century onwards runs a rich vein of legend, which Dante students have
explored in search of a possible clue to the genesis of the Divine
Comedy. The theme, it may be said, is also a visit to places, which,
being inaccessible to the ordinary mortal, may readily be identifiable
with the regions beyond the grave. These legends, having three main
characteristics in common, may be grouped in one cycle. They are tales
of wonderful voyages to fantastic islands; the protagonists are either
adventurers, or saints, or conquerors, who are invariably more mythical
than historical; and the aim of these is generally a religious one—to
spread the Gospel, to do penance, to find the isle of earthly paradise
or the fountain of life, or to seek the immortal prophets, Enoch and
Elijah.[508]
These legends may be roughly subdivided into three groups corresponding
to the natures of the protagonist. Tales of mere adventure are the
voyages of Harold of Norway and Gorm of Denmark; the Celtic voyages
of Maldwin, of the sons of Conall Dearg Ua-Corra, and of Snedhgus and
MacRiaghla. Of the adventurous pilgrimages by sea the most celebrated is
the voyage of St. Brandan, a veritable monastic odyssey, imitations of
which are the stories of the voyages of St. Barintus, St. Mernoc, St.
Malo, St. Amarus, and the Armorican monks. Voyages of conquest are the
parallels to the voyage of Alexander the Great, such as the legends of
Hugh of Bordeaux, Baldwin of Seeburg, Ugger the Dane, Hugh of Auvergne,
and Guerin the Mean.
2. By the tenth century, at the very latest—the epoch of flourishing
trade in the Persian Gulf and Indian Ocean—Islam had produced and
given widespread popularity to a whole cycle of similar legends; and
the hypothesis that their influence was responsible for the genesis of
the Christian legends is strengthened by the fact that they show the
same three characteristics mentioned above. They also are stories of
wondrous adventure in fabulous islands. The protagonists are seldom
historical persons and, like the heroes of the Christian legends, are
either adventurers or conquerors, religious devotees or pseudo-prophets.
Thirdly, the aim of most of these voyages is religious. The adventurers
set out to seek Mahomet or spread the gospel of Islam; to visit hell and
the paradise of saints and martyrs; or to find the abode either of the
prophets Enoch and Elijah or of the fabulous pseudo-prophet Khidr, who is
the protagonist of some of the legends.
Like their Christian counterparts, these Moslem legends may be grouped,
in accordance with the nature of the protagonist in each, under three
headings. The voyages of Sindbad the Sailor, of Hassan of Basra, of
Azim, of Ganisa, and of the Prince of Karizme, are purely voyages of
adventure. The heroes of the religious voyages are prophets or ascetics,
who are either wholly mythical or are historical personages clothed in
mythical garb, such as Khidr, Moses, Joseph, Jonah, and Boluqiya. To this
group also belong the tales of the birth of Mahomet, the tales of Abd
al-Mutallib the Wise, Yarab the Judge, Tamim Dari the Soldier, Abu Talib
the Lawyer, Zesbet, Abu al-Fawaris, and Sayf al-Muluk. The third group
comprises the expeditions that are partly warlike and partly religious;
typical of these is the Koranic legend of Dulcarnain, a mythical figure
that in Moslem legend is strangely interwoven with the figure of
Alexander the Great as depicted by the pseudo-Callisthenes.
3. This similarity in outline shown by the two legendary cycles is in
itself significant of Moslem influence. But there is further evidence.
Victor Chauvin, in his monumental work on the bibliography of Moslem
fiction, has traced a number of episodes and descriptive features from
the Moslem to Christian tales.[509] Thus, the legends of Herzog Ernst, of
Heinrich der Loewe, of Reinfried of Brunswick, of Hugh of Bordeaux, and
of Guerin the Mean, would all appear to be derived from the Arabic story
of the Prince of Karizme. Hence Chauvin’s conclusion that “the direct or
indirect influence of Oriental tales of marvellous voyages is to be seen
in several works of mediæval fiction.”[510] In addition, there is the
testimony of the Dutchman, De Goeje, the eminent Arabic scholar, whose
inquiry into the close relationship between the “Voyage of St. Brandan,”
the most typical of Irish tales, and the voyages of Sindbad the Sailor,
has won at least the partial adhesion of so great an authority on Romance
philology as Graf.[511] Thus, the problem may be regarded as practically
solved, and there only remains to add a few data corroborative of De
Goeje, and to point out the hitherto unsuspected Arabic origin of some
other Christian legends.
4. A typical instance of imitation from a Moslem source is provided
by the “Voyage of St. Brandan.” De Goeje attributes its origin to the
voyages of Sindbad the Sailor and a few other tales of adventurous
voyages that are briefly recorded by Al-Idrisi. Even more likely
sources, however, would appear to have been the tales of Boluqiya and of
Dulcarnain, which, having been handed down by Thaalabi, must have been
known before the eleventh century. Other Islamic tales of remote date
also come into consideration.
St. Brandan chances upon an uninhabited castle on an island, and in the
castle a table laden with the richest food, of which he and his followers
eat their fill.[512]
Boluqiya, on arriving at an island, likewise finds beneath a
tree a table set with food of different kinds. A bird greets
him from the branches of the tree and invites him to partake of
the food, which has been prepared by the order of God for all
His servants who come on foreign pilgrimage; and Boluqiya eats
his fill.[513]
On another island, visited by St. Brandan and his monks, grow trees, from
which they cut wood and make a fire to cook their food. But what appeared
to them an island was, in fact, an enormous whale, which, upon feeling
the heat of the fire upon its back, begins to move and the monks throw
themselves into the sea and swim to safety.
This episode, as has been pointed out by De Goeje, and before De Goeje by
Reinaud and D’Avezac, is identical with that of the island-whale which
Sindbad and his companions come across on the first of their voyages.
This fact, however, does not dispose of the difficulty; for the legend
of St. Brandan, though none of its extant versions dates back further
than the eleventh century, is by some supposed to be derived from earlier
Irish sources. Hence it is that Schroeder even goes so far as to suppose
that the episode of the whale passed from Ireland to the East, and Graf
himself does not deny the possibility of this.[514] Weighty arguments
can, however, be adduced against this theory. For one thing, the myth
is contained in remote works of Oriental literature,[515] for both the
Talmud and the Avesta mention a sea-serpent or tortoise on whose back
the same scene is enacted; so that, as any direct imitation of these
works by the author of the legend of St. Brandan is out of the question,
it is reasonable to suppose that Arabic literature was the medium of
communication. Is it possible that the tale of Sindbad the Sailor formed
this connecting link? In default of any documentary evidence of the date
of the Arabic tale, De Goeje has recourse to an argument which, though
interesting, is not conclusive. “In the oldest forms of the legend that
I know,” he says, “the island-whale is devoid of all vegetation. The tale
of Sindbad and the _Navigatio_ (of St. Brandan) alone mention trees as
growing on the fish.” Accordingly, he argues, as it appeared in the East
in its simple as well as its more complex form, the tale originated there
rather than in Ireland, where it appeared only in the latter form, and
that at a comparatively late time. De Goeje’s argument would have been
strengthened had he been able to produce an Arabic document giving the
myth in its more complex form before the tale of Sindbad appeared. Such
a document does exist in the _Book of Animals_, written by Al Jahiz,
of Basra, who lived from 781 to 869 A.D., or more than a century prior
to the date attributed to the tale of Sindbad,[516] and certainly long
before the composition of the Irish tales that have been regarded as
the sources of the “Voyage of St. Brandan.”[517] Al Jahiz, speaking of
monsters that are supposed to live in the sea, mentions the sea-serpent
or dragon, a certain crustacean of the sea called “_sarathan_,” and an
enormous fish, which undoubtedly is the whale. He is inclined to doubt
the existence of the two first-mentioned animals.[518]
“To tell the truth,” he says, “we have never heard of these”
(the sea-serpents) “except in tales of magic and in sailors’
yarns. To believe in the existence of the sea dragon is akin
to believing in the existence of the phœnix. Never did I hear
the dragon spoken of, but those present called the teller of
the tale a liar.... As to the _sarathan_, I have never yet met
anybody who could assure me he had seen it with his own eyes.
Of course, if we were to believe all that sailors tell ...
for they claim that on occasions they have landed on certain
islands having woods and valleys and fissures and have lit a
great fire; and when the monster felt the fire on its back,
it began to glide away with them and all the plants growing
on it, so that only such as managed to flee were saved. This
tale outdoes the most fabulous and preposterous of stories....
However, as for the fish, I state that it is as true as I am
alive that I have with my own eyes seen the fish of enormous
size called _Albala_ (the whale) and it was killed with
unerring aim.”
Originating in Persia, the myth lived on in the neighbouring countries
and, seeing that Al Jahiz gives it as a common theme of the sea legends
of his time, must have passed into Islam at least as early as the eighth
century. Thus, it is included in the popular tenth-century story of
Sindbad the Sailor, and is handed down in various Arabic works to the
twelfth century. Algazel refers to it in his _Ihia_, written at the
beginning of that century. Speaking of the immensity of the ocean, he
says, “in it live animals of so great a size that when the back of one of
them appears upon the water it is taken for an island and sailors land
upon it; but should they perchance light a fire, the monster, feeling the
heat, moves and the sailors become aware that it is alive.”[519]
The further arguments adduced by Schroeder in support of his theory, that
the myth of the whale arose in the north, are feeble. His assertion that
the whale is only to be found in the northern seas we have just seen
categorically denied by Al Jahiz. Surely the myth would be more likely to
arise among a people to whose seas whales would only come from time to
time rather than in the northern countries, where their appearance was
too common an occurrence even to suggest such a fable.
The next island to which St. Brandan comes is inhabited by a multitude of
birds which are gifted with speech and conceal certain angelic spirits
beneath their plumage.
Boluqiya, it will be remembered, also meets a marvellous bird, endowed
with the gift of speech, which invites him to partake of the food spread
upon a table. It explains that it was one of the birds of paradise
sent by God to offer Adam, after he was driven out of Eden, food from
that very table. Later it is this same bird, or another, also of white
plumage, that is charged with carrying Boluqiya on its wings from
the island to his home. It is seen, then, that the Moslem legend also
mentions birds of white plumage, that are gifted with speech and act as
angels or messengers of God. Moreover, in the discussion of the legend
of St. Macarius, Moslem precedents were shown to exist for the idea of
supposing human souls incarnate in birds gifted with speech from the time
of death until the day of judgment. Some _hadiths_ even go further[520];
speaking precisely of white birds, endowed with the gift of speech, they
say that they incarnate, not human souls, but angelic spirits, to wit,
the angels that are entrusted with the duty of judging the soul after
death. Again, several religious legends attest the Moslem belief that
flocks of white birds, beyond all doubt angels incarnate, attended the
burial of ascetics as if to receive their souls and lead them up to
heaven.[521] The strong hold this myth had on the Moslem imagination
explains why in all books on the interpretation of dreams birds are said
to signify angels.[522]
Proceeding on his voyage, St. Brandan lands on another island, inhabited
by holy monks whose only sustenance is the bread that falls from heaven;
these monks observe strict silence and are subject neither to illness nor
old age.
This episode is simply an amalgamation of two scenes appearing in some
versions of the expeditions of Dulcarnain—the scene of the island of the
monks and the island of the wise men.[523]
On the former island Dulcarnain finds ascetics so emaciated by
the austerity of their holy life that they appear as black as
coal; the fish and herbs provided for them by God are their
only nourishment, yet they assure Dulcarnain that they feel
no desire for the things of this world. On the other island
the wise men ask him whether with all his vaunted power he can
vouchsafe them eternal life and freedom from sickness. To his
answer that he cannot, they reply that God has granted them
this, and many other things besides.
Another island in the voyage of St. Brandan is described as bearing
enormous vines, from which hang bunches of grapes of monstrous size; the
seeds alone are as large as apples and suffice to satisfy the hunger and
slake the thirst of the saint and all his companions.
This incident is undoubtedly founded on the _hadiths_ telling of the
gardens of paradise, in which grow vines of monstrous size.[524]
“Does the vine grow in heaven?” asked one of the first
disciples of Mahomet, and upon the Prophet’s answering that
it did, the disciple inquired, “Of what size are the fruit?”
“As the distance covered by a raven in a month’s uninterrupted
flight,” was the answer. “And what is the size of the seeds?”
“Of that of a large jar.” “Then, with a single seed I and all
my family could eat their fill?” “And thy whole tribe as well,”
concluded Mahomet. Other _hadiths_ even state the exact length
of each bunch of grapes to be twelve cubits.
Continuing his pilgrimage, St. Brandan comes to an enormous column of the
clearest crystal; rising from the bottom of the sea it appears to touch
the sky, and around it is what seems to be a great pavilion formed of a
silvery substance with large meshes.
Two very similar descriptions are found in the Islamic fables of Solomon,
which depict a submarine dome and an aerial city.[525]
Solomon sees rising from the bottom of the sea a pavilion,
tent, tabernacle, or tower, vaulted like a dome, which is made
of crystal and is beaten by the waves; from a gate emerges
a youth, who proceeds to relate to him his life of solitary
devotion beneath the waters. The aerial city is erected by the
genii at the order of Solomon, who bids them build him a city
or palace of crystal a hundred thousand fathoms in extent and
a thousand storeys high, of solid foundations but with a dome
airy and lighter than water; the whole to be transparent so
that the light of the sun and the moon may penetrate its walls;
a white cupola, surmounting the highest storey and crowned by
a brilliant banner, with a resplendent light lit up the route
of Solomon’s army during the night, when the king, floating
through space in his aerial castle as in an airship driven by
the wind, sallied forth on an expedition.
Upon reaching the regions of the damned, St. Brandan and his companions
find Judas sad, and naked but for a rag over his face, seated upon a rock
in the midst of the ocean. Other similar Christian legends show Judas
standing in a pool or pit through which flow all the waters of the world;
or again, he is represented as being consumed internally with fire in
spite of the waters that beat incessantly upon him. The picture is an
adaptation from the Moslem legends of the torment of Cain, one of which,
dating from the eighth century, reads as follows:
A man of the Yemen, named Abd Allah, with various companions
set out on a voyage, in the course of which they came to a
sea that was wrapt in darkness. For several days they sailed
onwards until suddenly the veil of darkness lifted and they
found themselves close to an inhabited coast. “I went ashore,”
said Abd Allah, “in search of water, but all the houses I
came to were closed; in vain I knocked at the doors, for no
one answered. Of a sudden two horsemen appeared, mounted on
snow-white steeds, who said to me: ‘Abd Allah! follow yonder
path and thou wilt come to a pool of water; drink thy fill and
be not afeared at what thou seest there.’ I inquired of them
about the empty houses through which the wind whistled, and
they told me they were the dwellings of the souls of the dead.
Upon arriving at the pool, I found a man leaning head downwards
and seeking to reach the water with his hand. When he saw me,
he cried out: ‘Abd Allah, I pray thee, give me to drink,’ and I
filled the cup to give him water, but lo! my hand was stayed.
I said to him, ‘Oh, servant of the Lord! thou hast seen that I
would fain have served thee. Tell me, then, who thou art!’ And
he answered, ‘I am the son of Adam who first shed blood upon
earth.’”
Another tale, also dating from the eighth century, is similar:
A shipwrecked sailor saves himself by clinging to a spar and is
flung upon the shore of an island. Proceeding along the shore,
he comes to a stream the course of which he follows to a spot
where the water seems to flow from the bottom of the earth.
There he finds, chained by the feet just out of reach of the
water, a man who begs him to slake his thirst, saying he is
the son of Adam that slew his brother and since that deed is
chastised for every murder that is committed on earth.[526]
The last incident in the voyage of St. Brandan that is worthy of note is
his meeting with the hermit Paul, who lives on a rock in the middle of
the ocean, fed by a lark for the last hundred and forty years, and will
there remain alive until the day of judgment.
Here, blended into one, we have two characters—the historical person of
St. Paul the Hermit, who, fed by a raven until his death, lived in the
desert of Thebes, and the mythical figure of Khidr, in the conformation
of which Islam combined features of Elijah, Elishah, the Wandering Jew,
and St. George. Khidr, like Elijah, is immortal, and in many legends is
depicted as a sea-hermit, praying in the midst of a desert island, or on
a rock beaten by the waves, where he is fed by a bird, which brings him
food and water in its beak, or from a table sent down from heaven. There,
it is said, he will live until the day of judgment and, having often been
seen by shipwrecked sailors, he is regarded in Islam as the patron saint
of mariners.[527]
St. Brandan now approaches the Isle of Paradise, which is the goal of his
pilgrimage; but, like Abd Allah of the Yemen, and like Dulcarnain in his
search for the Fountain of Life, he first has to pass through a region
of darkness. The German version of the voyage, moreover, contains two
interesting features. The ground of the Isle of Paradise is, like the
ground traversed by Dulcarnain, strewn with precious stones; and from
a fountain spring four rivers, of milk, of wine, of oil, and of honey,
similar to the rivers that water the gardens of paradise in the Koran
(XLVII, 16-17).
5. It would thus seem that everything points to the same conclusion,
namely, that an Eastern or, to be more precise, an Islamic origin must be
given to this legend—the legend that Renan regarded as “the most perfect
expression of the Celtic ideal and one of the most admirable creations of
the human mind,”[528] and that Graf, though admitting the influence of
the story of Sindbad the Sailor, nevertheless believes to be Gaelic in
foundation. Other Romance scholars, however—owing to their lack of all
documentary evidence, they could never go beyond mere suppositions—came
nearer to the truth. Labitte, for instance, was struck by “le tour,
l’imagination brillante et presque orientale qu’elle décèle”;[529]
and D’Ancona admits that Eastern fables are mixed among its other
elements.[530] The very monotony of rhythm in the narration; the precise
number of seven voyages, corresponding to the seven seas through which
Boluqiya also sailed; the fantastic adventures, which led St. Vincent
of Beauvais and the Bollandists to describe these legends as _apocrypha
deliramenta_; and, lastly, the many episodes traced to Islamic sources
by De Goeje[531] and in the above pages—all go to warrant the conclusion
that, if the voyage of St. Brandan and other similar legends were indeed
written by an Irish monk on a basis of Celtic tradition, the plethora of
Islamic elements that were grafted on to the native stock was such as to
change their original character.
6. The same conclusion may be drawn from an examination of the other
tales of voyages that are more warlike expeditions than mere pilgrimages.
In these legends traces of the Arabic stories of the fabulous Dulcarnain
are frequently to be found.
Thus, in the legend of the Frisian sailors, narrated by Adam of Bremen
in the eleventh century, the adventurers, after traversing a dark region
of the ocean, arrive at an island the inhabitants of which hide in caves
while the sun is on the horizon, that is to say, at midday, the time of
the arrival of the strangers.[532]
This detail is characteristic of the country described in the legends
of the voyage of Dulcarnain as being that in which the sun rises, “the
inhabitants of which do not build houses, but take refuge in caves until
the sun goes down, when they sally forth to seek their living.”[533]
The tenth century Moslem record is based on _hadiths_ of a much earlier
date, and they in their turn were written as gloss on a passage of the
Koran (XVIII, 89), which alludes to the fabulous voyage of Dulcarnain
to “the country where the sun shines on people to whom We have given no
protection from its rays.”
A more striking instance of imitation from the Arabic is seen, however,
in the final episode of the Latin and German versions of the voyage of
Alexander the Great to the earthly paradise.[534]
The guardian of paradise presents Alexander with a precious
stone, the hidden virtues of which, he says, will cure him
of his ambition. Alexander returns with the stone to where
his army awaits him, and of all his followers a wise Hebrew
alone is capable of solving the riddle. The stone, he finds,
outweighs whatever quantity of gold is put in the balance, but,
when covered with a little dust, it at once loses its weight
and becomes as light as a feather. The aged Hebrew concludes
his interpretation with the words: “This precious stone is an
image of the human eye; when alive, it is insatiable, but, when
dead and covered with earth, it aspires to nought.”
Graf, after tracing the story to its most ancient sources both in
Greek and Hebrew lore, comes to the conclusion that its model is to be
sought in a tale of the Babylonian Talmud, though that tale mentions
a real human eye. A more likely model, however, is provided by the
Arabian story, recorded in the tenth century and attributed to Ali, the
son-in-law of Mahomet[535]:
Alexander, or rather the Koranic Dulcarnain, with his army
reaches the region of darkness that lies before the Fountain
of Life, and, beyond this region, he beholds a palace rising
to an enormous height. Advancing to the gate, he speaks to
the youthful guardian, who hands him an object like a stone,
saying, “If this be satisfied, thou also wilt be satisfied; if
it be hungry, then wilt thou be hungry too.” Alexander returns
to his companions with the stone and summons the wise men to
discuss the riddle. They test the stone in the balance with
first one, then two, and finally a thousand similar stones, and
find to their amazement that it outweighs them all. Khidr, a
counsellor of Alexander’s, upon seeing that all the sages are
unable to solve the riddle, thereupon intervenes and places
on one of the scales an ordinary stone and, on the other, the
miraculous stone covered with a handful of dust; and, to the
amazement of all, the scales now balance. To Alexander, Khidr
then explains the riddle as follows: “God has granted thee the
utmost power achievable by man, yet thou art not satisfied. For
man is never satisfied until dust cover him and the earth fill
his belly.” According to another, longer, version, Khidr ends
his explanation with the words: “The stone is the human eye,
which, whilst alive, even though it should possess the whole
world, is insatiable, and which only death can satisfy.”[536]
VIII
LEGENDS OF SLEEPERS
1. Graf has reviewed all the legends on this theme that were common in
Christian Europe from the thirteenth century onwards.[537] In the main
they tell the same story. The protagonists are monks or princes who,
after visiting the earthly paradise, return to their homes believing that
their absence has lasted but a few hours or days; whereas in reality
long years, even centuries, have passed; astonished at the change in
their surroundings, they try to make themselves known, only to meet with
incredulity; in the end they succeed in establishing their identity
either by the testimony of some venerable old man, who vaguely remembers
the story of their disappearance, or by the aid of books of record.
Of the three principal legends of this cycle, the Italian one of the
monks of the Jihun dates from the fourteenth century:
Three monks set out to seek the earthly paradise, and after
many adventures succeed in finding it. They return under the
delusion that they have been absent but three days, whereas
three whole centuries have elapsed. The monastery still stands,
but the monks are strangers who do not recognise them. With the
aid of old records they manage to prove their identity, and
forty days after recounting their experiences they turn into
dust.
The German legend of the Cistercian monk, Felix, also dates from the
fourteenth century:
Felix doubts that the bliss of heaven can last eternally
without cloying the elect. But one day, listening in the garden
to the sweet song of a little bird of white plumage, he falls
into a trance. The clanging of the bell calling to Matins
awakens him and he hastens towards the monastery to find that
he is unknown to the porter, who, on hearing his explanations,
believes him to be either drunk or mad and turns him away. Nor
do the monks recognise him, although one of them, a centenarian
and infirm, does remember that when he was a novice a monk
named Felix disappeared; and it is found that the books record
his supposed death. A century had passed in what seemed to
Felix a single hour.
Another Italian legend, which is later than the eleventh century, tells a
similar story of a young prince:
Three days after his wedding, the prince sets out from his
castle and is miraculously led to a garden of paradise, where
he remains for three hundred years, which to him appear but
three hours. On his return, he finds his home strangely
changed; for his wife and parents, having given him up for
dead, had converted the castle into a monastery and his hall
into a church. On the tower, where formerly had flown the
standard of his family with the eagle, he sees a banner with
the cross. He makes himself known to the porter and tells his
story to the monks and people of the village, who listen to him
in awe. The story is recorded, but the prince, upon eating the
bread of man, ages and dies and is buried by the side of his
wife.
Occasionally, this theme is introduced into stories of fabulous voyages,
as in the legend of the Armorican monks, which is an imitation of the
voyage of St. Brandan[538]:
After visiting the isle of paradise, the monks return to their
monastery and find everything changed; church and town have
disappeared, and a new king rules over a strange people. They
have been absent for three hundred years.
The Spanish legend of San Amaro, which is still current in Spain, belongs
to the same group:
After many wonderful adventures at sea, the saint visits the
earthly paradise and, on returning to the place where his
companions were to await him, finds a city built by them; and,
in a monastery erected to his memory, he dies. His absence,
which he had believed to be but of an hour’s duration, had
lasted two centuries.
2. From the eighth century onwards there existed in Islam two groups of
legends, which deal with this subject pretty much after the manner of
the Christian legends. The protagonists are either prophets—Hebrew or
mythical—or noble Christian martyrs, who, after a sleep of centuries,
which to them appear brief hours, return to their homes where they
finally succeed in proving their identity by means either of witnesses of
venerable age or of ancient documents.
3. The tales of the first group were composed by companions of the
Prophet as gloss on a passage of the Koran (II, 261), in which the theme
is outlined as follows:
Behold him who, passing one day by a ruined and deserted city,
cried out, “How shall God bring this dead city to life again?”
God laid the hand of death upon this man for a hundred years
and then, bringing him to life again, asked him: “How long
hast thou lain here?” “A few hours, or maybe a day,” answered
the man. And God replied: “Thou hast lain there for a hundred
years. Behold thy food and thy drink, they are yet good; and,
lo! there is thine ass. We have proposed thee as a sign (of
wonder) to the people. Behold how the bones are brought to life
again and are clothed with flesh.” And when (this miracle) was
made manifest (the man) exclaimed: “Verily, I see that God is
all-powerful.”
Around this nucleus, which had its origin in a Talmudic source, three
legends appeared, one of which, dating from the eighth century, reads as
follows[539]:
Nebuchadnezzar destroys Jerusalem and its temple and carries
off the surviving Israelites into captivity at Babylon.
Jeremiah (in other versions, Esdras), who had sought refuge in
the desert, returns to find the city in ruins and he doubts
whether God will be able to rebuild the city and its temple.
God sends him into a profound slumber, which lasts for a
hundred years. In the meantime, the ass he was mounted on dies,
but the wine and figs he carried with him remain intact. God
shields the prophet from beasts and birds of prey and renders
him invisible to man. A hundred years later, and thirty years
after God has caused Jerusalem to be rebuilt, Jeremiah is
brought to life again and, when he opens his eyes, he sees the
bones of the ass lying scattered on the ground. A voice from
heaven calls upon them to unite and clothe themselves with
flesh and skin, and the ass returns to life. God asks Jeremiah
how long he thinks he has slept and, when he answers “a few
hours or a day,” tells him that he has slept a hundred years.
The second tale dates from the seventh century:
Esdras, who had been carried off into captivity at Babylon in
his boyhood, escapes some years later and, mounted on an ass,
sets out for his native country. Passing on his way through a
deserted village on the banks of the Tigris, he eats his fill
of the fruit of the trees and, having drunk the juice of the
grapes, he stores the remainder in a pitcher and some figs in
a basket. He does not believe that God could ever rebuild the
ruined village and, having tied up his ass, he falls asleep.
God sends death upon him for a hundred years and then brings
him to life again. The angel Gabriel asks him how long he
thinks he has been asleep, and he replies “A day or less.”
Gabriel tells him that he has slept a hundred years and bids
him observe that the ass, the figs and the wine are intact.
Thereupon Esdras returns to his native country and finds that
his children and grandchildren have grown old, whilst his own
hair and beard are still black.
The third legend is attributed to Ibn Abbas, and provides the conclusion
to the two former versions:
Upon awakening from his hundred years’ sleep, Esdras returns
to his native village, where no one will believe his story. At
last he finds an old woman who had been his father’s servant
and is now a hundred and twenty years of age, blind and
paralytic. “Esdras,” replies the old woman to his story, “was
hearkened to by the Lord in his prayers. If thou art he, pray
then to God that He restore my sight, that I may see thee.”
Esdras cures the old woman of her infirmities, and she leads
him to the house where a son of his is still alive, although a
hundred and eighteen years old. Even his grandchildren are of
great age. None will believe either him or the old woman, until
finally his son recognises him by a birth-mark he bears between
his shoulders.
According to a variant version, he is recognised by his knowledge of the
Torah[540]:
During their captivity at Babylon, the Israelites lose their
knowledge of the Mosaic Law. Esdras, on his return, is scoffed
at as a liar and is only believed when he recites by heart and
writes out the whole of the Torah and the text is found to
agree literally with an old copy found buried in a vineyard.
4. The Islamic tales belonging to the second group of this cycle were
also woven around a passage of the Koran (XVIII, 8-24), which in its
turn was based upon a Christian legend of the East, the tale of the
Seven Sleepers of Ephesus. The fact that this Islamic myth had its
remote origin in Christianity renders it of little interest as far as
our argument is concerned, so that especially as Guidi has published an
Italian version of the Oriental texts, both Christian and Moslem, we need
give here only the outline of the Moslem tale, as it appears in the four
versions handed down by Thaalabi and translated by Guidi[541]:
During the persecution under Dacian seven Christian nobles
of Ephesus seek refuge in a cave where, after a frugal meal,
they fall asleep for three hundred years. Their kinsmen give
them up for lost, and record on a tablet the story and date
of their disappearance. At the end of the three centuries
God restores them to life, and they awake thinking they have
slept but a day. Under this delusion, one of them sets out for
Ephesus to purchase provisions and secretly bring back tidings
of the persecution. As he proceeds, his astonishment increases
at the changes he sees on every side. Over the gate of the
city a banner bearing the inscription, “There is but One God,
and Jesus is His Spirit,” puzzles him greatly. In the city
the people are all strange and, when he tenders a coin of the
time of Dacian in payment of bread, he arouses suspicion and
is led before the authorities on the charge of having found
secret treasure. In vain does he attempt to vindicate his
story, for the authorities refuse to listen to him until he
can find someone who can identify him. He ultimately succeeds
in reaching his own house, when a grandson of his, though
blind and infirm with great age, recognises him. The tablet
recording his disappearance is also found and thus his story
is corroborated. The authorities and townsfolk seek out his
companions, who now definitively die and are buried with great
pomp.
5. The close resemblance of the Islamic tales of both the above-mentioned
groups to the Christian mediæval legends related by Graf is too evident
to be ignored. But, it will be asked, is this resemblance to be
attributed to Moslem influence upon Christian folklore? Graf, with all
his erudition, makes no mention of the precedents that these Christian
tales may have had in other literatures.[542] And, indeed, the question
is not an easy one to answer. Guidi has shown[543] that the Islamic
tales of Jeremiah and Esdras are derived from rabbinical stories, the
protagonist of which is either Abimelech or the Rabbi, Joni Hamaggel.
Now both of these probably lived before the third century of our era,
but there is no evidence to prove that these Jewish tales, as such, ever
spread to the West. On the other hand, the Islamic legends of the Seven
Sleepers are based on a Syrian legend that appeared, also in the East, in
the sixth century; and this tale, we know, in that very century passed
to the West, where it is found in a Latin version that St. Gregory, of
Tours, included in one of his books on the saints.[544] But are we, on
that account, to suppose that the Christian mediæval tales mentioned by
Graf grew solely from the seed sown by St. Gregory and were uninfluenced
by the Islamic legends? If so, how can it be explained that that seed
should have taken over six centuries to germinate and did not produce its
crop of legends until the thirteenth century?
That is the problem, in so far as the influence of the myth of the Seven
Sleepers on the similar Christian tales of the thirteenth century is
concerned. But there still remains the other group of Islamic legends, of
which the protagonists are Jeremiah and Esdras. The resemblance of these
to the Christian tales is no less striking; and here there can be less
doubt about the direct Moslem influence, for there is nothing to show
that the early rabbinical models ever passed to Christian Europe.
IX
LEGENDS OF THE RESPITE FROM TORTURE
1. Until the sixth century the question whether the sufferings of the
sinners in hell were to be regarded as eternal or not was still debated
by the Fathers of the Church. Indeed some doctors, mainly of the Eastern
Church, favoured temporality.[545] Western opinion prevailed, however,
and by the Council of Constantinople the doctrine of everlasting
punishment was definitely established as part of the Catholic dogma. It
is, then, all the more strange to find, in the eleventh century, legends
popular in Western Christendom treating mainly of a respite from, or
mitigation of, the sufferings of the damned.[546] The myth first appeared
in the vision of St. Paul. But, as was pointed out in the discussion of
that legend, the primitive Greek version spoke of a _yearly_ respite,
whereas in the Latin versions, dating from the twelfth century, the
respite is _weekly_.[547] The difference is significant, as explaining
the genesis of the later forms of the legend from Moslem models; for,
whilst the doctrine of a weekly respite lacks foundation in Christian
tradition, and particularly in that of the West, it was indeed fully
justified in the dogma of Islam.
2. Even more striking influence of Islamic influence is shown by another
Christian tale, told in substantially the same terms by St. Peter Damian,
in the eleventh century, and Conrad of Querfurt and St. Vincent of
Beauvais, in the twelfth.[548]
A cavern situated in the volcanic region of Pozzuoli, to the
west of Naples, or on the volcanic island of Ischia in the gulf
of the same city, and washed by black and evil-smelling waters,
was supposed to be the mouth of hell. At sunset every Saturday,
birds of a sulphur-blackened plumage and fearsome aspect were
believed to rise from the waters of that cave and fly away to
the neighbouring mountains. There they would stay stretching
and pruning their wings until the early morn of the following
Monday, when they would return and enter the waters of the
cave. These birds were generally believed to be the souls of
the dwellers in hell, who thus enjoyed a respite from their
tortures.
3. It was a doctrine of Islam,[549] quoted even by Graf, that the torture
of both believers and infidels ceased for the day and night on Friday,
during which time the soul is allowed to visit its tomb and there receive
the prayers offered up on its behalf. The belief, which inspired many
very popular legends,[550] is based on the sanctity of the day and is as
old as the Moslem religion; indeed from the first century of the Hegira
onwards it was held for certain that Moslems who died during the day or
night of Friday were exempt from the private judgment of the soul that is
peculiar to Islam.[551]
That the souls of the wicked are incarnate in birds of black plumage is
a belief attributed to Mahomet himself, just as the myth that holds the
saintly soul or angelic spirit to be incarnate in white birds has been
shown to be of Moslem origin.[552]
“The souls of the host of Pharaoh are imprisoned in hell in the
body or belly of birds of a black hue; these birds sit on nests
of fire in the bottommost depths of the seventh earth and eat
and drink fire.”[553]
That these black birds rise to the surface, in respite from their
torture, and precisely from the waters on the seashore, is told in a
Moslem legend so strikingly similar to the Christian tale as actually to
appear to be its model or prototype. The legend in question is attributed
to Al-Awzai, a writer of the eighth century, and is related by Ibn Abu
Aldunya, of the ninth century[554]:
A man of Askalon inquired of Al-Awzai, “Oh, Abuamer! We see
birds of a black plumage rise from the sea and when they return
at night, behold! their plumage is white.” And Al-Awzai said
to him, “Dost thou not know what those birds are?” And he
answered, “Yes.” And Al-Awzai proceeded, “In the entrails of
those birds are the souls of the host of Pharaoh; they are
exposed to the fires of hell, which burn and blacken their
plumes. After a while they lose those plumes, but, when they
return to their nests, once again they are burnt in the fire.
Thus shall they continue to the day of judgment, when a Voice
shall say: Cast the host of Pharaoh into the bottommost pit.”
4. Closely related to this subject of respite from torture is that of the
mitigation of suffering when a debt is paid. Graf quotes, among others,
the legend related by Cæsar of Heidenbach in the thirteenth century.[555]
After his death a soldier appears before a certain man and
tells him that he is in hell for an act of robbery. He begs the
man tell his children of his wish that the property be restored
to its rightful owner, so that his punishment may be lightened,
but the children turn a deaf ear to the other’s pleadings.
It was a Moslem belief, borne out by numerous _hadiths_, that debts left
behind on earth either delayed or hampered the soul in its ascension to
heaven[556]:
Thus, at a certain funeral Mahomet decreed that no prayers
should be said for the deceased until his debts had been paid.
On another occasion, he addressed the children of the deceased
thus, “Your father stands at the gates of heaven, detained by a
debt. If ye wish, ye may yet ransom him; if not, ye must leave
him to be dealt with by the wrath of God.” In other _hadiths_,
Mahomet is represented as ordering a son of the deceased to
pay the debts in order to obtain a remission of his father’s
suffering.
Around these _hadiths_ there grew up legends very similar to the
Christian tale described above. One such legend, dating from the ninth
century, runs as follows:
To two ascetics, who lived in the eighth century, there
appeared a man who, seated on boards floating in the bottom
of a pit, cried out to them in a hoarse voice, saying he was
a citizen of Antioch who had just died and was held prisoner
in that pit until a debt of his were paid. He added, “My
children live at Antioch unmindful of me and of my debt.” The
two ascetics proceed to Antioch and pay the debt, and the next
night the deceased again appears to them and thanks them for
their act of charity.[557]
5. In conclusion, it was a common belief in mediæval Europe that prayers,
fasting and almsgiving served to obtain mitigation, not merely of
the expiatory suffering in purgatory, but even of the punishments of
hell.[558] This belief persisted in the face of the opposition of the
Church, which adhered the more rigidly to the doctrine of everlasting
damnation as being the one feature distinguishing hell from purgatory.
But the rigidity of the official theology was set off by what Graf
happily terms the theology of sentiment, as expressed in many popular
legends. These, Graf is of opinion, were the spontaneous outcome of the
feelings of pity to which the masses are ever prone. That such feelings
may lead to popular reactions, unconsciously heterodox, against the
strictness of doctrine based on intellectual exegesis, is undeniable; but
the growth of the belief in question may have been stimulated by contact
with Moslem eschatology, which on this point was much more benign than
the official Christian doctrine.
Islam, as is well known, condemns only the infidel and the polytheist
to eternal punishment; the true believer, however sinning, will one
day see an end to his suffering. And even this temporary torture may
be alleviated by the prayers of those on earth. Suyuti, with many
other authors, has left us a collection of authoritative texts on this
point.[559] These show that prayer, almsgiving, pilgrimage, fasting,
and even such pious or merely beneficent works as the erection and
endowment of mosques, hostels, schools, or the construction of bridges
and irrigation works, all serve to influence the lot of the soul; but
special importance is attached to the offering up of prayers on Fridays
on the tomb of the deceased. Thus Islam, in adopting the milder views of
a minority of Eastern churchmen, may have been the medium through which
this belief was transmitted to the West after it had been unanimously
rejected as heretical by the Councils, the Fathers, and the Doctors of
the Roman Church.
X
LEGENDS OF THE DEBATE BETWEEN ANGELS AND DEVILS FOR POSSESSION OF THE SOUL
1. A common subject of Christian mediæval legend is the inquest held on
the soul immediately after death by angels and devils as a preliminary to
final judgment. Graf, in _Demonologia di Dante_,[560] and Batiouchkof,
in _Le débat de l’âme et du corps_,[561] have analysed these legends, the
main elements of which are the following:
i. Every soul has one or more angels and devils to guard and
tempt it during life.
ii. At death these angels and devils fight for possession of
the soul.
iii. Often the debate is conducted with the aid of two books,
one recording the sins, and the other the virtues of the soul.
iv. In other legends, the virtues and vices appear in person to
bear witness.
v. Or again, the members of the body accuse the soul of the
sins they committed.
vi. The balance is also used to decide the debate.
vii. Finally, the angels or devils carry off the soul to heaven
or hell.
2. Christian doctrine furnishes but scant authority for these features,
especially the more striking ones enumerated under iv, v and vi. These
are precisely the elements that were most common in Islam, which had
derived them from other Oriental religions, particularly the Zoroastrian
religion.
The belief in a guardian angel, based as it is on the Gospel and
conserved in patristic writings, formed part of the Christian faith both
in the East and West. From the fifth century onwards it was, though
not dogma, commonly believed that, in addition, everyone had a devil
to tempt him. That, at death, the angel and devil fought for the soul,
was again merely a popular belief, the earliest documentary evidence
of which is to be found in a seventh century vision of the after-life
composed by St. Boniface, the apostle of Germany. It reappears in the
ninth century Germanic poem _Muspilli_[562]; and it is noteworthy that
both these legends are enhanced by the introduction of elements iv and v
personifying the virtues and vices and the members of the body, features
of Islamic or Zoroastrian origin,[563] which then make their first
appearance in Christian eschatology.
3. Islam, in contrast to Christianity, contained in its early _hadiths_
the sources of all the elements detected in the mediæval legends. These
tales, with the exception of those dealing with the balance[564], are
briefly summarised on the following pages:
1. _Hadiths on Topic_ i
Algazel records the following _hadith_ without mentioning the companion
of the Prophet who related it:
“At his birth each man has an angel allotted to him by God, and
a devil by Satan, who whisper good and evil suggestions into
his right and left ear respectively.”[565]
A _hadith_ by Jabir ibn Abd Allah, of the seventh century:
In this tale Mahomet says that God has appointed a guardian
angel to each man and two other angels to record his good and
evil deeds. At his death these angels return to heaven, whence
they will descend to bear witness on the day of judgment.[566]
A _hadith_ by Al-Hasan, of the seventh century, says:
“To every man lying on his death-bed there appear his
guardians, who show him his good and evil deeds. At the sight
of the former, he smiles; at the sight of the latter, he
frowns.”[567]
A _hadith_ by Salman, also of the seventh century, reads:
“A man who lay on his death-bed told the Prophet that a black
and a white figure had appeared before him. The Prophet
inquired, ‘Which stood the nearer to thee?’ and the man
replied, ‘The black figure.’ ‘Then,’ said the Prophet, ‘great
is the evil and little is the good.’”[568]
Finally, a _hadith_ by Wahb ibn Al-Ward, of the eighth century, says:
“To everyone at his death there appear the two angels who
during his life were the guardians of his deeds....”[569]
2. _Hadiths dealing mainly with the fight for the soul_
A _hadith_ by Ibrahim, son of Abd ar-Rahman ibn Awf, of the seventh
century:
Abd ar-Rahman, who had been given up for dead, tells how,
as he lay prostrate, two demons of fearsome aspect appeared
before him, saying, “Rise, for we will lead thee to the Supreme
Judge.” On their way they met two angels of mercy, who cried
out, “Whither would ye lead him? Leave him to us, for God has
destined him to enter heaven.”[570]
A seventh-century _hadith_ of the Caliph Muawya, but attributed to
Mahomet:
A murderer, moved to repentance, proceeds to a monastery to end
his days in prayer. But death overtakes him on the way. The
angels of wrath and of mercy appear on the scene and fight for
his soul. The dispute is decided by the soul being allotted to
the nearest dwelling. This, upon measurement, is found to be
the monastery, and the murderer is saved.[571]
_Hadith_ of Abu Hurayra, also of the seventh century:
A person relates his experiences during a trance. A man of
beautiful features and sweet-smelling breath had hardly placed
him in his grave, when a woman of repulsive mien and evil
odour appeared and accused him of his sins. She then disputes
with the other for his soul. During the dispute he withdraws
at the woman’s bidding and, in a mosque near by, finds a man
reciting the same verses of the Koran that he used to delight
in reciting. These verses are adduced in his favour, and the
man of the beautiful countenance claims him as saved.[572]
Legend of Daud ibn Abu Hind, of the eighth century:
Daud, as he lies sick, sees a black figure of monstrous shape
appear, whom he takes to be a demon come to carry him off to
hell. At that moment two men in white tunics descend through
the ceiling, who, after warding off the other, seat themselves
at the foot and head of Daud’s bed; they feel his palate and
toes and conclude that both show signs of a life of prayer.[573]
The legend of the seventh-century traditionist, Shahr ibn Hawshab, is
similar:
Two white angels seat themselves on the right of the sick-bed,
and two black angels, on the left, and dispute over the soul.
An examination of the dying man’s tongue, which shows traces of
having uttered a certain prayer, finally settles the dispute in
his favour.[574]
3. _Legends introducing the books of record_
These legends are all based on the passages of the Koran[575] treating
of the two books in which angels record the good and evil deeds of each
man. These books were mentioned in one of the tales of Group i, and many
other similar legends might be quoted. Thus, a _hadith_ attributed to Ibn
Abbas[576] tells of the recording angels and describes minutely the pens,
the ink, and the sheets they use.[577]
4. _Legends treating mainly of the personification of virtues and vices_
This feature, though also of Zoroastrian origin, attained its full
development in the eschatological lore of Islam.
A _hadith_ quoted from earlier traditionists by Ibn Abu Aldunya, of the
ninth century, says:
“No man dies but his good and evil deeds appear in person
before him, and he turns his eyes away from the evil towards
the good deeds.”[578]
A _hadith_ attributed to Mahomet says:
“At the death-bed of the believer attend his prayers, his
fasting, the alms he gave....”[579]
A _hadith_ quoted by a companion of the Prophet reads:
At the judgment of the soul the Koran will appear in its
defence before the angels Munkar and Nakir. It will ask the
soul, “Dost thou know me? I am the Koran which thou didst
recite and which delivered thee from evil. Fear not.”[580]
Other similar _hadiths_ relate as follows[581]:
To the righteous soul there appears in the grave a man of
great beauty, dressed in fine garments and scented with rare
perfumes, who says, “I am thy good deed.” To the wicked soul
appear its vices, in evil shape.
His prayer places itself on the right of the virtuous soul; his
fasting, on the left; the Koran, at his head; the virtue of
walking to the Mosque, at his feet; his fortitude in adversity,
at the side of the tomb. The punishment of the soul, which then
appears in person, is driven off by these virtues.
5. _Legends in which the members of the body are personified_
A typical legend of this group, though attributed to Mahomet, is recorded
in the tenth-century _Corra_:
An adulterer is brought before the Divine Judge, and the thigh
relates the sin it committed. The accused indignantly denies
the charge, but God imposes silence on the lying tongue. Each
of the members then confesses its share in the sin, and their
evidence is borne out by the recording angels and the earth. At
God’s bidding the angels seize the sinner and cast him into the
pit.[582]
6. _Legends of feature_ vii.
All the legends of this group are variants of the _hadith_ of the Prophet
relating the death of the upright man and the sinner.[583] A brief
outline is here given:
The angel of death extracts the soul from the body gently or
violently, according as it is righteous or sinning. The angels
guard the body as it is lowered to the grave. The devil, upon
seeing a soul escape him, turns in anger upon his host of
demons, who explain that they were powerless, as the soul was
free of sin. The soul is then led through the astronomical
heavens to the Throne of God. A similar, but antithetical,
story is told of the death of the sinner.[584]
4. Summarising the partial comparisons contained in this third part
of our work, we may divide the Moslem features appearing in the
mediæval Christian legends precursory of the Divine Comedy into two
categories.[585] The first category is formed of those Islamic features
that reappeared in Dante’s poem and accordingly were treated at greater
length in the first and second parts of this work. These, with the
Christian legends in which they appear, may briefly be enumerated as
follows:
Division of hell into seven regions (_St. Macarius_, _Edda_), or eight
storeys (_Bard of Regio Emilia_). Typical tortures of hell, such as the
tunics of fire (_St. Patrick_); fiery sepulchres (_St. Patrick_); molten
metal and sulphur (_St. Patrick_ and _Tundal_); immersion of the sinners
in a lake (_St. Macarius_, _St. Patrick_, and _Alberic_); graduation of
the fire (_St. Paul_); demons armed with prongs (_Tundal_); torture by
the monster (_Tundal_); attraction and repulsion of the damned by its
breathing (_Tundal_, _St. Patrick_, and _St. Paul_); sinners hanging head
downwards (_St. Patrick_, _Alberic_, and _St. Paul_); or crucified to the
ground (_St. Patrick_); or devoured by serpents (_St. Macarius_, _St.
Patrick_, and _Alberic_); or laden with burdens (_Edda_); or forced to
swallow their illicit gains (_Turcill_); the torture of ice (_Tundal_,
_St. Patrick_, and _Alberic_); the picture of the giant held in chains
(_St. Macarius_); and Lucifer bound in the bottommost pit of hell
(_Alberic_).
The second category consists of Moslem features detected in the Christian
legends, but not appearing in the Divine Comedy. These features, not
having been mentioned in the two former parts of this work, have been
dealt with in this part at greater length. The more important among them
are the following:
The myth of the balance (_Ch. V_); the slippery bridge (_Tundal_, _St.
Patrick_, _St. Paul_, _Abbot Joachim_); the torture of the sepulchre
(_Hugh of Brandenburg_, _St. Brandan_); the intercession at the final
judgment (_Ch. V_); the nakedness of sinners (_Ch. V_); the torture by
the mad cow (_Tundal_); the vision of heaven granted to the sinners in
order to increase their suffering (_Tundal_); the devil with the hundred
hands (_Tundal_); the damned incarnate in birds of black plumage (_Edda_,
and others in _Ch. IX_); the saintly souls and angels incarnate in white
birds (_St. Macarius_, _St. Brandan_); Adam in paradise, smiling and
crying at the same time (_Turcill_); the life of glory conceived as a
courtly or religious festival (_Cour du Paradis_, _Vergier du Paradis_,
_Visione dei gaudii de’ santi_). Finally, the main characteristics of
the cycles examined in the last four chapters: the voyages, particularly
the voyage of St. Brandan with its scenes, such as the table decked
with food, the enormous vines, the torture of Judas, the description of
the sea hermit, the island-whale; the legends of sleepers; the tales of
respite from torture; the legends of the debate for the soul, with the
striking features of the books of record, the personification of virtues
and vices, and the accusation by the members of the body.
In view of the abundance of Islamic features present in the pre-Dante
Christian legends, there is but one conclusion to be drawn: The many
poetic conceptions of the after-life current throughout Europe before
Dante’s time had grown from contact with Islam rather than from the
native stock, for several of those poetic myths or their descriptive
features had no foundation in Christian doctrine but owed their origin to
other religions of the East, whence they were transmitted in a new and
richer form by Islam.
5. The doubt that had assailed the mind at the end of the second part of
our work is thus dispelled. The natural inference to be drawn at that
stage of our inquiry from the great number of analogies detected in
the Divine Comedy and the eschatological literature of Islam was that
there existed some relation connecting the poem with that literature.
To that hypothesis, however, it was possible to object the hypothesis
put forward by the Dantists, that the conception of the divine poem
could only have been influenced, and that indirectly, by the precursory
Christian legends. But, once it has been shown that these legends also
bear unmistakable signs of Moslem influence, that objection falls to the
ground, and Dante now appears connected to Islam by a double tie—the
indirect relation of the Islamic features present in his Christian
precursors, and the direct relation of the Islamic elements contained in
the Divine Comedy.
One question arises at this culminating point of our investigation: could
Dante have known of the Moslem works on the after-life, and, if so, by
what channels? The answer to this question will complete the chain of
reasoning.
PART IV
_PROBABILITY OF THE TRANSMISSION OF ISLAMIC MODELS TO CHRISTIAN EUROPE
AND PARTICULARLY TO DANTE_
PART IV
_PROBABILITY OF THE TRANSMISSION OF ISLAMIC MODELS TO CHRISTIAN EUROPE
AND PARTICULARLY TO DANTE_
I.
INTRODUCTION
1. Whenever it is required to prove—in so far as historical matters
admit of proof—a case of literary imitation, an answer must first be
found to three pertinent questions.[586] Firstly, do there exist between
the alleged copy and its model so many and so striking features of
resemblance as to render it morally impossible to attribute them to mere
chance or to derivation from a common source? Secondly, can that which
is assumed to be the model be shown to have existed prior to the copy or
imitation? Thirdly, could the author of the supposed copy have known of
the original; or, alternatively, is it evident that the two writers were
separated by so wide a gulf as to make all communication impossible?
The first and second questions, which really furnish the key to the
problem, have been sufficiently determined above. The third is of less
interest. For, even if the historical data about the connection between
the model and the copy were vague, this would not detract from the force
of the argument based upon their likeness, especially when the points of
resemblance are so clearly defined and so recurrent that the likeness
cannot be ascribed to chance.
2. This is the case with the present problem. For it might be possible
to attribute to mere coincidence, or to a common Christian origin,
the _general_ features of resemblance between Dante’s and the Islamic
solution of the theological problem of the after-life, that is to say,
the _ideas_ or doctrines common to both eschatological conceptions. But,
when these doctrines appear clothed in the same artistic form, when the
ideas are represented by the same symbols and described with similar
details, then the hypothesis of chance coincidence can no longer be
maintained.
The difference is obvious. The ideas or doctrines are limited in number.
Being the outcome of a trend of thought followed by mankind throughout
the ages, they all necessarily fall within a few main categories. Not
so the images. These, which are but the reflexion of the _actual_
forms of _material_ objects, are as numerous and varied as the objects
themselves. It is morally impossible, therefore, that two conceptions
of one and the same idea actually agreeing in detail should be formed
in two minds, unless there existed a connecting link between the two.
Such a miracle would be all the more unlikely, as the coincidence would
be one, not of the conceptions of two particular minds, but of the
artistic fancy of an individual, and the imaginings of a collective
body such as Islam. In other words, it would be necessary to admit the
possibility of Dante’s having, by his sole mental effort, conceived
in a few years the same fantastic picture of life beyond the grave as
took the Moslem traditionists, mystics and poets centuries of artistic
endeavour to elaborate. The claim to so marvellous an originality would
require to be substantiated by evidence showing how this miracle came to
be accomplished by Dante Alighieri. The burden of proof would thus be
on the Dantists, and it would be for them to explain the enigma of the
coincidences between Dante’s poem and the Islamic legends, were it not
that there did indeed exist a link between the two and evidence of that
contact that is indispensable to all imitation.
3. This evidence may be furnished under three headings. It may be shown,
firstly, that the Christian peoples of mediæval Europe, by their contact
with Moslems, acquired a knowledge of their beliefs and conceptions of
the after-life; secondly, that Dante may well have drawn, directly or
indirectly, upon Moslem sources for the material of his poem; and,
lastly, that there are indications of his having been influenced by those
sources.
II
COMMUNICATION BETWEEN ISLAM AND CHRISTIAN EUROPE DURING THE MIDDLE AGES
1. Islam, after the conquest of the countries bordering on Arabia, spread
rapidly throughout the north of Africa, Spain, the south of France and
southern Italy, and extended its dominion over the Balearic Isles and
Sicily. The effect of war in imparting to the belligerents an intimate
knowledge of each other is notorious; but in times of peace, too, contact
between the two civilisations of Christianity and Islam was established
across their eastern and western frontiers through the medium of commerce.
From the eighth to the eleventh century an active trade was carried on
between Moslem countries of the East and Russia and other countries of
northern Europe. Expeditions left the Caspian regularly and, ascending
the Volga, reached the Gulf of Finland and so through the Baltic to
Denmark, Britain, and even as far as Iceland. The quantities of Arabic
coins found at various places in this extensive commercial zone bear
witness to its importance.[587] In the eleventh century trade was
conducted by the easier sea route across the Mediterranean, chiefly by
means of Genoese, Venetian or Moslem vessels. Large colonies of Italian
traders settled in all the Moslem ports of the Mediterranean, and
merchants, explorers, and adventurers sailed at will across its waters.
Benjamin of Tudela has left us trustworthy evidence, in his “Itinerary”
of the twelfth century, of the busy intercourse between Christians and
Moslems at that time.
To the stimulus of trade must be added the impulse of the religious
ideal. Pilgrimages to the Holy Land, which had been suspended owing to
the early conquests of Islam, were renewed and, with the establishment
under Charlemagne of the Frank Protectorate over the Christian churches
of the East, were assured by conventions and assisted by the foundation
of hostels and monasteries in Moslem lands. During the ninth, tenth,
and eleventh centuries the number of pilgrims grew, until some of the
expeditions comprised as many as twelve thousand; these expeditions were
the forerunners of the Crusades.[588]
The influence of the Crusades in bringing Islam and Christian Europe
together need hardly be insisted upon. The Christian States founded after
the first Crusade may be likened to a European colony implanted in the
heart of Islam, between the Euphrates and Egypt. The civil administration
and the army of these States were formed on the Moslem model, and even
the habits, food, and dress of the Orientals were adopted by the Frankish
knights, who poured into Syria in Crusades from all parts of Europe even
as far distant as Scandinavia.[589]
The failure to destroy Islam by the sword begot in its turn the idea of
the pacific conquest of souls, and led in the thirteenth century to the
establishment of the Missions to Islam. The Franciscan and Dominican
Friars who formed this new tie of spiritual communication were obliged to
make a thorough study of the language and religious literature of Islam,
and to reside for many years amongst Moslems.[590]
2. More important and more interesting, however, from our point of view
than any of these general channels of communication, is the contact of
the two civilisations in Sicily and Spain. Beginning in the ninth century
with piratical raids upon the coasts of the Atlantic and Mediterranean,
the Normans gradually formed settlements in Moslem towns of the Peninsula
(such as Lisbon, Seville, Orihuela and Barbastro) and in Sicily.[591]
The latter island, indeed, which had become permeated with Islam, was
conquered in the eleventh century and ruled by a dynasty of Norman Kings
until the thirteenth century. Throughout that period the Sicilian
population was composed of a medley of races professing different
religions and speaking several languages. The court of the Norman King,
Roger II, at Palermo, was formed of both Christians and Moslems, who were
equally versed in Arabic literature and Greek science. Norman knights and
soldiers, Italian and French noblemen and clergy, Moslem men of learning
and literature from Spain, Africa, and the East lived together in the
service of the King, forming a palatine organisation that in all respects
was a copy of the Moslem courts. The King himself spoke and read Arabic,
kept a harem in the Moslem manner, and attired himself after the Oriental
fashion. Even the Christian women of Palermo adopted the dress, veil, and
speech of their Moslem sisters.
But the time when Palermo most resembled a Moslem court was the first
half of the thirteenth century, during the long reign of Frederick,
King of Sicily and Emperor of Germany. A philosopher, free-thinker
and polyglot, the Emperor, even as his predecessors had done in war
and peace, surrounded himself with Moslems. They were his masters and
fellow-students, his courtiers, officers and ministers; and he was
accompanied by them on his travels to the Holy Land and throughout
Italy. His harems, one in Sicily and the other in Italy, were under
the charge of eunuchs; and even the tunic in which he was buried bore
an Arabic inscription. The Popes and other Kings of Christendom raised
public outcry against the scandal of the court of such an Emperor, who,
though representing the highest civil authority of the Middle Ages, was
Christian only in name.
This patron of literature and learning formed a unique collection of
Arabic MSS. at the University of Naples, which he founded in 1224; and he
had the works of Aristotle and Averrhoes translated, and copies sent to
Paris and Bologna. Not only did he gather to his court Hebrew and Moslem
philosophers, astrologers and mathematicians, but he corresponded with
men of learning throughout Islam.
It was at the court of Frederick that the Sicilian school of poetry,
which first used the vulgar tongue and thus laid the foundations of
Italian literature, arose. The Arab troubadours assembled at his court
were emulated by the Christians; and the fact is significant inasmuch as
it affords an instance of contact between the two literatures, Christian
and Moslem.[592]
3. Important as Norman Sicily was as a centre of Islamic culture, it is
nevertheless eclipsed in this respect by mediæval Spain. Here were to
be found the same phenomena as in Sicily, but on a much larger scale
and with the precedence of centuries. For Spain was the first country
in Christian Europe to enter into intimate contact with Islam. For 500
years, from the eighth to the thirteenth century, when the Florentine
poet came into the world, the two populations, Christian and Mahometan,
lived side by side in war and peace.
The Mozarabs formed the first link between the two peoples. As early
as the ninth century the Christians of Cordova had adopted the Moslem
style of living, some even to the extent of keeping harems and being
circumcised. Their delight in Arabic poetry and fiction, and their
enthusiasm for the study of the philosophical and theological doctrines
of Islam, are characteristically lamented by Alvaro of Cordova in his
_Indiculus luminosus_.
The contact thus established in the early centuries of the Islamic
conquest became, as may be imagined, more pronounced in the course of
time. With intervals of intermittent strife, the intermingling of the
two elements of the population steadily continued. And thus we find the
Mozarabs of Toledo, the ancient capital of the Visigoths, using the
Arabic language and characters in their public documents as late as
the twelfth century, after the reconquest of the city. The suggestion
that these Christians, who had become half Arabs, communicated to their
brethren in the north of Spain, and even in other parts of Europe a
knowledge of Islamic culture, may, therefore, be readily accepted. The
hypothesis is strengthened by the fact of the constant emigration of
Mozarabs northwards from Andalusia.[593]
To the Mozarab influence must be added another factor in the
communication of Moslem culture—that of the slaves of Christian origin.
Drawn from northern Spain and all parts of Europe, even as far as Russia,
large numbers of slaves served in the court and in the army of the Emirs
of Cordova. Many, no doubt, remained in their adoptive country where they
had acquired both rank and fortune; but some, it may well be believed,
would return to their native country in their old age.[594]
To attempt to enumerate the many other channels of communication between
Christian Europe and Moslem Spain, we should require to re-create in
our imagination the wonderful picture of Moslem society in Spain. As
the centre of Western culture, Moslem Spain irresistibly attracted
the semi-barbarous peoples of Christian Europe. From all parts came
travellers, bent on study as well as trade, and eager to behold the
wonders of this new classic civilisation of the Orient.
To paint the picture in detail it would be necessary to include the
Jewish traders as other instruments of communication. With their
flourishing international trade and their aptitude for languages and the
sciences, they knit ties both material and spiritual between Moslem Spain
and the chief cities of Christian Europe. Nor should we omit the part
played by prisoners of war returning often after many years’ absence to
their native country; nor the effects of the frequent visits of Christian
Ambassadors to the Moslem courts of the Peninsula.[595]
4. With the gradual reconquest of Spain by the armies of the Christian
kings, the Mudejars, their subdued Moslem subjects, took the place of
the Mozarabs in transmitting Islamic culture. The undeniable superiority
of this culture commanded the respect of the Christians, and the kings
were prompt to adopt the policy of attracting the Mudejar element,
thereby contributing to the more rapid and easy assimilation of Moslem
civilisation. Further political alliances through marriage between the
royal houses of Castile or Aragon and the reigning Moslem families were
frequent.
Thus Alphonso VI, the conqueror of Toledo, married Zaida, the daughter
of the Moorish King of Seville, and his capital resembled the seat of a
Moslem court. The fashion quickly spread to private life; the Christians
dressed in Moorish style, and the rising Romance language of Castile was
enriched by a large number of Arabic words. In commerce, in the arts and
trades, in municipal organisation, as well as in agricultural pursuits,
the influence of the Mudejars was predominant, and thus the way was
prepared for literary invasion, that was to reach its climax at the court
of Alphonso X or the Wise.[596]
Toledo had throughout the twelfth century been an important centre for
the dissemination of Arabic science and _belles-lettres_ in Christian
Europe. In the first half of that century, shortly after the city had
been captured from the Moors, Archbishop Raymond began the translation
of some of the more celebrated works of Arabic learning. Thus, the whole
encyclopædia of Aristoteles was translated from the Arabic, with the
commentaries of Alkindius, Alfarabius, Avicenna, Algazel and Averrhoes;
as also the master works of Euclid, Ptolemy, Galen, and Hippocrates, with
the comments upon them of learned Moslems, such as Albatenius, Avicenna,
Averrhoes, Rhazes, and Alpetragius. Translated into the Romance language
of Castile with the help of learned Mudejars and Hebrews, these works
were in turn rendered into Latin by Christian doctors drawn from all
parts of Christendom.[597]
5. Alphonso the Wise, who had been educated in this environment of
Semitic culture, on ascending the throne personally directed the work of
translation, and gathered to his court as collaborators wise men of the
three religions, an instance demonstrative of the tolerance of his time.
Besides contributing new works on physics and astronomy, he also devoted
considerable attention to subjects that would appeal more to the popular
mind. His father, Ferdinand the Saint, had encouraged the compilation
of the _Libro de los doce sabios_ and _Flores de filosofia_, in which
Oriental influence is first seen; and Alphonso caused similar books, such
as _Calila y Dimna_, _Bocados de Oro_, and _Poridad de poridades_ to be
translated and works on Oriental pastimes compiled. From Arabic sources
he wrote his _Grand e General Estoria_, and he ordered the translation of
Talmudic and cabbalistic works, and, lastly, of the Koran.[598]
The advance of the Reconquest opened up a new field of action, and
Murcia and Seville, after their recapture, became centres of philosophy
and literature that rivalled Toledo. During the lifetime of his father,
Alphonso had been Governor of Murcia, where he had a school built
specially for Muhammad ar-Riquti, in which the Moslem sage lectured to
Moors, Jews, and Christians alike.[599] Before 1158, another learned
Moslem, Abd Allah ibn Sahloh, had taught mathematics and philosophy to
Moors and Christians at Baeza, and in his school discussed theological
questions with the Christian clergy.[600] Encouraged, no doubt, by these
precedents, the king decided to give official sanction to the fusion of
the two civilisations, of Christendom and Islam. He founded at Seville a
general Latin and Arabic college, at which Moslems taught medicine and
science side by side with Christian professors.[601] This in itself
is eloquent of the close relationship between the two elements of the
population in the first half of the thirteenth century.
III
TRANSMISSION OF THE MOSLEM LEGENDS ON THE AFTER-LIFE TO CHRISTIAN EUROPE
AND DANTE
1. Any one of the channels mentioned may have served as the means of
communication, even to the farthest ends of Europe, for the news of the
legends on the after-life that were popular throughout Islam.[602] It
has been shown that the legends that sprang up in Ireland, Scandinavia,
France, Germany and Italy—the so-called precursors of the Divine
Comedy—were most probably based on Islamic models. These may have been
introduced into Christian Europe by pilgrims, Crusaders, merchants or
missionaries; or, again, by Norman adventurers, slaves, men of learning
or simple travellers. Once the possibility of a connecting link has been
established, the hypothesis of imitation tends to become that moral
certainty that historical demonstration requires and is content to accept.
It must be borne in mind that the majority of the Christian legends prior
to the Divine Comedy originated later than the tenth century, whereas
the _hadiths_ on the after-life date much further back. That these
_hadiths_ were of popular origin is, moreover, evident. Until the ninth
century they were transmitted solely by word of mouth, a fact that helped
to spread them and rendered the creation of new legends easier.[603]
Not until the formation by the two great critics, Bukhari and Muslim,
of the collections of authentic _hadiths_ can the era of invention be
considered closed. Their popularity did not, however, diminish on that
account. Moslems everywhere, of all ages and every social rank, acted as
transmitters, often undertaking long journeys to hear new tales and so
increase their stock of religious lore; for, apart from the attraction
that the fantastic nature of the theme held for the masses, it was
considered an act of faith to learn these tales and share in their
dissemination. No wonder, therefore, that the teachers of _hadiths_ prior
to the ninth century were reckoned by thousands.
2. It may be said that from the earliest times Spain was the country most
addicted to the study of these legends; for the intolerance of the Faqihs
alone produced a superabundance of traditional lore. Indeed, in the ninth
century, it was regarded as the home of the traditions of the Prophet
and of all these it was but natural that the story of the _Miraj_, or
ascension of Mahomet, should have the widest diffusion, as narrating
an important part of the biography of the Prophet—the story of the
performance of his supreme miracle, which has been accepted as a dogma,
and is solemnly commemorated to this day throughout Islam.
Knowledge of these Moslem tales would, sooner or later, inevitably
filter through the slender barrier separating the two peoples in their
conception of the hereafter.[604] Indeed, poor as are the records of
the beliefs of Islam left us by mediæval Christian writers, there is
evidence that the Christians in Spain were, from the first centuries of
the conquest, aware of these legends, and especially of the legend of the
_Miraj_.
3. At the very outset of the ninth century, in the apologetic writings of
the Mozarabs of Cordova, mention is made of Moslem _hadiths_. Alvaro of
Cordova, in his _Indiculus luminosus_; St. Eulogius, in his _Memoriale
Sanctum_; and the Abbot Esperaindeo, in his _Apologetico contra Mahoma_,
repeatedly allude to tales “leves et risu dignas” describing the life and
miracles of the pretended prophet.[605] In his _Apologeticus Martyrum_
St. Eulogius interpolates a brief biography of Mahomet. Founded largely
upon spurious data, it is in the main a baseless fabrication that,
nevertheless, shows a considerable knowledge of the Koran and the
_hadiths_.[606]
4. This biography of Mahomet, St. Eulogius found at the Monastery of
Leire in Navarre, which proves that as early as the ninth century the
legend had penetrated to the north of Spain. This explains why Spain
should have been the country from which it first passed into Western
literature. Indeed, in 1143 a Latin version of the Koran was written by
the Archdeacon of Pamplona, Robert of Reading, an English ecclesiastic
who had formerly worked at the college of translators founded at Toledo
by Archbishop Raymond. Together with this version, the archdeacon wrote a
treatise entitled “Summa brevis contra haereses et sectam Sarracenorum”
and derived from Arabic sources.[607] It is unlikely that a polemical
work of this kind would omit to mention the _Miraj_, which by its
very extravagance would readily lend itself to refutation; but it is
impossible to make any definite assertion on the point, as the treatise
in question has not been preserved complete.
5. Another document of the same century still exists however—the
“Historia Arabum,” written in Latin by Archbishop Rodrigo Jimenez de Rada
of Toledo.[608] In the prologue the author states that his compendium
will start from the time of Mahomet, and that his data upon the origin,
teaching and government of the Prophet will be taken “ex relatione fideli
et eorum scripturis.” Nor should this have been difficult, seeing that
he wrote in Toledo, where at the time many Arabic books on religion,
science, and lighter literature were then being translated.[609] In
Chapter V of this “Historia Arabum,” which is entitled “De sublimatione
Mahometi in regem et de jussionibus mendaciter excogitatis,” the author
relates the raising of Mahomet to the dignity of king, after the taking
of Damascus; and he adds that Mahomet then began to impose upon the
Arabs with stories in which he professed to be a prophet, with the
object of obtaining a firmer hold upon his subjects. He then inserts a
literal version of the legend of the _Miraj_, culled from what he terms
the “second book” of Mahomet. This can be no other than the canonical
collection of _hadiths_ on the Prophet, second from an authoritative
point of view only to the Koran, which latter the Archbishop would
consider to be the first book of Islam. Indeed this version is almost
identical with Versions A and B of the second cycle given in the first
part of the present work, as recorded in the collection of authentic
_hadiths_ compiled by Bukhari and Muslim.
From the “Historia Arabum” it passed to the “Crónica General” or “Estoria
d’Espanna,” which King Alphonso the Wise himself compiled or had compiled
in the Romance language of Castile between 1260 and 1268, and where
it appears with some slight additions,[610] no doubt made from other
Arabic sources current at the time. The greater interest attaching to the
“Crónica,” and the fact that it was written in Romance would ensure the
wider diffusion of the legend.
6. Indeed not long afterwards, towards the end of the thirteenth century,
another document appeared showing how widespread the legend was among
Christian Spaniards. This was the “Impunaçion de la seta de Mahomah,”
written during his captivity at Granada by St. Peter Paschal, Bishop of
Jaen and Friar of the Order of Mercy.[611] Born at Valencia in 1227,
of captive or Mozarab parents, he not unnaturally was a master of
Arabic, a fact that would stand him in great stead in his mission of
redeeming prisoners. Appointed tutor to the son of the King of Aragon,
he accompanied his charge to Toledo when the latter was raised to the
dignity of Archbishop, and there he devoted himself to fostering and
extending throughout Castile the Order of Mercy, which was then in its
infancy. His work in this connection led him to undertake a journey to
Rome, where his learning and religious zeal excited the admiration of
Pope Nicholas IV. On his return, he stayed a while at Paris, and at the
university there gained fame as a theologian. Appointed Bishop of Jaen
in 1296, he was taken prisoner by the Moors of Granada in the following
year and was martyred in 1300. During the four years of his captivity he
wrote, among other books, the apologetic work against Islam mentioned
above.[612]
The knowledge of Islam he displays is considerable. At every step he
quotes the Koran and authentic versions of the _hadiths_; the latter
he calls “Alhadiz,” and occasionally “Muslimi,” in reference to the
canonical collections made by the critic Muslim. He also mentions a book
on paradise and hell, which is, no doubt, one of the compendiums of
_hadiths_ common among the Moslems of Spain; and refers to other “Libros
escriptos de los Moros,” which must also have been collections of legends
on the after-life.[613] More interesting, however, are his quotations
from a book the title of which he variously transcribes as “Elmiregi,”
“Miragi,” “Miráj” or “Elmerigi.” This is evidently the _Miraj_ or
ascension of Mahomet, or, as the Saint has it, “the book in which he told
how he rose to the heavens”; “the book which tells how Mahomet rose as he
says to heaven, where is God, and how he spoke with God and saw paradise
and hell and the angels and devils and the tortures of hell and the
delights of paradise.”[614] But he does more than merely quote from this
book. In Chapter 8 of the first part of the “Impunaçion” he inserts the
entire legend of the _Miraj_, adding a burlesque commentary in refutation
of its fabulous episodes and miraculous visions; these the Saint airily
disposes of as “mere fancy, vanities, lies, humbug and idle talk.”[615]
The version of which he availed himself belongs to the third cycle, in
which the Nocturnal Journey and the ascension of Mahomet are fused into
one story. The ascension proper, however, is related according to Version
C of the second cycle, where in spirituality the visions of paradise
approach nearer to Dante’s conception. Finally, there are introduced into
the general scheme of the legend many _hadiths_ dealing with the day of
judgment, the “Sirat” or purgatory, the topography of hell, and life in
paradise, the resemblance of which to the descriptions of Dante has been
duly demonstrated.
7. If, therefore, the legend of the _Miraj_ was well known in Spain,
at any rate as early as the thirteenth century, is it unlikely that it
should also reach Italy, bound as that country was by ties of close and
constant communication with Spain?[616] St. Peter Paschal, who knew
the legend well, resided for a time in Rome during the Pontificate of
Nicholas IV, _i.e._, between 1288 and 1292, and, though it would be idle
to base an argument on this mere fact, it may at least serve as a typical
example of the hidden channels through which the legend might have
reached the Florentine poet. At that time the plan of his divine poem,
the first part of which, the Inferno, was finished in 1306, was maturing
in Dante’s mind. Moreover, in 1301, Dante himself visited the Papal Court
as the Ambassador of Florence to Pope Boniface VIII.[617]
8. But there are other surer channels by which the legend could have been
transmitted. Dante received his literary training from Brunetto Latini, a
scholar of encyclopædic knowledge and a notary of Florence, who rose to
fill the highest offices of state.[618] More than a master, Brunetto was
a literary adviser and friend for whom the young poet felt the greatest
respect and admiration, and whose counsel and guidance were a source of
constant inspiration to him. The affectionate discourse Dante feigns to
hold with his master on meeting him in hell is eloquent testimony of the
spiritual tie that Dante himself admits bound him to Brunetto Latini and
his work.[619] This connection has long been apparent to the commentators
on the Divine Comedy[620]; and some Dante students have even sought in
the writings of Brunetto, particularly in the allegorical and didactic
poem of the “Tesoretto,” the model and idea that inspired the Divine
Comedy. Although the hypothesis has been rejected by the Dante students
themselves,[621] there yet remains the important fact of the link between
the studies of the pupil and the oral and written doctrine of the master.
The written doctrine is contained in the “Tesoretto” and the “Tesoro,”
which respectively are a small and large encyclopædia of mediæval
learning. To obtain the mass of data required for the latter work
Brunetto, without ignoring classical and Christian sources, drew, as did
all his contemporaries, upon the Arabic works on science then available.
Sundby, the learned Dane who half a century ago investigated the sources
of the “Tesoro,” restricted his research to the works that were then more
easy of access, that is to say, the Christian and classical writers. But
many of the passages, the origin of which he admits he does not know,
may easily be traced to Arabic models.[622] Thus the classification
of philosophy given at the beginning of the work is copied from
Avicenna[623]; the version of the _Nichomachean Ethics_ of Aristotle that
Brunetto used, appears to have been a translation of an Arabic text from
Spain; and the Bestiaries or collections of animal legends, of which he
availed himself, were mostly of Arabic origin. Lastly, Brunetto’s own
references to Oriental authors form a strong argument in favour of a like
origin being attributed to other passages which it has been impossible to
connect with any previous Christian or classical works.[624]
9. In addition, the Tesoro contains a biography of Mahomet, in which,
coupled with a puerile belief in certain legends deriding the Prophet,
Brunetto shows considerable knowledge of the doctrine and customs of
Islam.[625] As the Italian Codices of the Tesoro have not yet been
edited, it is difficult to say whether the legend of the _Miraj_ is
contained in this biography, among the fables attributed by Brunetto to
Mahomet. But, even if it were not included, the hypothesis that Brunetto
may have known of the legend and communicated it by word of mouth to his
disciple cannot be rejected as improbable.
For Brunetto Latini was in a position to acquire his knowledge of Arabic
culture at first hand, when in 1260 he was sent as Ambassador of
Florence to the court of Alphonso the Wise, the patron and director of
the famous Toledan school of translators.[626]
The details of this mission are not known, but the mere facts of
Brunette’s having stayed at Toledo and Seville, where the court resided
at the time, is significant. It is easy to imagine how deep would be the
impression produced on so cultured a mind, ever eager to acquire more
knowledge, by these two brilliant centres of learning. Living at the
court of a king, whose learning was unique in mediæval Europe, and in the
midst of a hybrid society that was influenced by classical, Christian
and Oriental traditions alike, he cannot fail to have been impressed;
and it is unlikely that his ambassadorial duties should not have left
him leisure to satisfy his curiosity as a scholar. At the Toledan School
of Translators, and the inter-denominational University of Seville,
Christians and Moslems were continually engaged on the production of
literary and scientific works, and only four years before had rendered
into Romance Castilian the “Historia Arabum,” which contained the very
legend of the _Miraj_. As a matter of fact, on his return to France,
Brunetto almost immediately wrote his two main works, the “Tesoretto”
and the “Tesoro.” The latter, as has been seen, contains traces of the
influence of Arabic works, and nowhere could these have been more readily
available than in Toledo and Seville; the former is even supposed to have
been dedicated to Alphonso the Wise.
Everything thus would seem to bear out the suggestion that the master of
Dante Alighieri received more than a merely superficial impression from
his visit to Spain,[627] and may well have been the medium through which
some at least of the Islamic features apparent in the Divine Comedy were
transmitted to the disciple.[628]
The documentary evidence, however, consisting in the likeness shown
between the divine poem and the Islamic sources, is in itself sufficient,
even though it may not be possible to demonstrate through what hidden
channels communication actually took place.[629] For do not the
characteristics of each style of architecture found on a monument of
varied design betray the influence of its respective school, even though
history may have left no actual record of the association between these
schools? Documentary evidence, should it exist, would not strengthen the
expert’s conviction; it would but confirm the inferences he had already
drawn.
IV
THE ATTRACTION FELT BY DANTE TOWARDS ARABIC CULTURES CONFIRMS THE
HYPOTHESIS OF IMITATION
1. The possibility that the Moslem models of the Divine Comedy may easily
have reached Italy and the Florentine poet from Moslem sources having
been sufficiently proved, one question alone remains to be answered. Was
the mentality of Dante, as revealed in his works, antagonistic to the
ready assimilation of these models? For, obviously, no contact, however
close, could beget imitation if diversity in language, religion, race,
philosophy and art had inspired the Florentine poet with an aversion to
the culture of the Arabs. In answer to this question, it may at once be
said that all the evidence points to the contrary.
2. In the first place, Dante Alighieri was in matters of learning and
literature open to influence from all quarters. Dante students have one
and all laid stress upon this mental receptivity. Ozanam repeatedly
dwells upon the passionate desire for knowledge that urged on the poet
in his search for truth and beauty.[630] D’Ancona has explained how
Dante studied and mastered a vast range of subjects; how in his mind
inspiration was reconciled with a respect for tradition, and inventive
faculty with erudition.[631] Umberto Cosmo, more recently, asserts that
in its receptiveness the mind of Dante might be likened to a sea that
receives its waters from all parts. Dante, he says, gathered intellectual
nourishment from the whole culture of his time, and in his mind were
reflected and recast in a new, personal form the sentiments and ideas of
the past and the present.[632]
Opinions of such weight would seem to establish _a priori_ that the
culture of Islam, dominant in thirteenth-century Europe, must have been
known to Dante. It is inconceivable that he, leading a life of such
mental activity, should have ignored Moslem culture, which at the time
was all-pervading; that he should not have felt the attraction of a
science that drew men of learning from all parts of Christian Europe
to the court of Toledo, and of a literature the influence of which was
paramount in Christian Europe, which it initiated in the novels, the
fables and the proverbs, as well as the works on moral science and
apologetics, of the East.[633]
The prestige enjoyed by Islam was largely due to the Moslem victories
over the Crusaders.[634] Roger Bacon, a contemporary of Dante, attributed
the defeats of the Christians precisely to their ignorance of the Semitic
languages and applied science, of which the Moslems were masters.[635] In
another field of learning, Albertus Magnus, the founder of scholasticism,
agreed with Bacon on the superiority of the Arab philosophers[636];
and Raymond Lull even recommended the imitation of Moslem methods in
preaching to the people.[637]
Rarely can public opinion have been so unanimous in admitting the mental
superiority of an adversary. This view was upheld by Moslem men of
learning, who adjudged the European races to be unfit for civilisation.
This curious assertion was actually made by two Moslem thinkers of Spain
in the eleventh century, Ibn Hazm of Cordova, and Said of Toledo. In
their respective works, the Critical History of the Religions and the
History of the Sciences, they declared that the peoples of Northern
Europe were by nature unfitted for the cultivation of the sciences and
arts, which flourished in Moslem Spain.[638]
3. In view of the universal admiration for Islamic culture, it is not
astonishing to find a certain leaning towards it on the part of Dante.
It was at one time believed that Dante had a knowledge of Semitic
languages, especially of either Arabic or Hebrew, the inference being
based on two solitary verses of the Divine Comedy. Modern opinion,
however, favours the view that in these verses the poet merely intended
to introduce meaningless phrases, though it is admitted that the words
attributed to Nimrod contain Semitic elements.[639] Be this as it may,
if it cannot be proved from Dante’s writings that he knew the Semitic
languages, neither can it be proved that he was ignorant of them. It
may at least be supposed that he knew of their qualities and aptness as
a means of social intercourse; and, indirect as his knowledge may have
been, it was sufficient to enable him to compare them with the Romance
languages, to the disadvantage of the latter. For, treating in his work,
_De vulgari eloquio_, of the multitude of languages spoken in the world,
he, although a native of Florence and by race and language a Latin, does
not allow himself to be prejudiced in favour of his mother tongue; rather
does he show proof of his characteristic breadth of mind when he admits
“that there are many other nations speaking tongues more pleasant to the
ear and more expressive than those of the Latin peoples.”[640]
4. It need hardly be added that such attraction as Dante felt towards
Oriental culture does not imply a liking for the Moslem faith, for the
sincerity of his Christian belief is beyond all doubt. His sympathies
were merely literary, and scientific; and his mental attitude is revealed
in two typical passages of the Divine Comedy. Avicenna and Averrhoes he
places in the limbo,[641] but Mahomet, in hell.[642] And even Mahomet
is not punished as the founder of Islam, but as a sower of discord and
an author of schism; he is placed along with men the effect of whose
actions cannot be compared with the profound upheaval—religious, social
and political—that Islam caused in the history of the world and, to her
unutterable loss, in the history of the Church. The leniency of this
punishment is significant of Dante’s sympathies for Arabic culture.
In his eyes, Mahomet is not so much a repudiator of the Trinity and
Incarnation as a conqueror whose violence cut asunder the ties uniting
mankind. Incomplete as his picture may be, it does not display the
absurdity marked in the mediæval fables of the Prophet. The Christian
historians of Dante’s age outvied one another in weaving the most
extravagant and contradictory tales about Mahomet. According to some,
he was a pagan; to others, a Christian. He was given in turn the names
of Ocin, Pelagius, Nicholas, and Mahomet. Some depict him, rightly, as
illiterate; others, as a magician, or even a scholar of Bologna. He is
represented as having been a Spaniard, a Roman, and even a member of the
family of Colonna. Some historians, again, confuse the Prophet with his
mentor, the Nestorian monk Bahira, and make of him a deacon or cardinal
who, aspiring to the Papacy, set out for Arabia from Constantinople,
Antioch or Smyrna.[643] Before the gross ignorance displayed in such
crude misrepresentations, the sober picture drawn by Dante stands as a
silent rebuke to his contemporaries. One is tempted to think that Dante
was content to depict Mahomet as a mere conqueror, not because he was
unaware of the other sides to his character, but because the portrayal of
these would have been incompatible with the absurd image stereotyped on
the minds of his readers.
That the restraint shown by Dante is not due to ignorance is abundantly
borne out by one fact. The poet shows Ali suffering the same torture as
his cousin and father-in-law, Mahomet. The role played by Ali in the
history of Islam is nowadays a matter of general historical knowledge.
It is well known that the Caliphate did not pass to his sons or their
descendants, who were hunted down by the Ommeyad and Abbaside Caliphs;
but they soon found eager partisans who, under the name of Shiites,
dominated Persia, Syria, Egypt and Barbary down to the twelfth century.
The history of the bloody struggles provoked by this undoubted schism
down to the time of Saladin, fully justifies the placing of Ali, the
unwitting cause of the great split, among the authors of schism. But,
natural as this may now appear, it was quite beyond the understanding of
the Christian historians of Dante’s age. To them the figure of Mahomet
himself was an enigma, let alone that of his cousin Ali. Accordingly,
the early commentators on the Divine Comedy are at a loss to account for
his appearance alongside of the Prophet.[644] The contrast between the
ignorance of the Christian writers and the thorough knowledge displayed
by Dante in itself argues a considerable acquaintance on his part with
Islamic lore.
But there is still further evidence. The figure of Ali is sketched with a
sober realism that is no mere creation of the poet’s imagination, in fact
it is strictly in accordance with historical data.[645] The assassin Ibn
Muljam, the Moslem chroniclers state, with one stroke of the sword cleft
open Ali’s skull, or, according to others, struck him in the forehead
with a dagger, which split open his head and penetrated into the brain.
The tragic scene must have vividly impressed the early Moslems, for
legends soon arose according to which Mahomet, or Ali himself, prophesied
the sad fate awaiting the latter. “Thy assassin—said Mahomet to him—will
strike thee there—and pointed to his head—and the blood from the wound
will flow down to here—and he touched his chin.”[646]
5. In addition to a knowledge of Islamic tradition, Dante displays a
general sympathy with Moslem philosophers and men of science. In his
minor prose writings he frequently quotes, and occasionally makes use of,
the works of the astronomers, Albumazar, Alfraganius and Alpetragius, and
the great philosophers, Alfarabius, Avicenna, Algazel and Averrhoes.[647]
Thus, Paget Toynbee has shown how some of the passages in the _Convito_
and the _Vita Nuova_ are based upon the astronomical theories of
Alfraganius or the ideas of Averrhoes on the lunar spots. In his _De
vulgari eloquio_ (I, 6) Dante himself admits having read books on
cosmography, and the most common of these at that time were Arabic.
This accounts for the benevolent treatment accorded by Dante to men like
Saladin, Avicenna, and Averrhoes, whom he places in the limbo—a treatment
that, judged upon theological principles, is indefensible. No one, and
certainly not Dante, could have been unaware of the hostility shown by
Saladin to everything Christian, and of how he had overrun Palestine
and wrested the Holy City from the grasp of the Crusaders. Neither the
military qualities nor the magnanimity of Saladin can be regarded as
natural virtues sufficient in themselves to warrant the exemption from
eternal punishment of one who did such grievous harm to the faith of
Christ. The same may be said of Avicenna and Averrhoes. However blameless
their conduct may have been, their learning excluded all possibility of
their defence on the plea of utter ignorance of Christ that, according to
the doctrine guiding Dante, could alone have justified their deliverance
from hell. Averrhoes, moreover, stood in the eyes of the Christian Europe
of the time as the embodiment of rationalistic unbelief.[648]
6. Dante’s sympathies for Islamic science in general, and for Averrhoes
in particular, furnish the key to another enigma, as has recently been
shown in a clever study by Bruno Nardi.[649] This was the hitherto
incomprehensible presence in Dante’s paradise, side by side with St.
Thomas Aquinas, of Sigier of Brabant, the champion of Averrhoism, who
died under the ban of the Church. How, it was asked, could this defiance
of public opinion be justified? For, it should be noted that the poet not
only exempts this heretic from the punishment of hell, but even exalts
him to the mansion of the theologians, and, with a crowning presumption
bordering upon sarcasm, places in the mouth of his irreconcilable
adversary, St. Thomas, words of praise for the outcast that are
equivalent to a rehabilitation of his memory.
7. Nardi, to solve this problem, reopens the question of the sources of
Dante’s philosophy, hitherto regarded as exclusively Thomist. By a close
comparison of Dante’s works with the writings of other scholastics of
the neo-Platonic school and the systems of Avicenna and Averrhoes, he
shows that Dante, far from appearing as an unconditional Thomist, was a
scholastic, but of eclectic tendencies, who accepted theories from all
thinkers ancient and mediæval, Christian and Moslem, and embodied them
in a system of his own that was intermediate between the philosophy of
St. Thomas and that of Avicenna and Averrhoes, although more akin to
the latter. The main points in Dante’s philosophy that Nardi has shown
to be of Arabic filiation relate to cosmology, theodicy and psychology:
God is Light, whose rays grow weaker as they travel further from their
Centre. The Intelligences of the Celestial Spheres reflect these rays and
thereby imprint the various forms upon Matter. Creation must, therefore,
be conceived as a gradually decreasing emanation of the Divine Light,
and is brought about, not by God directly and exclusively, but through
the medium of the Celestial Spheres. The intellective part of the human
soul is distinct from the vegetative-sensitive part; the former alone is
created. Intellection begins by Divine illumination and needs the help of
Faith before it can attain to super-sensible Truth.
Nardi proceeds to show how these ideas of Dante, although found in part
in the Augustinian tradition, are rather derived from the neo-Platonic
philosophy of the Arabs and, more particularly, from the systems of
Alfarabius, Avicenna, Algazel and Averrhoes.
V
THE CLOSE RESEMBLANCE BETWEEN DANTE AND THE MYSTIC, IBN ARABI OF MURCIA,
FURNISHES FURTHER PROOF OF THE THESIS OF IMITATION
1. The conclusions arrived at by Nardi are more than sufficient to
indicate that, as in his artistic representation of the after-life,
so in his trend of thought Dante betrays signs of Arabic influence.
Should further proof of our thesis be required, the poet’s philosophical
system might be traced back to its actual sources in Islam, which are
to be found not so much among the philosophers as in the works of the
Illuministic Mystics, and of the Murcian Ibn Arabi in particular. The
Illuministic, or _Ishraqi_ and pseudo-Empedoclean school, was founded
by Ibn Masarra of Cordova; and from Spain its ideas were transmitted to
the so-called Augustinian scholastics, among others to Alexander Hales,
Duns Scotus, Roger Bacon, and Raymond Lull. As has been shown in the
discussion of the Paradiso, an essential part of _Ishraqi_ teaching—the
metaphysical doctrine of light—reappears in the Divine Comedy, where
it is illustrated, moreover, by the same symbols as are used by the
Moslem mystics. Creation, too, is conceived as an emanation of Divine
light, the teleological cause of which is love, and its primary effects,
universal and formless matter.[650] Thus a new vista is opened up. Seen
in this wise, Dante would appear to have been but one more follower of
the Illuministic school, and pre-eminent by his art alone. It has been
demonstrated above that almost all of the artistic forms used in Ibn
Arabi’s picture of the realms beyond the grave were reproduced a century
later in the Divine Comedy. The suggestion now presents itself that many
of the Illuministic theories of Dante were derived from the same Ibn
Arabi, the leading exponent of _Ishraqi_ ideas, rather than from the
other Arabic philosophers with whose systems Nardi compares them.
2. The solution of this problem is beyond the limits of the task at
present before us, which is restricted to the search for evidence of a
leaning on Dante’s part towards Islamic culture. Nevertheless, it may be
of interest to establish a general parallel between the two thinkers,
Dante and Ibn Arabi. This should bear, not so much upon the ideas common
to both, as upon the images and symbols by which they gave expression
to these ideas and the literary devices to which both writers resort
to expound their views. As already stated, coincidence in imaginative
detail more readily suggests imitation than sympathy in doctrine,
although, naturally, conviction is strengthened when both ideas and
images agree.
As regards the images, Ibn Arabi uses the same symbols as Dante to
express the metaphysics of light, an essential part of the thought of
both. God is pure light, and his manifestation _ad extra_ is described by
similes of light—diffusion, illumination, reflexion and irradiance—which
are all typical of Dante’s imaginings. The metaphor of the mirror, used
by Dante to exemplify the influence of superior upon inferior beings,
appears, like that of the flame of the candle, frequently in the works
of Ibn Arabi. The geometrical symbol of the circle and its centre,
representing the cosmos and its Divine principle, recurs even more
often in Ibn Arabi than in Dante, and gives rise to similar paradoxes
in the works of both writers. As light is the symbol of God and His
manifestations, so is darkness of matter. Opacity and transparency
respectively characterise the body and the mind in both Dante’s and Ibn
Arabi’s conception.
3. A comparison of the expository methods of the two authors will prove
still more interesting. The cabbala of letters and numbers is seen from
all his works to be an obsession of Dante. Secret virtues are attributed
to special numbers, or the numerical values of certain letters are
associated with their ideological values. The flavour of occultism thus
imparted to Dante’s style is exactly like that found in all the works of
Ibn Arabi, whose worship at the cabbalistic shrine argues the sincerity
of his conviction. Entire chapters of his _Futuhat_ and whole books are
devoted to this superstition; and he even goes so far as to base many
of his philosophical demonstrations on the numerical relations thus
established.
Another superstition common to the two writers is their belief in
astrology. It is needless to dwell upon the many passages in the Divine
Comedy and the _Convito_ that testify to the blind faith shown by Dante
in the absurd subtleties of astrology. Ibn Arabi, in his whimsical
conceits, indulges in still wilder flights of fancy.[651]
The literary artifice of personifying abstract entities is seen in
Dante’s _Vita Nuova_, where the vital, the animal, the visual and natural
spirits reason and discourse with one another. Ibn Arabi has no equal in
the use, or rather abuse, of prosopopoeia. God and His names, the spirits
of Being and of Nothingness, Matter and Shape, engage at each step in the
_Futuhat_ in lengthy discussions, like persons of flesh and blood.
Finally, whole passages in the _Vita Nuova_ and the Divine Comedy,
which purport to be autobiographical, are devoted to the description
and mystical interpretation of dream visions. Ibn Arabi also narrates
a multitude of dreams, hidden in which he discovers the loftiest
metaphysical thought.
4. Of all the visions thus described by Dante, one is of particular
interest.[652]
Dante in a dream sees a youth robed in white, seated near him
in a pensive attitude. The youth sighs, as he raises his eyes
to him, and to Dante’s question why he is so sad, replies:
“Ego tamquam centrum circuli, cui simili modo se habent
circumferentiae partes; tu autem non sic.” The poet calls
upon him to explain the meaning of this symbol, but the youth
replies: “Non dimandar più che utile ti sìa.”
Common in the extreme among Moslem mystics is the dream vision of God
appearing to them in the image of a youth. A _hadith_ attributed to the
ninth-century traditionist, Tabrani, tells how Mahomet first saw the
vision.
I saw the Lord my God in a dream—begins the _hadith_—seated on a stool, a
beardless youth of great beauty....[653]
Ibn Arabi himself claims to have seen similar visions, in which his
Divine beloved, God, appeared to him in human form.[654]
“These apparitions,” he says, “left me in such a state that for
days I could take no food. Each time that I sat down to eat He
appeared standing at the end of the table, gazing upon me and
saying in words that I actually heard, ‘and wilt thou eat in
My presence?’ and eat I could not. In truth I felt no hunger,
for His presence filled and well-nigh intoxicated me ... for
throughout those days His vision haunted me wheresoe’er I went.”
True, none of these visions contains the same cryptic words that Dante
places in the mouth of the youth. But these words undeniably have their
interpretation in the metaphysics of Ibn Arabi. In his geometrical
symbolism, God is the independent centre of a circle and His creatures
the points on the circumference, that are dependent for their existence
on the centre. God, then, is the centre of gravity towards which all
creatures are drawn by the love inspired in them by the infinite beauty
of the Divine essence.[655]
It may be argued that this interpretation does not necessarily
furnish the key to the enigma of Dante’s vision, but it does offer an
explanation. In the obscure words attributed to the youth Dante would
indeed seem to express the love he felt in his heart towards God, the
centre of creation. This is the very doctrine he unfolded later in the
Divine Comedy, where he asserts that the entire universe is swayed
by the love of God, which is the principal and the final goal of all
movement.[656]
5. Coincidences of literary artifice even more striking will be found
by comparing the _Cancionero_ and the _Convito_ with two books of Ibn
Arabi, “The Interpreter of Love” and its commentary, “The Treasures
of Lovers.”[657] Indeed, it will be seen that the literary principles
underlying the works of both authors are the same. The intermingling of
verse with prose, which is characteristic of the _Convito_, is to be
found in almost all the works of Ibn Arabi, but no two works of the poets
coincide so remarkably as “The Interpreter of Love” and the _Convito_.
Both poets represent their work to be autobiographical, and the theme and
mode of expression in each are almost identical.
In the _Convito_ Dante declares his intention to interpret the esoteric
meaning of fourteen love songs which he had composed at an earlier date
and the subject of which had led to the erroneous belief that they
dealt with sensual rather than intellectual love. The poet desires to
clear himself of the accusation of sensuality, and thus has written
the _Convito_ as a commentary on those songs and in explanation of the
allegory underlying the literal meaning.
The literal sense is the love of the poet for a fair and virtuous maiden,
learned yet modest and devout, of a winning grace and courteous manner,
whose bodily and moral perfections the poet extols in an outburst of
impassioned verse. Beneath this cloak of voluptuousness Dante avers there
is hidden the love for the Divine science of philosophy, personified by
the maiden. Her eyes represent the demonstrations of wisdom; her smiles,
its persuasions; the rays of love that descend from the heaven of Venus
upon the lover are the philosophical books; and the love-sick sighs he
heaves are symbolic of the anguish of the mind tortured by doubt and the
longing for truth.[658]
Finally, Dante explains how he came to write the original songs. One day
after the death of his beloved Beatrice, Dante is walking alone, when
of a sudden he meets a gentle maiden of great beauty and learning, with
whom he falls in love; not daring to declare his passion, he seeks solace
in the ecstatic contemplation of his idol and sings his emotions in
melancholy rhymes.[659]
An identical occurrence and motive inspired Ibn Arabi to compose the love
poems contained in his “Interpreter of Love” and write the commentary
upon it known as the “Treasures of Lovers.” In the prologue to the
commentary the author furnishes an explanation, of which the following is
a summary:
When I resided at Mecca in the year 598 (1201 A.D.) I made the
acquaintance of a number of worthy people, pre-eminent among
whom was the learned doctor Zahir ibn Rustam, a native of
Ispahan, who had taken up his abode at Mecca. This master had a
daughter, a tall and slender maiden. Virtuous, learned, devout
and modest, she was a feast for the eyes and bound in chains of
love all who beheld her. Were it not that pusillanimous minds
are ever prone to think evil, I would dwell at greater length
upon the qualities with which God had endowed both her body and
her soul, which was a garden of generous feeling.
It was from her that I drew the inspiration for the poems,
telling of the sweet fancies of a lover. In them I sought to
convey some of the passionate feelings treasured in my heart
and to express the tender longings of my soul in words that
should suggest how dearly I loved her and how the thought of
her filled my mind in those bygone days as it haunts me even
now. Thus every name mentioned in this work refers to her,
and hers is the dwelling of which I sing. But also, in these
verses I make constant allusion to spiritual revelations and
to relations with the Intelligences of the Divine spheres.
This is customary in our allegorical style, for to our mind
the things of the future life are preferable to those of
this world; moreover, she herself knew full well the hidden
meaning underlying my verse. God forbid that the reader should
attribute unworthy thoughts to the writers of poetry such as
this—men whose aims are loftier and who aspire but to the
things of heaven.
My reason for composing this allegorical commentary upon my
songs was that my pupils had consulted me about them. They had
heard learned moralists of Aleppo deny that holy mysteries lay
hidden in my poems and allege that, in trying to affirm this,
I merely sought to conceal the sensual love which I had felt.
I therefore set to work to write this commentary upon all the
amorous poems I had composed during my stay at Mecca in the
months of Recheb, Shaban, and Ramadan. In all these poems I
constantly allude to spiritual mysteries and to the teachings
of philosophy and ethics. If, to express these lofty thoughts,
I used the language of love, it was because the minds of men
are prone to dally with such amorous fancies and would thus be
more readily attracted to the subject of my songs.
Ibn Arabi then introduces a fragment from his book of songs, in which he
enumerates the more usual among his poetic metaphors and interprets their
general allegorical meaning. He adds:
“All these figures of speech should be regarded as symbolic of sublime
mysteries and Divine illuminations vouchsafed to me by the Lord God. Turn
thy thoughts, oh! reader, from the mere words and seek the hidden meaning
that thou mayest understand.”
Having thus duly warned the reader, Ibn Arabi begins his commentary with
the fictitious story of the vision of a beautiful maiden.
“One night,” he says, “I was in the temple of the Caaba,
walking, as required by rite, round and round the holy
dwelling. My mind felt at ease and a strange peace overcame my
soul. To be alone, I went out of the temple and started to walk
along the roadway. As I walked, I recited aloud some verses,
when, of a sudden, I felt a hand softer than velvet touch me
on the shoulder. I turned and lo! a Greek maiden stood before
me. Never had I beheld so beautiful a countenance, nor heard so
soft a voice; never had I met a woman more endearing or with
speech so refined, who expressed such lofty thoughts in more
subtle language. Verily she surpassed all the women of her day
in delicacy of mind, in literary culture, in beauty and in
learning....”
Prefacing his work with the narration of this fictitious episode in his
life, which he alleges led to the composition of his songs, the author
proceeds to give the allegorical meaning of each verse. His beloved, he
explains, is the symbol of Divine wisdom[660]; her virgin breasts, the
nectar of its teachings; the smile on her lips, its illuminations.[661]
Her eyes are the emblems of light and revelation.[662] The mournful sighs
of the lover represent the spiritual longings of the soul.[663] Among
a host of other subjects, the author deals with the origin and destiny
of the human soul, the nature and phenomena of love, and the essence of
spiritual beauty. In matters of faith, he discusses the relations between
reason and belief, the hidden trinal sense of the conception of God,
the transcendental value of universal religion in comparison with other
religions, and Islam as a religion of love.
6. The coincidence here shown between the _Convito_ of Dante and the
_Treasures_ of Ibn Arabi may prove of further interest, as furnishing an
answer to the vexed question of the origin of that form of lyrical poetry
known in Italy as _dolce stil nuovo_. In this new school of poetry, of
which Guido Guinicelli, Guido Cavalcanti and Dante were the contemporary
creators, the theme of each song is love. The emotion of the poet at the
sight or remembrance of his beloved is described in two forms—either it
is a mystical adoration, a sweet beatitude of the soul that in ecstasy
longs for spiritual union with its beloved and thus strives heavenward;
or else it is an affliction of the heart torn by anguish, a morbid fever
that consumes the life blood of the lover, a dread disorder of the mind
that pervades his whole being and makes him long for the approach of
death as a relief from the torture he is suffering. In subtle inquiry
into the emotional processes of love, Cavalcanti stands supreme, more
especially when dealing with love as an affliction. His songs are tragic
outbursts of this mode of feeling which is found to a less degree in
Guinicelli and Dante, who treat love rather as a gentle melancholy, or as
an ecstatic contemplation or mystical and semi-religious aspiration.
Another characteristic of the _stil nuovo_ poetry is the analysis and
philosophic interpretation of the emotions. The psycho-physiological
faculties and spirits controlling the heart are distinguished and even
personified. This scholastic manner, which robs the poetry of much of its
charm, is used to excess in Cavalcanti’s “Donna mi prega.”
The mere possession of the woman they love is far from being the sole
desire of these poets. On the contrary, their elect appears to them
rather as an ethereal image, a being who is worthy of Platonic love.
Indeed to them real love lies, not in marriage, but rather in a perpetual
state of chastity; and the figure of their beloved they idealise either
as an angel of heaven or the symbol of Divine wisdom or philosophy. In
either conception, she is the instrument by which God inspires the lover
with noble feelings and sublime ideas. And so, earthly and heavenly love
are merged in one.