PART I
_THE LEGEND OF THE NOCTURNAL JOURNEY AND ASCENSION OF MAHOMET COMPARED WITH THE DIVINE COMEDY_
I
THE ORIGIN OF THE LEGEND
1. The Moslem legend of Mahomet’s nocturnal journey and ascent to the spheres of after-life originated and developed like most religious legends. Born of a brief passage in Revelations, in its very obscurity it defied theological interpretation. But what baffled the sages in their agnosticism kindled the imagination of the faithful masses, and the details of a story founded upon the sacred text were readily conceived.
One brief allusion only appears in the Koran: “Praised be He [the Lord]”—runs the first verse of the seventeenth chapter—“who called upon His servant [Mahomet] to travel by night from the sacred temple [of Mecca] to the far-off temple [of Jerusalem] whose precinct We have blessed, in order to show him Our wonders.”
2. The mysterious allusion seems from the first to have aroused the curiosity of pious Moslems. A rich crop of legends sprang up as if by magic. The vivid imagination of the East had been fired, and the myth of the nightly journey was soon clothed with a wealth of detail and set in a wonderful variety of episode and scenery.
The entire records of the evolution of the legend in all its ramifications would fill volumes. Around an insignificant verselet of the Koran a plot was woven, and the story developed in the form of _hadiths_ or traditions of the Prophet, who was supposed to describe the wonders he saw on that memorable night. In the following pages an endeavour has been made to lay before the reader some of the principal versions extant. These have been divided into three cycles or groups, which begin with the simple, fragmentary types, and end with those in which Oriental fantasy reaches its climax.
II
FIRST CYCLE—VERSIONS OF THE “ISRA,” OR NOCTURNAL JOURNEY
1. The simplest cycle seems to be one of the ninth century that is formed of six _hadiths_, in each of which, with slight variations, Mahomet is made to tell the story of an _Isra_, or journey by night on earth. Few topographical details, however, are given, and no mention is made of an ascent to celestial spheres.
In the following summaries the two main versions are compared with the Divine Comedy.
_Version A of Cycle I_
2. Mahomet relates to his disciples how he was awakened from sleep by a man who leads him to the foot of a steep mountain. To climb this, as he is urged to do, seems impossible; but, heartened by his guide, he begins the ascent and eventually reaches the high table-land at the top of the mountain. Proceeding on their way, Mahomet and his guide witness six scenes, one after another, of horrible torture. Men and women with lips torn asunder; others whose eyes and ears are pierced by arrows; women hanging by their heels while vipers sting their breasts; others, both men and women, that likewise hanging suck up in agony the stagnant water from off the ground; then, wretched creatures in filthy clothes who reek as of latrines; and lastly, corpses in the last, abominable stages of putrefaction. These punishments, the guide explains to Mahomet, are meted out in turn to liars; those that have sinned with eyes or ears; to mothers who have refused to suckle their children; to violators of the fast; adulterers; and to unbelievers. Continuing their journey, the travellers suddenly find themselves enveloped in a cloud of smoke; and they hear a confused noise as of mingled cries of pain and fury. Gehenna is there; and Mahomet is urged to pass on.
Men sleeping peacefully in the shade of trees are now designated as the bodies of those who died in the faith. Children at play are the offspring of true believers. The men with the white, godlike features, who are robed in fine clothes and are exquisitely perfumed, are the true friends of God, His martyrs and saints. On they go, and now Mahomet descries three well-known figures drinking wine and singing psalms. One is Zayd, the son of Haritha, a slave who for love of Mahomet sacrificed his freedom. Had he not fallen in the battle of Muta, when a general in the Prophet’s armies, he would assuredly have been Mahomet’s successor. The second is Jafar, son of Abu Talib and cousin to Mahomet, who was killed in the same battle, after having preached the faith of Islam in Abyssinia. The third is Abd Allah, the son of Rawaha, the scribe and intimate friend of the Prophet, who also died at Muta. The three greet Mahomet with cries of love and allegiance. At the final stage Mahomet raises his eyes to Heaven and beholds Abraham, Moses, and Jesus, who, gathered around the Throne of God, await his coming.
3. This embryonic version, simple though it may be, has its points of coincidence with Dante’s poem.[9] In each case it is the protagonist himself who recounts his adventures. Each makes the journey by night, led by an unknown guide who appears to him on awaking from a profound sleep. In both legends the first stage comprises the ascent of a steep mountain. Purgatory, hell, and paradise are by both visited in succession, although the sequence and detail differ. The first five torments witnessed by Mahomet represent the purgatory of Islam. The sixth, as also Gehenna, which follows it, is the hell of unbelievers. The remaining episodes deal with the paradise of children, and the heavens of the faithful, of saints, martyrs, and prophets. Both stories end with the vision of the Divine Throne. The sins or virtues of the dwellers of each abode are explained by the guide, and from time to time the visitor attempts to converse with the souls of men once known to him.
4. Apart from the general outlines, there are few features in common. Even between the torments there is little similarity. With the introductions to the two stories, however, it is different. The description in the Islamic legend of the lofty mountain; Mahomet’s dismay at having to climb it; his guide’s assurance of help; and, finally, the ascent itself, when Mahomet follows in his guide’s footsteps; all are features bearing a striking resemblance to Dante’s Inferno, and, especially, his Purgatory.[10] Moreover, Dante is warned of the approach to hell by the same sign as Mahomet—a confused noise as of “parole di dolore, accenti d’ira.”[11]
_Version B of Cycle I_[12]
5. Mahomet is suddenly awakened by two persons; who, taking him by the arm, call upon him to rise and follow them. On reaching the outskirts of Jerusalem, the visions of the after-world begin. The guides, in this version, refuse to answer any questions, bidding Mahomet wait until the end of the journey for an interpretation of what he sees. The first five visions correspond, as in Version A, to the purgatory of Islam.
The Prophet sees a man supine at the feet of another—man, angel or demon. The latter hurls an enormous boulder down upon his victim’s head, crushing his brain. The rock rolls on and, when the torturer recovers it, he finds his victim whole as before; and so the torture is renewed without end. Mahomet stands aghast and asks what crimes the wretch has committed. But his guides hurry him on to where another tormentor is forcing an iron javelin into the mouth of another sufferer, lacerating his cheeks, eyes and nostrils. Farther on, Mahomet sees a man struggling in a river red with blood and seething like boiling pitch. Vainly does he strive to gain the shore, for at each effort a fiend forces red hot stones down his throat, obliging him to swim back into the middle of the stream. This torture, like the previous one, is everlasting. Still farther, they come to a tubular structure, broad at the base and narrow at the top; and through the walls comes an uproar as of human voices. The interior, Mahomet finds, is like a glowing oven, where men and women ceaselessly writhe, now being flung upwards, now sinking to the bottom, as the heat of the flames increases and diminishes. The scene recurs again and again, and the horror is accentuated by the shrieks of the victims. At length, Mahomet reaches the summit of a dark hill, where men, raving like madmen, exhale, through their mouths, nostrils, eyes and ears, the fire that has been infused into them.
Here, the tortures end. A few steps further on is a garden, green with eternal spring. At the entrance two men, one repulsively ugly, are feeding the flames of a fire with wood. Within, at the foot of a spreading tree and surrounded by lovely children, they see a venerable old man, so tall that his head touches the sky. Ascending by the tree, Mahomet comes to a beautiful abode, like a city of silver and gold, inhabited by men, women and children; some, white and handsome, others black and ugly. A mighty river, whose water is clearer than crystal, separates this from another, larger city. In this river, at the bidding of Mahomet’s guides, the black and ugly bathe and from it emerge purified and transformed into beings of beauty. Mahomet drinks of the water and, again ascending by the tree, reaches an even more beautiful place, inhabited by men both young and old.
At this juncture Mahomet rebels against the silence of his guides, and at last they consent to explain each vision to him. The wretch whose head was being crushed is the hypocrite who, though outwardly professing to honour the holy book, fails to abide by its precepts. He whose mouth is being torn asunder is the liar, backbiter and violator of the fast. The swimmer in the river of blood is the usurer. Those writhing in the furnace are adulterers. The men on the black hill being consumed by fire are Sodomites. The man of repulsive aspect is the steward of hell, who appoints to each his torture. The venerable old man is Abraham, who gathers to his bosom children who die before reaching the age of reason. The first abode is the paradise of true believers; and Moslems, who have sinned but die repentant, must wash away their sins in the river before they can enter heaven. The second is the mansion of the martyrs. All the visions explained, the guides, who make themselves known as Gabriel and Michael, call upon Mahomet to raise his eyes, and in amazement he beholds afar off a castle like a white cloud. This, his guides tell him, is the celestial mansion that awaits him, close to the throne of God. Mahomet would fain enter it at once, but his guides dissuade him, bidding him await his time.
6. This version shows an advance in its descriptive features, which are more suggestive of Dante’s scenes. As in the Divine Comedy, the four spheres of after-life—purgatory, Abraham’s bosom, hell, and paradise—are staged separately, although on one plane until paradise is reached by means of a tree that leads, not as in later versions, to several celestial spheres, but to one only. Neither is Mahomet led, as formerly, by one guide; although the two are angels and not, as in Dante, humans. For the first time, too, mention is made of the steward who, like Dante’s Minos, awards the tortures to the damned.[13] But these details are of less importance than other characteristic features. As in Dante,[14] Jerusalem is the starting-point in this version of the Moslem myth. Again, Dante’s commentators are agreed upon the correlativity of the punishments with the sins committed, which is also a feature in the Moslem Versions A and B—the sinner suffers in the members or organs that served the deed.[15]
7. But coincidence between Version B and Dante’s text is most marked in the torture of adulterers and usurers. The naked men and women writhing in a furnace inevitably suggest the adulterers in Dante who are incessantly swept on by the gale of hell.[16] Even more striking is Dante’s adaptation of the Moslem punishment of usurers to those who committed violence and deeds of blood. Submerged in the deep waters of a river of blood, they, like the usurers, strive to gain the shore, only to be forced back by the Centaur archers (who take the place of the simpler stone-throwers in the Moslem legend).[17] So strikingly alike are these two features that other instances of resemblance lose by comparison; as the torture of the Sodomites, burnt inwardly in the Moslem story, and rained upon by fire, in Dante[18]; or the rivers that in both legends separate purgatory from paradise and of whose sweet waters both Dante and Mahomet drink.[19]
III
SECOND CYCLE—VERSIONS OF THE “MIRAJ” OR ASCENSION
1. The legends of the second cycle date as far back as those of the first. They are, however, grouped apart, for, whereas the former are concerned almost exclusively with the _Miraj_ or ascension, the latter have as their main theme the Isra or nocturnal journey on earth.
2. There are three main versions of the legends forming this second cycle. The first and most authentic comes to us on the authority of Bukhari and Muslim and must, therefore, be considerably older than the ninth century. Of the second version only one fragment is quoted. Here the authorship is doubtful, although it is attributed to Ibn Abbas, a kinsman of Mahomet, and may thus have been the work of an Egyptian author of the ninth century, Ishac the son of Wahab. The third version is generally regarded as apocryphal; it may have been the work of a Persian of the eighth century, Maysara son of Abd ar-Rabihi, or of Omar son of Sulayman, who lived in Damascus in that century. Summaries of the three versions are as follows:—
_Version A of Cycle II_
3. In his house (or, according to other versions, in the Mosque) at Mecca Mahomet is awakened by Gabriel, who, either alone or helped by angels in human form, prepares the Prophet for the ascension. His breast is opened and his heart extracted and washed in water brought in a golden cup from the well of Zemzem; his breast is then filled with faith and wisdom. Thereupon Gabriel takes him by the hand, and the ascent begins, either from the Mosque of Mecca itself or, as in other versions, the Temple of Jerusalem. Descriptions of the ascension differ, but, generally, Mahomet, holding Gabriel’s hand, is made to rise through the air in flight. In some versions (as in B of the first cycle) the two are raised to heaven by the miraculous growth of a tree; in others, a celestial animal, larger than an ass but smaller than a mule, carries Mahomet, or Mahomet and his guide, from Mecca to Jerusalem, the gates of paradise and, lastly, the Throne of God. Of the ascension proper there are ten stages.
The first seven correspond to the seven heavens of the astronomers, but are numbered and not named after their respective stars. The scene at each is repeated with true Oriental monotony. Gabriel knocks, and is asked by the guardian who is without and, upon Gabriel’s answering, the guardian asks whether he is alone. When the guardian is satisfied that God has really sent Mahomet as His Prophet, he welcomes the travellers and bids them enter. In each heaven one or more prophets are presented to Mahomet, who is acclaimed Holy Prophet and, at times, holy son or brother.
The order in which the prophets appear is generally: Adam, Jesus and John, Joseph, Idris (or Enoch), Aaron, Moses, and Abraham. Of these characteristic descriptions at times are given. Adam is seen between two hosts of men, now smiling now weeping, as he glances to the right and left alternately. Mahomet learns from Gabriel that these hosts are the blessed and the damned. The cousins Jesus and John appear together; Jesus, of medium stature, with a fair complexion, and fresh as if just coming from his bath. Joseph is of wonderful beauty. Moses, with flowing curls, tall and of stately appearance, bursts into tears when he is reminded that more Islamites will find salvation than those of his faith. Lastly, Abraham, to whom Mahomet bears a greater resemblance than any son, is seen leaning against the temple wall of the celestial Jerusalem, a replica of the earthly city. Every day seventy thousand angels visit this temple, which in the _Koran_ is known as the _House of Habitation_.[20]
The visit to this temple occupies the eighth stage of the ascension, or the ninth in those versions that introduce the vision of a gigantic tree of paradise, called in the _Koran_ the _Lotus-tree of the Boundary_[21]; for neither man nor angel may pass beyond it when nearing God. Of fabulous size, its leaves are as large as the ears of an elephant and its fruit, like pitchers. From its root spring four rivers: two hidden that water Paradise, and two visible, the Euphrates and the Nile, that irrigate the earth. Here, or previously, Mahomet is proffered glasses of wine, milk, and honey; he chooses the milk and is applauded by Gabriel for so doing, inasmuch as his religion is based on nature. The last stage has now been reached, Mahomet beholds the Throne of God, and the Almighty Himself reveals to him His mysteries.
Among these revelations is God’s commandment, to be transmitted by Mahomet to his people, ordaining fifty prayers each day. On his descent the Prophet communicates this commandment to Moses, who urges him four times to return and beseech the Almighty to reduce the number; and the prayers finally are reduced to five. Again Moses calls upon him to return, but Mahomet is loth to do so, and the descent is completed without further incident.
4. In this version there is no allusion to hell or purgatory, so that it is only to the _Paradiso_, or third part of Dante’s poem, that any resemblance exists. The general lines of action in both stories are, however, strikingly similar. Mahomet, purified like Dante, rises through the air holding Gabriel’s hand just as Dante is led by Beatrice. In both stories there are as many stages as astronomical heavens. The difference in number and designation merely denotes the superior scientific knowledge of a cultured poet whose work appeared five centuries later than the tales of those inerudite Moslem dreamers. Apart from this, it is clear that the seven heavens traversed by Mahomet are identical with those that Dante names after the seven stars of the Ptolemaic system; the Moon, Mercury, Venus, the Sun, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn, to which he adds the sphere of the Fixed Stars, the Crystalline heaven and the Empyrean. The counterparts of these in the Mahometan story are the three final stages: the Lotus-tree, the House of Habitation, and the Throne of God. In each ascension there are thus ten stages. Not that there is any need to labour the point of numbers, for the poet’s licence alone would have admitted of his moulding the scheme of the Moslem creation to his own ideas. What is obvious is, that in none of the so-called precursors of the Divine Comedy could Dante find so typical a model as the Moslem legend of Version A. Beatrice, human indeed, but rendered angelic through the Beatific Vision, descends from heaven with divine permission to conduct Dante to the Throne of God. Through space they fly; and likewise Gabriel leads Mahomet. In both ascensions the travellers pass through the astronomical heavens, tarrying awhile in each to converse with the blessed and receive enlightenment on theological problems. The prophets in the Moslem heavens are the saints in Dante’s poem. The literary artifice in both works is identical, no matter how they differ in art and spiritual detail.
5. Version B, given below, belongs to this cycle inasmuch as the Ascension forms the main theme. It differs from Version A, however, in that it contains the vision of hell; and for this reason it may be regarded as a first attempt to link the _Isra_ with the _Miraj_. It introduces into the _Miraj_ a description of hell, which, as a rule, is peculiar to the _Isra_ or Nocturnal Journey. The parts already given in Version A need not, therefore, be repeated; an analysis of the more typical features of B will suffice.
_Version B of Cycle II_
6. Mahomet, accompanied by Gabriel, ascends to the third heaven, where he sees a gigantic angel, hideous and terrible to behold, and incandescent as if a being of fire. Seated on a bench of flame, he is intent upon forging instruments of torture out of solid fire. Terrified, yet curious, Mahomet learns from Gabriel that this is the Keeper of Hell. So fierce is the Keeper’s response to Mahomet’s greeting that the Prophet, mindful of the smiling welcomes in the other heavens, is overcome by terror. His fears allayed by Gabriel, who explains that the angel has been created by the Almighty to wreak vengeance on sinners, Mahomet ventures to ask the Keeper to let him see the regions of hell. “Thou mayst not see them,” refuses the Keeper angrily; whereupon a voice is heard from on high, commanding: “Oh, Angel, beware lest thou deny him aught.” Then the Keeper opens the door so that Mahomet may peep through; and from the opening fire and smoke burst forth, as if to warn the Prophet of the awful sights that await him. Hell, he sees, is formed of seven floors, one underneath the other. The uppermost, which is reserved for deadly sins, is subdivided into fourteen mansions, one close above the other, and each a place of punishment for a different sin.
The first mansion is an ocean of fire comprising seventy lesser seas, and on the shore of each sea stands a city of fire. In each city are seventy thousand dwellings; in each dwelling, seventy thousand coffins of fire, the tombs of men and women, who, stung by snakes and scorpions, shriek in anguish. These wretches, the Keeper enlightens Mahomet, were tyrants.
In the second mansion beings with blubber lips writhe under the red-hot forks of demons, while serpents enter their mouths and eat their bodies from within. These are faithless guardians, devoured now by serpents even as they once devoured the inheritances committed to their trust. Lower down usurers stagger about, weighed down by the reptiles in their bellies. Further, shameless women hang by the hair that they had exposed to the gaze of man. Still further down liars and slanderers hang by their tongues from red-hot hooks lacerating their faces with nails of copper. Those who neglected the rites of prayer and ablution are now monsters with the heads of dogs and the bodies of swine and are the food of serpents. In the next mansion drunkards suffer the torture of raging thirst, which demons affect to quench with cups of a liquid fire that burns their entrails. Still lower, hired mourners and professional women singers hang head downwards and howl with pain as devils cut their tongues with burning shears. Adulterers are tortured in a cone-shaped furnace, as described in Version B of Cycle I; and their shrieks are drowned by the curses of their fellow damned at the stench of their putrid flesh. In the next mansion unfaithful wives hang by their breasts, their hands tied to their necks. Undutiful children are tortured in a fire by fiends with red-hot forks. Lower down, shackled in collars of fire, are those who failed to keep their word. Murderers are being knifed by demons in endless expiation of their crime. Lastly, in the fourteenth and lowest mansion of the first storey, are being crucified on burning pillars those who failed to keep the rule of prayer; as the flames devour them, their flesh is seen gradually to peel off their bones.
At the request of Mahomet, now horror-stricken and on the verge of swooning, the Keeper closes the door, bidding the Prophet warn his people of what he has seen. Other more terrible tortures, he enjoins him, are inflicted in the six other floors, the cruelty increasing with the depth. This closes the scene, and Mahomet, as in Version A of Cycle II, continues his ascent.
7. At first sight there would seem to be no likeness between this episode and the Divine Comedy. The two essential parts, the visions of paradise and hell, appear, not as in Dante in separate settings and at different times, but illogically intermingled. It is in the third heaven that Mahomet witnesses the tortures of hell—not, as in former versions, before his ascent. But, if this circumstance is overlooked and the episode of hell considered apart from the ascension, a singular likeness to the Inferno will be apparent.
8. Above all, this version unquestionably provides the prototype of Dante’s architecture of the realm of pain. How he mapped out his Inferno everybody knows[22]: a huge, funnel-shaped chasm down into the centre of the earth, with nine tiers of steps, stages, or strata, each a prison and place of punishment for a separate class of sinners. The greater the depth of the mansion, the greater the sin and the torture inflicted. Some of the circles are subdivided into three or more tiers, which correspond to as many grades of sin. The resemblance to the legend will be at once apparent. The Moslem hell is similarly formed of floors or tiers that get lower as the sin is greater. Each floor is the mansion of one class of sinner; and each has its tiers, one above the other, that correspond to the various subcategories of the sin. True, the number of main floors in each story differs, but this is of little moment when compared with other striking similarities in matters where a merely artistic imitation would not have required so strict an adherence to the model. Any other plan could have been adopted by Dante, but he preferred to follow the Moslem model, with its great divisions and subdivisions. This scheme admirably served his purpose for what Dante students term the moral architecture of the Inferno; that is to say, the distribution and punishment of the souls in accordance with their crimes. On one point only do the topographies differ—no mention is made of the Islamic hell’s being situated below the earth. But the legend merely states that Mahomet _saw_ hell from the third heaven, not that hell _was_ there itself. For the present, however, this point is of secondary interest and will be dealt with at greater length in later chapters.
Suffice it to have established the fact that the architecture of the Inferno had its counterpart in the religious tales of Islam as far back as the ninth century. The other features of resemblance between this version and Dante’s poem are of minor interest.
9. Mahomet’s meeting with the Keeper of Hell, however, obviously has its parallel in the scene where Dante is refused passage by the boatman Caronte and grim Minos.[23] The poet has merely reproduced the Moslem scene in a more artistic form, adapted from the classical mythology. The Moslem Keeper, wrathful and glowing like red hot coal; his curt refusal to open the door; and the imperious command from on high—all seem like rough sketches of Dante’s boatman, a “demon with eyes like red hot coals, shooting forth flames,” whose voice is raised in anger as he exclaims: “I will not pass thee to the other shore,” and who ultimately yields at the command from heaven, rendered by Virgil: “Fret not, Caronte, so is it willed up yonder, where every will is law; question no more.” A further analogy is afforded by the scene where “dread Minos,” the Keeper of Hell itself, at the entrance mercilessly appoints the tortures to the damned. In a fury he drives the poet away until Virgil intervenes saying: “Hinder him not; his journey is ordained by fate.” The words would seem to be an echo of the heavenly warning in the Moslem legend: “Beware lest thou deny him aught.”
This dual scene is introduced by Dante, under various disguises, into other circles of the Inferno. At the entrance to the fourth circle Plutus assumes the role of Caronte and Minos.[24] In the fifth circle Phlegyas, and later the devils at the gates of Dis, repeat the scene with the self-same parleys.[25] On this last occasion it is an angel from heaven who transmits the order that allows the travellers to pass.[26] In the seventh circle Minotaurus offers the resistance, which again is overcome by Virgil.[27] In the fifth pit of the eighth circle demons for the last time vainly strive to bar their way.[28]
10. Meantime, there are other actual features of resemblance. The violent burst of flame that meets Dante at the entrance to the first circle of the Inferno[29] compares with the fire that escapes through the door as Mahomet is about to scan the first stage of hell in the Moslem legend.
Here again the first of the fourteen tiers is evidently the model of Dante’s city of Dis. On reaching the shores of the Stygian Lake,[30] Dante “clearly distinguishes its towers ... glowing with the heat of a fiery furnace; and the eternal fire which consumes the city from within spreads over all a reddish hue.”
Dis, therefore, is a city of fire, as is the city in the Moslem hell. Again, once within its walls,[31] Virgil and Dante see the countless tombs, each a bed of fire, wherein, in coffins of red hot iron, lie the arch-heretics crying aloud in agony. This is undeniably a copy of the vision where Mahomet sees an ocean of fire, on whose shores stand cities aflame with thousands of red hot coffins in which tyrants in agony expiate their crimes.
11. A minute examination of the tortures described in the fourteen minor stages of the Moslem hell will also show that the Florentine poet with no great imaginative effort might well have used these as plans for his great images. Thus, the picture of the reptiles stinging the tyrants, the faithless guardians and the usurers in the various tiers of the Moslem hell recurs in the circles of the Inferno where gluttons and thieves are so tortured.[32] The torture of maddening thirst, suffered by drunkards in the seventh stage of the Moslem hell, is applied to forgers in the tenth pit of Dante’s eighth circle[33]; and the latter with their swollen bellies have their prototype in the Moslem usurers. In the same circle Griffolino of Arezzo and Capocchio of Sienna scratch the scales off their leprous sores,[34] like the slanderers of the fifth Moslem stage who lacerate their faces with finger-nails of bronze. The undutiful children whom Mahomet sees in the eleventh tier, suffer a similar torture to the _barattieri_ in the fifth pit of circle eight, who are kept squirming in a lake of burning pitch by demons armed with spears.[35] Lastly, the Moslem torture of murderers (in the thirteenth tier), who are being perpetually knifed and resuscitated, is clearly the model of Dante’s punishment, in the ninth valley of the eighth circle, of the authors of schism.[36] Here, indeed, in sarcastic vein, he places Mahomet, the very protagonist of the legend upon which he probably based his work.
12. Closely related to this version and belonging to the same cycle is Version C. Here again the main theme is the ascension, although an abortive attempt is made to introduce the vision of hell into the ascension. The last episodes of the _Miraj_, which in A and B are merely alluded to, are mainly dealt with. Version C is chiefly characterised by hyperbole and repetition. The fantastic depiction of the heavenly scenes and persons is in striking contrast to the gross materialism shown in the Koran. For his images the author relies almost exclusively upon light, colour and music.
The following is an epitome of this version, the text of which _in extenso_ makes tedious reading.
_Version C of Cycle II_
13. (_a_) In the first heaven Mahomet, with Gabriel, sees a gigantic cock, with a body of bright green and plumage of dazzling white, whose wings stretch across the horizon and whose head touches the Throne of God. Ever and anon it beats its wings and chants a song of praise to God, a song that is taken up by all the cocks on earth.[37]
(_b_) He then beholds an angel, half of snow and half of fire, who calls on all creatures of heaven and earth to unite in a bond of fellow love, symbolised in his own body by the blending of the two contrasting elements.
(_c_) Proceeding, he sees, seated and holding the universe on his knees, another angel gazing fixedly on a beam of light upon which writing can be seen. This, Gabriel tells him, is the Angel of Death who wrests the soul from the body. The guide describes the anguish of the soul at death and its exodus from the body; the preliminary judgment by the angels Munkar and Nakir and the fate of the soul up till the last day of judgment. He then presents the Prophet to the Angel, who moves Mahomet to tears by his description of the part played by him at the hour of death.
(_d_) Continuing their journey, Mahomet and his guide come upon the Keeper of Hell. This angel’s description is identical with that in Version B; and the same episode is repeated almost literally, with one exception: when the door of hell is opened, Mahomet recoils from the flames and beseeches Gabriel to have the angel close the door. Mahomet’s visit to hell thus comes to nought in this version.
(_e_) Farther on, they meet hosts of angels, with countless faces on their breasts and backs, who chant unending hymns of praise to God.
(Here the legend goes on to describe the ascension up to the sixth heaven but omits the scenes of the spheres depicted in versions A and B. The author’s intention seemed to be the completion of the other versions by adding the visions that followed after the heavens of the astronomers.)
(_f_) Another multitude of angels is encountered in the sixth heaven. The body of each angel is studded with wings and faces, and all their members have tongues with which in fear and humility they sing songs of praise to God. These, Gabriel explains, are the cherubim, destined to remain eternally in the same attitude of obeisance to God. They may not look at or speak to one another; neither may they look upwards or downwards to the heavens below. Mahomet’s greeting they acknowledge by gestures, with eyes downcast. When Gabriel tells them who Mahomet is, they bid him welcome and renew their song of praise to the Almighty.
(_g_) Wrapt in admiration, the Prophet is led by Gabriel to behold in the seventh heaven other still more marvellous angels. But here Mahomet states that “he dare not relate what he saw there nor describe those angels”; he merely states that “at that moment God gave him a strength equal to that of all the beings on earth, and a new power which seemed to be of God Himself, that enabled him to turn his eyes upon those angels, the dazzling light of whom would otherwise have blinded him.” Gabriel explains to him the origin of those marvellous creatures, but again Mahomet “may not relate” what his guide has told him.
(_h_) Gabriel now leads him by the hand up to the heaven of theology, the Divine Dwelling itself. A description of this abode occupies the greater part of the version. Seventy rows of gigantic angels appear before him, bearing, like the others, innumerable wings and faces. “The dazzling brilliance of the light with which they shone would have blinded all who endeavoured to behold them.” Mahomet is stricken with terror, but is comforted by Gabriel, who assures him that he has yet to see still greater marvels; for God has vouchsafed to him alone of mortals the privilege of ascending to mansions even more sublime. In a flash they rise to a height that in the ordinary course could only be attained in fifty thousand years. Here, other seventy rows of angels, similar to the former, chant sweet choruses of divine praise. The scene is repeated until a total of seven throngs, each numbering seventy rows of angels, is reached. So close to one another are they that they would seem to form one mighty heavenly host. Mahomet is awed, and at this point he interrupts his story to exclaim: “It seemed to me then as if I had lost all memory of the other marvels of creation. True, it is not meet that I should speak of what I saw; but even might I do so, I were not able to convey it by words. But, had it been that I was to die of terror before my allotted span was o’er, I surely would have died when I beheld these angels, the marvel of their forms and the rays of light emitted by them, and hearkened to the murmur of their voices. But God in His great mercy comforted me and renewed my strength, so that I might listen to their hymns of praise; He gave power unto my eyes, that I might behold their light.” Mahomet sees that those seven throngs “surround the Throne of God, Whose praises they sing.”
(_i_) The seven stages that follow are monotonous in the recurrence of exactly the same scenes and the simile of the sea in each. Mahomet and his guide are wafted into “a boundless sea of light irradiating with such intensity that his vision becomes blurred and all creation appears flooded with the refulgence and consumed in flame.” Purblinded and terror-stricken, Mahomet proceeds, now to cross a sea of utter darkness. The violent contrast adds to his fears, and he fancies that the whole universe is wrapt in darkness. His guide appears to have forsaken him; but Gabriel, taking him by the hand, explains that these scenes are but the portents of their approach to God. In the next stage a sea of fire, whose waves of flame emit sparks and crackle loudly, again strikes terror into the Prophet’s heart. “I verily thought”—he then exclaims “that the entire universe had caught fire; in terror I raised my hand to my eyes to blot out the sight and turned to Gabriel.”
(_j_) Again reassured by his guide, he now traverses “a range of immense mountains of snow, whose lofty peaks tower one above the other as far as the eye can reach and whose intense whiteness sheds a light as bright as the rays of the sun”; and again the Prophet stands lost in amazement. When he sees beyond the snowy heights another sea of fire burning still more fiercely than the first and that the flames of the two seas cannot be quenched by the snowy barrier, his terror grows, and Gabriel redoubles his effort to calm him. The next stage brings them to an immense ocean of water, whose mighty waves rise like lofty mountains to break ceaselessly one upon the other. Amidst the waters Mahomet sees angels with myriad wings who shed a light of such intensity as to baffle description. “Had it not been,” Mahomet confesses, “that God gave me strength ..., their light had surely blinded my eyes and my body had been scorched by the fire of their faces.” Dumbfounded, the Prophet sees that the enormous waves do not even touch the knees of these angels, whose heads, Gabriel explains, reach up to the Throne of the Most High, to Whom their voices are ever raised in harmonious adoration.
(_k_) The last stage is again a sea of light, the refulgence of which Mahomet paints in terms of extreme hyperbole, at the same time regretting that “he could not describe it, were he to make the utmost effort.” “The rays,” he says, “so nearly blinded me that I saw nothing.” A fervid prayer, offered up by his angel guide, saves him from blindness. “God,” he insists, “gave strength and clearness to my vision, so that I might behold these rays ... and scan the whole expanse with my eyes. But ... it seemed to me as if the heavens and earth and all the things therein glittered and burned, and again my vision was dimmed. The red light changed to yellow, then white, and then green, and at length the colours were blended in one luminous mass, so lustrous that once more my vision failed me.” Another prayer from Gabriel and Mahomet’s sight is restored and strengthened. Then does he see, “encompassed by that sea of light and drawn up in one serried row, other angels circling round the Throne of God.” The loveliness of these visions defies description, and here Mahomet falls back on his wonted subterfuge that, even were it lawful, he could not tell a hundredth part of what he saw. He merely observes that those angels, with eyes downcast, sang sweet hymns of praise; and “as they sang, a flame of light which enveloped the Divine Throne shone as fire from out their mouths.” Aghast, Mahomet learns from Gabriel that these, with all other angels in the realms above the sixth heaven, are Cherubim.
(_l_) The main and final stage of the ascension now begins. In the words of the Prophet: “Higher and higher through the celestial ether we rose, faster than the arrow speeding from the bow, yea, swifter than the wind. And at last we reached the Throne of the Glorious, Supreme and Almighty One; and, as I gazed upon it, all the works of creation sank into insignificance. The seven heavens, the seven earths, the seven hells ... the whole of creation, compared to that throne, was like a tiny ring of the mesh of a coat of mail lying in the midst of a boundless desert.”
(_m_) As, lost in wonder, Mahomet stands before the Throne, a green wreath descends, and the Prophet is carried by it into the presence of God Himself. Astounded at the marvellous vision before him, he again and for the last time confesses his inability to describe it. “I saw a thing so great that neither tongue could tell of nor mind conceive it. So dazzled were my eyes that I feared I should lose my sight. However, endowed by God with a spiritual vision, I began to contemplate all that I had in vain tried to see before; and I saw a light so bright ... but it is not meet that I should describe the majesty of His Light. I then beseeched the Lord my God to bestow upon me steadiness of vision, and by His grace this came to me. Then only were the veils drawn aside, and I beheld Him seated upon His Throne in all His majesty and glory, irradiating a sublime brilliance ... but more it is not meet that I should tell of Him.” God now deigns to draw the Prophet nigh to Him; and, when Mahomet feels the Divine hands upon his shoulders and looks upon the radiance of His face, he is thrilled to the core. Intense delight pervades his soul, and, as if by enchantment, his fears are dispelled. “Methought,” he says, “when I looked upon my Master that all creatures in heaven and earth had vanished, for lo I saw nothing else, neither did I hear the voices of the angels. When at length it pleased Him to break the Divine spell, it seemed to me as if I had awakened from a deep sleep, and I had to ponder before I came to understand where I was and to what height God in His great mercy had chosen to exalt me.” In an intimate discourse God now reveals to the Prophet that he has been chosen as His messenger to all the peoples of creation and that his nation shall be the greatest of all nations upon earth. Enraptured, Mahomet listens to the Deity’s words, when suddenly a curtain of flaming light is drawn before his eyes and the Almighty is hidden from his view.
(_n_) The wreath that had borne him to the Throne now carries Mahomet to where Gabriel is waiting, and disappears on high. It is at this juncture that Mahomet becomes aware of the marvellous change the Beatific Vision has wrought in his being. “Lo, my God and Master had so strengthened my spiritual power of sight that with my heart I now saw what lay behind me as with my eyes I could see what was in front.” He is astounded, but Gabriel explains the phenomenon and calls upon him to exercise his powers of vision, in order that, from their sublime height, he may embrace in one sweeping glance the splendour of the whole universe. With ease he can now behold all the marvellous and glittering lights that had well-nigh blinded him before: the Divine Throne, the curtain around it, the oceans and the mountains of the theological heaven, the cherubim, and, finally, the astronomical heavens shining in all their radiance underneath. He can even see the surface of the earth.
(_o_) Lost in contemplation, Mahomet hearkens to the harmony of the angels. “Lo,” he says, “I heard the voices of the cherubim as, around the Throne of God, they chanted hymns of praise to the Almighty. Each note could I distinguish: the clear trebles; whisperings as of leaves stirring in the wind; soft, plaintive notes like the cooing of the dove; gentle murmurs like the humming of bees; and ever and anon loud bursts as of thunder.” The solemnity of the angelic music is reflected in the Prophet’s mind. Perturbed, he is again heartened by Gabriel, who impresses on him that he is the chosen of the Lord, Who to him alone has shown the mercy of allowing him to rise to His Almighty Throne; soon will he see the heavenly mansion that awaits him. Gabriel now strives to interpret to the Prophet the marvels he has witnessed: the seas of light, darkness, fire, water, pearls and snow are the veils shrouding the glory of the Throne of God; and the angels in the spheres down to the sixth heaven are the guardians of the Throne. The duty of the angels in the lower heavens is to sing praises to God. The spirit (Gabriel himself) ranks above all these; and next to him comes Israfil. The angels in the highest sphere who encircle the Throne are cherubim; and so strong is the light they emit that no angel in the lower spheres dare raise his eyes towards them lest he be blinded; and so it is with the angels in the circles lower still; they dare not look at those above them lest blindness overcome them.
(_p_) Gabriel’s explanations finished, the descent begins, and “swifter than the arrow and the wind” is their flight. The description of the gardens of paradise in this legend is merely a detailed reproduction of the paradise of the Koran. The Lotus-tree of the Boundary reappears here as a tree of fabulous magnitude, whose branches, laden with leaves, whereon dwell the celestial spirits, extend throughout paradise. The portrayal of the Kauthar, the river of paradise, is also based on the Koranic description.[38] Another tree, the Tree of Happiness,[39] also from the Koran, gives the inspiration for the picture of the mansions of the blessed—a picture in which the spiritual tone, predominant in other visions, is absent. The last stage of the journey is through the astronomical heavens, and on their way Mahomet tells the prophets he meets of the marvels he has seen. At the same place on earth where he had called upon him to undertake the ascension, Gabriel leaves Mahomet. The legend ends with Mahomet’s astounding assertion that he accomplished the whole journey in a single night.
14. The monotonous style, the excessive hyperbole and the constant repetition, coupled with the entire absence of spiritual effect in the last episode, make it difficult to associate this version with the artistic poem of Dante. The most idealistic part of the Divine Comedy is undoubtedly the Paradiso; and it would, therefore, be as well, before attempting to compare the two works, to remind the reader that the final episode of Version C must be regarded as an addition cleverly introduced by the author to invest the legend with a semblance of authenticity and orthodoxy. For at bottom the tale reflects little of the mind of Mahomet, a polygamist and warrior who led men to battle. It would rather seem to betray a Moslem with leanings towards neo-Platonism, or a follower of the _Ishraqi_ and pseudo-Empedoclean school, so addicted to the usage of similes of light and geometrical circles in the illustration of metaphysical ideas.[40] It should also be borne in mind that, in the tenth century, the authorship of this legend was attributed, not to an Arab, but a Persian, by name Maysara, the son of Abd ar-Rabihi. It is possible that, living in the eighth century, this Persian had retained some traces of the Zoroastrian creeds of his native country, which had just been forcibly converted to Islamism.
The reader, then, before attempting to compare the two works, should cast one more glance at the Paradiso. Let him divest the poem of its discourses and dialogues, the theological doctrine it breathes, its philosophical and astronomical lore and the allusions to Italian history with which it is replete, and he will be able, with both works thus reduced to their simplest outline, to proceed with a methodical comparison.
15. The most striking analogy between the two works is the idealistic tone of the general description of paradise. Dante students have emphasised the gulf that divides his paradise in this respect from any previous conceptions.[41] Departing from the beaten track of a material heaven, the poet made use of the intangible, the most delicate phenomena of nature. In his celestial spheres life is a feast of light and sound, and his paradise, the realm of mind emancipated from the body.
And light and song also figure largely in the descriptions of paradise of this Version C. Apart from the sea of darkness, introduced as a contrast to the seas of light and fire, the scenes and personal descriptions in the principal stages of Mahomet’s Ascension are drawn in a perspective of light, just as are those of Dante. The twenty odd scenes of the main action, and more especially Mahomet’s progress through the seventh astronomical sphere, are set in the most vivid colours. The angels, too, although at times shown in human form and at others, as monstrous shapes, irradiate a splendour that dazzles the eyes of the spectator. A comparison of these with numerous similar descriptions in the Paradiso makes it clear that in both stories the element of light reigns supreme.[42] Beatrice grows in brilliance at each stage of the Ascension. The spirits of the blessed in each sphere and in the Empyrean appear to Dante as resplendent lights, at times assuming the shape of a crown or wreath, at others, appearing in the allegorical form of the iris, the cross, the eagle and so forth. God Himself is a light of ineffable brilliance, and the choirs of angels around him are brilliant orbs of light. A luminous effect likewise marks each stage of Dante’s journey. But a more detailed comparison of the employment of light in the two legends will be made later on.
And as with light so it is with sound. Excepting the Angel of Death and the Keeper of Hell, all the angels Mahomet meets sing songs of praise to the Lord. The words of these anthems, taken from the Koran, are at times transcribed literally by Mahomet. On completing the ascension, he again hears the angels in a symphony that he seeks to describe by similes taken from the sounds of nature. In Dante’s poem also the celestial spirits sing hymns of praise from the Holy Scriptures, and the poet attempts to convey the majesty of the harmony by comparing it with sounds of nature and music.[43]
16. But these are general features of resemblance. Many of the actual passages are either similar or identical, which still further proves the close relationship between the two legends.
On various occasions Mahomet dwells upon the speed of his flight, and twice he likens it to the wind and the shaft sped from the bow. The latter simile is used by Dante in telling of his ascent to the heaven of the Moon and of Mars[44]; the former, when he describes the flight of the souls that come to meet him in the sphere of Venus. Again, he compares the ascension of the souls in the heaven of Saturn to the rush of a whirlwind.[45]
Inability to describe what he sees is an expedient to which Mahomet often has resort. Dante affects this hyperbole in his prologue and in five other Cantos: in the sphere of the Sun; in the heaven of Gemini; in the Empyrean; when he beholds the Virgin Mary; and in his last episode when he deals with the mystery of the Holy Trinity.[46]
It will further be noted that Mahomet’s pretext, “that it is not lawful that he should tell of what he saw,” is found to recur frequently in the Paradiso.[47]
The feature, however, that shows most conclusively the affinity between the two stories is the one that is repeated _ad nauseam_ in the Mahometan Ascension. At each stage of heaven Mahomet is dazzled by the lights, and each time he is fearful of being blinded. Repeatedly he raises his hands to his eyes to shield them from the intense radiance, and in the end he becomes dazed. Gabriel then intercedes with God and Mahomet is granted a new, preternatural vision, that enables him to look freely upon the lights that before had dimmed his sight.
This scene is reproduced, often with the same words, in more than ten episodes of Dante’s Paradiso. In the sphere of the Moon it is the splendour of Beatrice[48]; in Mars, the image of Our Lord surrounded by the Martyrs[49]; in the sphere of the Fixed Stars, the light of the Apostle James, when the poet exclaims[50]: “As who doth gaze and strain to see the sun eclipsed a space, who by looking grows bereft of sight, so did I to this last flame.”[51] In the eighth sphere the refulgence of Christ in the image of a sun blurs the poet’s vision[52]; at the instance of Beatrice, however, he again tries his eyesight and finally discerns amid the shadows a brilliant star, the symbol of the Archangel Gabriel; the movements of this star his eyes have not the strength to follow.[53] In the ninth sphere the brilliance of the Divine Essence is such that he has to close his eyes.[54] In the tenth sphere the Triumph of the Blessed calls forth from the poet[55]: “As a sudden flash of lightning which so shattereth the visual spirits as to rob the eye of power to realize e’en strongest objects; so there shone around me a living light, leaving me swathed in such a web of its glow that naught appeared to me.” But his fears are assuaged by Beatrice, and he adds[56]: “So soon as these brief words came into me I felt me to surmount my proper power; and kindled me with such new-given sight that there is no such brightness unalloyed that mine eyes might not hold their own with it.” In the Ninth Canto, when he beholds the apotheosis of the Divine Essence, he introduces a still more far-fetched hyperbole. St. Bernard, guiding Dante in the place of Beatrice, pleads with the Virgin to grant Dante the favour of being raised to the Divine Light. His eyes, strengthened, slowly take in the immense, trinal light, but he says[57]: “I hold that by the keenness of the living ray which I endured I had been lost had mine eyes turned aside from it. And so I was the bolder, as I mind me, so long to sustain it as to unite my glance with the Worth infinite. Oh grace abounding, wherein I presumed to fix my look on the eternal light so long that I consumed my sight thereon.”
17. The principal part played by Gabriel in the ascension is to guide Mahomet and act as his adviser and comforter; and this very role is assigned by Dante to Beatrice. Gabriel, however, at times plays a further part, as, for instance, when he prays to God to help Mahomet and calls upon the Prophet to thank the Lord for allowing him to visit heaven. A parallel scene appears in the Tenth Canto of the Paradiso. In the sphere of the sun, Beatrice exclaims[58]: “Give thanks, give thanks to the sun of the angels, who of his grace hath to this sun of sense exalted thee.” And in the ensuing verses Dante pours forth heartfelt thanksgivings and effusions of divine love. The prayers offered up for Dante are too well known to call for special mention.[59] The most striking analogy, however, is seen in the following. In the Paradiso Beatrice leads Dante only as far as the Empyrean, where St. Bernard takes her place[60]. In the Moslem legend, Gabriel leaves Mahomet to accomplish the last stage alone; and he is conveyed to the Divine Throne by a luminous and spiritual wreath. And herein lies another noteworthy similarity. The wreath which descends from on high and bears Mahomet up to the Divinity has its parallel in the “facella, formata in cerchio a guisa di corona” that Dante sees in the eighth heaven descending from the Empyrean, whither it returns escorting the Virgin Mary.[61]
The solutions furnished by Beatrice, or as on occasion the blessed, to Dante’s problems of theology and philosophy, have each an equivalent in the Mahometan ascension. Here, although occasionally it is an angel, such as the Angel of Death and the angel guarding hell, that gives the interpretation, it devolves chiefly upon Gabriel to explain the riddles of the Moslem hereafter. Especially remarkable is the likeness between the final episode of the Moslem ascension, when Gabriel in the highest heaven explains to Mahomet who the angels inhabiting the celestial spheres are, and Beatrice’s long dissertation in the ninth heaven on the nature and being of the various angelic hosts. Further, Beatrice and Gabriel are agreed upon assigning to the cherubim a place in the circles nearest to God and the other circles to angels of lesser rank.[62] True, the Christian angelology, although derived from the same Hebrew theology and Alexandrine metaphysics, differs from the Islamic on several points; but, considered from a literary point of view, this does not affect the analogy in episode.
18. Let the reader now turn to some of Dante’s angelic visions and, first, to that of the gigantic eagle formed of thousands of angels that the poet sees in the Heaven of Jupiter.[63] All Dante students have admired its beauty and originality; and yet it is surely admissible to proffer the suggestion that the picture was inspired by Mahomet’s vision of the gigantic cock, at the outset of his ascension. If the unpoetical nature of this domestic fowl, when comparing it with the eagle, the king of the air and, in classical mythology, the attribute of Jove, be disregarded, it will be seen that there is a strong resemblance between the two conceptions. To begin with, Dante’s eagle is a being of innumerable spirits with wings and faces. These, the spirits of the blessed, emit an irridescent light and chant in harmony hymns calling upon mankind to lead a righteous life. As it chants, the eagle flaps its wings and then comes to rest.[64]
The cock of the Moslem legend is also a gigantic bird that beats its wings as it chants religious songs, calling mankind to prayer, and then sits at rest. Version C certainly makes no allusion to the spiritual nature of the bird, but other versions and various authentic _hadiths_ expressly state that it is an angel. In addition, in the Moslem legend, visions of gigantic angels, each comprising a monstrous agglomeration of wings and faces, repeatedly recur; and these angels too, resplendent with light, chant with their innumerable tongues hymns of praise. So consummate an artist as Dante might very well have combined these two images to produce the hybrid and yet most beautiful picture of the eagle.
The angels with wings of gold that fly over the mystic rose, by which the abode of bliss in the Paradiso is symbolised,[65] also appear to be copied from Mahomet’s vision in the first heaven, where an angel of snow and fire appears. For these angels also: “had their faces all of living flame ... and the rest so white that never snow reacheth such limit.”
19. But the similarities extend even to the general outlines of entire passages. In the sphere of the Fixed Stars, Beatrice calls upon Dante to cast his eyes downwards and endeavour to see how many worlds lie beneath his feet, in order to prove whether his vision has been strengthened. Dante exclaims: “With my sight I turned back through all and every of the seven spheres, and saw this globe such that I smiled at its sorry semblance.” “And all the seven were displayed to me, how great they are and swift, and how distant each from other in repair.” “The thrashing-floor which maketh us wax so fierce, as I rolled with the eternal twins, was all revealed to me from ridge to river-mouth.”[66]
It is surely obvious that the general scheme of this passage is at once a faithful copy and skilful combination of two episodes of Version C: when Mahomet beholds the Divine Throne, whose magnificence makes all former visions pale into insignificance, and compares its infinite grandeur with the now dwarfed appearance of the universe; and when, his spirit having experienced the ecstasy of the Beatific Vision, he is asked by Gabriel to cast his eyes downwards and test his supernatural power of sight. With one wondering glance—the legend runs—he embraces the whole universe, his eyes penetrating the celestial and astronomical spheres beneath his feet right down to the surface of the earth.
20. A final and irrefutable argument, however, may be based on the last episode crowning the Paradiso, when Dante beholds the Beatific Vision of the Divine Essence in all its splendour. An examination of this vision will prove of interest. The Divine Essence is the luminous centre of nine concentric circles of angelic spirits who, revolving unceasingly around it, sing Hosannahs to the Lord. Each circle comprises countless angels.[67] The two first circles are those of the seraphim and cherubim. Dante is unable to fix his gaze on the light but soon his sight is strengthened and he can behold it steadily. He admits that he is powerless to describe the vision, for the ecstasy of the moment effaced all memory of it but, even were he able to recall the vision, ’twere not possible for mortal to describe it. Dante’s attempts to picture the Trinity and the Incarnation need not be taken into consideration. His description of the vision is reduced to a vague recollection of the subjective phenomena: steady and progressive mental contemplation, a trance in which he is wrapt in admiration, and a feeling of intense delight and spiritual sweetness that pervades his soul.[68]
Dante students have long and in vain sought the origin of this sublime apotheosis, for none of the religious legends, so critically studied by the great scholars, Labitte, D’Ancona, Ozanam and Graf, furnishes the least resemblance in geometrical conception to these concentric circles of angels who ever revolve around the Divine Light. Nevertheless, the striking likeness between Dante’s poem and the Moslem legend conclusively proves the strength of our argument. In the latter, too, rows of angels, each row representing a different rank, with the Cherubim nearest, surround the Divine Throne. These angels also chant anthems in honour of the Lord and radiate streams of light; and the number of rows again is nine. Thus do they also in nine concentric circles revolve unceasingly around the Throne of God—a God who in both stories is depicted as a focus of ineffable light. Again, both protagonists describe the Beatific Vision twice—Mahomet, when, before undertaking the last stage of his Ascension and still accompanied by Gabriel, he first discerns the Divine Throne, and again when Gabriel has left him; and Dante, when, with Beatrice, he beholds the Divine Apotheosis from the ninth heaven and a second time in the final Canto. The psychological effects on both are also similar. Mahomet, too, is dazzled and fears lest he be blinded; then God bestows upon him steadiness of vision, so that he can fix his eyes upon the Divine Light; he also is incapable of describing the Throne and can only recall that he experienced a rapture of the soul, preceded by a sensation of intense delight.
The stories have many other minor points in common, but the chief features of resemblance as given above will perhaps suffice to establish proof of the affinity between the two.
IV
THIRD CYCLE—FUSION OF THE VERSIONS OF THE “ISRA” AND THE “MIRAJ”
1. The legends of this cycle really form a synthesis of those of the first two cycles, and their episodes are for the greater part repetitions of previous ones. Nevertheless, although from our point of view they are of minor importance, they represent a distinct stage in the evolution of the legend. In the former cycles the _Isra_, or Nocturnal Journey, and the _Miraj_, or Ascension, were related separately; but here the two are fused into one continuous story. One version will suffice to illustrate the earliest type of non-Christian mediæval legend that related, as in Dante’s poem, in one uninterrupted story the visit to hell and purgatory and the ascension to paradise. This version may be called the earliest, for it has been handed down to us in the voluminous _Tafsir_, or commentary on the Koran, by the celebrated historian Tabari, who lived in the 9th century. Briefly summarised, the legend runs as follows:—
_Sole Version of Cycle III_
2. The introduction is identical with that in Version A of Cycle 2. Mahomet, either in his house or the Mosque at Mecca, is suddenly awakened by Gabriel, alone or accompanied by other angels. He is purified and led on a Nocturnal Journey to Jerusalem and thence to heaven. The episodes are as follows: At the outset Mahomet meets an old woman who, decked in finery, from the roadside endeavours to entice him to tarry with her; but Mahomet turns a deaf ear and passes on unheeding. Gabriel explains that this woman is an allegory of the world. Her tinsel represents the allurements of the world, which like her is effete, for so short is life on earth that it resembles the brief years of old age. Immediately after this vision—or before it in some versions—Mahomet is called upon to halt by two voices, one from either side of his path. These are the voices of the Jewish and Christian faiths, that would fain convert him to their creeds. Proceeding, he encounters the Devil, who in turn tries to lure him from his path; but, at Gabriel’s warning, he hastens on. At last, freed from all temptations, he arrives at a stage where he is welcomed by Abraham, Moses and Jesus.
The visions that follow either represent allegories or depict the tortures of hell, some of the latter resembling and others differing from the punishments of the previous versions. Firstly, Mahomet beholds men cutting corn sown but the day before, and, in amazement, he sees the stubble grow as fast as the corn is cut. These, Gabriel informs him, are symbolic of the Moslems who devote their all to the spreading of the faith and whom God rewards seven-hundredfold. Then follows the torture of the crushed head, as in Version B of Cycle 1, and thereafter, the punishment of those who failed to make the offerings required by rite. Clothed in rags, these graze like beasts, chewing fetid herbs. Further on, the adulterers sit at a table bearing both wholesome meat and raw and putrid flesh. The latter they devour in due punishment for their lewdness, which led them to reject their wives and seek the embraces of loose women. At this juncture the travellers’ path is barred by the trunk of a tree, and in surmounting it their clothes get torn. This obstacle is a symbol of the bad Moslems who lead their brothers off the path of virtue. An aged wood-cutter, who toils to heap still higher the pile of wood he has collected, although his strength forbids his carrying his loads away, next comes into view, symbolising the rich miser who hoards the wealth he cannot use. Proceeding, they witness the torture of the hypocritical preachers, who, like the liars in Versions A and B of Cycle 1, have their tongues and lips torn. A huge bull, which, rushing out of a narrow shelter, is now vainly trying to re-enter it, is figurative of the torment undergone by the conscience of those who speak hasty words they afterwards regret. The travellers now pass through a valley, where Mahomet, breathing in the soft perfumed air, listens in rapture to a song whose words he cannot catch. The valley, Gabriel explains, represents heaven, and the voice he hears sings to the Lord, beseeching Him to fulfil His promise to the faithful. God hearkens to the prayer and renews His covenant to save all Moslems. A parallel scene in antithetic setting is now introduced. Mahomet traverses another valley, which, reeking abominably, represents hell. Another voice is heard invoking the Lord to punish all sinners, and from on high God answers that He will wreak His vengeance.
Leaving the valley of hell behind, the travellers reach the Mosque of Jerusalem, the goal of their Nocturnal Journey. The scenes laid here are of little interest. Mahomet, surrounded by angels, prays, and in turn he is greeted by the spirits of Abraham, Moses, David, Solomon and Jesus. Offered glasses of milk, water and wine, he drinks of the milk and water, and, as in Version A of Cycle 2, Gabriel applauds his choice. The story of the ascension is told in terms that are almost identical with those of that version. When he reaches the seventh heaven, however, the passage of Version B of the first cycle, depicting Abraham, is inserted with slight variations. Abraham is seen as a venerable old man, seated at the entrance to paradise between two hosts of men, the one with white, the other with spotted faces. The latter bathe in three rivers, emerging from the third with faces as white as those of the other host which they now join. The one host, Gabriel explains, are the believers of unspotted soul and the other, penitent sinners. The three rivers are symbolic of the mercy, loving-kindness and glory of God. The final stage, as in Version A of Cycle 2, is the visit to the Lotus-tree of the Boundary. The legend ends with the familiar intimate colloquy between God and the Prophet.
3. As already suggested, this version is interesting, not from a comparative point of view, but because it constitutes a fusion of the versions of Cycles 1 and 2. As the date of the version is not later than that of the fragmentary tales, it would seem as if the Moslem traditionists had decided upon such fusion at an early period. This decision, no doubt, was based on considerations of art rather than theology, the object being more to satisfy, with one complete story, the curiosity of the faithful than to justify the existence of so many fragmentary and often contradictory versions of one and the same event. That this latter object, implying the necessity of accepting as authentic all those different versions, influenced the theologians of a later epoch, will be seen further on. In this version there is no trace of it. Tabari, by whom the version has been handed down to us, although himself an eminent theologian, merely records it as the work of story-tellers and omits all mention of the authenticity or otherwise of the different fragments and versions.
4. Of the two main parts of the legend, the second (the ascension) contains little that is new either in descriptive feature or episode. The first part, on the other hand, could easily be regarded as a reading of the _Isra_ of a different cycle from those hitherto considered. Its many new episodes are precisely the visions that do not deal with realities, but are symbols of abstract ideas, of vices and virtues. A new element, moral allegory—so marked a feature of Dante’s poem—is thus introduced. Vossler[69] has pointed out how successfully Dante combines the two imperfect forms of mediæval visionary style—the religious or apocalyptic, and the profane or allegorical; and he lauds Dante’s originality, for, as he truly remarks, his allegories are not derived from Capella, Prudentius, or Alan of Lille.[70] The free use of allegory in this version of the Nocturnal Journey is, therefore, of interest. No doubt few of the visions can be regarded as models of the scenes in the Divine Comedy; but their mere occurrence in such number in a Moslem legend that in other respects has been shown to have had so great an influence on Dante, is significant. It may reasonably be supposed that the origin of other allegories of the great poem which, in Vossler’s opinion, cannot have been derived from its Christian or classical precursors, can be traced back to Moslem literature.
5. A systematic investigation in this direction will be made later on. Let it here suffice to cite one typical instance of the adaptation to the Divine Comedy of Moslem symbols. The resemblance between the vision of the old woman appearing at the outset of Mahomet’s journey as a symbol of the temptation of the world, and the vision seen by Dante when he reaches the fifth circle of purgatory, is obvious. The old woman, whom Mahomet sees, concealing under splendid adornments the ravages that time has made upon her charms, endeavours to draw him from the path by flattery and alluring gestures. Not until later does Gabriel interpret the vision. The old seductress is a symbol of the world, decked in finery to entice the Prophet. Had she succeeded, the Moslem people had likewise preferred worldly well-being to eternal bliss.
Dante, having traversed the fourth circle of purgatory,[71] dreams of a woman who stammers and squints, is lame, one-armed, and jaundiced. Yet so skilfully does she hide her defects that it is with difficulty that Dante resists her fascination. Virgil exposes the hideousness beneath her clothes, but not until later does he interpret the vision. The woman is the eternal sorceress, as old as mankind, who ruins men with her allurements, although it is given to all to free themselves, even as Dante had done.
The general outlines of the two episodes are clearly identical; although in the detail Dante introduces classical allusions,[72] which are lacking in the Moslem picture. And indeed all commentators of the Divine Comedy agree that this vision is symbolic of the false felicity of the world,[73] just as Gabriel interpreted it to Mahomet as being an allegory of the fleeting pleasures of earth.[74] The coincidence is significant.
6. Lastly, the resemblance of one of the descriptive features of the garden of Abraham in this version to Dante’s purgatory is remarkable. Before entering the celestial mansions, Dante has to be purified thrice in three different streams: firstly, when he leaves hell and Virgil, on the advice of Cato, washes away the spots that disfigure his face after his visit to the infernal regions, restoring the natural colour to his tear-stained cheeks[75]; and a second and a third time before he leaves purgatory, when Matilda and Statius in turn immerse Dante in the Lethe and Eunoe, the waters of which efface from the mind the memory of sin and renew the supernatural power of the soul for good, thus preparing it for the bliss of heaven.[76]
The idea of this threefold purification would seem to be taken direct from the scene where the souls of penitent sinners are washed in the three rivers of the garden of Abraham. The effects, here also, are both physical and moral: the natural colour is restored to their faces, and their souls, cleansed from sin by repentance, are by the grace of God made fit to enter into the glory of heaven.
V
THEOLOGICAL COMMENTARIES ON THE LEGEND
1. To trace step by step the evolution of this legend would be a task beyond the scope of this work, even if it were possible with our restricted knowledge of the bibliography of this branch of Moslem literature. In any case, the resultant gain, so far as our argument is concerned, would be but slight. Religious literature is essentially conservative, and the literature of Islam, pre-eminently so. In the comparatively brief period of two centuries the legend of the ascension had assumed a multiplicity of forms, and each version was authenticated, even by relations of the Prophet himself. Such testimony went unquestioned by the masses; and thus it came about that the legend ultimately became crystallised in one definite form, into which the main versions regarded as authentic were fused. This fusion was the work of theologians and interpreters of the Scriptures in an endeavour, chiefly, to harmonise a number of apparently contradictory tales. The earliest version of the legend in its new form was the one of Cycle 3, and this version remained final. All that appeared later were either _commentaries_ upon it or _allegorico-mystical adaptations_ and _literary imitations_ of it. Certainly, an abundant literature, such as was induced in Europe a few centuries later by Dante’s poem, grew around the legend. A brief review of the three aforementioned categories will reveal how, following upon its definite crystallisation, theologians and men of letters elaborated the story of the ascension.
Commentaries by theologians preponderated over all the other forms. The many exegetical works on the Koran all deal with the completion and interpretation of the first verse of the seventeenth chapter, in which the ascension is alluded to. The various traditional versions of the legend are discussed on the evidence of the most authoritative theologians. The collections of authentic _hadiths_ also devote pages to the legend in its different forms. To the same category belongs a profusion of historical works on Islam and biographies of Mahomet and the prophets. Each book has its chapter on the ascension, which, it must be remembered, is regarded by all true Moslems as an historical fact and not unnaturally forms an integral part of the story of the life of Mahomet.[77]
But the most interesting of these commentaries are the treatises written by theologians who collated their data from the above-mentioned works. One such treatise appeared as early as the tenth century. This, the work of Abu Laith of Samarcand, dealt in particular with the Prophet’s colloquy with God.[78] Not until the twelfth century, however, did this form of literature reach its culminating point; at all events, no works of an earlier date have come down to us in such profusion.[79]
The authors of almost all these treatises are mainly concerned with the co-ordination of the various versions of the _Isra_ and the _Miraj_; and they solve the problem either by uniting all the forms into one or by assuming that several ascensions were made. Other questions, such as the date of the ascension, the spot whence Mahomet set out, and so forth, also, however, occupy their attention. Indeed they went farther and introduced among a host of other points, the mystical meaning of the purification of the Prophet’s heart; the composition and sequence of the mansions above the astronomical heavens; and the visibility of God. However, so far as our comparison is concerned, this literature reveals one curious coincidence alone: the Divine Comedy of Islam—like that of Dante at a later date—had a host of enthusiastic admirers, who studied it in all its phases. The meaning of every word was investigated and an explanation for the most insignificant details sought with a scrupulousness arising more from religious than literary motives.
2. This coincidence is only natural, however, and in itself does not constitute a proof. What is of more moment is that these exegetical treatises supplement the traditional text of the legend. For in the fused version there appear many new scenes and episodes, which, as regards their authenticity and age, can only be attributed to those versions of the three cycles already examined or to others contemporaneous with them.[80] Of these new episodes only those that distinctly resemble scenes in Dante need be considered here.[81]
3. At the outset of his Nocturnal Journey—before his visit to the infernal regions—an afrite, armed with a fire-brand, bars Mahomet’s way. Attacked and pursued by the demon, the Prophet is comforted by Gabriel, who teaches him a prayer, by repeating which he is enabled to extinguish the demon’s torch.[82]
As Dante and Virgil reach the fifth pit of the eighth circle of hell, a similar scene unfolds itself.[83] The two poets are pursued by a horde of demons armed with javelins and led by a fierce and swarthy devil. Virgil calms Dante’s fears and utters a brief command, whereupon the devil’s fury subsides and his weapon falls at his feet.
4. But few new episodes are introduced into the ascension proper. The first and main one is the scene of the ladder stretching from the Temple of Jerusalem to heaven. Its rungs are of gold, silver, and emerald. By it the souls of the blessed rise, and on either side angels stand in line. By means of this ladder Mahomet, with Gabriel, reaches heaven in less time than it takes to tell.[84]
The similar scene in the Twenty-first and Twenty-second Cantos of the Paradiso is familiar to all. In the heaven of Saturn the poet sees a golden ladder that leads to the last of the celestial spheres. The spirits of the blessed descend by its rungs. Beatrice calling upon him to ascend, he finds himself at the top in less time than it would take to withdraw the hand from fire.[85]
5. The prophets inhabiting the heavens visited by Mahomet seldom appear alone, as in the previous versions; but each is surrounded by a group of the blessed, their disciples on earth. Thus, in the fifth heaven, Aaron tells Biblical stories to a group of Jewish unbelievers; others, like Enoch, Moses, and Abraham, discuss theology with Mahomet.[86] The Prophet also meets other Biblical and Moslem characters. In the fourth heaven he sees Mary, the mother of Moses, with the Virgin Mary[87]; and in the seventh heaven, two hosts of Moslems, the one clad in white and the other in grey.[88] With the light of the Divine Throne shining upon him, a man unknown to him is seen by Mahomet. This man, Gabriel explains, is a symbol of the glory that awaits the contemplative souls.[89] Between heaven and earth he beholds the prophet Ezekiel begirt by a circle of light and prostrate in prayer.[90] Bilal, too, he sees, the first Moslem to hold the sacred office of Muezzin and call the faithful to prayer.[91] Again, one of his dearest companions, Abu Bakr, appears to him in fantastic form to act as his guide, when Gabriel leaves him in the final stages of the ascension.[92] Lastly, a heavenly maiden, the destined bride of his disciple Zayd, the son of Haritha, reveals her identity and that of her intended spouse.[93]
Thus, by their wealth of incident and profusion of secondary characters, these versions offer a plan of the Moslem legend that, unlike the plans of previous versions, is not so far removed from that of the Divine Comedy. Dante also imagined the celestial spheres to be peopled by the blessed, who were allotted to the various heavens according to their virtues or the profession they followed. The persons in each group discourse among themselves or with Dante on religion or philosophy. For the greater part they are Christians, but Hebrews and even Pagans are also introduced. Further, both sexes are represented. Some are famous characters of olden times, but the majority are either friends or relations of the poet, who, with the memory of them on earth still fresh in his mind, depicts their moral traits in masterly, yet measured, terms.
It is, of course, not claimed that the Moslem legend, at this, the final stage of its evolution, can compare in its poetical technique with the Divine Comedy. But in the general scheme of action, as well as in the roles of the protagonist and other characters, the resemblance between the two can hardly be said to be either remote or accidental.[94]
VI
ADAPTATIONS FROM THE LEGEND, MAINLY MYSTICAL ALLEGORIES
1. The religious authorities of Islam having at last determined upon a version that was to be regarded as authentic and as the accepted revelation, the legend may be said to have crystallised into a definite form. The imagination of the faithful could now no longer indulge in further inventions or additions. Nevertheless, the loss of new episode thus incurred was amply compensated for by another and more fertile mode of elaboration; in its final form the legend underwent considerable literary alteration.
The glosses originally added in explanation of obscure words and ellipses become merged in the text. The simplicity of the primitive versions is lost in figurative language and other literary adornments. The ascension is the theme of legends in versified prose and even poems, works in which the rich fancy of the East is given full play. The lesser characters, as well as the two protagonists, and even God Himself, engage in lengthy discourses, interspersed with rhyme and replete with metaphors and abstruse conceits. At times inanimate objects, such as the Divine Throne, are represented as living beings; heavenly animals, like the serpent that encircles the Throne and the beast that carries Mahomet, are personified and made to hold long speeches. Again, the abodes of the beyond are described with a wealth of detail taken from the Koran and the _hadiths_ of the Prophet dealing with heaven and hell.[95]
2. This first attempt at elaboration merely expanded the text of the legend. Followed a host of adaptations, allegorical or mystical, in which the ascension—supposed to be an historical fact—is applied to other physical and spiritual beings, that are either real or symbolical and earthly or heavenly. These ascend to the regions of bliss in practically the same stages as Mahomet did in his _Miraj_. Brief mention can be made of only a few of these tales.
3. The most popular is that of the ascension of the soul at death. On leaving the body, it is led by its guardian angel up through the astronomical heavens to be judged before the Throne of God. The following is a short summary of the ascension:—
At the entrance to each heaven the scene depicted in the _Miraj_ is repeated. The guardian angel is refused entry until the identity of the travellers is disclosed. The soul is then either welcomed or abused according to its conduct during life. In each sphere it undergoes an examination on one of the precepts of Islam, in the following order: Faith, prayer, almsgiving, fasting, pilgrimage, honour of parents, love of fellow-men, religious zeal and purity of heart. From the Lotus-tree of the Boundary the soul ascends through seas of light, darkness, fire and water and finally of snow and ice—all as in Version C of Cycle 2. When the veils that shroud the Divine Throne are drawn aside the catechism of the soul by God Himself begins.[96]
4. In other similar legends,[97] the guardian angels are portrayed as presenting to God each day the good deeds of the believers entrusted to their care.
In each of the seven heavens the angel at the gate denies admission to the good deed whenever its author is found guilty of any sin. Only those good deeds that have been inspired by Divine love may rise through the seven spheres to the presence of God, Who declares them accepted in His sight.
5. In these early adaptations, the ascension is accredited solely to personified metaphysical conceptions or to the souls of the departed. In each case, moreover, Mahomet himself is made to tell the story, in order to lend greater authority to it. The deep religious respect felt for the Prophet forbade any encroachment. Nevertheless, the Sufis or mystics were not long in arrogating to themselves the role of protagonist that had hitherto been reserved for Mahomet.[98] The pretext for their audacity was provided by the interpretation of the _Miraj_, that Mahomet had been raised by God to heaven in order that he might experience the supreme delight of the Beatific Vision and his heart be freed from all earthly ties.[99] It was natural, therefore, for the Sufis to generalise this interpretation and apply it to the real or symbolical ascension of the soul, which breaks its worldly bonds and flies towards God, as the essence of spiritual perfection. Indeed, one of the most famous masters of early Moslem mysticism, Abu Yazid al-Bistami, who lived in the ninth century, is credited with an actual ascension to the Divine Throne through the same stages as were traversed by Mahomet in his _Miraj_.[100]
Thus the legend gradually reaches the climax of its evolution. The Sufi, as a type of humanity capable of perfection by gradual purification from passion, rises to such heights of contemplation that he enjoys a foretaste of eternal bliss in the Beatific Vision.[101]
6. The more interesting of these later adaptations are the work of the Murcian Muhyi ad-Din ibn Arabi, the prince of Hispano-Moslem mystics, who died twenty-five years before the Florentine poet was born.[102] One of these works is based upon the _Miraj_, in which he seeks to discover a hidden moral. He treats it as an esoteric teaching of the revelations manifested to the soul of the mystic in the course of its ascension to God. This work, which unfortunately has not yet been edited, is entitled “The Book of the Nocturnal Journey towards the Majesty of the Most Magnanimous.”[103] The poetical fragment, of which a rendering is given hereunder, will suffice to indicate its general outline.
The Sufis or mystics are the heirs of the Prophet whose life and doctrine they follow. By devoting all their days to meditation and the practice of the mysteries of the Koran and maintaining the memories of their Beloved, they are at last led into the presence of God. Boraq, the beast of heaven that conveys them swiftly on their journey, is the symbol of divine love. The holy city of Jerusalem, the emblem of light and truth, forms the first stage of the journey. Here, as did the Prophet, they tarry close to the wall, representing purity of heart, that bars access to the profane. Having partaken of milk, the symbol of the true direction of revealed doctrine, they knock at the gate of heaven, allegorical of bodily mortification. Beyond the gate they see paradise and hell. With the right eye they witness the happiness of the blessed; with the left, they weep over the terrors of the infernal fires. They reach the Lotus-tree, the symbol of faith and virtue, and eat their fill of the fruit, whereby the most sublime powers of man become perfected. Thus prepared, they arrive at the final stage of their journey. The veils enshrouding the spirit are drawn aside and the hidden secret of the mystery of mysteries is made manifest to them.[104]
The significance of this subtle poem in its interpretation of Dante’s allegories is apparent. Upon the author’s own showing,[105] three esoteric meanings are conveyed by both the Divine Comedy and the “Convivio”—the first a personal, and the second a moral, allegory; whilst the third is anagogical. Seen in this light, the Divine Comedy is a complex allegory of Dante’s own life and the redemption of mankind. Dante, representing mankind, has been led from the straight path; but, guided by reason, faith and grace, he shakes off the fetters of evil; and the expiation of, and purification from, his sins are symbolised by his journey to hell and purgatory. Having attained moral perfection, he ascends by the path of contemplation to the eternal bliss of the Divine Essence. Thus Dante, like the Moslem Sufis in general and the Murcian Ibn Arabi in particular, availed himself of the alleged historical fact of the ascension of a man to the heavens, in order to represent in symbol the mystical drama of the regeneration of souls by faith and theological virtues.[106]
This further surprising coincidence of the allegorical intentions of the two legends must, therefore, be added to the many other analogies existing between them. As the symbolical character of the Divine Comedy is, in the eyes of all critics, the most forcible proof of its original inspiration, a closer enquiry into these wonderful coincidences will not be amiss. The affinity between another mystical allegory of the Murcian Ibn Arabi and Dante’s poem is obvious.
7. The Ascension in question appears in a voluminous work entitled _Al-Futuhat al-makkiya_, or the _Revelations of Mecca_. It is the main theme of an entire chapter, the heading of which, “The Alchemy of Felicity,” in itself implies an esoteric allegory.[107] The narrative is prefaced with a synopsis, of which the following is an abstract.
The aim of the soul, from the day on which the Creator unites it with the body, is to acquire the knowledge of the essence of its principle, God. In their search for the path leading to this end, the souls meet with a messenger sent by God to lead them towards that knowledge of the Creator wherein lies their happiness. Some gratefully accept the heavenly messenger’s guidance[108]; others disdain it on the plea that his powers of cognition can in no way be superior to theirs. The former then follow the direction of the doctrine as revealed by God to His messenger; whilst the latter are merely guided by the light of their own reason.
Here the mystical allegory begins, the protagonists being two travellers, one of each category. Thus, a theologian and a rationalist philosopher set out simultaneously on the path that is to lead them towards God. The first stages of the journey represent the perfection and happiness enjoyed by the soul through restraint of the passions. In these stages the teachings of philosophy and theology practically coincide, so that both travellers succeed in shaking off the fetters that bind them to earth and free themselves from the baneful influence of passion.
At this point begins the actual Ascension to heaven, the plan of which is modelled upon the _Miraj_. The first seven stages correspond to the astronomical heavens—the Moon, Mercury, Venus, the Sun, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. Each is visited in succession by the two travellers, who ascend at the same speed, the philosopher mounted on Boraq, the celestial beast that carried the Prophet and the allegorical figure of reason, and the theologian, by means of the Rafraf or shining wreath, representing the light of Divine Grace, which also conveyed Mahomet to the Divine Throne. But, although both reach the gates of the heavens at the same time, their receptions are different. The theologian is welcomed by the prophets inhabiting each sphere, but the philosopher is obliged to stand apart until he is received by the “Intelligences,” who in the neo-Platonic cosmology move the celestial spheres and to whom in this allegory the humble role of servants to the prophets is assigned. The theologian is filled with rejoicing, but his different treatment causes sadness and pain to the philosopher, who from afar witnesses the warm welcome given to his companion and only gleans vague information about the sublime mysteries revealed to the other by the prophets. Not that the philosopher is altogether neglected. The “Intelligence” of each sphere instructs him on problems of physics or cosmology, the solutions of which are dependent upon the natural influence exercised by the planet in question on the phenomena of this lower world. He finds, however, that the prophets explain the significance of these problems to the theologian from a loftier point of view and much more clearly than is done by natural science alone.
By this means the author Ibn Arabi ingeniously introduces many points from his own theological system, and the work becomes a veritable encyclopædia of philosophy, theology, and the occult sciences, set forth in the form of debates or speeches made by the prophets.
Thus in the heaven of the Moon, Adam instructs the theologian on the creative influence of Divine names. These are the prototypes of all creatures and are equivalent to the prime causes of philosophy. The phenomena of the sublunar world; the changes in the material elements; the growth of all living things; the generation of the human body—all are shown to the philosopher by the “Intelligence” to be effects of the direct action of this first astronomical sphere. But the theologian learns their primary and transcendental cause, which lies hidden in the mystic influence of the Divine names.
In the second heaven, whilst the philosopher is received by the Intelligence of Mercury, the theologian meets the two prophets Jesus and John, who discuss with him the subject of miracles, more particularly those performed by the cabbalistic virtue of certain words, the creative mystery of the word “Fiat,” and of the Divine breath that brings beings into existence. Then Jesus, the Spirit of God, reveals to his disciple the esoteric working of the miracles he performed in Israel. All these phenomena of healing, restoration of life, and so forth are derived from this sphere. When effected _praeter ordinem naturae_, they are miracles due to the supernatural alchemic powers of Jesus; when produced naturally, they are the effect of the virtue possessed by the Intelligence of Mercury. The latter is all that the philosopher learns.
A similar difference between the results obtained by the two travellers holds throughout; and it will suffice to summarise the knowledge acquired in each sphere.
In Venus, the prophet Joseph interprets the mystery of the order, beauty, and harmony of the Cosmos, and expounds the art of poetry and the interpretation of dreams.
In the sphere of the Sun, the prophet Enoch explains the astronomical cause of day and night and its many mystical applications.
The prophet Aaron, in Mars, talks at length on the government of nations, and commends to the theologian’s attention the Revealed Code as a supreme criterion of the Divine policy, based rather on mercy than on wrath.
In the heaven of Jupiter, Moses expounds the pantheism of Ibn Arabi. Starting with the interpretation of the miracle when he transformed the rod into a serpent, he ends with the thesis that all form in the universe is mutable; but the substance is ever the same, namely God in different relations, which are dependent upon the subjective impression produced in the mind of the contemplator.
Lastly, in Saturn, Abraham, reclining upon the wall of the House of Habitation, explains to the theologian the problem of the life hereafter. Meanwhile, the dejected philosopher awaits him in the dark dwelling of the Intelligence. When, repentant of his conduct, he would be converted to Islam and share in the supernatural illumination of the faith, Abraham, the father of the faithful, rejects him and leads the theologian by the hand into the House of Habitation.
Here begins the second part of the ascension. The theologian leaves the temple and ascends again on high; while his companion waits below.
The stages of this second part of the ascension are, with the exception of two astronomical spheres, all scenes of mysticism and theology. The theologian first ascends to the Lotus-tree of the Boundary, the fruit of which are emblems of the good deeds done by the faithful. At its foot run four mystic rivers, representing the Pentateuch, the Book of Psalms, the Gospel and the Koran. The last is the greatest and is the source of the others.
Thence the traveller rises to the sphere of the Fixed Stars, where corruption is unknown and myriads of angelic spirits dwell in a thousand mansions. Each one he visits and tastes the supreme delights of God’s elect.
In the last sphere—the Zodiac—are revealed to him all the marvels of the celestial paradise, which are derived from the virtue of this sphere. Immediately thereafter he arrives at the stool on which rest the feet of the Almighty—the symbols of His mercy and justice—by whose favour he is instructed in the dread problem of the eternity of reward and punishment in the life hereafter.
The ineffable light radiating from the Throne and the sweet harmony of the spheres thrill him to the innermost recesses of his heart. In an ecstasy, he suddenly realises that he has been raised to the Divine Throne, the symbol of God’s infinite mercy. The Throne appears to him held on high by five angels and the three prophets, Adam, Abraham, and Mahomet; and from them he learns of the mystery of the Cosmos, which is inscribed within the sphericity of the body of the universe, which is the Throne of God.
The remaining stages all belong to the spiritual world, or world of Platonic ideas. The traveller is finally wafted into the vapour which is the primitive epiphany or manifestation of God _ad extra_ and the type of the _prime matter_ common to Creator and creature in the pseudo-Empedoclean theosophy of Ibn Arabi.[109] Enraptured, the traveller beholds the ineffable mysteries of the divine essence and its attributes, both the absolute and those relative to the creatures. The sublime vision ending with this apotheosis, the theologian rejoins the philosopher, who becomes converted to the Moslem faith so that he too may participate in the glories of mystical contemplation.[110]
8. The points of contact between this allegorico-mystical journey and Dante’s ascension stand forth plainly. A perusal of the passages in Dante’s _Monarchia_ and _Epistola a Can Grande della Scala_, in which he outlines the esoteric meaning of his Divine Comedy, will clearly show how his interpretation agrees with that of Ibn Arabi’s allegory. Both thinkers imagine the journey as a symbol of the life of the soul in this world, into which it has been placed by the Creator to prepare for the attainment of its final aim, which is to enjoy the bliss of the Beatific Vision. Both writers hold this to be unattainable without supernatural intervention or theology; for, although philosophic reasoning, alone, can guide man in the first stages of his mystical journey, that is to say, in the practice of the virtues, only the light of grace can raise him to paradise, the symbol of the highest virtues. The main difference between the two allegories lies in the fact that, whereas in Ibn Arabi’s work there are two protagonists, in Dante’s story there is one, who is led successively by two guides, Virgil and Beatrice, representing philosophy and theology. A further difference is that Virgil does not accompany Dante to the astronomical heavens, to which the philosopher of the Moslem allegory ascends. This is due to the fact that in Ibn Arabi’s cosmological system the spheres of the stars, as belonging to the material world, come within the scope of philosophical speculation. On this point Ibn Arabi certainly was more logical than the Florentine poet, who is less interested in Beatrice as a symbol than in her glorification as a real person. The effect of this difference, however, is practically annulled by the fact that when he sets out on his ascension with Beatrice, Dante may be said to be acting in a dual capacity; firstly, as a philosopher, by the experience gained from Virgil’s teaching; and secondly, as a theologian, now taught by Beatrice. Thus in some of the spheres, Dante is seen reasoning as a philosopher independent of the aid of Beatrice or the blessed, who, on the other hand, enlighten him on supernatural or mystical problems. And this is precisely what happens in Ibn Arabi’s story. The philosopher learns in each sphere of the natural phenomena produced in the sublunar world by its physical virtues; whilst the theologian from the prophets receives the same instruction as the philosopher on matters pertaining to nature, supplemented by illumination of mystical and theological subjects.
A few features of resemblance in episode may help to complete the parallel.
9. In Dante’s hell the souls of the damned are seen in the dwellings in which they are destined to remain for all eternity. In paradise, however, the blessed descend from their abode, the Empyrean, and appear to Dante in the various astronomical spheres, welcoming him or making him sensible to the various degrees of bliss. They are, however, supposed to return to the Empyrean, for, in the heaven of the Fixed Stars Dante again sees them assembled in one large body.[111]
This same artifice was used by Ibn Arabi in his allegorical adaptation of the _Miraj_. The prophets in the various spheres descend to bid him welcome, but in the heaven of the Fixed Stars he beholds all the spirits of the blessed together, and at the Divine Throne he sees Adam and Abraham, whom he had previously seen, the one in the first, and the other in the seventh heaven.
The criterion, in accordance with which the souls as first seen by Dante are distributed, is twofold—astrological and moral. The blessed either appear in the heaven of the star that influenced their lives or in a higher or lower sphere according to the merit of their life.[112] The same principle is discernible in the allegory of Ibn Arabi. The prophets do not appear in chronological order; for, whilst Adam is in the first heaven, Abraham is in the seventh, Moses and Aaron are in different heavens; and Jesus is in the sphere next to Adam. The guiding principle is thus either greater dignity or moral excellence. Moreover, the celestial spheres unlike the preceding versions where they are numbered, bear the name of their star. Thus a relationship, similar to that between each heaven and the souls in the Paradiso, is here established between the spheres and the prophets appearing in them. It is true that the meaning underlying this relationship is nowhere actually expressed. But it is significant that Joseph, celebrated for beauty and chastity, should be assigned to the sphere of Venus; Moses, as law-giver to Israel and victor over Pharaoh, to the sphere of Jupiter, the vanquisher of the Titans; and Jesus, the Living Word of God, to Mercury, the messenger of the gods and himself the god of eloquence.[113]
Lastly, the desire that obsesses Dante to display his learning often at the expense even of artistic effect has a striking parallel in the Moslem tale. Dante made of the Divine Comedy a veritable scientific treatise by attributing to Beatrice and others, for the instruction of the pilgrim, lengthy dissertations on philosophy, theology and the like. Ibn Arabi resorts to a similar device to present his theosophical problems, when he causes these to be discussed in lengthy and complicated discourses by the prophets.[114]
Thus the two works agree in subject-matter, action and allegorical purpose; in their principal and secondary persons; in the architecture of the astronomical heavens; and in the didactic trend of ideas and the use of literary devices to produce in abstract a national cyclopædia. To these features of resemblance must be added the similarity in style; both works are so abstruse and involved at times as to suggest to the reader the mysteriousness of an oracle. In the face of all these reasons it is not too much to say that Ibn Arabi’s work is of all Moslem types the most akin to the Paradiso in particular and the whole Divine Comedy in general, in so far at least as the latter may be regarded as a moral and didactic allegory.
VII
LITERARY IMITATIONS OF THE LEGEND
1. To adapt the scenes of the ascension of Mahomet to a story of which the protagonist, though a saint, is a man of flesh and blood, was permissible perhaps to the Sufis, who claimed to be able to attain spiritually to the dignity of prophets and whose aim, in writing such adaptations, was always a religious one. Presumption, however, would appear to border on irreverence when the ascension is attributed to a mere sinner; when the aim is frankly profane; and the style affected is one of literary frivolity or irreligious irony.
Evidently there are but few such works. One alone has been handed down to us, and its author, as a writer of audacious satire on Islam, stands unique.
2. This is the blind poet, Abu-l-Ala al-Maarri, famous to the present day in Islam, and even in Europe. A Syrian of the tenth and eleventh centuries of our era, he has been named “the philosopher of poets and the poet of philosophers.”[115] The _Risalat al-ghufran_, or Treatise on Pardon, is one of his less-known works.[116] Written in the form of a literary epistle, it is really a skilful imitation of those simpler versions of the Nocturnal Journey in which Mahomet does not rise to the astronomical heavens.
The author appears to have had a dual aim in view. With a touch of irony so delicate as to be almost imperceptible, he censures the severity of the moralists as contrasted with God’s infinite mercy, and protests against the damnation of many men of letters, especially poets, who, though atheists and sinners, were famous both in ancient and Islamic Arabic literature. The epistle is a reply to a literary friend, Ibn al-Qarih, of Aleppo, who, while professing great admiration for Abu-l-Ala, had inveighed against those poets and men of letters who lived in impiety or debauchery.[117] Without alluding directly to the problem of the extent of Divine mercy, he seeks to show with literary skill that many of the libertine and even pagan poets, who finally repented, were pardoned and received into paradise. The theological thesis, however, is of secondary interest. The main object of the epistle is the interpretation and criticism of the works of the writers in question.
This double purpose he achieves by ingeniously harmonising apologetics and literary criticism in the narration of a journey, like that of Mahomet, to the realms beyond the grave.
3. (_a_) In the prologue he tells how God has miraculously raised Ibn al-Qarih to the celestial regions, in reward for his writings in defence of the faith.
(_b_) There he first comes to a garden shaded by trees, of great girth and height, and laden with fruit, beneath which repentant sinners are seen reclining. Rivers of water, milk, wine and honey flow through this garden of delight and pour balm upon the hearts of the poets dwelling therein. Freed from the envy that embittered their lives on earth, the men of letters here live in unwonted peace and harmony. Groups of poets, novelists, grammarians, critics, and philosophers are engaged in friendly conversation. Drawing near, Ibn al-Qarih hears Abu Ubayda tell tales of ancient chivalry and the grammarian, Al-Asmai, recite classical poetry.[118] He joins in the conversation and expresses sorrow that some of the pre-Islamic poets, being pagans, should have been denied admission. Then, mounted on a celestial camel, and chanting apt verses of old-time poetry, he rides on through the garden. To a voice suddenly heard asking by whom these verses were composed, he replies that it was the satirist, Maymun al-Asha, whereupon the poet himself appears on the scene. He tells the traveller how, despite his fondness for the flowing bowl, he had been saved by the Prophet, whose Divine mission he had foretold. Thereafter Ibn al-Qarih meets many of the ancient poets who, though infidels, were saved by Divine mercy. With each he converses at length, discussing their works.
(_c_) The episodes of this miraculous journey are so numerous that it would be impossible either to refer to them all or transcribe the series of animated discussions on learned subjects so ingeniously introduced into the work. The traveller meets the most distinguished writers, generally in select groups which gather and disperse, as in passing he recognises and talks to them, and then proceeds on his way. In the course of conversation an absent poet is often alluded to and, upon the traveller’s expressing a desire to converse with him, the poet’s abode is pointed out or a guide provided to lead the traveller thither.
(_d_) These wanderings through paradise, though enlivened by episodes and digressions that enhance the literary value of the work, are individually of little interest for the purpose of comparison with Dante.[119]
(_e_) The traveller now attends a celestial feast, followed by music and dancing, in which all the Chosen join. Eventually he finds himself in the company of two houris, whose charms he warmly praises. But his amorous advances meet with derision from the two beauties, who mockingly ask him whether he does not recognise them. Upon his replying that surely they are two heavenly houris, they laughingly explain that they are women well-known to him on earth—one, Hamduna, the ugliest creature in Aleppo, who was repudiated by her husband, a ragpicker, for her foul breath; the other, Tawfiq the negress, who handed out the books at the Baghdad library. An angel who happens to pass by explains to the bewildered traveller that there are two kinds of houris—those created in heaven, and women raised to paradise in reward for their virtues or repentance.
(_f_) The delights experienced in paradise awaken a desire to visit hell, in order that the contrast may render him still more sensible of the bounty of the Lord. Forthwith he sets out on the second part of his marvellous journey.
(_g_) He first sees strange cities lying scattered in valleys and but dimly lit by the light from paradise. This region, he is told, is the garden of the genii who believed in the Divine mission of Mahomet. At the mouth of a cave sits Khaytaur, their patriarch. The pilgrim hails him, and together they discuss the poems attributed to the Jann and the language spoken by them. Khaytaur satisfies his curiosity and recites to him the epic poetry of his race.
(_h_) Taking leave of the old genie, the traveller has barely set out again when his path is barred by a lion of ferocious aspect. At the sight he pauses, when lo! the beast is moved by the spirit of God to explain that he is the lion whom the Almighty tamed in order that he might protect Utba, the son of Abu Lahab and a relative of the Prophet’s, on a journey to Egypt. In reward for the service, he has been received into paradise.
(_i_) This danger past, the pilgrim proceeds, until of a sudden a wolf rushes out fiercely to meet him. His fears are soon calmed, however, when he hears the wolf tell how it helped to spread the Faith by converting an Arab infidel.[120]
(_j_) Pursuing his way to the borders of paradise and hell, he meets two other pre-Islamic poets: Al-Hutaiya, who has been saved from hell in recognition of the sincerity of his satires; and the poetess Al-Khansa, who recites her funereal elegies at the foot of a lofty volcano, from whose crater pennons of flame shoot forth. This is the entrance to hell.
(_k_) Thither Ibn al-Qarih fearlessly ascends and from the top discerns Iblis, the king of the infernal regions, struggling in vain as he lies bound in iron fetters and held down by fiends armed with long forks. Heaping curses on helpless Iblis, the traveller accuses him of having consigned countless souls to torture. To an enquiry from Iblis he replies that he is a man of letters from Aleppo. “A sorry trade, forsooth,” retorts Iblis, “by which a man can barely earn his daily bread, let alone support a family—and very risky for the soul,” he adds, “for how many like you has it not ruined? You may count yourself lucky to have escaped.” He then begs to be told of the pleasures of paradise.
(_l_) In the course of conversation Baxxar ibn Burd, the blind but ribald poet happens to be mentioned; and straightway he rises from the infernal depths, his eyes opened by the fiends, to add to his torture. Ibn al-Qarih, after lamenting the poet’s fate, seizes the opportunity to consult him on some obscure passages in his poems; but the other is in no humour for talking and makes no reply.
(_m_) The traveller now desires to speak with Imru-l-Qays the vagabond king, held by Mahomet to be the father of the ancient poets. Iblis points him out close at hand, and again a lengthy discourse begins on obscure points in the poet’s _qasidas_. In the midst of their talk, the traveller catches sight of Antara, the epic poet who sang of Arabian chivalry. Wrapt in flame, the bard nevertheless replies to all the other’s questions about his works. Ibn al-Qarih bewails the sad lot of so excellent a poet, who to his mind had been worthy of a better fate.
(_n_) Other great pre-Islamic poets appear in succession. He sees Al-Qama and Tarafa and enquires about their life on earth and praises their works. But Tarafa rejects all praise, declaring he would rather have been a simple boor and so have entered paradise. A similar lament is heard from Aws ibn Hajar, the poet of the chase and war; who, maddened by thirst, turns a deaf ear to all enquiries. Proceeding, the traveller sees another of the damned, whose features are unknown to him; this, he finds, is the minor poet Abu Kabir al-Hudali, whom he questions but also in vain; for the poet suffers such exquisite torture that he can only utter cries of pain.
(_o_) Writhing in flames and roaring like a wild beast lies another sufferer, whom he also fails to recognise. The demons tell him it is Al-Akhtal, the Christian poet at the court of the Ommeyad Caliphs, whose pungent epigrams on Islam and anacreontic verses have brought this judgment on him. Over him the visitor gloats, taunting him with the life of low debauchery he led with Caliph Yazid, the second of the Ommeyads. The poet heaves a sigh of pain as he recalls the orgies at the Royal Palace of Damascus, whose walls resounded with his ribald satires upon Islam, echoed in sacrilegious appreciation by the Caliph, the supreme head of the Faith. Carried away by his memories, Al-Akhtal begins to recite one of those very satires; but this provokes even Iblis, who rebukes his fiends for letting their charges indulge in such impiety.
(_p_) The traveller is on his way back to paradise, when it occurs to him that he has forgotten other no less famous poets in hell. Retracing his steps, he calls aloud for the poet Muhalhil, whom the demons after some delay point out. In the lower storeys of hell, too, he sees the Al-Muraqish poets Ash-Shanfara and Tabatasharran, but, though he plies them with questions about their lives and loves and verses, they barely deign to answer him, pleading that they have lost their memory. Realising the futility of further attempts, the traveller desists and returns to the celestial garden.
(_q_) On the way other incidents, which are related in the epilogue to the story, occur. Meeting Adam, he questions him on some Arabic verses attributed to him. Adam affably points out that, although he spoke Arabic in paradise, when driven out he adopted Syriac and only recovered the use of the former when he ascended to heaven, a repentant sinner; whereas the verses in question, to judge by their meaning, must have been composed on earth. After touching upon other literary subjects, the pilgrim leaves Adam and, passing through a garden in which wonderful serpents address him by word of mouth, finally reaches paradise.
(_r_) At the gate he is met by the houri appointed to attend him. In reply to her gentle chiding for tarrying so long below, he pleads the great desire he felt to talk with the poets in hell. Now that his wish has been gratified, he can give himself up entirely to the joys of paradise. Side by side they wander through fields and gardens gay with flowers, the while his fair companion recites sweet verses composed by Imru-l-Qays for the day when he should meet his beloved in paradise.
(_s_) Of a sudden he sees another heavenly maiden standing on the bank of a celestial river and surrounded by a bevy of beautiful houris; her loveliness of face and form so far surpasses the beauty of her companions that the traveller believes her to be the very beloved of Imru-l-Qays the poet.
(_t_) Awhile he lingers talking with these lovely creatures and then approaches the abode of the poets who wrote in the imperfect metre, known as “rejez,” which he discusses with them. Then assisted by the maidens and pages who attend him, he is conveyed on a vehicle of gold and topaz to the heavenly mansion in which he is to live in bliss for all eternity.
4. As will at once be seen from the above summary, this literary imitation of the Mahometan ascension is rich in analogies with the Divine Comedy.
In the first place, the supernatural element which is so striking a feature of the _Isra_ and _Miraj_, is almost wholly absent. Like Dante, the protagonist is simply a man. Nor are the secondary persons mainly saints or prophets, but mere sinners, often indeed repentant infidels. Thus the human and realistic touch imparted by Dante to the two first parts of the Divine Comedy is to be found in this earlier Moslem work. The coincidence in the realism of the two stories is, of course, not absolute; but, if the discrepancies are for the moment set aside, a systematic comparison will show the features of resemblance to be grouped under two headings, viz., general artifices, common to both stories, and actual incidents that are either similar or identical in each.[121]
5. Abu-l-Ala, to achieve his twofold aim of composing a treatise that should be at once theological and literary, avails himself of the ingenious device of making the protagonist of his tale, Ibn al-Qarih, meet a great number of persons in heaven and hell. Thus the author peoples the realms of the beyond with a host of men and women, Christians, Moslems and pagans, nobles and commoners, rich and poor, young and old. These for the greater part are sinners, and almost all are men of letters or poets; for, as stated above, the author’s main aim was literary criticism, and his secondary idea, to denounce the narrow-minded views of the theologians of his day. Nearly all the persons are historical, and most of them famous writers. Some were his contemporaries, or lived shortly before his time.
According as they appear in heaven or hell, their distribution differs. In heaven, the traveller meets them gathered in small groups, each formed of a certain class of writer, such as philologians, lyrical poets, satirists, writers in the rejez metre, and so forth. In hell, on the other hand, they appear alone.
Often the traveller inquires after a writer whom he would like to see, and they with whom he is conversing point out the other’s dwelling or provide him with a guide. At times, the desired person himself appears, when the traveller frequently fails to recognise him and has to ask his name.
The conversation both in heaven and hell turns mainly on literary points connected with the poets’ works; but allusions are not lacking to the virtues or vices that have led to their salvation or damnation.
The liberal principle which guided the author in consigning his characters to heaven or hell was bound to bring him into conflict with the narrow-minded clergy and lay masses, to whom it must have seemed akin to sacrilege to place men in heaven who on earth had been notorious unbelievers or libertines. Apart from this religious tolerance, the author is swayed by literary sympathies or personal feeling. The sight of the damned almost always moves him to pity, for only rarely does he gibe with bitter sarcasm at some unfortunate sufferer; whilst the good fortune of the blessed calls forth his warmest congratulations.
Dante has recourse to the same devices, though on the far grander scale on which the Divine Comedy is planned. Working on the same lines, he rises above the mere literary aims of the Moslem tale and conceives the story, much richer in detail than the other, of a transcendental journey to the realms of the after-life. This gives him a pretext for displaying his views, not merely on literature, but on the whole field of intellectual endeavour. The Divine Comedy is, in fact, an encyclopædia of mediæval learning. Mankind in general; Italy in the thirteenth century, and Florence in particular; the Papacy and the Empire; religious institutions; literature and the other arts—the history of all is told in its tercets, not in an impersonal or abstract manner, but as seen through the mind of Dante under the influence of his poetic temperament. Thus, just as Abu-l-Ala aimed almost exclusively at displaying his literary learning and passing judgment on the great Arabic writers; so did Dante seek to leave in his divine poem a record of his vast erudition and his views on religion, politics and art, as practised in his century. Accordingly, the number of characters in the Divine Comedy is incomparably greater than in Abu-l-Ala’s tale. But, though more groups are thus formed, they are of the same variety, the literary categories of the Moslem story being replaced in Dante’s poem by classifications according to calling and social position. The personages of the Divine Comedy, again, are either legendary, historical or nearly contemporary with the author; and all are portrayed with a vivid realism.
In heaven the souls appear to the travellers in groups and not, as in hell, singly. Thus, the literary coteries of Abu-l-Ala are equivalent to the crowns or circles seen by Dante in each heaven and composed of theologians, soldiers, judges and others.
The colloquies between Dante and the souls begin in a like way. Either he inquires for a certain soul, and is directed to the dwelling; or of a sudden a soul appears, whose features the poet fails to recognise, and he is obliged to ask his name.[122]
It is only natural that the colloquies of Dante should present a greater variety of subjects than the mainly literary discussions of Abu-l-Ala; but, in both stories, the conversation repeatedly turns upon incidents in the life of the souls or the mysteries of the after-world. Moreover, certain of the discourses of Dante with the poets and artists in hell or purgatory bear a striking resemblance to the animated _causeries_ of the Moslem tale. Thus, when Dante meets his former master, Brunetto Latini, they converse on events of their life on earth; Brunetto mentions the grammarian Priscian and the lawyer Francesco d’Accorso among his fellow-sufferers; finally, he recommends to him his _Tesoro_.[123] In purgatory the poet meets Casella, the Florentine musician, and begs him to sing “Amor que nella mente mi ragiona,” a song of Dante’s that Casella set to music.[124] Again, Sordello, a poet of Mantua, recognises Virgil and lauds his verses.[125] The painter, Oderisi, discusses Italian art with Dante, praising the two Guidos, Guinicelli, and Cavalcanti.[126] The Latin poet, Papinius Statius, tells Dante and Virgil the story of his life, and of the influence on his Thebaid and Achilleid of the Aeneid of Virgil; and when the latter discloses his identity, Statius praises and quotes verses from the master-poet’s works. In answer to his inquiries about the fate of other poets, such as Terence and Plautus, Virgil acquaints him with the lot which has befallen these and other classic authors.[127] Buonagiunta, a mediocre poet of Dante’s time, makes himself known to Dante and discusses the “new style” of Dante’s poems, admitting that they show more poetic inspiration than those of Jacopo da Lentino or Guittone da Arezzo.[128] Finally, Dante sees the great poet of Bologna, Guido Guinicelli, being cleansed in fire from the taint of lubricity. Dante hails him as the father and master of the _dolce stil nuovo_; but Guinicelli modestly refers him to the Provençal, Arnauld Daniel, whom he points out close at hand; and, as Dante steps forward to converse with the troubadour, the latter greets him with verses of great beauty in his mother tongue.[129]
A further coincidence is apparent in the spirit of tolerance displayed by both authors in excluding from hell famous pagans or infidels. Thus, Aeneas, Cæsar, Saladin, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Virgil, Cicero, Seneca, Avicenna, and Averrhoes are placed in the limbo[130] and Cato of Utica in purgatory.[131] St. Thomas Aquinas shares the same heaven as one of his greatest adversaries, Sigier of Brabant, a follower of Averrhoes[132]; and King David is placed with Trajan and Ripheus of Troy.[133] On the other hand, many persons, including popes and princes, Dante condemns to hell out of mere personal or party feeling. Finally, the spectacle of eternal bliss or torment rouses in Dante’s heart, as in that of the Moslem pilgrim, the same feelings alternately of admiration and pity, joy and wrath.[134]
6. A comparison of a few of the episodes of the Moslem journey with incidents in the Divine Comedy will disclose a resemblance even more striking than the similarity in general artifice.
One such episode is the encounter of Ibn al-Qarih with Hamduna of Aleppo and the negress Tawfiq, whom he takes to be houris, until they disclose their identity.
This scene, were it not for the semi-jocular tone of its description, closely resembles the passages of Dante’s meeting with La Pia of Sienna, in purgatory; with Piccarda Donati of Florence, in the heaven of the Moon; and with Cunizza of Padua, in the sphere of Venus. The two first-mentioned, like Hamduna, bemoan the trials of their married life; and Dante admires the wonderful beauty of Piccarda, as Ibn al-Qarih had marvelled at the fair complexion of the negress Tawfiq. Moreover, just as the two pseudo-houris revealed themselves to Ibn al-Qarih, so do the three Christian beauties, in answer to Dante’s inquiries, make themselves known to him.[135]
7. The journey to hell, undertaken by the Moslem immediately after the above episode, presents further similarities, though the sequence is inversed; for Dante visits hell before paradise.
Dante, at the outset of his journey, finds his path barred by a leopard, a lion, and a she-wolf. Escaping from these dangers, he meets Virgil, the prince of epopee and patriarch of the classic poets, who leads him to the garden of the limbo, where dwell the geniuses of antiquity. Later begins the descent to hell itself.
The Moslem pilgrim before encountering any obstacle meets Khaytaur, the patriarch of the genii. Chanting their deeds in epic verse the aged spirit sits at the entrance to the garden wherein they dwell. This garden, like Dante’s limbo, is an intermediate region between paradise and hell, of which latter it forms, as it were, the antechamber.
In vain have Dante students endeavoured to discover the meaning the poet sought to convey by the symbolic figure of the three wild beasts that bar the way to hell.[136] Innumerable as are the hypotheses that have been advanced, nowhere is so perfect a prototype for this passage to be found as in this Moslem tale. For, before he reaches hell, the Moslem pilgrim’s path is barred by a wolf and a lion, two of the very beasts that attack Dante. Drawing his inspiration from the Moslem source, the divine poet would appear to have adapted this episode with some slight changes to his allegorical purposes.[137]
8. Another Moslem episode very similar to a scene in Dante is the meeting between Adam and the pilgrim, when, on the latter’s return from hell, they discuss the language originally spoken by Adam. Dante also meets Adam (in the eighth heaven), and the burden of their conversation is likewise the language spoken by the father of mankind when he dwelt in the garden of Eden.
9. Lastly, the two scenes described on Ibn al-Qarih’s return to heaven recall the two episodes in Dante’s purgatory immediately preceding the poet’s ascension to the celestial paradise. The houri who receives the traveller with gentle words of reproach for his long absence and then converses with him, as they walk through gardens of flowers, appears as the prototype of Matilda, who with bright eyes and laughing lips awaits the poet at the entrance to the wood in earthly paradise, and with winning grace answers his questions as they walk through meadows strewn with flowers. Of a sudden, Dante beholds on the bank of a river of paradise the marvellous pageant of old men and maidens in whose midst is Beatrice, his beloved. So, too, the Moslem traveller is amazed by the sight of a throng of houris, who, gathered upon the bank of a celestial river, form a court of beauty around a heavenly maiden, the fair beloved of Imru-l-Qays, the poet.
10. A general observation, applying equally to both works, may serve as a conclusion. Abu-l-Ala, in his literary adaptation of the legend of the _Miraj_, pursued an aim that was mainly artistic; and this is a quality that also characterises Dante’s immortal poem. For, whatever else the Divine Comedy may be—an encyclopædia of theological learning, a moral allegory, and what not—it is above all a sublime work of literary art, in which the poet tells the story of a legend of the after-life, cast in the mould of his inspired tercets. Abu-l-Ala likewise displays supreme skill in the difficult technique of Arabic metre; and, though it is not actually written in verse, the _Risala_ is enriched with all the splendour of that poetic style known in Arabic literature as rhymed prose.
VIII
SUMMARY OF COMPARISONS
1. In the preceding chapters an attempt has been made to outline the story of the origin and evolution, within the world of Islam, of the religious legend describing the Nocturnal Journey and ascension of Mahomet to the realms of the after-life. The different versions of the legend have been minutely examined and compared with Dante’s poem; and the features of resemblance between the two tales have been demonstrated. It would, then, be as well here to sum up the points that have thus been established.
Around a verselet in the Koran alluding to a miraculous journey of Mahomet to the realms beyond the grave, popular fancy wove a multiplicity of versions of one and the same legend. The myth found expression in the tales of the traditionists, who with a wealth of detail describe the two main parts of the journey—the visit to hell and the ascension to paradise. All these versions had become popular throughout Islam as early as the ninth century of our era; and even in some of the earlier versions the two parts of the legend are fused to form, as in the Divine Comedy, a single dramatic action.
2. In almost all these versions Mahomet, like Dante, as the supposed author, is made to tell the story. Further, both journeys are begun at night when the protagonists awaken from profound sleep. In an imitation of the Moslem journey a lion and a wolf bar the road to hell, as do a leopard, lion and she-wolf in Dante’s poem. Khaytaur, the patriarch of the genii, whom the Moslem traveller meets, is clearly a counterpart of Virgil, the patriarch of the classics who leads Dante to the garden of the limbo. Virgil appears before Dante exactly as Gabriel before Mahomet; and throughout their journey each guide does his best to satisfy the pilgrim’s curiosity. The warning of the approach to hell in both legends is identical, viz., a confused noise and violent bursts of flame. In both stories again, the wrathful guardians of the abode of pain exclude the traveller, till their anger is appeased by an order invoked by the guide from on high. The fierce demon who pursues Mahomet with a burning brand at the outset of his Nocturnal Journey has his duplicate in the devil who pursues Dante in the fifth pit of the eighth circle; Virgil, by a brief word of command, disarms the fiend, just as Gabriel, by a prayer taught to the Prophet, quenched the fire of the glowing brand.
The general architecture of the Inferno is but a faithful copy of the Moslem hell. Both are in the shape of a vast funnel or inverted cone and consist of a series of storeys, each the abode of one class of sinner. In each, moreover, there are various subdivisions corresponding to as many subcategories of sinners. The greater the depth, the greater is the degree of sin and the pain inflicted. The ethical system in the two hells is also much alike, the atonement is either analogous to, or the reverse of, the sin committed. Finally, both hells are situate beneath the city of Jerusalem.
Nor are instances of close resemblance between the torments in the hells lacking. For instance, the adulterers, who in Dante’s poem are swept hither and thither by a hellish storm, are in the Moslem legend hurled upwards and downwards by a hurricane of flame. The description of the first circle of the Moslem hell exactly tallies with the picture of the city of Dis—a sea of flame on whose shores stand countless tombs aglow with fire. The usurers, like the souls in Dante who have been guilty of crimes of violence, swim in a lake of blood, guarded by fiends who hurl fiery stones at them. Gluttons and thieves are seen by Dante, tortured by serpents, as are the tyrants, the faithless guardians and the usurers in the Moslem hell. The maddening thirst of the forgers in the Divine Comedy is also suffered by the Moslem drunkards; whilst the forgers with the swollen bellies have their counterpart in the usurers of another Moslem version. Again, Griffolino of Arezzo and Capocchio of Sienna scratch the scab off their leprous sores, as do the slanderers in the hell of Islam. The _barattieri_, held down in a lake of boiling pitch by the forks of fiends, suffer like the undutiful children in the Moslem legend, who, submerged in flame, are at each cry for mercy prodded by demons armed with forks. Finally, the awful punishment, dealt out in Dante’s poem to the authors of schisms, of being knifed by demons and brought to life again, only for the torture to be repeated without end, is the grim torment appointed in the Moslem hell to murderers.
3. The Moslem traveller, heartened by his guide, toils up a steep mountain, even as Dante, encouraged by Virgil, ascends the mount of purgatory. Allegorical visions abound in both legends and, at times, they agree in symbol and signification. Thus, for example, the woman who, despite her loathsome ugliness, endeavours in the fourth circle of purgatory to lure Dante from his path is almost a counterpart of the hag who tempts Mahomet at the beginning of his journey. Moreover, Gabriel and Virgil agree that the vision is a symbol of the false attractions of the world. A river separates purgatory from paradise in both stories, and each traveller drinks of its waters. Nor is this all; after his visit to hell, Dante thrice has to submit to lustral ablution. Virgil, upon the advice of Cato, with his own hands washes Dante’s face, and, upon leaving purgatory, the pilgrim is immersed by Matilda and Statius in the rivers of Lethe and Eunoe, the waters of which efface all memory of sin. In the Moslem legend, the souls are likewise purified three times in rivers that flow through the garden of Abraham and whose waters render their faces white and cleanse their souls from sin. At the gates of paradise the Moslem traveller is met by a comely maid, who receives him kindly, and together they walk through the gardens of paradise, until in amazement he beholds the houris on the bank of a stream forming a court of beauty around the beloved of the poet Imru-l-Qays. Dante, when he enters the earthly paradise, also meets a fair maiden, Matilda, and is walking by her side through fields rich with flowers, when on the banks of a stream he sees the marvellous procession of old men and maidens who accompany Beatrice, his beloved, as she descends from heaven to meet him.
4. The architecture of both the Christian and the Moslem heavens is identical, inasmuch as it is based upon the Ptolemaic system. As they pass through the nine heavens, the travellers meet the spirits of the blessed whose real home, however, is the last sphere or Empyrean, where they are ultimately found all together. The denomination also of the nine spheres is in some cases the same, namely, that of their respective planets. Occasionally, too, the ethical systems are alike; the souls are grouped in the spheres according to their different virtues. At times, again, their distribution in both legends is based upon astrology, or upon a combination of astrology and ethics.
In some versions of the Moslem legend, the description of heaven may be said to be as spiritual as the picture that has immortalised the Paradiso. The phenomena of light and sound are alone used by both travellers to convey their impression of the ethereal spheres. Both are dazzled by a light which grows in brilliance at every stage. In fear of blindness, they raise their hands to their eyes; but their guides calm their fears, and God empowers them to gaze upon the new light. Both travellers frequently confess their inability to describe the majesty of the sights they see. Both again, led by their guides, ascend through the air in flight, with a speed that is compared to the wind and the arrow. The duties of both guides are manifold; not only do they lead the pilgrims and comfort them, but they pray to God on their behalf and call upon them to thank the Lord for the signal favour He has shown them.
And, just as Beatrice leaves Dante at the last stages of his ascension, so Gabriel leaves Mahomet when the Prophet is wafted to the Divine Presence by the aid of a luminous wreath.
In each of the planetary heavens and in the different mansions the Moslem traveller meets many of the Biblical prophets, surrounded by the souls of their followers on earth. He also meets many personages famous in the Bible or Moslem lore. Into the literary imitation of the Islamic legend there is introduced a host of men and women who, although of all ranks and faiths, are nearly all writers of note in the history of Islam; many are contemporaries and even acquaintances of the traveller, and all are grouped in circles according to their school of literature. Thus it is that both the heaven and hell of this imitation are peopled by the same multitude of minor personages that forms so striking a feature of the Divine Comedy. Both authors, too, have resort to the same device for introducing new actors into their scenes: either the traveller inquires where a certain soul is to be found; or of a sudden the latter appears and remains unrecognised until the guide, or a soul at hand, makes his identity known to the traveller. In both legends the pilgrims converse with the souls in heaven and hell on theological and literary subjects, or on events in the lives on earth of the departed.
Lastly, in allotting the souls to the various regions of the world to come, the two writers—although at times influenced by personal feeling are in the main guided by the same spirit of tolerance. Both, as they behold the souls in bliss or in pain, give vent to feelings of joy or pity, although occasionally they gloat over the sufferings of the damned.
But it is not merely in general outline that the two ascensions coincide; even the episodes in the visions of paradise are at times alike, if not identical.
Dante, for example, in the heaven of Jupiter sees a mighty eagle formed of myriads of resplendent spirits all wings and faces, which, chanting exhortations to man to cleave to righteousness, flaps its wings and then comes to rest. Mahomet sees in heaven a gigantic angel in the form of a cock, which moves its wings whilst chanting hymns calling mankind to prayer, and then rests. He sees other angels, each an agglomeration of countless faces and wings, who resplendent with light sing songs of praise with tongues innumerable. These two visions merged in one, at once suggest Dante’s heavenly eagle.
In the heaven of Saturn Dante beholds a golden ladder that leads upwards to the last sphere. He sees the spirits of the blessed descending by this ladder and, at the instance of Beatrice, he and his guide ascend by it in less time than “it takes to withdraw the hand from fire.” Mahomet, in his ascension, sees a ladder rising from Jerusalem to the highest heaven; angels stand on either side, and by its rungs of silver, gold, and emerald the souls ascend; led by Gabriel, the Prophet rises by it “in less than the twinkling of an eye.”
Dante meets in heaven Piccarda of his native city and Cunizza of Padua, women well known to him; and in like manner the Moslem traveller (in the literary imitation of the Mahometan ascension) meets two women, acquaintances of his, to wit, Hamduna of his own town of Aleppo and the negress Tawfiq, of Baghdad. In both legends the women make themselves known to the pilgrim, tell him of the troubles of their married life or leave him struck with admiration at their matchless beauty.
Like Dante, the same Moslem traveller meets Adam in heaven and converses with him on the subject of the primitive language he spoke in the Garden of Eden.
The examination of the theological virtues which Dante undergoes in the eighth sphere of heaven, is similar to that to which the soul of the departed is subjected in some allegorical adaptations of the _Miraj_.
The angels flying over the mystic rose of Dante’s paradise, with faces of flame and bodies whiter than snow, have their counterpart in the angel, half fire and half snow, seen by Mahomet.
As they stand on high above the planetary heavens, both pilgrims are urged by their guides to cast their eyes downwards, and they see with amazement how small the created world is in comparison with the heavenly universe.
The apotheoses in both ascensions are exactly alike. In each legend the traveller, exalted to the Divine Presence, describes the Beatific Vision as follows: God is the focus of an intense light, surrounded by nine concentric circles of myriads of angelic spirits, who shed a wonderful radiance around. In a row near the centre are the Cherubim. Twice does the traveller behold the majestic sight of those nine circles ceaselessly revolving around the Divine Light; once from afar, before he reaches the end of his journey, and again as he stands before the Throne of God. The effects of the Beatific Vision on the minds of the two pilgrims are again identical. At first they are so dazzled by the brilliance of the light that they believe they have been blinded, but gradually their sight is strengthened until finally they can gaze steadfastly upon it. Both are incapable of describing the Vision and only remember that they fell into an ecstasy that was preceded by a wondrous feeling of supreme delight.
5. Nor does the similarity between the two journeys end here. A common spirit may also be seen to pervade the two legends.
The moral meaning that Dante sought to convey in his Divine Comedy had previously been imparted by the Sufis, and particularly by the Murcian Ibn Arabi. The Moslem mystics, like Dante, made use of a dramatic story—which was alleged to be true—of the journey of a man, Mahomet, to the nether regions and his ascension to the heavens, in order to symbolise the regeneration of the soul by faith and the practice of the theological virtues. In Dante’s conception, as in Ibn Arabi’s, the journey is symbolic of the moral life of man, whom God has placed in the world to work out his destiny and attain to supreme bliss, as represented by the Beatific Vision. This he cannot do without the guidance of theology; for natural reason can only lead him through the first stages of the journey, which symbolise the moral and intellectual virtues. Those sublime mansions of paradise, which stand for the theological virtues, can only be reached by the aid of illuminative grace. Accordingly, the pilgrim in the imitations of the Mahometan ascension of Ibn Arabi and others, is no longer Mahomet, or even a saint, but merely a man and a sinner, like Dante; often, like Dante, he is a philosopher, a theologian or a poet. The minor characters too, even those appearing in heaven, are real men and sinners and often repentant infidels. Thus, like the Divine Comedy, the Moslem ascension combines in one story the antithetical elements of realism and allegorical idealism.
6. The same involved and enigmatical style characterises Dante’s poem and the ascension of Ibn Arabi. Moreover, both authors seek to display their vast erudition by attributing to their characters lengthy and abstruse discourses on philosophy, theology and astronomy. If, in addition, it is borne in mind that the Moslem ascension, like that of Dante, had a host of commentators, who endeavoured to discover the many meanings conveyed by the slightest detail; that the poet Abu-l-Ala’s work was written with the definite purpose of handing down to posterity a masterpiece of literary art and that its rhymed prose presented technical difficulties as great as, or perhaps greater than, those of Dante’s tercets, in view of the accumulation of evidence, the following facts must be accepted as undeniable:—
7. Six hundred years at least before Dante Alighieri conceived his marvellous poem, there existed in Islam a religious legend narrating the journey of Mahomet to the abodes of the after-life. In the course of time from the eighth to the thirteenth centuries of our era—Moslem traditionists, theologians, interpreters of the Scriptures, mystics, philosophers and poets—all united in weaving around the original legend a fabric of religious narrative; at times their stories were amplifications, at others, allegorical adaptations or literary imitations. A comparison with the Divine Comedy of all these versions combined bewrays many points of resemblance, and even of absolute coincidence, in the general architecture and ethical structure of hell and paradise; in the description of the tortures and rewards; in the general lines of the dramatic action; in the episodes and incidents of the journey; in the allegorical signification; in the roles assigned to the protagonist and to the minor personages; and, finally, in intrinsic literary value.
8. The interesting problems to which these coincidences give rise will be considered at a later stage; but to forestall any objections that might be made, a few words may be added on the origin of the Moslem legend.
The story of the Nocturnal Journey and the ascension of Mahomet is not autochthonous in Islam. Its real source is in the religious literatures of other and older civilisations. But the question of the origin of the _Miraj_ is of secondary interest. Let it suffice to say that its genesis may have been influenced by many similar tales, Hebrew, Persian, and Christian. It is not difficult to find features common to the Moslem legend and the Judæo-Christian ascensions of Moses, Enoch, Baruch and Isaiah; or the fabulous journey of Ardâ Virâf to the Persian paradise; or finally, the descent of Our Lord Jesus Christ to the bosom of Abraham blended into one story with His glorious ascension and the uplifting of St. Paul to the third heaven.[138] None of these journeys and ascensions, however, was so fully developed or expanded in the literature to which it belonged as the Islamic legend. Appearing, as it did, after the others, the Moslem tale was able to draw upon them and mould into the form of one story both the diverse incident they offered and much new matter that was the spontaneous outcome of Arabian fancy. In Islam, moreover, the legend was the wider spread among both learned and illiterate, seeing that it was accepted as an article of faith. To the present day it is the occasion of a religious festival celebrated throughout Islam and of a national holiday in Turkey, Egypt and Morocco,[139] which proves how deep-rooted and widely disseminated is the belief of the Moslem people in the fabulous ascension of their Prophet.