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._