Chapter VIII: Part I (3)

Lastly, the desire that obsesses Dante to display his learning often at the expense even of artistic effect has a striking parallel in the Moslem tale. Dante made of the Divine Comedy a veritable scientific treatise by attributing to Beatrice and others, for the instruction of the pilgrim, lengthy dissertations on philosophy, theology and the like. Ibn Arabi resorts to a similar device to present his theosophical problems, when he causes these to be discussed in lengthy and complicated discourses by the prophets.[114]

Thus the two works agree in subject-matter, action and allegorical purpose; in their principal and secondary persons; in the architecture of the astronomical heavens; and in the didactic trend of ideas and the use of literary devices to produce in abstract a national cyclopædia. To these features of resemblance must be added the similarity in style; both works are so abstruse and involved at times as to suggest to the reader the mysteriousness of an oracle. In the face of all these reasons it is not too much to say that Ibn Arabi’s work is of all Moslem types the most akin to the Paradiso in particular and the whole Divine Comedy in general, in so far at least as the latter may be regarded as a moral and didactic allegory.

VII

LITERARY IMITATIONS OF THE LEGEND

1. To adapt the scenes of the ascension of Mahomet to a story of which the protagonist, though a saint, is a man of flesh and blood, was permissible perhaps to the Sufis, who claimed to be able to attain spiritually to the dignity of prophets and whose aim, in writing such adaptations, was always a religious one. Presumption, however, would appear to border on irreverence when the ascension is attributed to a mere sinner; when the aim is frankly profane; and the style affected is one of literary frivolity or irreligious irony.

Evidently there are but few such works. One alone has been handed down to us, and its author, as a writer of audacious satire on Islam, stands unique.

2. This is the blind poet, Abu-l-Ala al-Maarri, famous to the present day in Islam, and even in Europe. A Syrian of the tenth and eleventh centuries of our era, he has been named “the philosopher of poets and the poet of philosophers.”[115] The _Risalat al-ghufran_, or Treatise on Pardon, is one of his less-known works.[116] Written in the form of a literary epistle, it is really a skilful imitation of those simpler versions of the Nocturnal Journey in which Mahomet does not rise to the astronomical heavens.

The author appears to have had a dual aim in view. With a touch of irony so delicate as to be almost imperceptible, he censures the severity of the moralists as contrasted with God’s infinite mercy, and protests against the damnation of many men of letters, especially poets, who, though atheists and sinners, were famous both in ancient and Islamic Arabic literature. The epistle is a reply to a literary friend, Ibn al-Qarih, of Aleppo, who, while professing great admiration for Abu-l-Ala, had inveighed against those poets and men of letters who lived in impiety or debauchery.[117] Without alluding directly to the problem of the extent of Divine mercy, he seeks to show with literary skill that many of the libertine and even pagan poets, who finally repented, were pardoned and received into paradise. The theological thesis, however, is of secondary interest. The main object of the epistle is the interpretation and criticism of the works of the writers in question.

This double purpose he achieves by ingeniously harmonising apologetics and literary criticism in the narration of a journey, like that of Mahomet, to the realms beyond the grave.

3. (_a_) In the prologue he tells how God has miraculously
raised Ibn al-Qarih to the celestial regions, in reward for his
writings in defence of the faith.

(_b_) There he first comes to a garden shaded by trees, of
great girth and height, and laden with fruit, beneath which
repentant sinners are seen reclining. Rivers of water, milk,
wine and honey flow through this garden of delight and pour
balm upon the hearts of the poets dwelling therein. Freed
from the envy that embittered their lives on earth, the men
of letters here live in unwonted peace and harmony. Groups
of poets, novelists, grammarians, critics, and philosophers
are engaged in friendly conversation. Drawing near, Ibn
al-Qarih hears Abu Ubayda tell tales of ancient chivalry and
the grammarian, Al-Asmai, recite classical poetry.[118] He
joins in the conversation and expresses sorrow that some of
the pre-Islamic poets, being pagans, should have been denied
admission. Then, mounted on a celestial camel, and chanting apt
verses of old-time poetry, he rides on through the garden. To a
voice suddenly heard asking by whom these verses were composed,
he replies that it was the satirist, Maymun al-Asha, whereupon
the poet himself appears on the scene. He tells the traveller
how, despite his fondness for the flowing bowl, he had been
saved by the Prophet, whose Divine mission he had foretold.
Thereafter Ibn al-Qarih meets many of the ancient poets who,
though infidels, were saved by Divine mercy. With each he
converses at length, discussing their works.

(_c_) The episodes of this miraculous journey are so numerous
that it would be impossible either to refer to them all or
transcribe the series of animated discussions on learned
subjects so ingeniously introduced into the work. The traveller
meets the most distinguished writers, generally in select
groups which gather and disperse, as in passing he recognises
and talks to them, and then proceeds on his way. In the course
of conversation an absent poet is often alluded to and, upon
the traveller’s expressing a desire to converse with him, the
poet’s abode is pointed out or a guide provided to lead the
traveller thither.

(_d_) These wanderings through paradise, though enlivened by
episodes and digressions that enhance the literary value of the
work, are individually of little interest for the purpose of
comparison with Dante.[119]

(_e_) The traveller now attends a celestial feast, followed by
music and dancing, in which all the Chosen join. Eventually he
finds himself in the company of two houris, whose charms he
warmly praises. But his amorous advances meet with derision
from the two beauties, who mockingly ask him whether he does
not recognise them. Upon his replying that surely they are two
heavenly houris, they laughingly explain that they are women
well-known to him on earth—one, Hamduna, the ugliest creature
in Aleppo, who was repudiated by her husband, a ragpicker, for
her foul breath; the other, Tawfiq the negress, who handed
out the books at the Baghdad library. An angel who happens to
pass by explains to the bewildered traveller that there are two
kinds of houris—those created in heaven, and women raised to
paradise in reward for their virtues or repentance.

(_f_) The delights experienced in paradise awaken a desire to
visit hell, in order that the contrast may render him still
more sensible of the bounty of the Lord. Forthwith he sets out
on the second part of his marvellous journey.

(_g_) He first sees strange cities lying scattered in valleys
and but dimly lit by the light from paradise. This region, he
is told, is the garden of the genii who believed in the Divine
mission of Mahomet. At the mouth of a cave sits Khaytaur, their
patriarch. The pilgrim hails him, and together they discuss the
poems attributed to the Jann and the language spoken by them.
Khaytaur satisfies his curiosity and recites to him the epic
poetry of his race.

(_h_) Taking leave of the old genie, the traveller has barely
set out again when his path is barred by a lion of ferocious
aspect. At the sight he pauses, when lo! the beast is moved
by the spirit of God to explain that he is the lion whom the
Almighty tamed in order that he might protect Utba, the son
of Abu Lahab and a relative of the Prophet’s, on a journey to
Egypt. In reward for the service, he has been received into
paradise.

(_i_) This danger past, the pilgrim proceeds, until of a sudden
a wolf rushes out fiercely to meet him. His fears are soon
calmed, however, when he hears the wolf tell how it helped to
spread the Faith by converting an Arab infidel.[120]

(_j_) Pursuing his way to the borders of paradise and hell, he
meets two other pre-Islamic poets: Al-Hutaiya, who has been
saved from hell in recognition of the sincerity of his satires;
and the poetess Al-Khansa, who recites her funereal elegies at
the foot of a lofty volcano, from whose crater pennons of flame
shoot forth. This is the entrance to hell.

(_k_) Thither Ibn al-Qarih fearlessly ascends and from the top
discerns Iblis, the king of the infernal regions, struggling in
vain as he lies bound in iron fetters and held down by fiends
armed with long forks. Heaping curses on helpless Iblis, the
traveller accuses him of having consigned countless souls to
torture. To an enquiry from Iblis he replies that he is a man
of letters from Aleppo. “A sorry trade, forsooth,” retorts
Iblis, “by which a man can barely earn his daily bread, let
alone support a family—and very risky for the soul,” he adds,
“for how many like you has it not ruined? You may count
yourself lucky to have escaped.” He then begs to be told of the
pleasures of paradise.

(_l_) In the course of conversation Baxxar ibn Burd, the blind
but ribald poet happens to be mentioned; and straightway he
rises from the infernal depths, his eyes opened by the fiends,
to add to his torture. Ibn al-Qarih, after lamenting the poet’s
fate, seizes the opportunity to consult him on some obscure
passages in his poems; but the other is in no humour for
talking and makes no reply.

(_m_) The traveller now desires to speak with Imru-l-Qays the
vagabond king, held by Mahomet to be the father of the ancient
poets. Iblis points him out close at hand, and again a lengthy
discourse begins on obscure points in the poet’s _qasidas_. In
the midst of their talk, the traveller catches sight of Antara,
the epic poet who sang of Arabian chivalry. Wrapt in flame, the
bard nevertheless replies to all the other’s questions about
his works. Ibn al-Qarih bewails the sad lot of so excellent a
poet, who to his mind had been worthy of a better fate.

(_n_) Other great pre-Islamic poets appear in succession.
He sees Al-Qama and Tarafa and enquires about their life on
earth and praises their works. But Tarafa rejects all praise,
declaring he would rather have been a simple boor and so have
entered paradise. A similar lament is heard from Aws ibn Hajar,
the poet of the chase and war; who, maddened by thirst, turns
a deaf ear to all enquiries. Proceeding, the traveller sees
another of the damned, whose features are unknown to him;
this, he finds, is the minor poet Abu Kabir al-Hudali, whom he
questions but also in vain; for the poet suffers such exquisite
torture that he can only utter cries of pain.

(_o_) Writhing in flames and roaring like a wild beast lies
another sufferer, whom he also fails to recognise. The demons
tell him it is Al-Akhtal, the Christian poet at the court
of the Ommeyad Caliphs, whose pungent epigrams on Islam
and anacreontic verses have brought this judgment on him.
Over him the visitor gloats, taunting him with the life of
low debauchery he led with Caliph Yazid, the second of the
Ommeyads. The poet heaves a sigh of pain as he recalls the
orgies at the Royal Palace of Damascus, whose walls resounded
with his ribald satires upon Islam, echoed in sacrilegious
appreciation by the Caliph, the supreme head of the Faith.
Carried away by his memories, Al-Akhtal begins to recite one of
those very satires; but this provokes even Iblis, who rebukes
his fiends for letting their charges indulge in such impiety.

(_p_) The traveller is on his way back to paradise, when it
occurs to him that he has forgotten other no less famous poets
in hell. Retracing his steps, he calls aloud for the poet
Muhalhil, whom the demons after some delay point out. In the
lower storeys of hell, too, he sees the Al-Muraqish poets
Ash-Shanfara and Tabatasharran, but, though he plies them with
questions about their lives and loves and verses, they barely
deign to answer him, pleading that they have lost their memory.
Realising the futility of further attempts, the traveller
desists and returns to the celestial garden.

(_q_) On the way other incidents, which are related in the
epilogue to the story, occur. Meeting Adam, he questions him on
some Arabic verses attributed to him. Adam affably points out
that, although he spoke Arabic in paradise, when driven out he
adopted Syriac and only recovered the use of the former when he
ascended to heaven, a repentant sinner; whereas the verses in
question, to judge by their meaning, must have been composed on
earth. After touching upon other literary subjects, the pilgrim
leaves Adam and, passing through a garden in which wonderful
serpents address him by word of mouth, finally reaches paradise.

(_r_) At the gate he is met by the houri appointed to attend
him. In reply to her gentle chiding for tarrying so long below,
he pleads the great desire he felt to talk with the poets in
hell. Now that his wish has been gratified, he can give himself
up entirely to the joys of paradise. Side by side they wander
through fields and gardens gay with flowers, the while his fair
companion recites sweet verses composed by Imru-l-Qays for the
day when he should meet his beloved in paradise.

(_s_) Of a sudden he sees another heavenly maiden standing
on the bank of a celestial river and surrounded by a bevy
of beautiful houris; her loveliness of face and form so far
surpasses the beauty of her companions that the traveller
believes her to be the very beloved of Imru-l-Qays the poet.

(_t_) Awhile he lingers talking with these lovely creatures
and then approaches the abode of the poets who wrote in the
imperfect metre, known as “rejez,” which he discusses with
them. Then assisted by the maidens and pages who attend him,
he is conveyed on a vehicle of gold and topaz to the heavenly
mansion in which he is to live in bliss for all eternity.

4. As will at once be seen from the above summary, this literary imitation of the Mahometan ascension is rich in analogies with the Divine Comedy.

In the first place, the supernatural element which is so striking a feature of the _Isra_ and _Miraj_, is almost wholly absent. Like Dante, the protagonist is simply a man. Nor are the secondary persons mainly saints or prophets, but mere sinners, often indeed repentant infidels. Thus the human and realistic touch imparted by Dante to the two first parts of the Divine Comedy is to be found in this earlier Moslem work. The coincidence in the realism of the two stories is, of course, not absolute; but, if the discrepancies are for the moment set aside, a systematic comparison will show the features of resemblance to be grouped under two headings, viz., general artifices, common to both stories, and actual incidents that are either similar or identical in each.[121]

5. Abu-l-Ala, to achieve his twofold aim of composing a treatise that should be at once theological and literary, avails himself of the ingenious device of making the protagonist of his tale, Ibn al-Qarih, meet a great number of persons in heaven and hell. Thus the author peoples the realms of the beyond with a host of men and women, Christians, Moslems and pagans, nobles and commoners, rich and poor, young and old. These for the greater part are sinners, and almost all are men of letters or poets; for, as stated above, the author’s main aim was literary criticism, and his secondary idea, to denounce the narrow-minded views of the theologians of his day. Nearly all the persons are historical, and most of them famous writers. Some were his contemporaries, or lived shortly before his time.

According as they appear in heaven or hell, their distribution differs. In heaven, the traveller meets them gathered in small groups, each formed of a certain class of writer, such as philologians, lyrical poets, satirists, writers in the rejez metre, and so forth. In hell, on the other hand, they appear alone.

Often the traveller inquires after a writer whom he would like to see, and they with whom he is conversing point out the other’s dwelling or provide him with a guide. At times, the desired person himself appears, when the traveller frequently fails to recognise him and has to ask his name.

The conversation both in heaven and hell turns mainly on literary points connected with the poets’ works; but allusions are not lacking to the virtues or vices that have led to their salvation or damnation.

The liberal principle which guided the author in consigning his characters to heaven or hell was bound to bring him into conflict with the narrow-minded clergy and lay masses, to whom it must have seemed akin to sacrilege to place men in heaven who on earth had been notorious unbelievers or libertines. Apart from this religious tolerance, the author is swayed by literary sympathies or personal feeling. The sight of the damned almost always moves him to pity, for only rarely does he gibe with bitter sarcasm at some unfortunate sufferer; whilst the good fortune of the blessed calls forth his warmest congratulations.

Dante has recourse to the same devices, though on the far grander scale on which the Divine Comedy is planned. Working on the same lines, he rises above the mere literary aims of the Moslem tale and conceives the story, much richer in detail than the other, of a transcendental journey to the realms of the after-life. This gives him a pretext for displaying his views, not merely on literature, but on the whole field of intellectual endeavour. The Divine Comedy is, in fact, an encyclopædia of mediæval learning. Mankind in general; Italy in the thirteenth century, and Florence in particular; the Papacy and the Empire; religious institutions; literature and the other arts—the history of all is told in its tercets, not in an impersonal or abstract manner, but as seen through the mind of Dante under the influence of his poetic temperament. Thus, just as Abu-l-Ala aimed almost exclusively at displaying his literary learning and passing judgment on the great Arabic writers; so did Dante seek to leave in his divine poem a record of his vast erudition and his views on religion, politics and art, as practised in his century. Accordingly, the number of characters in the Divine Comedy is incomparably greater than in Abu-l-Ala’s tale. But, though more groups are thus formed, they are of the same variety, the literary categories of the Moslem story being replaced in Dante’s poem by classifications according to calling and social position. The personages of the Divine Comedy, again, are either legendary, historical or nearly contemporary with the author; and all are portrayed with a vivid realism.

In heaven the souls appear to the travellers in groups and not, as in hell, singly. Thus, the literary coteries of Abu-l-Ala are equivalent to the crowns or circles seen by Dante in each heaven and composed of theologians, soldiers, judges and others.

The colloquies between Dante and the souls begin in a like way. Either he inquires for a certain soul, and is directed to the dwelling; or of a sudden a soul appears, whose features the poet fails to recognise, and he is obliged to ask his name.[122]

It is only natural that the colloquies of Dante should present a greater variety of subjects than the mainly literary discussions of Abu-l-Ala; but, in both stories, the conversation repeatedly turns upon incidents in the life of the souls or the mysteries of the after-world. Moreover, certain of the discourses of Dante with the poets and artists in hell or purgatory bear a striking resemblance to the animated _causeries_ of the Moslem tale. Thus, when Dante meets his former master, Brunetto Latini, they converse on events of their life on earth; Brunetto mentions the grammarian Priscian and the lawyer Francesco d’Accorso among his fellow-sufferers; finally, he recommends to him his _Tesoro_.[123] In purgatory the poet meets Casella, the Florentine musician, and begs him to sing “Amor que nella mente mi ragiona,” a song of Dante’s that Casella set to music.[124] Again, Sordello, a poet of Mantua, recognises Virgil and lauds his verses.[125] The painter, Oderisi, discusses Italian art with Dante, praising the two Guidos, Guinicelli, and Cavalcanti.[126] The Latin poet, Papinius Statius, tells Dante and Virgil the story of his life, and of the influence on his Thebaid and Achilleid of the Aeneid of Virgil; and when the latter discloses his identity, Statius praises and quotes verses from the master-poet’s works. In answer to his inquiries about the fate of other poets, such as Terence and Plautus, Virgil acquaints him with the lot which has befallen these and other classic authors.[127] Buonagiunta, a mediocre poet of Dante’s time, makes himself known to Dante and discusses the “new style” of Dante’s poems, admitting that they show more poetic inspiration than those of Jacopo da Lentino or Guittone da Arezzo.[128] Finally, Dante sees the great poet of Bologna, Guido Guinicelli, being cleansed in fire from the taint of lubricity. Dante hails him as the father and master of the _dolce stil nuovo_; but Guinicelli modestly refers him to the Provençal, Arnauld Daniel, whom he points out close at hand; and, as Dante steps forward to converse with the troubadour, the latter greets him with verses of great beauty in his mother tongue.[129]

A further coincidence is apparent in the spirit of tolerance displayed by both authors in excluding from hell famous pagans or infidels. Thus, Aeneas, Cæsar, Saladin, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Virgil, Cicero, Seneca, Avicenna, and Averrhoes are placed in the limbo[130] and Cato of Utica in purgatory.[131] St. Thomas Aquinas shares the same heaven as one of his greatest adversaries, Sigier of Brabant, a follower of Averrhoes[132]; and King David is placed with Trajan and Ripheus of Troy.[133] On the other hand, many persons, including popes and princes, Dante condemns to hell out of mere personal or party feeling. Finally, the spectacle of eternal bliss or torment rouses in Dante’s heart, as in that of the Moslem pilgrim, the same feelings alternately of admiration and pity, joy and wrath.[134]

6. A comparison of a few of the episodes of the Moslem journey with incidents in the Divine Comedy will disclose a resemblance even more striking than the similarity in general artifice.

One such episode is the encounter of Ibn al-Qarih with Hamduna of Aleppo and the negress Tawfiq, whom he takes to be houris, until they disclose their identity.

This scene, were it not for the semi-jocular tone of its description, closely resembles the passages of Dante’s meeting with La Pia of Sienna, in purgatory; with Piccarda Donati of Florence, in the heaven of the Moon; and with Cunizza of Padua, in the sphere of Venus. The two first-mentioned, like Hamduna, bemoan the trials of their married life; and Dante admires the wonderful beauty of Piccarda, as Ibn al-Qarih had marvelled at the fair complexion of the negress Tawfiq. Moreover, just as the two pseudo-houris revealed themselves to Ibn al-Qarih, so do the three Christian beauties, in answer to Dante’s inquiries, make themselves known to him.[135]

7. The journey to hell, undertaken by the Moslem immediately after the above episode, presents further similarities, though the sequence is inversed; for Dante visits hell before paradise.

Dante, at the outset of his journey, finds his path barred by a leopard, a lion, and a she-wolf. Escaping from these dangers, he meets Virgil, the prince of epopee and patriarch of the classic poets, who leads him to the garden of the limbo, where dwell the geniuses of antiquity. Later begins the descent to hell itself.

The Moslem pilgrim before encountering any obstacle meets Khaytaur, the patriarch of the genii. Chanting their deeds in epic verse the aged spirit sits at the entrance to the garden wherein they dwell. This garden, like Dante’s limbo, is an intermediate region between paradise and hell, of which latter it forms, as it were, the antechamber.

In vain have Dante students endeavoured to discover the meaning the poet sought to convey by the symbolic figure of the three wild beasts that bar the way to hell.[136] Innumerable as are the hypotheses that have been advanced, nowhere is so perfect a prototype for this passage to be found as in this Moslem tale. For, before he reaches hell, the Moslem pilgrim’s path is barred by a wolf and a lion, two of the very beasts that attack Dante. Drawing his inspiration from the Moslem source, the divine poet would appear to have adapted this episode with some slight changes to his allegorical purposes.[137]

8. Another Moslem episode very similar to a scene in Dante is the meeting between Adam and the pilgrim, when, on the latter’s return from hell, they discuss the language originally spoken by Adam. Dante also meets Adam (in the eighth heaven), and the burden of their conversation is likewise the language spoken by the father of mankind when he dwelt in the garden of Eden.

9. Lastly, the two scenes described on Ibn al-Qarih’s return to heaven recall the two episodes in Dante’s purgatory immediately preceding the poet’s ascension to the celestial paradise. The houri who receives the traveller with gentle words of reproach for his long absence and then converses with him, as they walk through gardens of flowers, appears as the prototype of Matilda, who with bright eyes and laughing lips awaits the poet at the entrance to the wood in earthly paradise, and with winning grace answers his questions as they walk through meadows strewn with flowers. Of a sudden, Dante beholds on the bank of a river of paradise the marvellous pageant of old men and maidens in whose midst is Beatrice, his beloved. So, too, the Moslem traveller is amazed by the sight of a throng of houris, who, gathered upon the bank of a celestial river, form a court of beauty around a heavenly maiden, the fair beloved of Imru-l-Qays, the poet.

10. A general observation, applying equally to both works, may serve as a conclusion. Abu-l-Ala, in his literary adaptation of the legend of the _Miraj_, pursued an aim that was mainly artistic; and this is a quality that also characterises Dante’s immortal poem. For, whatever else the Divine Comedy may be—an encyclopædia of theological learning, a moral allegory, and what not—it is above all a sublime work of literary art, in which the poet tells the story of a legend of the after-life, cast in the mould of his inspired tercets. Abu-l-Ala likewise displays supreme skill in the difficult technique of Arabic metre; and, though it is not actually written in verse, the _Risala_ is enriched with all the splendour of that poetic style known in Arabic literature as rhymed prose.

VIII

SUMMARY OF COMPARISONS

1. In the preceding chapters an attempt has been made to outline the story of the origin and evolution, within the world of Islam, of the religious legend describing the Nocturnal Journey and ascension of Mahomet to the realms of the after-life. The different versions of the legend have been minutely examined and compared with Dante’s poem; and the features of resemblance between the two tales have been demonstrated. It would, then, be as well here to sum up the points that have thus been established.

Around a verselet in the Koran alluding to a miraculous journey of Mahomet to the realms beyond the grave, popular fancy wove a multiplicity of versions of one and the same legend. The myth found expression in the tales of the traditionists, who with a wealth of detail describe the two main parts of the journey—the visit to hell and the ascension to paradise. All these versions had become popular throughout Islam as early as the ninth century of our era; and even in some of the earlier versions the two parts of the legend are fused to form, as in the Divine Comedy, a single dramatic action.

2. In almost all these versions Mahomet, like Dante, as the supposed author, is made to tell the story. Further, both journeys are begun at night when the protagonists awaken from profound sleep. In an imitation of the Moslem journey a lion and a wolf bar the road to hell, as do a leopard, lion and she-wolf in Dante’s poem. Khaytaur, the patriarch of the genii, whom the Moslem traveller meets, is clearly a counterpart of Virgil, the patriarch of the classics who leads Dante to the garden of the limbo. Virgil appears before Dante exactly as Gabriel before Mahomet; and throughout their journey each guide does his best to satisfy the pilgrim’s curiosity. The warning of the approach to hell in both legends is identical, viz., a confused noise and violent bursts of flame. In both stories again, the wrathful guardians of the abode of pain exclude the traveller, till their anger is appeased by an order invoked by the guide from on high. The fierce demon who pursues Mahomet with a burning brand at the outset of his Nocturnal Journey has his duplicate in the devil who pursues Dante in the fifth pit of the eighth circle; Virgil, by a brief word of command, disarms the fiend, just as Gabriel, by a prayer taught to the Prophet, quenched the fire of the glowing brand.

The general architecture of the Inferno is but a faithful copy of the Moslem hell. Both are in the shape of a vast funnel or inverted cone and consist of a series of storeys, each the abode of one class of sinner. In each, moreover, there are various subdivisions corresponding to as many subcategories of sinners. The greater the depth, the greater is the degree of sin and the pain inflicted. The ethical system in the two hells is also much alike, the atonement is either analogous to, or the reverse of, the sin committed. Finally, both hells are situate beneath the city of Jerusalem.

Nor are instances of close resemblance between the torments in the hells lacking. For instance, the adulterers, who in Dante’s poem are swept hither and thither by a hellish storm, are in the Moslem legend hurled upwards and downwards by a hurricane of flame. The description of the first circle of the Moslem hell exactly tallies with the picture of the city of Dis—a sea of flame on whose shores stand countless tombs aglow with fire. The usurers, like the souls in Dante who have been guilty of crimes of violence, swim in a lake of blood, guarded by fiends who hurl fiery stones at them. Gluttons and thieves are seen by Dante, tortured by serpents, as are the tyrants, the faithless guardians and the usurers in the Moslem hell. The maddening thirst of the forgers in the Divine Comedy is also suffered by the Moslem drunkards; whilst the forgers with the swollen bellies have their counterpart in the usurers of another Moslem version. Again, Griffolino of Arezzo and Capocchio of Sienna scratch the scab off their leprous sores, as do the slanderers in the hell of Islam. The _barattieri_, held down in a lake of boiling pitch by the forks of fiends, suffer like the undutiful children in the Moslem legend, who, submerged in flame, are at each cry for mercy prodded by demons armed with forks. Finally, the awful punishment, dealt out in Dante’s poem to the authors of schisms, of being knifed by demons and brought to life again, only for the torture to be repeated without end, is the grim torment appointed in the Moslem hell to murderers.

3. The Moslem traveller, heartened by his guide, toils up a steep mountain, even as Dante, encouraged by Virgil, ascends the mount of purgatory. Allegorical visions abound in both legends and, at times, they agree in symbol and signification. Thus, for example, the woman who, despite her loathsome ugliness, endeavours in the fourth circle of purgatory to lure Dante from his path is almost a counterpart of the hag who tempts Mahomet at the beginning of his journey. Moreover, Gabriel and Virgil agree that the vision is a symbol of the false attractions of the world. A river separates purgatory from paradise in both stories, and each traveller drinks of its waters. Nor is this all; after his visit to hell, Dante thrice has to submit to lustral ablution. Virgil, upon the advice of Cato, with his own hands washes Dante’s face, and, upon leaving purgatory, the pilgrim is immersed by Matilda and Statius in the rivers of Lethe and Eunoe, the waters of which efface all memory of sin. In the Moslem legend, the souls are likewise purified three times in rivers that flow through the garden of Abraham and whose waters render their faces white and cleanse their souls from sin. At the gates of paradise the Moslem traveller is met by a comely maid, who receives him kindly, and together they walk through the gardens of paradise, until in amazement he beholds the houris on the bank of a stream forming a court of beauty around the beloved of the poet Imru-l-Qays. Dante, when he enters the earthly paradise, also meets a fair maiden, Matilda, and is walking by her side through fields rich with flowers, when on the banks of a stream he sees the marvellous procession of old men and maidens who accompany Beatrice, his beloved, as she descends from heaven to meet him.

4. The architecture of both the Christian and the Moslem heavens is identical, inasmuch as it is based upon the Ptolemaic system. As they pass through the nine heavens, the travellers meet the spirits of the blessed whose real home, however, is the last sphere or Empyrean, where they are ultimately found all together. The denomination also of the nine spheres is in some cases the same, namely, that of their respective planets. Occasionally, too, the ethical systems are alike; the souls are grouped in the spheres according to their different virtues. At times, again, their distribution in both legends is based upon astrology, or upon a combination of astrology and ethics.

In some versions of the Moslem legend, the description of heaven may be said to be as spiritual as the picture that has immortalised the Paradiso. The phenomena of light and sound are alone used by both travellers to convey their impression of the ethereal spheres. Both are dazzled by a light which grows in brilliance at every stage. In fear of blindness, they raise their hands to their eyes; but their guides calm their fears, and God empowers them to gaze upon the new light. Both travellers frequently confess their inability to describe the majesty of the sights they see. Both again, led by their guides, ascend through the air in flight, with a speed that is compared to the wind and the arrow. The duties of both guides are manifold; not only do they lead the pilgrims and comfort them, but they pray to God on their behalf and call upon them to thank the Lord for the signal favour He has shown them.

And, just as Beatrice leaves Dante at the last stages of his ascension, so Gabriel leaves Mahomet when the Prophet is wafted to the Divine Presence by the aid of a luminous wreath.

In each of the planetary heavens and in the different mansions the Moslem traveller meets many of the Biblical prophets, surrounded by the souls of their followers on earth. He also meets many personages famous in the Bible or Moslem lore. Into the literary imitation of the Islamic legend there is introduced a host of men and women who, although of all ranks and faiths, are nearly all writers of note in the history of Islam; many are contemporaries and even acquaintances of the traveller, and all are grouped in circles according to their school of literature. Thus it is that both the heaven and hell of this imitation are peopled by the same multitude of minor personages that forms so striking a feature of the Divine Comedy. Both authors, too, have resort to the same device for introducing new actors into their scenes: either the traveller inquires where a certain soul is to be found; or of a sudden the latter appears and remains unrecognised until the guide, or a soul at hand, makes his identity known to the traveller. In both legends the pilgrims converse with the souls in heaven and hell on theological and literary subjects, or on events in the lives on earth of the departed.

Lastly, in allotting the souls to the various regions of the world to come, the two writers—although at times influenced by personal feeling are in the main guided by the same spirit of tolerance. Both, as they behold the souls in bliss or in pain, give vent to feelings of joy or pity, although occasionally they gloat over the sufferings of the damned.

But it is not merely in general outline that the two ascensions coincide; even the episodes in the visions of paradise are at times alike, if not identical.

Dante, for example, in the heaven of Jupiter sees a mighty eagle formed of myriads of resplendent spirits all wings and faces, which, chanting exhortations to man to cleave to righteousness, flaps its wings and then comes to rest. Mahomet sees in heaven a gigantic angel in the form of a cock, which moves its wings whilst chanting hymns calling mankind to prayer, and then rests. He sees other angels, each an agglomeration of countless faces and wings, who resplendent with light sing songs of praise with tongues innumerable. These two visions merged in one, at once suggest Dante’s heavenly eagle.

In the heaven of Saturn Dante beholds a golden ladder that leads upwards to the last sphere. He sees the spirits of the blessed descending by this ladder and, at the instance of Beatrice, he and his guide ascend by it in less time than “it takes to withdraw the hand from fire.” Mahomet, in his ascension, sees a ladder rising from Jerusalem to the highest heaven; angels stand on either side, and by its rungs of silver, gold, and emerald the souls ascend; led by Gabriel, the Prophet rises by it “in less than the twinkling of an eye.”

Dante meets in heaven Piccarda of his native city and Cunizza of Padua, women well known to him; and in like manner the Moslem traveller (in the literary imitation of the Mahometan ascension) meets two women, acquaintances of his, to wit, Hamduna of his own town of Aleppo and the negress Tawfiq, of Baghdad. In both legends the women make themselves known to the pilgrim, tell him of the troubles of their married life or leave him struck with admiration at their matchless beauty.

Like Dante, the same Moslem traveller meets Adam in heaven and converses with him on the subject of the primitive language he spoke in the Garden of Eden.

The examination of the theological virtues which Dante undergoes in the eighth sphere of heaven, is similar to that to which the soul of the departed is subjected in some allegorical adaptations of the _Miraj_.

The angels flying over the mystic rose of Dante’s paradise, with faces of flame and bodies whiter than snow, have their counterpart in the angel, half fire and half snow, seen by Mahomet.

As they stand on high above the planetary heavens, both pilgrims are urged by their guides to cast their eyes downwards, and they see with amazement how small the created world is in comparison with the heavenly universe.

The apotheoses in both ascensions are exactly alike. In each legend the traveller, exalted to the Divine Presence, describes the Beatific Vision as follows: God is the focus of an intense light, surrounded by nine concentric circles of myriads of angelic spirits, who shed a wonderful radiance around. In a row near the centre are the Cherubim. Twice does the traveller behold the majestic sight of those nine circles ceaselessly revolving around the Divine Light; once from afar, before he reaches the end of his journey, and again as he stands before the Throne of God. The effects of the Beatific Vision on the minds of the two pilgrims are again identical. At first they are so dazzled by the brilliance of the light that they believe they have been blinded, but gradually their sight is strengthened until finally they can gaze steadfastly upon it. Both are incapable of describing the Vision and only remember that they fell into an ecstasy that was preceded by a wondrous feeling of supreme delight.

5. Nor does the similarity between the two journeys end here. A common spirit may also be seen to pervade the two legends.

The moral meaning that Dante sought to convey in his Divine Comedy had previously been imparted by the Sufis, and particularly by the Murcian Ibn Arabi. The Moslem mystics, like Dante, made use of a dramatic story—which was alleged to be true—of the journey of a man, Mahomet, to the nether regions and his ascension to the heavens, in order to symbolise the regeneration of the soul by faith and the practice of the theological virtues. In Dante’s conception, as in Ibn Arabi’s, the journey is symbolic of the moral life of man, whom God has placed in the world to work out his destiny and attain to supreme bliss, as represented by the Beatific Vision. This he cannot do without the guidance of theology; for natural reason can only lead him through the first stages of the journey, which symbolise the moral and intellectual virtues. Those sublime mansions of paradise, which stand for the theological virtues, can only be reached by the aid of illuminative grace. Accordingly, the pilgrim in the imitations of the Mahometan ascension of Ibn Arabi and others, is no longer Mahomet, or even a saint, but merely a man and a sinner, like Dante; often, like Dante, he is a philosopher, a theologian or a poet. The minor characters too, even those appearing in heaven, are real men and sinners and often repentant infidels. Thus, like the Divine Comedy, the Moslem ascension combines in one story the antithetical elements of realism and allegorical idealism.

6. The same involved and enigmatical style characterises Dante’s poem and the ascension of Ibn Arabi. Moreover, both authors seek to display their vast erudition by attributing to their characters lengthy and abstruse discourses on philosophy, theology and astronomy. If, in addition, it is borne in mind that the Moslem ascension, like that of Dante, had a host of commentators, who endeavoured to discover the many meanings conveyed by the slightest detail; that the poet Abu-l-Ala’s work was written with the definite purpose of handing down to posterity a masterpiece of literary art and that its rhymed prose presented technical difficulties as great as, or perhaps greater than, those of Dante’s tercets, in view of the accumulation of evidence, the following facts must be accepted as undeniable:—

7. Six hundred years at least before Dante Alighieri conceived his marvellous poem, there existed in Islam a religious legend narrating the journey of Mahomet to the abodes of the after-life. In the course of time from the eighth to the thirteenth centuries of our era—Moslem traditionists, theologians, interpreters of the Scriptures, mystics, philosophers and poets—all united in weaving around the original legend a fabric of religious narrative; at times their stories were amplifications, at others, allegorical adaptations or literary imitations. A comparison with the Divine Comedy of all these versions combined bewrays many points of resemblance, and even of absolute coincidence, in the general architecture and ethical structure of hell and paradise; in the description of the tortures and rewards; in the general lines of the dramatic action; in the episodes and incidents of the journey; in the allegorical signification; in the roles assigned to the protagonist and to the minor personages; and, finally, in intrinsic literary value.

8. The interesting problems to which these coincidences give rise will be considered at a later stage; but to forestall any objections that might be made, a few words may be added on the origin of the Moslem legend.

The story of the Nocturnal Journey and the ascension of Mahomet is not autochthonous in Islam. Its real source is in the religious literatures of other and older civilisations. But the question of the origin of the _Miraj_ is of secondary interest. Let it suffice to say that its genesis may have been influenced by many similar tales, Hebrew, Persian, and Christian. It is not difficult to find features common to the Moslem legend and the Judæo-Christian ascensions of Moses, Enoch, Baruch and Isaiah; or the fabulous journey of Ardâ Virâf to the Persian paradise; or finally, the descent of Our Lord Jesus Christ to the bosom of Abraham blended into one story with His glorious ascension and the uplifting of St. Paul to the third heaven.[138] None of these journeys and ascensions, however, was so fully developed or expanded in the literature to which it belonged as the Islamic legend. Appearing, as it did, after the others, the Moslem tale was able to draw upon them and mould into the form of one story both the diverse incident they offered and much new matter that was the spontaneous outcome of Arabian fancy. In Islam, moreover, the legend was the wider spread among both learned and illiterate, seeing that it was accepted as an article of faith. To the present day it is the occasion of a religious festival celebrated throughout Islam and of a national holiday in Turkey, Egypt and Morocco,[139] which proves how deep-rooted and widely disseminated is the belief of the Moslem people in the fabulous ascension of their Prophet.

PART II

_THE DIVINE COMEDY COMPARED WITH OTHER MOSLEM LEGENDS ON THE AFTER-LIFE_