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.