Dante Alighieri, Apostle of Freedom: War-time and Peace-time Essays
Dante Alighieri · en
Si che, come noi sem di soglia in soglia
Per questo regno, a tutto il regno piace
Com’ allo re ch’ a suo voler ne invoglia:
En’ la sua voluntade è nostra pace.[286]
Turning now to the geographical or rather astronomical aspect of the
subject, we find in Barnabas a definite divergence from the doctrine of
the _Koran_, and adoption of a Ptolemaic scheme closely resembling that
of Dante’s _Paradiso_. There are nine heavens, not counting Paradise,
_i.e._ ten heavens in all. “Noue sono li cielli li quali sono distanti
luno dal altro chome he distante il primo cielo dala terra. Il quale he
lontano dalla terra cinquecento hanni di strada.”[287] In the “five
hundred years’ journey” there is a reminiscence of Jewish tradition:
but the seven heavens of the Talmud and of the _Koran_ have become ten.
And though these heavens are not definitely stated to be arranged, like
Dante’s, as a series of concentric spheres with earth as the centre,
they form a graduated series, in which each is to the next as a “punto
di ago,”[288] or as a grain of sand.[289] The planets, again, have their
place in the scheme. They are not, apparently, identified with the
several “cieli,” as in Dante’s arrangement, but are “set between” or
“amongst” them: “li cielli fra li qualli stano li pianeti.”[290]
The point of resemblance is to be found in a graduated series of ten (and
not seven) heavens, characterised by an ascending scale of magnitude, and
culminating in the Paradise of the Blessed.
The resemblances are indeed striking; but though ‘Barnabas is vastly
superior to previous Moslem writers in the richness of his conception
of Heaven,’ (they in common with their Christian contemporaries shewing
much more spontaneity and exuberance of fancy in describing the torments
of Hell), Dante excels markedly in the glowing wealth of his picture
of Paradise—its radiance, its variety, its peace, its activity, its
all-pervading love.[291]
So far, it may be said, the suggested points of contact between
Barnabas and Dante have been somewhat vague and hypothetical. They
may, perhaps, be adequately accounted for on the basis of a common
tradition—the practically universal tradition of a Garden-Paradise, and
the Aristotelo-Ptolemaic scheme of astronomy common to all the civilised
West, whether Christian or Mohammedan, till the days of Copernicus and
Galileo. But in the Inferno of Barnabas we may discover more definite
and more convincing resemblances to features and passages of the _Divina
Commedia_.