’s Mount of Purgatory with the island of Ceylon.
[289] IBN BATUTAH, IV, 170 _et seq._
[290] The belief that the earthly paradise was situated on Adam’s Peak
endured in Islam until the sixteenth century. It was in that century that
the Oriental mystic Ash-Sharani wrote in his _Mizan_ (II, 193):—
“The paradise in which Adam dwelt is not the supreme paradise ..., but
merely the _intermediate_ paradise, which lies on the summit of the Mount
of the Hyacinth. This is the garden in which Adam ate of the fruit of the
tree. From this paradise he was driven to the earth.... All children of
Adam that die at peace with God return in spirit to that paradise. But
the sinners first pass through the intermediate fire.”
In his _Al-Yawaqit_, II, 172, Ash-Sharani repeats this passage almost
literally and attributes it to a writer, who I infer is the tenth century
mathematician Moslema, of Madrid.
[291] The ancients, however, held that Ceylon lay in the antipodes of the
northern hemisphere. Cf. RECLUS, _Géogr. Univ._, loc. cit.
[292] Cf. GRAF, _Miti_, I, 5: “Che Dante, ponendo il Paradiso terrestre
sulla cima del monte del Purgatorio, fece cosa non caduta in mente a
nessuno dei Padri e Dottori della Chiesa, fu notato già da parecchi.”
[293] _Koran_, VII, 41 and XV, 47: “We shall efface all rancour from
their breasts.”
[294] _Tadhkira_, 99. Cf. IBN MAKHLUF, II, 60, for different versions of
this legend.
[295] IBN MAKHLUF, II, 61. A biography of Shakir ibn Muslim, who lived
about 1136 A.D., is given in _Tecmila_ (Appendix to Codera’s edition,
biogr., No. 2,686).
[296] Thus, as in Dante, the earthly paradise is the final stage of
purgatory. The same position is assigned to it by Ibn Arabi in his
_Futuhat_, III, 573. Cf. _supra_, p. 115.
[297] Observe that angels also guide Dante and Virgil, as they leave
purgatory.
[298] The resemblance between the garden described here and that of Dante
is noteworthy. Cf. the following passages:—
IBN MAKHLUF, II. _Purg._ XXVIII.
P. 61, line 8 inf. Line 7.
P. 62, lines 1, 2, and 12. Lines 120, 14.
[299] Compare the descriptions of the two rivers in IBN MAKHLUF, II, 62,
line 8, and _Purg._ XXVIII, 28, 133, and 144.
[300] It should be noted that, as in Dante’s poem, there are two
ablutions in two rivers, whereas in the Biblical story the earthly
paradise is watered by four rivers. The effects of the double ablution in
the Islamic legend are also similar to those experienced by Dante. Cp.
the following descriptions: IBN MAKHLUF, II, 62, line 13, and _Purg._ I,
95, 128; XXVIII, 128; XXXIII, 129, 138, and 142.
[301] Cp. this detail of the Arabic text (p. 62, line 20) with the words
of Dante (_Purg._ XXXIII, 72) “... ed un chiamar: Sorgi; che fai?” and
(_Purg._ XXXIII, 19). “... Ven più tosto.”
[302] Cp. the descriptions of Beatrice and the bride of the Moslem tale
in IBN MAKHLUF, II, 63, line 8, and _Purg._ XXX, 31; XXXI, 83, 110 and
136; and XXXII, 1, 3 and 10.
[303] Neither Labitte nor D’Ancona found any trace of such a scene in
Christian or classical legend. Ozanam (p. 457) merely quotes the _Vision
of the Shepherd of Hermes_, which tells how a maiden, whom the shepherd
had once wished to marry, appears to him in a dream as descending from
heaven and calling upon him to serve God. According to Batiffol (p. 62),
however, this tale was unknown in Europe before the sixteenth century.
[304] Cf. VOSSLER, I, 199, _et seq._
[305] _La Vita Nuova_, XLIII.
[306] Cf. _infra_, Part IV, ch. V, §§ 6, 7, and 8.
[307] _Corra_, 121. Some phrases are also taken from _Dorar_, 40.
[308] IBN MAKHLUF, II, 129.
[309] From the Arabic text it is not clear whether the heavenly bride is
reproving her lover or his wife on earth. At all events, the analogy in
subject remains very striking. Cf. the words in _Purg._ XXXI, 59: “... o
pargoletta, od altra vanità con sì breve uso.”
[310] _Inf._ II, 52 _et seq._
[311] _Purg._ XXX, 73-145; XXXI, 1-63.
[312] For this and the two following tales cf. _Ihia_, IV, 364; also
_Ithaf_, X, 434.
[313] IBN MAKHLUF, I, 120.
[314] Cf. _Purg._ XXX, 33.
[315] IBN MAKHLUF, I, 113 and 121-2.
[316] Beatrice’s maidens also tell Dante how God has destined them to
serve her. Cf. _Purg._ XXXI, 106.
[317] Just as Dante asks of Matilda (_Purg._ XXXII, 85) “Ov’è Beatrice?”,
so the Moslem bridegroom asks of the handmaidens, “Where is the
large-eyed maiden?” Compare also the promise by the bride, that they will
shortly meet in heaven, with the words of Beatrice to Dante (_Purg._,
XXXII, 100).
[318] For this and the following legend see IBN MAKHLUF, I, 112.
[319] Beyond the general fact that both Beatrice and the Moslem bride are
ushered in by processions, there is no great resemblance. To describe the
procession, Dante availed himself of features in Ezekiel and Revelations,
to which he gave an allegorical meaning that is not always clear. VOSSLER
(II, 171), however, remarks upon the Oriental colour of the description.
Indeed, the maidens and elders that lead in Beatrice are conspicuous
rather by their colouring than by their outline, which is barely traced
(_Purg._ XXIX, 121-154).
[320] _Hadith_ by Muslim in _Tadhkira_, 85. Cf. _Isaiah_, LXIV, 4, and
_First Epistle to Corinthians_, II, 9.
[321] _Tadhkira_, 97. These _hadiths_ were based on two passages in the
Koran (II, 274 and XIII, 22), in which the vision of the face of God by
the blessed is vaguely referred to.
[322] Cf. KHAZIN, _Tafsir_, IV, 335, for a summary of this polemic; also
_Fasl_, III, 2-4.
[323] Cf. ASÍN, _Algazel, Dogmática_, 680, and _Averroismo_, 287.
[324] In _Mizan al-Amal_, p. 5 _et seq._
[325] _Ihia_, IV, 219.
[326] _Futuhat_, II, 809.
[327] _Futuhat_ in ASH-SHARANI, _Al-Yawaqit_, II, 195, and _Al-Kibrit_,
II, 194.
[328] This apocryphal passage from the Gospel can only refer to St. Luke,
XXIII, 43.
[329] Lull, in _Liber de Gentili_ (_Op. Omn._, Mayence Edit., vol. II,
89) is clear on this point:—
“Dixit Sarracenus: Verum est quod inter nos diversi diversimode credant
gloriam Paradisi; nam quidam credunt habere gloriam (secundum quod ego
tibi retuli) et hoc intelligunt secundum litteralem expositionem, quam ab
Alcora accipiunt, in qua nostra lex continetur, et a proverbiis Mahometi,
et etiam a proverbiis et a glosis et expositionibus Sapientum exponentium
nostram legem. Aliae tamen gentes sunt inter nos quae intelligunt gloriam
moraliter, et spiritualiter exponunt eam, dicentes quod Mahometus
metaphorice gentibus absque rationali intellectu et insipientibus
loquebatur; et ut eos ad divinum amorem posset trahere, refferebat eis
supradictam gloriam; et id circo hi tales, qui credunt hujusmodi gloriam,
dicunt quod homo in Paradiso non habebit gloriam comedendi et jacendi cum
mulieribus et habendi alias supradictas res; et hujusmodi sunt naturales
philosophi et magni clerici....”
The following are passages from Martin’s _Explanatio Simboli_ (Edit. of
March, in _Anuari del Institut d’estudis Catalans_, Barcelona, 1910, p.
52):—
“Quoniam vero aliqui sapientes sarracenorum ... ponentes beatitudinem
hominis tantum in anima....” _Ibid._ 53: “Quod autem in errorem induxit
sapientes sarracenorum ... videtur processisse ex Alcorano; quum ibi
contineatur quod post resurrectionem habebunt delectationes corporales,
ut delectatio cibi, potus et coitus; que, in veritate, si in alia vita
essent, intellectum a cogitatione et dilectione summi boni impedirent.
Unde, quia visum est eis hoc esse inconveniens, sicut est in veritate,
negaverunt ..., ponentes tamen beatitudinem hominis in anima.” _Ibid._
53 (in his explanation of the last article of the symbol, “vitam
eternam”): “Preeminentiam autem delectationum spiritualium et divinarum,
ad corporales delectationes, necnon et earum comparationem ad invicem,
ponit Avicenna in libro _de scientia divina_, tractatu IX, capite VII de
promissione divina, loquens de felicitate animae....” _Ibid._ 54: “Item,
Algazel firmat idem in libro _Intentionum physicarum_ (this should be
_philosophicarum_)....” _Ibid._ 54: “Eandem etiam sententiam confirmat
in libro qui dicitur _Vivificatio scientiarum_, in demonstratione quod
gloriosior et excellentior delectationum, cognitio Dei excelsi, et
contemplatio vultus ejus (referring to _Ihia_, IV, 219). Et in libro qui
dicitur _Trutina operum_, in capitulo probationis, quid sit beatitudo
ultima. Hoc idem etiam confirmat Alpharabius in libro _de auditu
naturali_, tractatu II circa finem, et in libro _de intellectu_. Ex
his patet, quod etiam apud philosophos sarracenorum, beatitudo eterna
consistit in cognitione et amore Dei, non in delectatione.”
[330] Cf. D’ANCONA, _Precursori_, 29: “Hanno ... tutte queste leggende
carattere ingenuo, anzi fanciullesco, che di necessità ce le fa porre
fuori della cerchia della vera poesia.” _Ibid._ 31: “Nè più alto e
condegno è il comune concetto della sede celeste....” _Ibid._ 32: “e per
rappresentar le gioie del paradiso abbiano avuto ricorso a raddoppiare
di più che mille milia il coro od il refettorio.” _Ibid._ 88: “Ma questa
corte celeste ... diventa la corte plenaria di un signore feudale.” Cf.
_Ibid._ 104-6.
[331] In Part III, Ch. VI, Moslem precedents will be shown for many of
these materialistic Christian legends.
[332] _Purg._ XVI, 40. The hypothesis is D’Ancona’s, who in note 2 to
page 108 of his _Precursori_ says: “Si potrebbe in Dante vedere giusto
disdegno, anzichè ignoranza dei suoi predecessori.” Cf. ROSSI, I,
140: “Con codesta povera concezione ... non è neppure paragonabile la
concezione dantesca,” and I, 147: “Mentre i precedenti descrittori non
avevano saputo se non trasferire nel soggiorno dei beati i più soavi
diletti della vita terrena, per Dante il premio dei buoni è tutto nel
intimo godimento che loro procurano la visione e la cognizione di Dio.”
[333] Cf. ROSSI, I, 141-2 and 147.
[334] It was also believed in Islam that the blessed meet in the heavenly
mansions to converse together and welcome the newly-arrived souls, whom
they ask for news of their friends and relations on earth. The _hadiths_
on this subject may be found in _Tadhkira_, 17; _Kanz_, VII, 231, Nos.
2,568 and 2,571; and IBN MAKHLUF, II, 143. Dante describes many similar
conversations of his with the blessed on the events and persons of his
time, notably with Piccarda, Cunizza, Costanza, Folcheto, and Cacciaguida.
[335] Cf. VIGOUROUX, _Dict. de la Bible_, s.v. _ciel_.
[336] TIXERONT, s.v. _eschatologie_. Origenes (_Ibid._ I, 303) and St.
Ephrem (II, 221) alone appear to mention the astronomical heavens.
Accordingly PERRONE says (II, 110, n. 2):—
“Non levis inter aliquot ex antiquis Patribus dissensio occurrit, ubi
agitur de statuendo _loco_, in quem justorum animae abscedentes a
corpore deferantur. Alii _coelum_, alii _sinum Abrahae_, isti _locum
quietis_, illi _paradisum_ censent sive appellant. _Paradisus_ ipse apud
aliquos aut ipsum coelorum regnum significat, aut saltem in coelorum
regione situs creditur; apud alios in ignota hujus terrae plaga. Sunt et
paucissimi qui sub terra sive in inferis....”
St. Thomas, in explaining the passage in the Gospel according to St.
Matthew, V, 12, agrees with St. Augustine that “Merces sanctorum non
dicitur esse in corporeis coelis” (_Summa theol._ 1-2ae, q. 4, a. 7, ad
3). Nor is mediæval art any more precise, for in the French cathedrals
Paradise is shown as the bosom of Abraham. Cf. MÂLE, 427.
[337] FRATICELLI, commenting on the passage of _Inf._ XXXIV, 112-115,
says, “Imagina Dante che Gerusalemme sia posta nel mezzo dell’emisfero
boreale”; and to _Par._ XXX, 124-8, he remarks, “E qui vuolsi notare che,
come Gerusalemme (secondo il creder d’allora) è nel mezzo della terra
abitata; così Dante imagina il seggio de’beati, la Gerusalemme celeste,
soprastare a perpendicolo alla terrena.” Cf. Rossi, I, 141: “una stessa
retta ... da Gerusalemme ... prolungata ... sale al centro della mistica
rosa”; and I, 142: “così la Gerusalemme terrestre per una linea diritta
... si congiunge colla Gerusalemme celeste.”
[338] MS 105 Gayangos Collection, fol. 117 rᵒ.
[339] Cf. HAMADHANI, 94-8. Also YAQUT, VIII, 111, s.v. Bayt al-Muqaddas.
[340] MS 105 Gayangos Collection, fol. 101 vᵒ.
[341] _Futuhat_, II, 582.
[342] _Futuhat_, II, 898. On the following page he inserts a geometrical
design, in which, taking the five fundamental precepts of Islam by way
of example, he shows how the grades of hell correspond symmetrically to
the grades of paradise. This design, with a few unimportant omissions, is
reproduced below. The dotted lines indicate the vertical projection of
the grades of heaven above those of hell.
GRADES OF HEAVEN.
+------------+------------+--------------+------------+--------------+
. Reward . Reward . Reward . Reward . Reward .
. of . of . of . of . of .
. faith. . prayer. . almsgiving. . fasting. . pilgrimage. .
+------------+------------+--------------+------------+--------------+
. Punishment . Punishment . Punishment . Punishment . Punishment .
. of . of . of . of . of .
. faith. . prayer. . almsgiving. . fasting. . pilgrimage. .
+------------+------------+--------------+------------+--------------+
GRADES OF HELL.
[343] The actual verses are _Par._ XXX, 100-132; XXXI, 1-54, 112-117;
XXXII, 1-84, and 115-138.
[344] _Tadhkira_, 99. Gayangos Coll., MS 159, fol. 2 vᵒ; MS 64, fol. 25
vᵒ.
[345] _Corra_, 132.
[346] Gayangos Coll., MS 64, fol. 25.
[347] Cf. IBN MAKHLUF, II, 147. Abu Abd Allah Mohamed ibn Ayshun was a
theologian and lawyer who also wrote poetry and compiled several books of
_hadiths_. After being taken captive by the Christians, he was ransomed
and died in his native town, Toledo, in 952 A.D.
[348] Cf. IBN MAKHLUF, II, 151-154.
[349] Cf. IBN MAKHLUF, II, 157.
[350] _Tadhkira_, 85.
[351] IBN MAKHLUF, II, 58. The elaboration of this fantastic picture
of glory was continued, more notably by the Spanish and African sufis
between the twelfth and fourteenth centuries, until about the time the
Divine Comedy was produced. Although Ibn Arabi’s is undoubtedly the
one that most nearly approaches the Dantean version, the following
by Izzu’d-Din ibn Abd as-Salam of the fourteenth century, is also of
interest:—
In heaven there are as many grades as there are virtues, and each of
these is again subdivided into the lowest, the intermediate, and the
highest grades. Thus, for example, the martyrs of Islam occupy the
hundred highest grades as a reward for faith; another hundred correspond
to each of the other virtues; then come a hundred grades for just rulers;
then a hundred for sincere witnesses, and so forth. If two of the elect
are equally deserving by reason of faith (whether mystic or theological),
both occupy the same grade; but, if there is any difference in either the
quantity or the quality of their faith, then they are placed apart. And
so it is with the other virtues.
[352] A translation of the principal passages of the _Futuhat_ relating
hereto is given in the author’s _Mohidín_, pp. 7-23.
[353] _Futuhat_, III, 579, and _passim_.
[354] _Futuhat_, I, 416; III, 552 and 567. Cf. _Al-Yawaqit_, II, 197. Cf.
_Par._ XXX, 103, 125, and 130; XXXI, 67 and 115; XXXII, 26 and 36.
[355] There are really only seven, as the first, being dedicated to
Mahomet, must be associated with all the others.
[356] LANDINO, in discussing _Par._ XXXII on fol. 433 of his Commentary,
arrives at the same number of _twelve_ as that of the main degrees in
Dante’s realm of glory: “Onde sono sei differentie e ciascuna ha provetti
e parvuli, che fanno dodeci.” For the number of gradins, cf. _Par._ XXX,
113: “più di mille soglie.”
[357] _Corra_, 118: “And the Prophet said: In heaven is the tree of
happiness whose root is in my dwelling-place and whose branches shelter
all the mansions of heaven; nor is there mansion or dwelling-place which
holds not one of its branches....” (_Ibid._ 119). “Each of the blessed
has his own branch, with his name inscribed upon it.”
[358] A rough sketch of this Islamic tree is to be found in the
illustration from the _Maʿrifet Nameh_, included by Carra de Vaux in
_Fragments d’Eschatologie musulmane_, pp. 27 and 33. An amplified
reproduction is here given (see Fig. 3).
[359] _Par._ XVIII, 28-33, on which Fraticelli comments:—
“Paragona il sistema de’ cieli ad un albero che si fa più spazioso di
grado in grado; e fa che abbia vita dalla cima, in contrario de’ nostri
alberi, che l’anno dalle radici, perchè ei la toglie dall’empireo.”
[360] In GRAF, _Miti_, I, 140, note 35. For particulars about Federigo
Frezzi, who composed his poem in 1394, cf. ROSSI, I, 264.
[361] _Futuhat_, I, 416 and III, 567. Cf. _Par._ XXXII, 20 and 39; XXXI,
97.
[362] _Futuhat_, I, 416 and III, 577. Cf. _Par._ XXXI, 25, 115, and
XXXII, 61.
[363] _Futuhat_, I, 416 and 417. Cf. _Par._ XXX, 109, and XXXI, 121.
[364] _Futuhat_, I, 415. Cf. _Par._ XXXII, 52-60, and Fraticelli’s
comment thereon:—
“In questo così ampio Paradiso non può aver luogo un _punto_, un seggio,
dato a caso.... Poichè _quantunque vidi_, tutto quello che qui vedi,
_è stabilito per eterna legge_ in modo, che ad ogni grado di merito
corrisponde un ugual grado di gloria, a quel modo che _dall’anello al
dito_, al dito corrisponde proporzionato anello.”
[365] Cp. _Futuhat_, I, 414, with _Par._ XXXII, 42-47 and 73-74. Also
_Futuhat_, I, 415, with _Par._ XXX, 131-132.
[366] _Futuhat_, III, 8: “Divine mercy is greater than Divine anger. The
damned, then, are punished for the sins they have committed only, but the
elect enter heaven through grace and experience such bliss as by their
good works alone they would not deserve.” Cf. _Par._ XXXII, 58-66.
[367] _Futuhat_, I, 417; II, 111; and III, 577.
[368] LANDINO, on fol. 432 vᵒ of his Commentary, explains this point very
clearly.
[369] Cp. _Par._ XXXI, 69; XXX, 133 and XXXII, 7; XXXI, 16; XXX, 115 and
132, with the passages of the _Futuhat_ quoted under [367].
[370] In Ibn Arabi, as will shortly be shown, the difference in the
intensity of the Beatific Vision depends, as in Dante, on the nature of
the faith the elect professed on earth.
[371] IBN MAKHLUF, II, 59-60. In Islam Mahomet is regarded as the Prophet
who renewed the teaching of the one true religion as revealed by God to
Abraham; and, just as Abraham is the patriarch of the Old Testament,
so Mahomet may be said to be the patriarch of the new Testament of the
Moslems.
[372] _Par._ XXXII, 19-27.
[373] _Futuhat_, II, 113, and _Par._ XXXII, 118.
[374] _Futuhat_, I, 417-420.
[375] _Futuhat_, II, 111.
[376] _Futuhat_, II, 112-113.
[377] This latter thesis was propounded by Averrhoes and adopted by St.
Thomas. Cf. ASÍN, _Averroismo_, 291 _et seq._
[378] _Futuhat_, III, 578.
[379] _Futuhat_, III, 577.
[380] Before entering on this comparison we may be allowed to point out
a curious coincidence in the chronology of Dante’s ascension and that
assigned in the _hadiths_ to the ascension of the blessed souls to enjoy
the Beatific Vision. Dante undertook his ascension “nel mezzo del camin
di nostra vita” (_Inf._ I, 1) or, according to the commentators, “a
trenta-cinque anni,” or “dell’età di 32 o 33 anni” (Cf. Scartazzini).
A _hadith_ in the Gayangos Coll., MS 105, fol. 140 rᵒ, attributes to
Mahomet the statement that the blessed will enter paradise “at Jesus’
age, or the age of thirty-three.” Further, Dante ascends to heaven on
Good Friday (cf. Fraticelli, pp. 622-3) and the _hadiths_ state that the
Beatific Vision takes place on Friday, the holy day of Islam (cf. _Kanz_,
VII, 232, Nos. 2,572 and 2,641).
[381] Cf. _Par._ XXX, 10, 106, 112, and 115; XXXIII, 76 and 82 with
_Futuhat_, I, 417, last line; 418, line 8.
Further, just as St. Bernard bids Dante be prepared for the Divine light
(_Par._ XXXII, 142, and XXXIII, 31), so does the Prophet, in Ibn Arabi’s
description, warn the elect (_Futuhat_, I, 418, line 12).
[382] _Summa contra Gentes_, lib. III, ch. 53 and 54. Cf. _Summa theol._
part 1, q. 12, a. 5.
[383] _Summa theol._, suppl. part 3, q. 92, a. 1.
[384] _Loc cit._, at the end of the body of the article:—
“Et ideo accipiendus est alius modus, quem etiam quidam philosophi
posuerunt, scilicet Alexander et Averroes (3. _de Anim. comm. 5 et 36_)”
... “Quidquid autem sit de aliis substantiis separatis, tamen istum modum
oportet nos accipere in visione Dei per essentiam.”
[385] TIXERONT, II, 201, 349, 435; III, 431.
[386] _Haeres._, 70, in PETAVIUS, _De Deo_, lib. VII, ch. 8, § 1: “Vi sua
imbecillitatem corroborare dignatus est.”
[387] PETAVIUS, _loc. cit._, § 4: “Quocirca de illo lucis officio et usu,
qui in scholis percrebuit, nihil apud antiquos expressum habetur, nisi
quod vis quaedam naturali superior et auxilium requiri dicitur quo mens
ad tantam contemplationem possit assurgere. Quale autem sit necessarium
illud auxilium, sive lumen gloriae, quo ad Deum videndum natura fulcitur,
nemo liquido demonstravit, minime omnium efficientis quoddam genus esse
causae, ac velut habitum.”
[388] _Ihia_, IV, 222. Cf. _Ithaf_, IX, 581.
[389] _Ihia_, IV, 223, line 14 inf.
[390] _Fasl_, III, 2-4.
[391] _Kitab falsafat_, 53.
[392] Cp. the passages from the _Futuhat_ translated above, on pp.
157-159, with _Par._ XXXI, 27, and XXXIII, 43, 50, 52, 79, and 97.
[393] Cf. ROSSI, I, 147. “Per Dante, il premio dei buoni è ... vario
di grado, secondo la purezza e l’intensità dell’amore divino.” Cf.
_Futuhat_, I, 418, line 7.
[394] _Par._ XXXII, 19, 38, 74. Cf. _Futuhat_, _loc. cit._; also I, 419,
line 9 inf.; II, 111, line 8 inf.; II, 113, line 10 inf.
[395] _Futuhat_, II, 111, line 9 inf. and 1 inf.
[396] _Ihia_, IV, 224, line 15.
[397] _Futuhat_, III, 578, line 2.
[398] ROSSI, I, 147: “Il vario grado di lor beatitudine è appunto
rappresentato dalla varia luminosità e dalla loro distribuzioni pei sette
primi cieli.” Cf. _Par._ XXX, 12, and XXXI, 59; also _Par._ XIV, 43-60.
[399] _Summa theol._, suppl. 3ae part., q. 85, a. 1:
“Ideo melius est ut dicatur quod claritas illa causabitur ex redundantia
gloriae animae in corpus ...; et ideo claritas quae est in anima
spiritualis, recipitur in corpore ut corporalis; et ideo secundum quod
anima erit majoris claritatis secundum majus meritum, ita etiam erit
differentia claritatis in corpore.”
[400] _Corra_, 102, 104, 106, 114, and 117. Cf. _Kanz_, VII, 232, Nos.
2,575, 2,588, 2,608, 2,616, 2,629, and 2,658. In Nos. 2,616 and 2,658,
moreover, the bodies of the women of heaven are said to be “translucent
like crystal or precious stones,” an idea that reappears in _Par._
XXXI, 19, and XXIX, 124. The sufis, and particularly Ibn Arabi, held
that the souls, until the resurrection of their bodies, lived in bodies
of the world beyond the grave, similar in nature to the forms we see
in dreams (cf. ASÍN, _La Psicología_, 45). This theory may have given
rise to Dante’s conception of the spirit-bodies, which cast no shadow.
Cf. _Purg._ III, 16-30. The same property was attributed to the body of
Mahomet in this world. Cf. MS 64 Gayangos Coll., fol. 114.
[401] _Par._ XXX, 40. Cf. _Futuhat_, II, 112, line 11 inf.
[402] _Summa theol._, suppl. 3ae part., q. 95, a. 5.
[403] _Par._ XXXIII, 57 and 94. Cf. _Futuhat_, I, 419, line 7 inf.; III,
578, line 11. See also the comparison _supra_, pp. 31 and 32.
[404] _Futuhat_, III, 577, line 10 inf. This point is frequently brought
out by Moslem theologians and is based on two passages in the Koran (VII,
41, and XV, 47), in which it is said that God will remove all envy and
resentment from the hearts of the blessed.
[405] _Par._ III, 52, 64, 70, and 88. Cf. _Par._ XXXII, 52 and 63.
[406] Cf. _supra_, pp. 31 and 32.
[407] _Futuhat_, III, 574, and I, 402. In III, 556, the apotheosis is
shown graphically, though on account of the difficulty of design the rows
of angels are not represented by circles.
[408] _Par._ XXXIII, 115.
[409] Cf. E. Pistelli, _L’ultimo canto della D.C._ (in Scartazzini,
_Par._ XXXIII, 120):—
“Noi non tenteremo di seguirlo (i.e. Dante) e di rappresentarci
sensibilmente i tre archi di due dei quali, tra le altre cose, neppure
ci ha detto il colore. Che Dio sia fuori delle leggi dello spazio e del
tempo, sta bene; ma noi le leggi dello spazio non consentono di veder
distinti tre cerchi chè in realtà sono uno solo e anche per questa via
ricadiamo nel mistero.”
[410] _Enneades_, VI, 8, 18.
[411] Cf. ASÍN, _Abenmasarra_, _passim_.
[412] His book, _Formation of tables and circles_, is specially devoted
to this subject. Cf. _Futuhat_, III, 523.
[413] _Futuhat_, II, 591. Cf. ASÍN, _La Psicología_, 69.
[414] _Futuhat_, III, 158, 363, and 589. For a translation of the passage
on 363, see ASÍN, _Mohidín_, 7-13.
[415] _Futuhat_, I, 332, translated in ASÍN, _Mohidín_, 13-17.
[416] _Futuhat_, III, 560.
[417] For a fuller exposition, see ASÍN, _La Psicología_, 25-39, and
_Abenmasarra_, _passim_.
[418] The figure is given on p. 553, and explained on pp. 560-2, of vol.
III of the _Futuhat._ It is essentially as represented hereunder, A being
the Spiritual Substance, B the Universal Intellect, and C the Universal
Soul.
[419] Ibn Arabi admits, however, a certain trinity of relations as
essential to Divine unity. The metaphysical reason of his opinion is to
be found in the Pythagorean conception of the number three as being the
origin of odd numbers (cf. _Futuhat_, III, 166, 228, 603). In _Futuhat_,
II, 90, he applies the doctrine to theology and, in order to explain
the origin and existence of the Cosmos, he establishes three Divine
elements: the Essence, the Will, and the Word. In _Dakhair_, 42, he
attempts to establish analogies between the Christian doctrine of the
Trinity of Divine Persons and the trinity of Divine names as taught in
the Koran—God, the Lord, and the Merciful.
[420] Ibn Arabi’s symbol is as difficult to interpret; for besides the
three circles representing God in His three manifestations of spiritual
matter, intellect, and soul, he speaks of the manifestation of God
through three veils, or under three names (_Futuhat_, I, 418). Again, the
manifestations of the Divine names he symbolises by eccentric circles
of diverse radius (_Futuhat_, III, 558). Ibn Arabi does not mention the
colours of these Divine epiphanies, but in the _Corra_, 125, the Divinity
is said to appear to the elect wrapt in a white light with shades of
green, red, and yellow.
[421] Had Vossler known of Ibn Arabi’s plans, he would certainly not have
sought in the symmetry of Dante’s three realms a symbolical application
of the Ptolemaic system to purgatory and hell. Vossler, after lengthy
explanations and subtle interpretations of this theory, exclaims (I,
252):—
“Chi può decidere ove graviti il centro di tali simboli, se nella poesia
o nella scienza?” ... “Noi non conosciamo nella letteratura mondiale
alcun altro laboro artistico, che sia così profondamente penetrato di
filosofia.”
[422] D’ANCONA, 13, 107. Cf. also LABITTE, OZANAM, and GRAF.
[423] D’ANCONA, 9, 25, 26, 27, 38, 70, 84, and _passim_.
[424] D’ANCONA, 42.
[425] GRAF, _Miti_, I, Introduction, XXII.
[426] GRAF, _Miti_, I, 66-67.
[427] Cf. _Sudur_, 96-109 and IBN MAKHLUF, I, 57, and _passim_.
[428] OZANAM, 458; D’ANCONA, 33.
[429] LABITTE, 103; OZANAM, 434; D’ANCONA, 38; GRAF, I, 84.
[430] Cf. _supra_, p. 88.
[431] _Qisas_, 225-232.
[432] _Supra_, pp. 89 and 106.
[433] _Supra_, p. 103.
[434] _Sudur_, 96 and 98. It should be noted that the garden in which
the birds live, lies at the gate of heaven; this explains their request
to God that, in accordance with His promise, He should allow them to
enter the realm of Glory and taste the reward, of which as yet they only
catch glimpses. The same request appears to be made by the human birds of
the Christian legend in their prayer: “Ostende nobis ista quae vidimus,
miracula tua, quoniam ignoramus quid sint.” Cf. _Acta Sanctorum_, X, 563.
[435] _Sudur_, 102, 107, 108, 121, etc.
[436] OZANAM, 399; D’ANCONA, 45; GRAF, I, 245.
[437] Cf. BATIOUCHKOF, _Le débat de l’âme et du corps_, 41-42, 514, 517,
518, 558, 559.
[438] _Supra_, p. 115 _et seq._
[439] _Tadhkira_, 58, line 3 inf.
[440] _Supra_, p. 99.
[441] _Tadhkira_, 74, line 1 inf., and IBN MAKHLUF, II, 37, line 16.
[442] For instance, the graduation of the torture of fire according to
the degree of sin, the sinners appearing immersed in fire up to their
knees, their belly, navel, eyes, etc. Cf. _supra_, p. 107, for the
Islamic parallel to this scene.
[443] _Tadhkira_, 18-19. Cf. _Sudur_, 22.
[444] D’ANCONA, 47; GRAF, I, 245.
[445] GRAF, I, 247.
[446] _Corra_, 92-99.
[447] P. 82. Another similar tale is given in the Gayangos Collection, MS
234, fol. 101:
Gabriel descends to hell and, moved by the prayers of the damned that he
should obtain the intercession of Mahomet on their behalf, returns to
heaven and appeals to the Prophet. The latter intercedes with God and the
sinners are pardoned.
[448] D’ANCONA, 53-59.
[449] Cf. BLOCHET, _Sources_, 111.
[450] _Supra_, p. 109.
[451] _Supra_, p. 83.
[452] Cf. _Tadhkira_, 31-33, which gives _hadiths_ on this subject that,
being vouchsafed for by Bukhari, are at least earlier than the ninth
century of our era.
[453] D’ANCONA, 78, and GRAF, I, 107.
[454] D’ANCONA, 56.
[455] _Supra_, p. 89.
[456] _Tadhkira_, 73, line 16.
[457] D’ANCONA, 57.
[458] _Ihia_, IV, 383. Cf. _Ithaf_, X, 520.
[459] _Ihia_ and _Ithaf_, loc. cit. Cf. _Tadhkira_, 83.
[460] D’ANCONA, 58.
[461] _Corra_, 66. Cf. also IBN MAKHLUF, II, 13, and _Kanz_, III,
250-252, Nos. 3,984-4,020.
[462] D’ANCONA, 59-63; LABITTE, 126.
[463] Cf. _supra_, p. 101.
[464] _Supra_, pp. 106-107. Cf. OZANAM, 394: “un soufle d’un vent
d’hiver.”
[465] Cf. _supra_, pp. 13 and 101.
[466] D’ANCONA, 63-69; LABITTE, 125.
[467] OZANAM, 403. Regarding the antiquity and religious character of the
Edda, cf. CHANTEPIE, _Hist. des relig._, pp. 675 _et seq._, particularly
p. 685.
[468] _Kanz_, VIII, 224, No. 3,552.
[469] D’ANCONA, 68, footnote.
[470] D’ANCONA, 58, footnote; LABITTE, 112.
[471] _Tafsir_, XV, 11. Cf. MS 64 Gayangos Coll., fol. 113.
[472] OZANAM, 445-6.
[473] _Tadhkira_, 58, line 7 inf.
[474] Cf. _supra_, p. 83.
[475] VOSSLER, II, 201.
[476] See _supra_, pp. 85-95.
[477] _Tadhkira_, 70.
[478] _Tadhkira_, 70.
[479] See _supra_, p. 88.
[480] Taking the Arabic name in the form used in vulgar speech, and
changing the feminine into the masculine, e.g. Haguia = Hagu = Ago.
[481] D’ANCONA, 77; LABITTE, 110. The myth of the scales occurs in other,
non-political, visions, such as the Vision of Turcill (D’ANCONA, 69,
footnote). Cf. GRAF, II, 106, note 207.
[482] CHANTEPIE, _Hist. des relig._, 107. Cf. VIREY, _Relig. anc.
Égypte_, 157-162.
[483] CHANTEPIE, 473.
[484] _Tadhkira_, 55, and IBN MAKHLUF, II, 22.
[485] MÂLE, p. 420.
[486] Cp. the offertory of the requiem masses: “Sed signifer Sanctus
Michael representet eas in lucem sanctam....”
[487] INTERIÁN, I, 135. INTERIÁN, one of the founders of the Spanish
Academy, died in 1730.
[488] MÂLE, 416. INTERIÁN, I, 66; II, 168.
[489] _Ihia_, IV, 377; _Ithaf_, X, 485. _Tadhkira_, 61.
[490] Cf. _Ithaf_, X, 491.
[491] INTERIÁN, II, 168-173.
[492] _Tadhkira_, 41. Cf. _Ihia_, IV, 368, and _Ithaf_, X, 454.
[493] _Tadhkira_, 41.
[494] Other picturesque scenes, which Mâle attributes to the working of
the popular mind, may also have had a Moslem origin. Thus, the wicked
are shown being dragged off in chains to hell by demons (Mâle, 422),
just as described in the Koran and the _hadiths_ (_Tadhkira_, 73).
The personification of hell as a monster with open fangs, which Mâle
believes to be an imitation of the Leviathan of the Book of Job, is
surely modelled upon the monster often quoted in the preceding pages. The
avaricious shown in the porches of the cathedrals with their money-bag
hanging from their neck are reminiscent of the sinners described in the
_hadiths_ on the Day of Judgment as likewise burdened with the _corpus
delicti_, for instance, the drunkards, who carry a flagon slung from
their neck, or the fraudulent merchants, who carry a balance (_Corra_, 12
and 41).
[495] See _supra_, pp. 140-141.
[496] GRAF, I, 69: “Il paradiso terrestre alle volte diventa tutt’uno col
celeste.” See _supra_, pp. 134-135.
[497] Cf. Versions A and B of Cycle 1 of the _Miraj_.
[498] D’ANCONA, 104.
[499] Cf. GRAF, I, 19.
[500] GRAF, I, 67. It should be remembered that the legend dates from the
thirteenth century.
[501] See _supra_, p. 10, Version A of Cycle 2. The scene, as told in the
_hadiths_, agrees literally with that in the Christian legend. Cf. also
_Kanz_, VI, 96, No. 1,466.
[502] D’ANCONA, 88.
[503] D’ANCONA, 105.
[504] D’ANCONA, 105.
[505] D’ANCONA, 90, footnote 2.
[506] The versions here summarised are to be found in the _Corra_, 102,
107, and 132; in SUYUTI, _Al-Laali_, I, 28-29, and _Dorar_, 30. Cf.
also MS 159, Gayangos Coll., fol. 2-6, and MS “Junta de Ampliación de
Estudios,” fols. 148-156.
[507] Cp. the text of D’ANCONA, 105, footnote 4, with _Corra_, 115, line
8 inf.; 128, line 5 inf.; 126, line 7 inf.; and _Al-Laali_, 28, line 1
inf.
[508] GRAF, I, 93-126.
[509] CHAUVIN, _Bibliographie_, VII, 1-93.
[510] _Ibid._ 77.
[511] DE GOEJE, _Légende de St. Brandan_. Cf. GRAF, I, 102: “Non si
può escludere la possibilità che alcune di esse (immaginazioni) sieno
orientali di origine.”
[512] The present study of the legend of St. Brandan is based on the
works of GRAF, I, 97-110; DE GOEJE, _loc. cit._; LABITTE, 119-123; and
D’ANCONA, 48-53.
[513] _Qisas_, 225. The episode recurs in the voyages of Abd al-Mutallib
the Wise. Cf. CHAUVIN, VII, 46.
[514] SCHROEDER, _Sanct Brandan_ (Erlangen, 1871), Introduction, XI-XIV.
GRAF, I, 103.
[515] DE GOEJE, 47, and GRAF, I, 105.
[516] Cf. ASÍN, _Abenmasarra_, Appendix I, 133.
[517] According to Schirmer the Latin version is based on tenth or ninth
century texts, and Zimmer even connects the legend with the Celtic
story, _Imram Maelduin_, which on the strength of its archaic language
he assigns to the ninth or eighth century. These hypotheses, which are
not even shared by all Romance scholars, are far from having the positive
value of a dated document such as the book of Al Jahiz.
[518] _Hayawan_, VII, 33-34.
[519] _Ihia_, IV, 318. Cf. _Ithaf_, X, 205.
[520] _Sudur_, 32.
[521] _Sudur_, 108.
[522] DAMIRI, II, 110.
[523] _Kharida_, 93-94.
[524] _Tadhkira_, 87.
[525] _Qisas_, 190.
[526] _Sudur_, 73 and 74. For the nakedness of Judas, whose face alone is
covered with a piece of cloth, cf. _Sudur_, 117, which depicts some of
the damned in hell in the self-same fashion.
[527] _Qisas_, 135-143, contains several legends on Khidr. A richer
collection is that included by Ibn Hijr in his _Isaba_, II, 114-137.
Cf. also _Sudur_, 109, and _Kharida_, 92. Other Arabic legends
represent Elijah and Enoch as praying on a rock or island. Cf. CHAUVIN,
_Bibliographie_, 48, 52, 54, 59, and 63.
[528] See GRAF, I, 37.
[529] LABITTE, 122.
[530] D’ANCONA, 50.
[531] The miraculous lighting of the altar lamps, witnessed by St.
Brandan on the isle of the monks, is, as De Goeje has pointed out (_loc.
cit._ 55), modelled upon the similar miracle performed each Easter Eve in
the Church of the Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. But the author of the tale
need not necessarily have seen the miracle himself, nor heard of it from
an eye-witness, in 1,000 A.D., as De Goeje suggests. The news may have
been transmitted to him through an Arabic medium, for as early as the
eighth century Al Jahiz relates the miracle in his _Hayawan_, IV, 154.
[532] GRAF, I, 95.
[533] _Qisas_, 228.
[534] GRAF, I, 116-118.
[535] _Qisas_, 231.
[536] MS 61 Gayangos Coll., fols. 72-80.
[537] GRAF, I, 87-92.
[538] GRAF, I, 113 and 116.
[539] _Qisas_, 215-216.
[540] _Qisas_, 217.
[541] Guidi, _Sette Dormienti_.
[542] He merely mentions the legend of the Rabbi Joni as somewhat similar
to the story of the monk Felix. GRAF, I, 180, note 31.
[543] _Loc. cit._ 444.
[544] _De gloria martyrum_, ch. 95.
[545] Cf. TIXERONT, II, 199.
[546] GRAF, I, 241-260, _Il riposo dei dannati_.
[547] _Supra_, p. 185.
[548] GRAF, I, 250-251.
[549] See _Sudur_, 76 and 128.
[550] Cf. _Ihia_, IV, 352, and _Ithaf_, X, 366.
[551] Cf. _Tadhkira_, 35.
[552] _Supra_, pp. 181 and 209.
[553] _Sudur_, 97.
[554] _Sudur_, 110.
[555] GRAF, I, 251.
[556] _Sudur_, 111 and 116.
[557] _Sudur_, 111 and 112.
[558] GRAF, I, 255-257.
[559] _Sudur_, 126-131.
[560] In _Miti_, II, 103-108.
[561] In _Romania_, year 1891, p. 41 _et seq._
[562] Cf. GRAF, II, 104-5.
[563] The Zoroastrian origin of all the legends of this group is evident.
Cf. CHANTEPIE, _Hist. des religions_, 473.
[564] See _supra_, Ch. V.
[565] _Minhaj_, 19.
[566] _Sudur_, 49.
[567] _Sudur_, 34.
[568] _Ibid._
[569] _Ibid._
[570] _Sudur_, 31-32.
[571] _Sudur_, 28.
[572] _Sudur_, 31.
[573] _Sudur_, 32.
[574] _Sudur_, 33.
[575] Koran, XVII, 73; LXXXIII, 8-9; 19-20; LXXXIV, 7-10.
[576] _Kharida_, 180.
[577] It is noteworthy that the feature of the two books of record does
not appear in the legendary lore of the West until the time of Bede, or
eighth century of our era. GRAF, unmindful of the Koranic precedents,
considers that the myth was evolved from the Gospel metaphor of the
“liber vitae,” to which, by way of contrast, was added a book of sins.
[578] _Sudur_, 34.
[579] _Sudur_, 49.
[580] _Sudur_, 50.
[581] _Sudur_, 23-24.
[582] _Corra_, 29-30. The influence on the Christian legends of this
_hadith_, which must have been widely known in the first two centuries of
the Hegira, can hardly be denied; for, although unauthorised by either
Christian or Zoroastrian doctrine, the scene reappears in _Muspilli_
described in the same terms.
[583] _Sudur_, 22 and 23.
[584] Islamic precedents exist also for other subjects dealt with in the
Christian legendary cycle and discussed by Batiouchkof (_op. cit._). Cf.
_Sudur_, 24, 25, and 136.
[585] Needless to say, the themes of the Christian legendary lore have
not been exhausted in the above survey. D’ANCONA (83-95) and GRAF (I,
256-7) quote legends belonging to the political and comic or burlesque
cycles. The Moslem counterparts of the former may be found in _Sudur_,
30, 31, and 121; and of the latter, in _Tadhkira_, 80, and _Sudur_, 118,
120, and 123.
[586] The author has dealt with the problem here presented on the lines
laid down by his master RIBERA, who in his book, _Orígenes del Justicia
de Aragón_ (lectures 5 and 6) has systematised the laws governing
imitation.
[587] Cf. BABELON, _Du Commerce des Arabes dans le nord de l’Europe avant
les croisades_, pp. 33-47, and _passim_.
[588] BREHIER, _L’église et l’orient au moyen âge_, pp. 20-50.
[589] _Ibid._ pp. 89-100; 354.
[590] _Ibid._ p. 211.
[591] DOZY, _Recherches_, II, 271. Cf. AMARI, _Storia dei musulmani di
Sicilia_, III, part 2, 365, 445 _et seq._ SCHIAPARELLI, _Ibn Giobeir_,
322 and 332.
[592] AMARI, III, 2, pp. 589-711; 888-890.
[593] SIMONET, _Hist. mozárabes_, pp. 216-219, 252, 273, 292, 346, 368,
384, 690. Throughout the tenth century Arabicised monks and soldiers
flocked to Leon, where their superior culture secured them high office
at the court and in the ecclesiastical and civil administration of the
kingdom. Cf. GOMEZ MORENO, _Iglesias mozárabes_ (Madrid, 1917, Centro de
Estudios Históricos), pp. 105-140.
[594] RIBERA, _Discurso Acad. Hist._, pp. 40-45.
[595] RIBERA, _Disc._, 46, Note 1.
[596] RIBERA, _Orígenes Justicia_, 19-84. FERNÁNDEZ Y GONZÁLEZ,
_Mudéjares_, 224, _et passim_.
[597] JOURDAIN, _Recherches sur les anciennes traductions latines
d’Aristote_, pp. 95-149.
[598] JOURDAIN, pp. 149-151. FERNÁNDEZ Y GONZÁLEZ, 154-159. AMADOR DE LOS
RÍOS, _Hist. crít. de la liter. esp._, III, ch. 9-12.
[599] AL-MAKKARI, _Analectes_, II, 510. Cf. _Ihata_, II, fol. 153 vᵒ.
[600] _Ihata_, III, fol. 85.
[601] AMADOR DE LOS RÍOS, III, 496. BALLESTEROS, _Sevilla en el siglo_
XIII, docs. Nos. 67 and 109. LA FUENTE, _Hist. de las Universidades_, I,
127-130.
[602] BLOCHET in his _Sources orientales de la Divine Comédie_, omits
or disregards the nearest and most constant channels of communication
between Eastern and Western culture. To him the main channels are the
trade routes from Persia to the North-East of Europe via Byzance; the
intellectual relations between Ireland and Italy, and Italy and Byzance;
and, finally, the Crusades. Moslem Spain is hardly once mentioned as
a means of communication. This appears to be due to the fact that, in
Blochet’s opinion, the pre-Dante legends (such as the Voyage of St.
Brandan, the Visions of St. Paul, St. Patrick, Hincmar, Charles the
Bald, and Tundal, and the Tale of the Three Monks of the East) are
derived rather from the Persian ascension of Ardâ Virâf than from Arabic
and Islamic sources. He admits, indeed, that the _Miraj_ may also have
influenced these legends, but only as transmitted by the Crusaders
from the East. The vast majority, however, of Islamic elements in the
precursory legends have been shown to be derived from _hadiths_ of the
future life and only very few from the _Miraj_. Still less can there be
any question of direct relation between the precursors and the Persian
legend. Blochet, moreover, contents himself with pointing out analogies
between the precursory legends and the Eastern sources, but hardly ever
furnishes documentary evidence; though, even if he did so, it would
still be more natural to account for the resemblance as due to the
effect of Islamic religious literature, rather than any direct contact
with Persia. JOURDAIN (_Recherches_, 208 _et seq._) long ago pointed out
how insignificant was the influence of Byzance and the Crusades on the
transmission of science and philosophy to Western Christendom, compared
with that of the Hispano-Arabic centre.
[603] The early Moslems, who were Arabs by race and, like the Prophet,
illiterate, felt the same aversion for writing as did Mahomet; and at
first it was thought unlawful to record the _hadiths_ in writing.
[604] Cf. _Supra_, pp. 79-81.
[605] SIMONET, 377, notes 2 and 3. Cf. _Indic. lum. in España Sagrada_,
XI, 249.
[606] EULOGIUS, _Apologeticus_, fol. 80 vᵒ.
[607] JOURDAIN, _Recherches_, 100-103. Cf. WÜSTENFELD, _Die Übersetzungen
arabischer Werke_, 44-50.
[608] AMADOR DE LOS RÍOS, _Hist. crít. de la liter. esp._, III, 415 _et
seq._, mentions a Castilian version of 1256. The text here used is the
Latin text from ERPENIUS, _Historia saracenica_.
[609] It should be remembered that Alphonso the Wise had ordered the
Koran to be translated. Another translation was made in the 13th century
by a canon of Toledo, named Marco. Cf. JOURDAIN, _Recherches_, 149.
[610] See the _Primera Crónica General_ of Alphonso the Wise, pp.
270-272, chapters 488 and 489, entitled “De como Mahomat dixo que fallara
a Abrahan et a Moysen et a Ihesu en Iherusalem” and “De como Mahomat dixo
que subira fasta los syete cielos.”
[611] Recently published under the title “El Obispo de Jaén sobre la
seta Mahometana,” by Fr. PEDRO ARMENGOL in vol. IV of the _Obras de San
Pedro Pasqual_ (Rome, 1908). The Catalan Dominican RAYMOND MARTIN also
mentions the _Miraj_ in his _Explanatio simboli apostolorum_, written in
1256-1257. Cf. Edit. MARCH, p. 41: “... non sicut Machometus qui jactavit
se ad celos ascendisse, sed de nocte et nullo vidente.”
[612] Cf. AMADOR DE LOS RÍOS, _Hist. crít. de la liter. esp._, IV, 75-85.
[613] Cf. ARMENGOL, IV, 3, 4, 28, 29, 37, 41, 49, 143, etc.
[614] Cf. ARMENGOL, IV, 28, 53, 55, 66, 143. Incidentally it is also
mentioned in the _Tratado contra el fatalismo musulman_ (III, 54-91) on
pp. 55, 72, and 83.
[615] Cf. ARMENGOL, IV, 90-138.
[616] How close these ties were is shown by the mere fact that shortly
after the reconquest of Seville Italian nobles and merchants occupied
whole streets and quarters of their own. Cf. BALLESTEROS, _Sevilla_, ch.
III, _Los extranjeros_, 42-46.
[617] Cf. ROSSI, I, 118 and 138.
[618] SCARTAZZINI in his comment on _Inf._, XV, 23-54, gives a
bibliography of the person and works of Brunetto Latini. The work here
consulted is SUNDBY, _Della vita e delle opere di Brunetto Latini_.
[619] _Inf._, XV, 58 and 60; 79-87; 119-120.
[620] Cf. SCARTAZZINI, _loc. cit._, _Inf._, XV, 32.
[621] Cf. VOSSLER, II, 118-120; D’ANCONA, 101, note 1.
[622] SUNDBY, 29-41.
[623] Cf. SUNDBY, 86-88, and CARRA DE VAUX, _Avicenne_, 177-180, and note
the classifications given by Avicenna in his _Rasail_, 2-3 and 71-80.
[624] SUNDBY, 136, and _passim_, acknowledges that he does not know
the origin of some passages; on p. 111 he admits that Brunetto availed
himself of Arabic texts of the physician Ishaq ibn Hunayn. D’ANCONA
(_Il Tesoro di B.L. versificato_) points out the Arabic origin of some
episodes of the story of Alexander the Great as told in the _Tesoro_
(cf., p. 141). The very title of _Tesoro_ is reminiscent of Arabic
literature. BROCKELMANN quotes over sixty works bearing that title, some
far earlier than the thirteenth century, when the fashion spread to
Christian Europe.
[625] Cf. D’ANCONA (_Tesoro_, 176-227).
[626] SUNDBY, 6-10. Brunetto mentions the date of his mission in the
first verses of his _Tesoretto_ (1-25).
[627] AMADOR DE LOS RÍOS, IV, 17-23.
[628] Apart from the legend of the _Miraj_, Brunetto may have obtained
philosophical and theological information in Spain about the eschatology
of Ibn Arabi, whose _Ishraqi_ and mystical school of thought lived on in
the works and teaching of other Murcian Sufis.
[629] A knowledge of Islamic lore may have been transmitted to Dante by
a learned Rabbi, such as Emmanuel Ben Salomo, of the Zifroni family, a
poet and philosopher of Rome and a friend of Dante; or Hillel of Verona.
[The importance in this connection of the Italian Rabbis, who were
perhaps better informed of the Moslem sources than the Christians of
Dante’s time, has lately been pointed out by BECK, in _Zeitschrift für
Romanische Philologie_ (Berlin, 1921, vol. XLI, p. 472) and VAN TIEGHEM,
in _Revue de Littérature Comparée_ (Paris, April/June, 1922, p. 324).
Other critics of the thesis have suggested further likely channels of
communication. Thus, CABATON, in _Revue de l’Histoire des Religions_
(Paris, 1920, p. 19) recalls the fact that Dante’s friend, the poet Guido
Cavalcanti, had visited Spain on a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela.
NALLINO, in _Rivista degli Studi Orientali_ (Rome, 1921, vol. VIII,
4, p. 808), mentions the following as likely means of contact between
Dante and Islam: The captive Moslems of all ranks of society living
in Tuscany, and particularly at Pisa; or, the Italian troubadours who
flocked to the Court of Alphonso the Wise; or, again, the innumerable
Italian traders who came and went between Italy and Spain and the Moslem
ports of Africa and the East. He adds: “If the Pisan merchant Leonardo
Fibonacci could acquire in the Aduanas of the Moslem ports the knowledge
of Algebra that he introduced into Europe early in the 13th century;
and if other, nameless, travellers could be the bearers of the popular
Oriental tales that later passed into Italian literature; is it unlikely
that among other fantastic tales the legendary story of Mahomet should be
thus transmitted, a story that was in perfect keeping with the mentality
of the people in mediæval Europe?” Finally, the critic GABRIELI, on
pp. 55-61 of his pamphlet, “Intorno alle fonti orientali della Divina
Commedia,” in _Arcadia_, III (Rome, 1919), though generally adverse to
the theory, makes two interesting suggestions. As possible means of
transmission he names the Spanish Franciscan Lull and the Florentine
Dominican Ricoldo de Monte Croce. Lull, who had a vast knowledge of
Islamic culture and knew and imitated the doctrines of Ibn Arabi,
repeatedly visited Italy between 1287 and 1296, residing two whole years
in Rome as well as in Genoa, Pisa, and Naples. Even more likely appears
the intervention of Ricoldo, who lived in the East from 1288 to 1301,
preaching the Gospel in Syria, Persia and Turkestan, whence he returned
to the Monastery of Santa Maria Novella at Florence and there died in
1320, at the age of 74. In Chapter XIV of his famous work _Contra legem
sarracenorum_, or _Improbatio Alchorani_, he treats of the legend of the
_Miraj_. Dante is known to have had dealings with the Dominican friars of
Santa Maria Novella; indeed, it appears that during his youth he attended
their cloister schools, where letters and sciences were also taught to
laymen.—_Note added since the publication of the Spanish original._]
[630] OZANAM, 437, 467.
[631] D’ANCONA, 108, 113.
[632] Cf. _Rassegna dantesca_, in “Giorn. stor. della letter. italiana”
(1914, Nos. 2-3), pp. 385, 390.
[633] That the lyrical and epic poetry of the then rising Christian
literatures were also influenced by Hispano-Moslem models has been
shown by my master RIBERA in his _Discursos de ingreso en las Academias
Española y de la Historia_ (Madrid, 1912 and 1915). He has also traced
the connection between Hispano-Moslem music and that of the French
troubadours, in _La música de las Cantigas_ (Madrid, 1922) and _La música
andaluza medieval en las canciones de trovadores y troveros_ (Madrid,
1923). How profound and extensive the influence of Arabic poetry was
has also been shown by S. SINGER, in _Arabische und Europäische Poesie
im Mittelalter_ (Berlin, 1918), and by BURDACH, in _Ueber den Ursprung
des Mittelalterlichen Minnesangs_ (Berlin, 1918); these authors give
the Arabic sources of poems such as _Floire et Blanchefleur_, _Aucassin
et Nicolette_, and legends such as that of the Grail, Parsifal, and
Tristan.—_Note added._
[634] Typical of the vogue for Arabic is the following text, taken from
the _Liber Adelardi Batensis de quibusdam naturalibus questionibus_ (MS.
Bibl. Escur., III, o, 2, fol. 74). Adelard of Bath was one of the learned
Englishmen who worked at the Toledan School of Translators. The text is
from the prologue and is addressed to a nephew.
“Meministi, nepos, quod, septennio iam transacto, cum te in gallicis
studiis pene puerum iuxta Laudisdunum una cum ceteris auditoribus in
eis dimiserim, id iter nos convenisse _ut arabum studia ego pro posse
meo scrutarer_.... Quod utrum recte expleverim re ipsa probari potest.
Hac precipue oportunitate quod _cum sarracenorum sentencias te sepe
exponentem auditor tantum noverim earumque non pauce satis utiles mihi
videantur_, pacienciam meam paulisper abrumpam, teque edisserente, ego
siccubi mihi videbitur obviabo. _Quippe et illos impudice extollis et
nostros detractionis modo inscitia invidiose arguis...._”
[635] _Opus majus_ (Edit. Jebe, 1733), p. 246:
“Latini nihil quod valet habent nisi ab aliis linguis....” _Ibid._ p.
476. “Et iam ex istis scientiis tribus patet mirabilis utilitas ...
contra inimicos fidei destruendos.”
[636] In so delicate a matter as the question of the union of the active
intellect with man, he declares (_Opera omnia_, III, 3, _De Anima_, 166):
“Nos autem dissentimus in paucis ab Averroe....” “His duobus
suppositis, accipimus alia duo ab Alfarabio....” “In causa
autem quam inducemus et modo, _convenimus_ in toto cum Averroe
et Avempace, in parte cum Alfarabio.”
and he rejects the opinion of the Latin scholars (_Ibid._ p. 143), “Sed
isti, absque dubio, numquam bene intentionem Aristotelis intellexerunt.”
[637] Cf. BLANQUERNA, II, 105, 134, 158-160 in RIBERA, _Lulio_, II,
193-197.
[638] IBN HAZM, _Fasl_, I, 72:
“... the countries in which there are none of the arts and sciences
mentioned (i.e., medicine, astronomy and the mechanical arts), such as
the countries of the Sudan and of the Slavs and among the majority of
peoples, both nomad and settled....”
SAID, _Tabaqat_, 8:
“The other peoples (apart from the Chinese and Turks) that do not
cultivate the sciences, resemble rather beasts than men; as regards those
that live in the lands of the far North, bordering on the uninhabited
part of the globe, the prolonged absence of the sun renders the air cold
and the atmosphere in which they live less clear; accordingly they are
men of a cold temperament and never reach maturity; they are of great
stature and of a white colour, with long and lank hair. But they lack all
sharpness of wit and penetration of intellect, and among them predominate
ignorance and stupidity, mental blindness, and barbarism. Such are the
Slavs, Bulgars and neighbouring peoples. (_Ibid._ 9) As to the Galicians
and Berbers, they are ignorant, rebellious and hostile people.”
It should be borne in mind that by “Galicians” are meant the Christian
inhabitants of the North-East of Spain and Portugal, and by “Slavs” and
“Bulgars” all the peoples of the North and East of Europe.
[639] The different opinions and bibliography on this point may be found
in SCARTAZZINI (_Inf._ VII, 1; XXXI, 67).
[640] _De vulgari eloquio_, I, ch. VI.
[641] _Inf._, IV, 143, 144.
[642] _Inf._, XXVIII, 22-63.
[643] See D’ANCONA (_Tesoro_, 186-277).
[644] Cf. FRANCESO DE BUTI’S commentary of the fourteenth century (in
D’ANCONA, _Tesoro_, 268):
“Ali, secondo ch’io truovo, fu discepolo di Maometto: ma per quel ch’io
credo, elli fu quel cherico che l’ammaestrò, lo quale elli chiama Ali
forse perchè in quella lingua così si chiama il maestro: ... Di queste
istorie m’abbi scusato tu, lettore, chè non se ne può trovare verità
certa.”
St. Peter Paschal, on the other hand, to whom Arabic sources were
available, knew about Ali and his death (Cf. ARMENGOL, IV, 10 and 61).
[645] _Inf._, XXVIII, 32-33.
[646] _Tarikh al-Khamis_, II, 312-314. _Isaba_, IV, 270. _Al-Fakhri_, 90.
[647] _Convito_, II, 14, 15; III, 2, 14; IV, 13, 21. _De Monarchia_, I, 4.
[648] Cf. ASÍN, _El Averroismo teológico de Santo Tomás de Aquino_,
299-306.
[649] _Sigieri di Brabante nella Div. Com. e le fonte della fil. di
Dante_ (_Rivista di fil. neoscolastica_, 1911-12). Cf. BRUNO NARDI,
_Intorno al tomismo di Dante e alla questione di Sigieri_ (_Giornale
Dantesco_, XXII, 5).
[650] Cf. ASÍN, _Abenmasarra_, 120, 121.
[651] _Futuhat_, I, 64-117.
[652] _Vita Nuova_, § XII.
[653] SUYUTI, _Al-Laali_, I, 15-17.
[654] _Futuhat_, II, 429.
[655] _Futuhat_, II, 895.
[656] _Par._ I, 1; XXXIII, 145. See NARDI, _Sigieri_, 39-41, and compare
with _Futuhat_, _loc. cit._
[657] Nicholson has translated the former into English under the title of
_Tarjuman al’Ashwâq_ (London, 1911). An edition of the latter, referred
to hereunder as _Dakhair_, appeared at Beyrout in 1894.
[658] _Convito_, II, 13, 16; III, 8, 12.
[659] _Convito_, II, 2.
[660] _Dakhair_, 78, 84, 85.
[661] _Dakhair_, 21.
[662] _Ibid._ 33.
[663] _Ibid._ 44, 45, 49.
[664] VOSSLER, I, 199-236. Cf. ROSSI, _Il dolce stil novo_, 35-97, and
ROSSI, _Storia_, I, 85-89 and 112-115.
[665] IBN QOTAIBA, _Liber poësis et poëtarum_, 260-4, 394-9.
[666] Cf. ASÍN, _Abenmasarra_, 13-16, and _Logia et agrapha D. Jesu_, 8.
[667] _Muhadara_, II, 205.
[668] Cf. IBN HAZM, _Tawq al-Hamama_; and ASÍN, _Caracteres_.
[669] Cf. _supra_, pp. 131-134.
[670] _Futuhat_, II, 426-481. The Arabic, and more particularly
Averrhoist, origin of the psychology of Cavalcanti had suggested itself
to Salvadori and Vossler. Cf. ROSSI, _Il dolce stil novo_, 94, note 66.
[671] _Futuhat_, II, 431.
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INDEX
Aaraf, El, derivation of, 83
Abbas, Ibn, 9, 87, 136
Abd Allah, son of Rawaha, 5
Abd Allah, voyage of, 212
Abd Allah ibn al-Mubarak, 133
Abd Allah ibn Sahloh, 245
Abd al-Malik Ibn Marwan, Caliph, torture of, 104
Abd ar-Rabihi, 9, 24
Abd ar-Rahman ibn Awf, legend of, 229
Abd ar-Rahman ibn Zayd, 133
Abraham, Garden of, 134
Abu Aldunya, Ibn, 224;
_hadith_ by, 230
Abu Bakr, 41
Abu Dolaf al-Ijli, in purgatory, 117
Abu Hurayra, _hadith_ of, 229
Abu Jahl, 91
Abu Kabir al-Hudali, the poet, 59
Abu Lahab, 58
Abu Laith, 39
Abu-l-Ala al-Maarri, the blind poet, 55;
history, 55 n;
_Risala al-ghufran_, 55-67, 74, 135
Abu-l-Hasan al-Ashari, 109
Abu-l-Hasan, Ali, 55 n
Abu Said al-Khadari, 183
Abu Talib, 5
Abu Ubayda, 56
Abu Yazid al-Bistami, 45
Accorso, Francisco de, 64
Acheronte, the monster, 186
Ad, wind of, 97, 173
Adam’s Peak, 124
Adelard of Bath, 257 n
_Adim_, or surface, 88
Ahmed ibn Abu-l-Hawari, 132
Al-Akhtal, the poet, 59
Al-Asmai, 56
Al-Awzai, legend of, 224
Albaida, Mount, 106
Alberic, Vision of, xvi, 191
Albumazar, 261
Aleppo, 55 n
Alexander the Great, 180;
voyage of, 204, 215
Alfarabius, 160, 261
Alfraganius, 261
_Al-Futuhat al-makkiya_, or _the Revelations of Mecca_, 47-51
Al-Gassaq, or infection, 90
Algazel, the great moralist, 79, 261;
_Minhaj_, 44 n;
views on paradise, 137;
_Ihia_, 162, 164, 189, 209;
theory of the Beatific Vision, 162;
_hadith_ by, 228
Al-Hajjaj, torture of, 104
Al-Hasan, _hadith_ by, 228
_Al-Hatma_, or greedy fire, 88
_Al-Hawiya_, or abysm, 88
_Al-Hazan_, or sorrow, 90
Al-Horayfish, 45 n
Al-Hutaiya, the poet, 58
Ali, 87, 216, 260;
torture of, 103
Ali al-Talhi, 132
Al-Idrisi, 206
_Al-Jahim_, or intense fire, 88
Al Jahiz, _Book of Animals_ or _Hayawan_, 107 n, 208, 214 n
_Al-Khabal_, or ruin, 90
Al-Khansa, the poetess, 58
Alpetragius, 261
Alphonso VI, Conqueror of Toledo, 244;
marriage, 244
Alphonso X, or the Wise, 244;
Governor of Murcia, 245;
_Grand e General Estoria d’Espanna_, 245, 249;
_Primera Crónica General_, 249 n
Al-Qama, the poet, 59
Alvaro of Cordova, _Indiculus luminosus_, 242, 248
_Al-Wayl_, or misery, 90
_Al-Yawaqit_, 44 n
Amador de los Ríos, 246 n, 250 n
Amari, _Storia dei musulmani di Sicilia_, 240 n
_Analecta Bollandiana_, x
Angels and Devils, debate between, for possession of the Soul,
legends of the, 226-232
Anselmo, Fr., de Turmeda, vii
Antaeus, the giant, 105
Antara, the epic poet, 59
Aquinas, St. Thomas, vii, 65;
_see_ St. Thomas
Arabi, Ibn, vii, 44 n;
_Al-Futuhat al-Makkiya_, xiii, 47-51, 92, 157-160, 172, 276;
_The Book of the Nocturnal Journey_, 45;
compared with the Divine Comedy, 51-54, 154-160, 172, 264-271,
275-277;
ascension, 74;
description of Hell, 92;
on the souls detained in the _sirat_, 115;
the two heavens, 138;
conception of paradise, 139, 150-152;
on the grades of Heaven and Hell, 145;
division of heaven into mansions, 147;
simile of the tree of happiness, 152;
distribution of the elect, 155;
description of the Beatific Vision, 157-160, 164;
symbol of the three circles, 168-171;
“The Interpreter of Love,” 267, 268;
“The Treasures of Lovers,” 267-271;
the psychology of love, 275
Arabian Nights Tales, 89 n
Arezzo, Guittone da, 64
Aristotle, _Apocryphal Theology_, 168
Armengol, Fr. Pedro, “El Obispo de Jaén sobre la seta Mahometana,”
250 n
Armorican monks, legend of, 218
Ash-Sharani, _Mizan_, 124 n
Asín y Palacios, Prof. Miguel, _La Escatología musulmana en la
Divina Comedia_, vii;
_Abenmasarra_, xiii, 24 n, 44 n, 45 n, 51 n, 81 n, 93 n, 107 n, 168
n, 208 n, 273 n;
_La mystique d’Al-Gazzali_, 81 n;
_La Psicología_, 165 n;
_El Averroismo teológico de Santo Tomás de Aquino_, 262 n
_As-Sair_, or flaming fire, 88
_As-Saqar_, or place of burning, 89
Ash-Shanfara, the poet, 60
Ash-Sharani, denounces Ibn Arabi, 44 n
_Atham_, or place of crimes, 90
_Athara_, or place of damp, 89
Avempace, 160
Averrhoes, vii, 65;
views on paradise, 138;
theory of the Beatific Vision, 160, 163;
in limbo, 259, 262
Avicenna, 160;
_Risala at-tayr_, 45 n;
in limbo, 259, 262
Aws ibn Hajar, the poet, 59
Ayshun, Ibn, 149
_Az-Zaqum_, a tree in hell, 111 n
Babelon, _Du Commerce des Arabes dans le nord de l’Europe avant les
croisades_, 239 n
Bacon, Roger, 257, 264
Balfour, Earl of, xi
Ballesteros, _Sevilla_, 246 n, 251 n
Banu Odhra, the Yemen tribe of, or “Children of Chastity,” 272
_Basit_, or plain, 88
Basset, René, “Histoire du Roi Sabour,” 111 n
Batiffol, _Anciennes Littératures chrétiennes: La Littérature
grecque_, 76 n
_Batih_, or place of torrents, 89
Batiouchkof, _Le débat de l’âme et du corps_, 183, 227
Batutah, Ibn, 124
Baxxar ibn Burd, the poet, 59
Beatific Vision, 148, 157-167, 173;
grades in, 166
Beatrice leads Dante to heaven, 11, 28, 52;
meeting with him, 70, 129, 173;
rebukes him, 122, 131
Beck, Friedrich, ix;
_Zeitschrift für Romanische Philologie_, 255 n
Belacqua, in the antechamber of purgatory, 117
Benjamin of Tudela, “Itinerary,” 239
Bertrand de Born, torture of, 103, 104
Bilal, 41, 203
Blochet, M., _Les sources orientales de la Divine Comédie_, xv n, 246
n;
_L’Ascension au ciel du prophète Mohammed_, 76 n
Boniface VIII, Pope, 252
Bonucci, Prof., ix
Boraq, the beast of heaven, 46, 48, 203
Brehier, _L’Église et l’orient au moyen âge_, 240 n
Briareus, the giant, 105
Brockelmann, 39 n, 45 n, 55 n
Bukhari, the critic, 200, 247
_Bulletin de littérature ecclésiastique_, x
_Bulletino della società dantesca italiana_, ix
Buonagiunta, the poet, 64
Burdach, _Ueber den Ursprung des Mittelalterlichen Minnesangs_, 257 n
Buxtorf, _Lexicon chaldaicum_, 91 n
Caaba, temple, 144, 270
Caballera, Prof., x
Cabaton, _Revue de l’Histoire des Religions_, 255 n
Cæsar of Heidenbach, 225
Caiaphas, tortures of, 101, 173
Cairo, celebration of the _Miraj_, 76
Cancellieri, Abbé, xvi, 191
Cantara, or place of expiation, 116
Capocchio of Sienna, 17, 69
Caronte, the boatman, 15
Carra de Vaux, _Fragment d’eschatologie musulmane_, 93 n, 152 n
Casella, the musician, 64
Cavalcanti, Guido, 255 n, 271
Ceylon, island of, 124
Chantepie, _Hist. des Rel._, 86 n, 91 n, 195 n, 228 n
Charlemagne, Emperor, 195
Charles, R., _The Apocalypse of Baruch_, 76 n;
_The Assumption of Moses_, 76 n
Chauvin, Victor, _Bibliographic des ouvrages arabes ou relatifs aux
Arabes_, 39 n, 89 n, 111 n, 206, 213 n
Chinvat, or luminous bridge, 115
Christian legends, origin, 177-179;
of paradise, 199-204;
sea voyages, 204;
sleepers, 216-218
Christianity, contact with Islam, 239-246
Circle, symbol of the, 168-171
Clair-Tisdall, _The Sources of Islam_, 76 n
Cock, Moslem legend of, 18, 29, 72
Cocytus lake, 106, 108
Cold, torture of, 106
Comettant, Oscar, _Civilisations inconnues_, 107 n
Constantinople, celebration of the _Miraj_, 76;
Council of, 222
_Convito_, the, 267, 276
_Corra_, the, 102, 120, 148, 165, 199 n, 231
_Corrat, Aloyun_, 130
Cosmo, Umberto, on the learning of Dante, 256
_Cour du paradis_, 200, 202
“Court of Holiness,” _hadiths_ of the, 201, 202
Crete, island of, 99 n
Crusades, influence of, 240
Cunizza, 65 n, 72
Dahlan, 110
Damiri, 18 n
D’Ancona, xvi, 32, 180, 184, 190, 214;
_Precursori_, xvii, 85 n, 141 n;
on the learning of Dante, 256
Daniel, Arnauld, 64
Dante, Divine Comedy, vii, xiii, 47, 62;
Moslem influences, xiii-xviii, 36, 234, 238, 255;
compared with the Nocturnal Journey of Mahomet, 3-9;
with his Ascension, 11, 14-17, 25-32;
conception of Hell, 14-17, 85, 88-111;
threefold purification, 37, 70, 112, 114, 122;
_Epistola a Can Grande della Scala_, 46 n, 51;
_Monarchia_, 47 n, 51;
compared with _Al-Futuhat_, 51-54, 264-271, 275-277;
visit to hell or purgatory, 63-67;
summary of comparisons, 67-76;
compared with other Moslem legends on the after-life, 79;
the limbo, 82;
description of a hellish storm, 97;
tortures of sinners in Hell, 98-110, 117-121;
on the fall of Lucifer, 110;
conception of Purgatory, 111-116;
the earthly paradise, or Garden of Eden, 121-135;
the site, 122-125;
meeting with Beatrice, 129, 131, 173;
temperament, 129;
the Celestial Paradise, 135, 140-142, 145;
the _Paradiso_, 142, 199;
site of glory or celestial Jerusalem, 143;
simile of the rose, 145, 151;
distribution of the blessed, 146, 156;
compared with Ibn Arabi’s paradise, 154-160;
on the Beatific Vision, 163, 166;
geometrical symbol of the three circles, 167, 171;
analogies with Islamic literature, 171-174;
in Rome, 252;
attraction for Islamic culture, 256, 259, 264, 275;
knowledge of Semitic languages, 258;
_De vulgari eloquio_, 259, 261;
portrayal of Mahomet, 260;
sketch of Ali, 261;
sympathy with Moslem philosophers and men of science, 261-263;
_Vita Nuova_, 266;
the _Convito_, 267
Dardir, 40 n, 41 n
Daud, Ibn, legend of, 229;
_Book of Venus_, 273
De Goeje, _Légende St. Brandan_, 206-208, 214
_De Haeresibus_, 81 n
Devils and Angels, Debate between, for possession of the Soul,
legends of the, 226-232
D’Herbelot, _Bibliothèque Orientale_, 123 n
Dis, city of, 16, 69, 98
Divine Comedy, Moslem influences, vii, xiii, 36, 234, 238, 255;
character, 63;
personages, 63;
_see_ Dante
Diyarbakri, _Tarikh al-Khamis_, 124 n
Donati, Piccarda, 65, 72
Dozy, _Recherches_, 240 n
Ducange, _Glossarium_, 81 n
Dulcarnain, legend of, 205, 210, 215
Eagle, vision of the, 29, 72
Earth, division of the, 110
Earths, the seven, 88
Edda, The Song of the Sun in the, 192
Eden, Garden of, 121, 134;
site, 122-125
Ephesus, Seven Sleepers of, 220-222
Ephialtes, the giant, 90, 105, 106
_Escatología musulmana en la Divina Comedia, La_, vii
Esperaindeo, Abbot, _Apologetico contra Mahoma_, 248
Eunoe, river of, 37, 70, 114, 122
Euphrates, the, 11;
source of, 99 n
Fakhr ad-Din ar-Razi, scheme of paradise, 149
Fatima, 57 n
Felicity, Tree of, 24, 152, 154
Felix, the Cistercian monk, legend of, 217
Ferdinand the Saint, 245
Fibonacci, Leonardo, 255 n
Fire, torment of, 121, 184 n
Florence, Council of, 112
Fraticelli, _Figura universale della D.C._, 14 n, 37 n, 47 n, 86 n,
143 n
Frederick, King of Sicily, 241
Frezzi, Federigo, _Quadriregio_, 154
Frisian sailors, legend of, 215
Gabriel, accompanies Mahomet to Heaven, 10, 12, 18-24, 28, 33-35, 68
Gabrieli, “Intorno alle fonti orientali della Divina Commedia,” 255 n
Gayangos Collection, 39 n, 40 n, 41 n, 43 n, 45 n, 87 n, 88 n, 96 n,
100 n
Gehenna or _Jahannam_, 88
Ghiti, 40 n, 41 n
Giacomino of Verona, the minstrel, 201
González, Fernández y, _Mudéjares_, 244 n
Graf, xvi, 32, 184, 214, 223;
_Demonologia di Dante_, 108, 227;
on the site of the earthly paradise, 122, 125;
the Christian legends, 178;
origin of the _Three Monks of the East_, 180
Griffolino of Arezzo, 17, 69
Gubernatis, _Dante e l’India_, 124 n
Guidi, _Sette Dormiente_, 221
Guinicelli, Guido, the poet, 64, 271
_Hadiths_, or traditions on the After-life, 247
Hakki, Ibrahim, _Maʿrifet Nameh_, 93
Hales, Alexander, 264
Hamduna, 57, 65, 73
Hamza, 57 n
Haritha, 5, 41
Hassen Husny Abdul-Wahab, 45 n
_Hayn_, or region of adversity, 89
Hazm, Ibn, 258;
theory of the Beatific Vision, 163;
“Necklace of the Dove,” 273;
“Characters and Conduct,” 273
Heat, torture of, 106
Heaven, grades of, 145, 149 n;
division into seven mansions, 147
Heavens, the seven, 10, 18, 88;
the nine astronomical, 48-50, 72, 142;
the two, 138
Hell, the four rivers, 99 n;
torments of, 173, 183, 187;
division, 194, 232;
gates, 194;
legends of visions of, 180-195;
respite of sinners from tortures, 222-226
Hell, the Moslem, 14, 85-111;
torments, 17, 96-110;
depth, 86, 92;
mouth, 86;
structure, 87;
seven gates, 87;
divisions, 88;
storm, 97;
giants, 105-110
Hells, the two, 114
Henry III, Emperor, 195
Hijr, Ibn, _Isaba_, 213 n
Hirschfeld, _Researches into ... the Qurân_, 76 n
“Historia Arabum,” 249, 254
Holy Land, pilgrimages to the, 239
_House of Habitation_, temple, 11, 12, 50, 144
Hugh of St. Victor, 113
Hyacinth, Mount of the, 124
Hypocrites, torture of, 101
Iblis, king of the infernal regions, 58, 89;
torture of, 92 n, 106, 109;
legend of, 111
Ida, Mount, 99 n
_Ikhwan Assafa_, or Brethren of Purity, vii, 123
Illuministic mystics, 264
_Imram Maelduin_, 208 n
Imru-l-Qays, the poet, 59, 60, 70, 135
Interián de Ayala, “El pintor Cristiano y erudito,” 197
Ischia, island of, 223
Ishac, 9
Ishaq ibn Hunayn, 253 n
_Ishraqi_ mystics, 264;
doctrine, 165;
symbol of the circle, 168
Islam, doctrine on the future life, 79, 86, 233;
the earthly paradise, or Garden of Eden, 121-135;
the Celestial Paradise, 135-171;
analogies with the Divine Comedy, 171-174;
influence on Christian legends, 179;
legends of, 185;
on sea voyages, 205;
sleepers, 218-222;
belief in the respite from torture, 223-226;
_hadiths_ on Angels and Demons, 228-232;
contact with Christianity, 239-246
Ismail ibn Hayyan, 134
_Isra_, or Nocturnal Journey of Mahomet, xiv, 3-9;
First Cycle, Version A, 4-6;
Version B, 6-9;
fusion with the _Miraj_, 33-38;
Version of Cycle III, 33
Italy, the _dolce stil nuovo_ poetry, origin, 271
Izzu’d-Din ibn Abd as-Salam, on the grades of heaven, 149 n
Jabir ibn Abd Allah, _hadith_ by, 228
Jafar, 5
_Jahannam_, or Gehenna, 88
Jahiz, _Hayawan_, 107
Jerusalem, celestial, site of, 143, 144;
Church of the Holy Sepulchre, 214 n
Jihun, the, source of, 99 n;
monks of, legend, 217
Joachim, Abbot, vision of the, 193
Jourdain, _Recherches sur les anciennes traductions latines
d’Aristote_, 245 n, 248 n
Jubinal, “Le vergier du paradis,” 200
Jurayj, Ibn, 194
Kaab al-Akhbar, 143, 189
_Kanz_, 86 n, 87 n, 91 n
Karizme, Prince of, voyage, 205, 206
Kasimirski, 84 n, 86 n, 97 n
Kauthar, the river of paradise, 24, 203
Khadija, 57 n
_Khandaq as-Sokran_, or pit, 90
_Kharida_, 97 n
Khaytaur, 58, 66, 68
Khazin, _Tafsir_, 87 n, 97 n, 98 n
Khidr, legends on, 213
Koran, the, 11, 24, 83, 230;
paradise of, 136, 141;
translations of the, 245, 248;
houris, 274
Labitte, xvi, 32, 180;
opinion of the Voyage of St. Brandan, 214
La Fuente, _Hist. de las Universidades_, 246 n
_Lamlam_, or round valley, 90, 102
Landino, Christoforo, 37 n;
on Dante’s conception of Hell, 85;
on purgatory, 113
Lane, _An Account of the Manners and Customs of the Modern
Egyptians_, 76 n
La Pia of Sienna, 65
Latini, Brunetto, tutor to Dante, 64, 252;
tortures in Hell, 98;
“Tesoretto,” 252;
“Tesoro,” 252, 254;
Ambassador to Toledo, 254
_Lazi_, or glowing fire, 88
Leire, monastery of, 248
Lentino, Jacopo da, 64
Lethe, river of, 37, 70, 114, 122
Limbo, the, 81;
the Moslem, 83
Limbus, the, 81, 83
Lotus-tree of the Boundary, 11, 12, 24, 35
Lucifer, 89;
position in Hell, 108;
appearance, 109;
fall, 110;
tortures, 173, 188
Lull, Raymond, vii, 139, 255 n, 257, 264;
_Liber de Gentili_, 140 n
Maarrat Alnoman, 55 n
Magnus, Albertus, 257
Mahomet, _Isra_, or Nocturnal Journey, xiv, 3-9, 32-38;
_Miraj_, or Ascension, xiv, 9-38, 199, 247, 251;
theological commentaries on the legend, 38-42;
Adaptations from the Legend, mainly mystical Allegories, 42-54;
literary imitations, 54-67;
summary of comparisons, 67-76;
intercedes for sinners, legend of, 185, 198;
_hadith_ by, 230;
in Hell, 259;
misrepresentations of, 260
Makhluf, Ibn, 44 n, 85 n, 98 n, 99 n, 149 n
Mâle, “L’art religieux du XIIIme siècle en France,” 196
Malebolge, valley of, 99
Malikan, the beast, 110
Manfred of Sicily, in the antechamber of purgatory, 117
Margrave, Hugh, 187
Martin, François, _Le Livre d’Henoch_, 76 n
Martin, Raymond, 139;
_Explanatio Simboli_, 140 n, 250 n
Masarra, Ibn, xiii, 264, 276
_Masika_, or store, 89
Matilda, 37, 70, 122
_Maubiq_, or perdition, 90
Maymun al-Asha, 56
Maysara, 9, 24
Mecca, Mosque of, 10
Minos, the Keeper of Hell, 8, 13, 16, 18
_Miraj_, or Ascension of Mahomet, xiv, 9-24;
Second Cycle, 9;
Version A, 10-12;
Version B, 12-18;
Version C, 18-32;
fusion with the _Isra_, 33-38;
Version of Cycle III, 33
Modi, _Dante papers_, 76 n
Mondir ibn Said al-Belloti, 123
_Monks of the East, Three_, 180-182
Montecasino, Monastery of, 191
Moreno, Gomez, _Iglesias mozárabes_, 243 n
Morocco, celebration of the _Miraj_, 76
Mosca degli Uberti, torture of, 103, 104
Moslem legend of Mahomet’s Nocturnal Journey, 3;
on the after-life, compared with the Divine Comedy, 79;
purgatory, 80, 111-121;
limbo, 81, 83;
hell, 85;
conception of paradise, 200;
legends of sea voyages, 205;
influences on the Divine Comedy, 234, 238, 256, 275-277;
legends on the after-life, transmission to Christian Europe and
Dante, 246-255;
aversion to writing, 247 n
Mozarabs, the, 242
Muawya, Caliph, _hadith_ of, 229
Mudejars, the, 244
Muhalhil, the poet, 60
Muhammad ar-Riquti, 245
Muljam, Ibn, 261
Murcia, recapture of, 245
Muslim, the critic, 200, 247, 250
_Muspilli_, 227, 231 n
Muta, battle of, 5
Nallino, Prof., ix;
_Rivista degli Studi Orientali_, 255 n
Nardi, Bruno, xiii n;
_Sigieri di Brabante_, 262 n, 267 n
_Neuphilologische Mitteilungen_, x
Nicholas IV, Pope, 250, 252
Nicholson, 55 n;
translation of “The Interpreter of Love,” 267 n
Nile, the, 11;
source of, 99 n
Nimrod, in Hell, 105
Normans, the, administration of Sicily, 240
_Nuova Antologia_, ix
Oderisi, the painter, 64
Omar, 9
Ozanam, xvi, xvii n, 32, 180, 192;
on the learning of Dante, 256
Palermo, 241
Paradise, entry of the blessed soul into, 130;
legends of, 199-204;
the Celestial, 135-171;
site of, 143;
spheres, 150;
grades, 151;
distribution of the elect, 155;
Earthly, 121-135;
site, 122-125;
description, 126-128;
legends of, 130-134
_Paradiso_, the, 11, 24, 41;
compared with the legend of the Ascension of Mahomet, 25-32;
scheme of the, 142;
the nine astronomical heavens, 142
Parodi, Prof., ix
Perrone, _Praelectiones theol._, 82 n, 143 n
Petavius, _Dogm. Theolog._, 81 n;
on the _lumen gloriae_, 161
Pistelli, E., _L’ultimo canto della D.C._, 168 n
Plotinus, 162
Porena, Manfredi, 14 n;
“Commento grafico alla Divina Commedia per use delle scuole,” 93,
152
Pozzuoli, 223
Priscian, the grammarian, 64
Purgatory, the Christian, 80;
the Moslem, 80, 111-121;
site of, 112;
punishments, 117-121
Qaim al-Jawziya, _Miftah_, 123 n
Qarih, Ibn al-, travels in the celestial regions, 55-58, 60;
in hell, 58-61
Qasi, Ibn, 93 n
_Qisas_, 81 n, 88 n, 97 n, 105 n, 111 n, 213 n
Qotaiba, Ibn, _Liber poësis et poëtarum_, 273 n
Qummi, _Tafsir_, 45 n
Rada, Archbishop Rodrigo Jimenez de, “Historia Arabum,” 249, 254
Rafraf, or shining wreath, 48
Rajna, Pio, viii
_Rasail_, or encyclopædia, 123
Rawaha, 5
Raymond, Archbishop, translation of Arabic books, 244, 248
Reclus, _Géogr. Univ._, 124 n
Regio Emilia, vision of the Bard of, 193
Renan, opinion of the voyage of St. Brandan, 214
_Revue de littérature comparée_, xi
Ribera, Julián, vii;
_Orígenes del Justicia de Aragón_, 237 n, 244 n;
_Discursos de ingreso en las Academias Española y de la Historia_,
257 n
Ricardo de Media Villa, 113
Ricoldo de Monte Croce, the Dominican, 255 n
Ridwan, the angel, 130
_Risala al-ghufran_, or Treatise on Pardon, 55-67, 74, 135
_Rivista degli studi orientali_, ix
_Rivista di Studi filosofici e religiosi_, ix
Robert of Reading, Archdeacon of Pamplona, Latin version of the
Koran, 248
Roger II, King, at Palermo, 241
Rossi, 8 n, 14 n, 25 n, 44 n, 47 n, 53 n, 63 n, 65 n, 66 n, 86 n, 88
n;
on Dante’s conception of Hell, 85
Rudolph, King, of Burgundy, 193
Sad Valley, 102
Said of Toledo, 258
St. Ambrose, 161
St. Augustine, 161
St. Brandan, voyage of, 206-214, 233
St. Epiphanes, 161
St. Eulogius, _Memoriale Sanctum_, 248
St. Isidore, conception of Hell, 91 n
St. John Chrysostom, 161
St. Macarius, legend of, 180-182
St. Michael, 196, 197
St. Patrick, Legend of Purgatory of, 190
St. Paul, Vision of, 182-185, 223
St. Paul, the hermit, 213
St. Peter Damian, legend by, 223
St. Peter Paschal, Bishop of Jaen, “Impunaçion de la seta de
Mahomah,” 250;
history of, 250;
in Rome, 252
St. Thomas Aquinas, vii, 65, 113;
_Summa Theologica_, 81 n, 91 n, 143 n;
on the Beatific Vision, 160, 163
Saladin, 262
Salman, _hadith_ by, 228
Salomo, Emmanuel Ben, 255 n
San Amaro, legend of, 218
_Saqar_, or burning fire, 88
Scartazzini, 37 n
Schiaparelli, _Ibn Giobeir_, 240 n
Schroeder, _Sanct Brandan_, 207
Scotus, Duns, 264
Sea Voyages, legends of, 204-216
Seville, recapture of, 245;
Latin and Arabic College founded at, 245
Shahr ibn Hawshab, legend of, 230
Shakir ibn Muslim, 149;
legend of the earthly paradise, 126-128
Shiites, the, 260
Sicily, conquered by the Normans, 240;
population, 241
Sigier of Brabant, 65, 262
Sihun, the, source of, 99 n
_Sijin_, or dungeon, 89, 90
Simonet, _Hist. mozárabes_, 243 n
Sindbad the Sailor, voyage of, 205, 206, 207
Singer, S., _Arabische und Europäische Poesie im Mittelalter_, 257 n
_Sirat_, the, or path of purgatory, 125, 126, 183;
souls detained in, 115, 120
Sleepers, legends of, 216-222
Söderhjelm, Prof., x
Sodomites, the, torture of, 98, 173
Sordello, the poet, 64
Soul, debate between Angels and Devils for possession of the, legends
of, 226-232
Souls, weighing of, legends on the, 195-199
Spain, contact with Islam, 242;
the centre of Western culture, 243;
study of Moslem legends on the after-life, 247
Statius, Papinius, 64
Stygian Lake, 16
Sufis, or mystics, doctrine, 44-46, 273
Sulayman, 9
Sulayman ad-Darani, 132
Sundby, _Della vita e delle opere di Brunetto Latini_, 252 n, 253 n
Sunderland, Harold L., xi
Suyuti, _Al-Laali_, 266 n;
_Sudur_, 104 n, 117 n, 226
Tabari, _Tafsir_, 33, 35, 41 n, 87 n, 91 n, 100
Tabatasharran, the poet, 60
Tabrani, _hadith_ by, 266
_Tadhkira_, the, or Memorial of the Future Life, 44 n, 90 n, 105 n,
121 n, 149, 184, 186, 189
_Tafsir_, or commentary on the Koran, 33
Tarafa, the poet, 59
Tawfiq, 58, 65, 73
Thaalabi, _Qisas_, 88 n
_Thaqil_, or region of distress, 89
Thomist doctrine, 165, 263
Tisserant, Eugène, _Ascension d’Isaie_, 76 n
Tixeront, _Hist. des dogmes_, 83 n
Toledo, 244
Torraca, xv n, xvi n
Torture, respite from, legends of the, 222-226
Toynbee, Paget, 261
Trent, Council of, 112
Trismegistus, Hermes, 168
Tufayl, Ibn, _Self-taught Philosopher, or Epistle of Hayy ibn
Yaqzan_, 51 n
Tundal, legend of, 186
Turcill, vision of, 193
Ulysses and the syrens, fable of, 37 n
Utba, 58
Utba al-Ghulam, 132
Van Tieghem, Prof., x;
_Revue de littérature comparée_, 255 n
Virâf, Ardâ, 76 n, 246 n
Virey, _Relig. anc. Égypte_, 195 n
Virgil, 64, 66;
guides Dante through Hell, 68, 82
_Visione dei gaudii de’ santi_, 201
Vossler, 36, 66 n, 172 n, 193, 272;
on the prehistory of the Divine Comedy, 85
Wahab, 9
Wahab, Ibn, 131
Wahb ibn Al-Ward, _hadith_ by, 228
Wahb ibn Munabbih, 88 n, 144
Wicksteed, Rev. P. H., _The Temple Classics_, 27 n
Wüstenfeld, _Die Übersetzungen arabischer Werke_, 248 n
Yaqut’s Dictionary, 55 n
Yazid, Caliph, 59
Zahir ibn Rustam, 269
_Zal Yahmum_, mountain, 90
_Zamharir_, or frozen lake, 107, 173
Zayd, 5, 41
_Zeitschrift fuer romanische Philologie_, ix
Zemzem, well of, 10
Zodiac, the, 50
Zoroastrian religion, 107, 227
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