FOOTNOTES
[1] Asín Palacios has published this summary, under the title of Historia crítica de una polémica, simultaneously in four reviews: Boletín de la Real Academia Española (Madrid, 1924); Il Giornale Dantesco (Florence, 1924); Revue de littérature comparée (Paris, 1924); Litteris (Lund, Sweden, 1924).
[2] Asín, Abenmasarra, p. 120. The complete bibliography of all books consulted will be found in the Appendix.
[3] When making this assertion I was unaware of the works published two years before in Italian reviews by the erudite Dante critic, Bruno Nardi, the first and only writer to attribute a neo-Platonic affiliation to the philosophy of the Florentine poet. We shall refer to the works of Nardi in Part IV, chap. IV, § 7.
[4] Cf. Asín, Abenmasarra, p. 163.
[5] When writing the third part of my book, dealing with the Moslem elements in the pre-Dante Christian legends, I discovered from Torraca (Precursori, 331) that the influence of the Mahometan ascension over Dante had previously been suspected by Blochet. But, Blochet, in his essay, Les sources orientales de la Divine Comédie, failed to state the problem in its real terms and his hypothesis, being unsupported by documentary evidence, remained a mere surmise. Accordingly, Torraca easily disposes of it, saying:—
“Egli ragiona così; Dante conobbe le narrazioni occidentali di altri viaggi al mondo di là; ma queste narrazioni derivano dalla leggenda orientale (i.e. the Miraj); dunque essa è la fonte prima della Divina Commedia.”
The difference between this argument and the one on which the present work is based will be readily apparent to the reader.
[6] Ozanam, p. 373.
[7] Ozanam, p. 498 et seq.
[8] D’Ancona, Precursori, pp. 108 and 113.
[9] Reference to the Divine Comedy will be omitted when the resemblance is one that affects the whole of a scene spread over several pages. For such the reader may consult any of the summaries of Dante’s poem.
[10] Inf. I; Purg. IV.
[11] Inf. III, 26, 28.
[12] Of Version B there are four varieties which, to avoid repetition, are here reduced to one by the elimination of details common to A and B.
[13] Inf. V, 4 et seq.
[14] Inf. XXXIV, 114; Purg. II, 3.
[15] See Rossi, I, 146, who summarises the contrapasso in the Divine Comedy, and compare with the tortures described in Versions A and B.
[16] Inf. V, 31 et seq. It should be added that, at the approach to this region, Dante, like Mahomet in Version B, hears the cries of the damned (Ibid. 25 et seq.).
[17] Inf. XII, 46 et seq. The coincidence may extend to the crime, for the Arabic text of Version B reads: “those who ate of usury,” while Dante says literally (Inf. XII, 104) that “Ei son tiranni, che dier nel sangue e nell’aver di piglio.”
[18] Inf. XIV and XV.
[19] Purg. XXXI, 102. Cf. Purg. XXXIII, 138.
[20] Cf. Koran, LII, 4.
[21] Koran, LIII, 14.
[22] Cf. Rossi, I, 140, 142, 143; Fraticelli, 47, n. 8 and Porena, p. 9.
[23] Inf. III, 82-100; V, 4-24.
[24] Inf. VII, 1-15.
[25] Inf. VIII, 13-24; 82 et seq.
[26] Inf. IX, 79-106.
[27] Inf. XII, 11-27.
[28] Inf. XXI, 58 et seq.
[29] Inf. III, 133-4.
[30] Inf. VIII, 67-75.
[31] Inf. IX, 109 et seq.
[32] Inf. VI, 13-33; XXIV, 82 et seq.; XXV, passim.
[33] Inf. XXX, 49-57; 81-84; 102; 106-7; 119; 123.
[34] Inf. XXIX, 79-87.
[35] Inf. XXI, passim.
[36] Inf. XXVIII, 22-42.
[37] The cock was to some extent revered by the primitive Moslems. Its crowing at dawn announced the time for prayer, and the more pious among the masses were wont to set to its notes words exhorting the faithful to pray. This might have given rise to the belief that the crowing of all the cocks on earth could only be simultaneous by being the echo of the crowing of a celestial cock. Some hadiths indeed attribute an angelic nature to this heavenly cock. Cf. Damiri, I, 388-9.
[38] Koran, CVIII, 1.
[39] Koran, XIII, 28.
[40] See my work, Abenmasarra, ch. IV, V and VIII.
[41] Cf. Rossi, I, 165, 168.
[42] To quote all these passages would be tantamount to writing out the entire Paradiso. See mainly Cantos V, VII, VIII, IX, X, XII, XIII, XIV, XV, XVIII, XXII, XXIII, and XXVII-XXXIII.
[43] Compare chiefly the following passages of the Paradiso: VII, 1-6; X, 139-144; VIII, 28-31; XII, 7-9, 22-30; XIV, 118-126; XX, 73-75, 142-144; XXI, 139-142; XXIV, 112-114; XXV, 97-99, 130-135; XXVI, 67-69; XXVIII, 94-96; XXXII, 94-99, 133-135.
[44] Par. II, 23-24; V, 91-92.
[45] Par. VIII, 22-24; XXII, 99.
[46] Par. I, 4-9; X, 43-47; XXIII, 55-59; XXX, 19-22; XXXI, 136-138; XXXIII, 55-56, 106.
[47] Par. XXXIII, 90, 121-3, 139, 142.
[48] Par. III, 128-9.
[49] Par. XIV, 77-8; 82.
[50] Par. XXV, 118-121.
[51] The quotations on this and the following pages are from the English version by the Rev. P. H. Wicksteed, M.A., “The Temple Classics.” Edit. J. M. Dent, London.
[52] Par. XXIII, 28-33.
[53] Par. XXIII, 76-84; 118-9.
[54] Par. XXVIII, 16-18; XXIX, 8-9.
[55] Par. XXX, 46-51.
[56] Par. XXX, 55-60.
[57] Par. XXXIII, 52-54; 76-84.
[58] Par. X, 52-54. Cf. Par. II, 29-30.
[59] Par. XXXI, XXXIII.
[60] Par. XXXI, 58-60.
[61] Par. XXIII, 94 et seq.
[62] Par. XXVIII, 94, 98-101, 118-120.
[63] Par. XVIII-XX.
[64] Par. XVIII, 100-101; 103-108. XIX, 1-6; 34-35; 37-39; 95-97. XX, 73-74. XVIII, 76-77; 85-86; 91, 93. XIX, 10-12; 20-21.
[65] Par. XXXI, 13-15.
[66] Par. XXII, 133-135; 148-153.
[67] Par. XXVIII, 16-18; 25-34; 89-93. XXX, 100-105.
[68] Par. XXXIII, 57-63; 93-94; 97-99.
[69] Vossler, II, 216.
[70] Ibid., 211.
[71] Purg. XIX, 7-36; 55-60.
[72] The fable of Ulysses and the syrens.
[73] Cf. Fraticelli, 310, n. 7. Landino, fol. 269. Scartazzini, 536 and 539.
[74] In Moslem oneirology the vision, seen in a dream, of a woman, a prostitute with naked arms, is interpreted as a symbol of the world.
[75] Purg. I, 94-99; 124-9.
[76] Purg. XXXI, 100-103. XXXIII, 127-129; 142-145.
[77] Victor Chauvin has compiled a complete list of the biographies of Mahomet in his Bibliographie des ouvrages arabes ou relatifs aux Arabes, IX, passim. For the special literature of the Miraj v. ibidem, X, 206-8.
[78] Cf. Brockelmann, I, 196.
[79] Reference to the works quoted by Chauvin shows that of the better-known treatises on the Miraj one is of the 10th century, another of the 13th, two of the 14th, one of the 15th, four of the 16th, two of the 17th, four of the 18th, and one of the 19th. As in all literatures, the more modern drive the older treatises out of circulation. Thus the treatise on the Miraj, now printed in Cairo in preference to all others, is that of Ghiti (16th century), which is sometimes published with the glosses of Dardir (18th century). For the purposes of the present work, in addition to the two printed treatises, others as yet unedited and contained in the Gayangos Collection have been consulted, viz. MS 105, fol. 70-93 (16th century), cf. Brock, II, 304; fol. 94-166 (17th century), cf. Brock, II, 317; fol. 211-250, dated 1089 Heg.
[80] Indeed, the authors of these works invariably, by the testimony of the oldest traditionists and companions of the Prophet, seek to establish the authenticity of these episodes. The author of the first treatise in MS 105, quoted above (see p. 39, footnote 3), gives in the form of an appendix (fol. 92, recto) a complete list of the thirty-eight companions of the Prophet who are supposed to have narrated the Miraj in whole or in part.
[81] The episodes are taken from the printed and unedited treatises mentioned above. Reference to the actual passages will be made in each case.
[82] Cf. Ghiti, 41, and Dardir, 7. Also MS 105, Gayangos Collection, fol. 120.
[83] Inf. XXI, 22-33; 58-105.
[84] Ghiti, 44, and Dardir, 14. Likewise MS 105 of the Gayangos Collection, fol. 123 and 232 vᵒ.
[85] Par. XXI, 28-33; 136-7; XXII, 68-9; 100-111.
[86] Ghiti, 44 et seq.; Dardir, 14 et seq.
[87] MS 105 Gayangos Coll. fol. 124 vᵒ, line 7.
[88] Ibid., fol. 126 vᵒ.
[89] Ibid., fol. 127 vᵒ.
[90] Ibid., fol. 232 vᵒ.
[91] Kanz, VI, 293, No. 5,079.
[92] MS 64 Gayangos Coll. fol. 115 vᵒ.
[93] Tabari, Tafsir, XV, 12.
[94] One detail in the description calls for mention. Over the gate of paradise Mahomet sees an inscription extolling the virtues of almsgiving and lending free of interest (Ghiti, 86, and Dardir, 20). It will be remembered that in the version of Cycle 3 Mahomet hears a voice from hell describing the torments prepared and calling upon God to deliver up the sinners. In addition, there is the inscription branded on the forehead of the sodomite and the murderer in the Moslem hell, saying that they have “despaired of God’s mercy” (Corra, 31, and Kanz, VII, 2,086, No. 3,173), which is similar to the “Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch’entrate.” If Dante was indeed acquainted with these features, it would be easy for him to combine and embody them in his inscription over the gate of hell; for the spiritual conception of his paradise precluded all idea of material gates and inscriptions.
[95] Cf. MS 105 of the Gayangos Coll., fols. 216, 218, 223 vᵒ, 225, 245 and 246, in which fragments in rhymed prose and verse are inserted dealing with the Miraj.
[96] Tadhkira, 18, and Ibn Makhluf, I, 51-52. The examination to which the soul is subjected in each heaven in this legend may be compared with Dante’s catechism on the three theological virtues in the eighth heaven (Par. XXIV-XXVI). Noteworthy also is the close relation between each heaven and a corresponding virtue peculiar to the souls that succeed in ascending to it; this is what characterises the moral structure of Dante’s paradise. Cf. Rossi, I, 147.
[97] Minhaj of Algazel, p. 69.
[98] This presumption on the part of the Sufis was regarded as a sin against the faith. Proof of this is furnished (in Al-Yawaqit, II, 174) by Ash-Sharani’s denunciation of the Murcian Ibn Arabi who claimed to have visited heaven and hell. Such arrogance may be explained by the Sufi doctrine which admits of the possibility of the saint’s acquiring the dignity of a prophet. Cf. Asín, Abenmasarra, 82.
[99] Cf. Tafsir of Qummi, XV, 6. Other Sufi interpreters account for the inclusion of the Miraj in the Divine Scheme by the necessity of Mahomet’s being able to explain the mysteries of the after-life with the authority of one who had been an eye-witness. Cf. MS 105 Gayangos Coll., fol. 213; also Al-Horayfish, 104.
[100] Cf. MS 105, fol. 214, line 2 inf.
[101] Avicenna, in his Risala at-tayr, pp. 26-32, adapts the Miraj to the flight of birds, symbolising the exaltation of the souls of sinners which, having cast off all worldly ties, fly towards God over eight mountains towering one above the other.
[102] Cf. Asín, Abenmasarra, 110-115, where other works by the author and his master Ribera on the life and system of Ibn Arabi are quoted.
[103] Extant at the Kgl. Bibliothek, Berlin (Nos. 2,901/2) and at Vienna (No. 1,908), according to Brockelmann, I, 443, No. 16. Another copy is in the possession of the author, to whom it was presented by his learned friend Hassen Husny Abdul-Wahab, Professor of History at the Khalduniya of Tunis. The Book of the Nocturnal Journey comprises 108 folios, of which the greater part is commentary. In the prologue, Ibn Arabi states that the theme is a Miraj of the soul written both in verse and prose and in a style combining allegory with literal fact. He begins by saying: “I set out from the land of Alandalus (Spain) in the direction of Jerusalem my steed the faith of Islam, with asceticism as my bed and abnegation as provision for the journey.” He meets a youth of spiritual nature, sent from on high to act as his guide; but in the Ascension from Jerusalem is guided by another, “the envoy of Divine Grace,” with whom he ascends through the celestial spheres into the presence of God.
[104] Similar allegorical and mystical adaptations of the Miraj recur in several of the lesser works of Ibn Arabi. In the Futuhat, III, 447-465, he devotes a whole chapter, No. 367, to this subject of the Miraj. It contains a brief mystical commentary on the legend of the Prophet; an adaptation of the legend to the Ascensions or spiritual raptures of the Sufis and saints; and a long Miraj, in which the author, following the same route as Mahomet, is supposed to have risen to the heavens and to have conversed at length on theological and mystical subjects with all the prophets.
[105] In his Epistola a Can Grande della Scala (Opere minori, III, epist. XI, No. 7, p. 514).
[106] Cf. Monarchia (Opere Minori, II, 404). Likewise Fraticelli, pp. 28-31 of Preface to his edition of the Divine Comedy. Also Rossi, I, 152-157.
[107] Futuhat, II, Chap. 167, pp. 356-375. The allegory of the Ascension proper begins on p. 360.
[108] Note the interest this prologue offers for the allegorical interpretation of the prologue to the Divine Comedy.
[109] For the value of these symbols in Ibn Arabi’s system, cf. the author’s Abenmasarra, p. 111, et seq.
[110] The close relation existing between this allegory and that of Ibn Tufayl in his Self-taught Philosopher or Epistle of Hayy ibn Yaqzan is noteworthy.
[111] Rossi, I, 151.
[112] Rossi, I, 147.
[113] Ibn Arabi adheres to the astrological principle much more closely than Dante, with whom he disagrees on the relationship between each sphere and its inhabitants.
[114] It is precisely on account of the abstruseness of these discourses that the analysis of the allegory, which is of extraordinary length, has been curtailed above. Ideas from all branches of philosophical and theological lore are developed in them, and allusions are made to the cabbala of numbers and letters, to magic, astrology, alchemy and other occult sciences. In short, Ibn Arabi endeavoured to introduce into his allegory, as Dante did later into his poem, the whole encyclopædia of his age. A precedent for the literary device of the discourses is provided by versions of the Miraj, in which, as has been seen, theological discussions are attributed to the prophets and Gabriel.
[115] Abu-l-Ala Ahmed, the son of Abd Allah al-Maarri, was born at Maarrat Alnoman, a village in Syria lying between Hama and Aleppo, in 973 A.D. At the age of four he lost his eyesight as the result of an attack of smallpox; nevertheless his powers were so brilliant that under the sole direction of his father he soon acquired vast learning in the domain of Arabic philology and literature. By intercourse with philosophers he added to his culture and sharpened his critical faculties. After residing only one year at Baghdad, the centre of learning and literature of his time, he returned at the age of thirty-five to his native village, where he died in 1057 A.D. Apart from poetry, he wrote mainly critical works on the Arabic classics. Influenced by Indian philosophical thought, he certainly appears to have been a free-thinker. Cfr. Brockelmann, I, 254. Also Yaqut’s Dictionary, pp. 162 et seq. Asín, Algazel, Dogmática, pp. 110 et seq.
[116] Nicholson described and translated fragments in the JRAS of 1900 to 1902. Cfr. also Nicholson, Hist. pp. 313-324. The Risala really consists of two parts; the first, to p. 118, contains the miraculous journey to the realms beyond the grave; the second is a piece of literary criticism on the verses and ideas of certain poets who were reputed to be free-thinkers or atheists.
[117] Abu-l-Hasan Ali, the son of Mansur, known as Ibn al-Qarih, was born at Aleppo in 962 and died at Mosul sometime after 1030. A professor of literature in Syria and Egypt, he was also a mediocre poet, cf. Yaqut’s Dictionary, VI, 5, p. 424. Ibn al-Qarih’s epistle, to which the Risala is a reply, has not been preserved.
[118] For particulars about the writers named in the Risala the general reader should consult the histories of Arabic literature by Nicholson, Brockelmann, or Huart.
[119] One of the poets he consults begs to be excused on the plea that he lost all memory of his poetry in the fright he received at the time of Judgment, when he was in imminent danger of falling into hell. The traveller takes this opportunity to relate his adventures prior to entering paradise. The story is told with so fine an irony, that the reader is continually in doubt as to whether it is to be taken seriously or not. For, after depicting in vivid colours the severity of the Judge and the terror of the souls condemned to fire, the traveller proceeds to relate the artful dodges by which he managed to escape his due reward and enter heaven. After a vain endeavour to suborn the angels at the gates, he appealed to Hamza, an uncle of Mahomet, who referred him to Ali; the latter demands the certificate proving his repentance and this the traveller remembers he must have dropped in the confusion of the judgment scenes when called upon to intercede in favour of a literary master. In vain he offers to provide witnesses in place of the missing document, and he is on the point of being dragged off to hell, when he espies Fatima, the daughter of Mahomet, approaching in a brilliant procession accompanied by Khadija, the Prophet’s spouse and his sons, mounted on steeds of light. Fatima allows him to seize her stirrup and he is carried to the bridge leading to the celestial mansions; this he crosses riding on the back of one of her maidens. A final obstacle remains to be overcome on the other side; the angel janitor refuses to admit him without a ticket, but one of Mahomet’s sons intervenes and drags him inside paradise.
[120] Some of the many miracles attributed to Mahomet consist in his making animals, such as the ass, goat, gazelle and particularly the wolf, preach his Divine mission to the Arabs.
[121] The main differences may here be briefly stated. Naturalism is so pronounced a feature of this journey that at times the imitation sinks to the level of a mere parody of the Mahometan ascension; and, in this respect it clearly bears no resemblance to the Divine Comedy, the solemn earnestness of which is only very rarely interrupted by an introduction of the burlesque element. Nor is there any resemblance in the architecture of the realms, for Abu-l-Ala’s journey is practically effected on one plane and, though hell is laid at the bottom of a volcano, the traveller does not visit its mansions. Other fundamental differences are that the protagonist is not the author of the story; the order of the realms is inversed, heaven being described before hell; and, finally, the story begins in medias res, for the incidents of his entrance into heaven are told by the traveller in the course of conversation with the poets he meets in paradise.
[122] Cf. Rossi, I, 163, 164, 166, 167.
[123] Inf. XV.
[124] Purg. II.
[125] Purg. VI-VIII.
[126] Purg. XI.
[127] Purg. XXI-XXIII.
[128] Purg. XXIV.
[129] Purg. XXVI.
[130] Inf. IV.
[131] Purg. I.
[132] Par. X.
[133] Par. XX. Cf. Par. IX, 31-6, where Cunizza, famous rather for her amorous adventures than her penitence, is placed in heaven.
[134] Cf. Rossi, I, 163.
[135] Purg. V, 133; Par. III, 49; IX, 32.
[136] Cf. Fraticelli, Della prima e principale allegoria del poema di Dante (in La Divina Commedia), pp. 18-27. For the bibliography on this point see Rossi, I, 173.
[137] Vossler, II, 169, quotes Jeremiah V, 5, in which the lion, wolf, and leopard are mentioned; but in the story of the Moslem journey the analogy is more complete, for a wolf and a lion are mentioned as barring the pilgrim’s path to hell.