While waiting for the conclusion of the morning studies, we are conducted through some of the dependencies of El-Azhar.  Halls of every epoch, added one to another, go to form a little labyrinth; many contain Mihrabs, which, as we know already, are a kind of portico, festooned and denticulated till they look as if covered with rime.  And library after library, with ceilings of cedarwood, carved in times when men had more leisure and more patience.  Thousands of precious manuscripts, dating back some hundreds of years, but which here in El-Azhar are no whit out of date.  Open, in glass cases, are numerous inestimable Korans, which in olden times had been written fair and illuminated on parchment by pious khedives.  And, in a place of honour, a large astronomical glass, through which men watch the rising of the moon of Ramadan. . . .  All this savours of the past.  And what is being taught to-day to the ten thousand students of El-Azhar scarcely differs from what was taught to their predecessors in the glorious reign of the Fatimites—­and which was then transcendent and even new:  the Koran and all its commentaries; the subtleties of syntax and of pronunciation; jurisprudence; calligraphy, which still is dear to the heart of Orientals; versification; and, last of all, mathematics, of which the Arabs were the inventors.

Yes, all this savours of the past, of the dust of remote ages.  And though, assuredly, the priests trained in this thousand-year-old university may grow to men of rarest soul, they will remain, these calm and noble dreamers, merely laggards, safe in their shelter from the whirlwind which carries us along.

*****

“It is a sacrilege to prohibit knowledge.  To seek knowledge is to perform an act of adoration towards God; to instruct is to do an act of charity.”

“Knowledge is the life of Islam, the column of faith.”

Verses from the Hadith.

The lesson of the morning is now finished and we are able, without disturbing anybody, to visit the mosque.

When we return to the great courtyard, with its battlemented walls, it is the hour of recreation for this crowd of young men in robes and turbans, who now emerge from the shadow of the sanctuary.

Since the early morning they have remained seated on their mats, immersed in study and prayer, amid the confused buzzing of their thousands of voices; and now they scatter themselves about the contiguous Arab quarters until such time as the evening lessons commence.  They walk along in little groups, sometimes holding one another’s hands like children; most of them carry their heads high and raise their eyes to the heavens, although the sun which greets them outside dazzles them a little with its rays.  They seem innumerable, and as they pass show us faces of the most diverse types.  They come from all quarters of the world; some from Baghdad, others from Bassorah, from Mossul and even from the interior of Hedjaz.