We know but little of the internal government of the Arabian schools, or of the studies actually pursued. Aristotle, no doubt, was the great master to whom, in philosophy, all deference was paid. The Prophet had prescribed their religion. Their schools were of two kinds, or rather classes; the one comprehending the inferior institutions, in which elementary branches of instruction, such as reading, writing, and religious doctrine were chiefly attended to; the other, called _Madras_, mostly connected with the mosques, as were all the schools of the former class, included those institutions in which the higher departments of knowledge were explored. Here grammar, logic, theology, and jurisprudence were studied. The management of each school was confided to a principal of known ability, and not always, a Mohammedan. The professors lectured on the several sciences; and the pupils, if not in every department, of which there is some doubt, certainly in that of medicine, were publicly examined, and diplomas were given under the hand of the chief physician. Of elegant composition, the Koran was {251} universally esteemed the model. Hence it was studied with the most diligent care by all who sought to distinguish themselves in the art of eloquence, one of the leading acquirements of Arab scholars. Subordinate to this pre-eminent composition, their schools of oratory boasted of models scarcely inferior to the celebrated orators of antiquity. Malek and Sharaif, the one for pathos, the other for brilliancy, are the chief of these. Horaiai was esteemed as the compeer of Demosthenes and Cicero. Bedreddin, of Grenada, was their "torch of eloquence;" and Sekaki obtained the honourable designation of the Arabian Quinctilian. The ancient Arabs were much inclined to poetry. The wild, romantic scenery of the land they inhabited, the sacred recollections of their earliest history, the life they led, everything around them, contributed to poetic inspiration. After the revival of letters, this art was cultivated with enthusiasm. The heroic measures of Ferdousi, the didactic verses of Sadi, and the lyric strains of Hafiz, even through the medium of imperfect translations, discover animated descriptions, bold metaphors, and striking expressions, that at once delight and surprise us. In splendour, if not in strength, the poets of the courts of Haroun and Almamoun, or those of the Ommiades of Spain, have, perhaps, in no age been excelled. In this art, as among other {252} people, so among the Arabs, the fair sex have distinguished themselves. Valadata, Aysha, Labana, Safia, and others, have obtained the highest encomiums. So great is the number of Arabian poets, that Abul Abbas, a son of Motassem, who wrote an abridgment of their lives in the ninth century, numbers one hundred and thirty. Other authors have occupied twenty-four, thirty, and one no less than fifty volumes, in recording their history.