DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.27180#0054
PYRAMID AND TEMPLE
know for a fact. But that is of little consequence here, where
we have examples of a native architecture of extreme anti-
quity under our very noses.’ Here again I couldn’t refrain
from glancing in the direction of the Egyptologists over my
shoulder. One of the Englishmen was just swallowing a
mouthful of salad.
‘The pyramids, I suppose you mean?’ Rohricht smiled.
At this juncture a blond German woman from Riga, who
had been gazing at Rohricht with rapt adoration, mentioned
the stalactites. Stalactites in Arabic architecture are Roh-
richt’s real passion. He smiled indulgently, as much as to
say that there was no need to disturb such sanctities. But
Babuschka appeared to misunderstand the word; or else
perhaps she had never heard of stalactites, and concluded
that they were casting aspersions on my honesty. Anybody
could say that, she remarked tartly. At this my gall over-
flowed. I spoke my mind at last, and declared that all the
mosques in Cairo, which we had seen at lightning speed under
the guidance of Ibrahim, were arrant rubbish. Babuschka
nudged me under the table, to bring me to my senses, but it
merely had the effect of opening the flood-gates to their
fullest extent. It was incredible, in the presence of the
temples of ancient Egypt, that anybody could take such
garish haberdashery seriously.
Rohricht turned scarlet. But nothing could stop me
now. I fell to abusing the Alhambra, upon which, as every-
one knew, he had written an enormous tome. The Arabic
style was marked out as the perfect decoration for Turkish
baths. I did not aim all this at Rohricht, however, but at the
three Egyptologists, who took no notice of it. Rohricht can’t
help behaving like a kidney-specialist who is trying to cure
toothache with white of egg. It isn’t fair to blame him for
the hopeless specialization of our science, of which he is the
victim. At least he loves and cherishes his stalactites, like
the priest from Spitzweg with his snake-cactus, and extracts
46
know for a fact. But that is of little consequence here, where
we have examples of a native architecture of extreme anti-
quity under our very noses.’ Here again I couldn’t refrain
from glancing in the direction of the Egyptologists over my
shoulder. One of the Englishmen was just swallowing a
mouthful of salad.
‘The pyramids, I suppose you mean?’ Rohricht smiled.
At this juncture a blond German woman from Riga, who
had been gazing at Rohricht with rapt adoration, mentioned
the stalactites. Stalactites in Arabic architecture are Roh-
richt’s real passion. He smiled indulgently, as much as to
say that there was no need to disturb such sanctities. But
Babuschka appeared to misunderstand the word; or else
perhaps she had never heard of stalactites, and concluded
that they were casting aspersions on my honesty. Anybody
could say that, she remarked tartly. At this my gall over-
flowed. I spoke my mind at last, and declared that all the
mosques in Cairo, which we had seen at lightning speed under
the guidance of Ibrahim, were arrant rubbish. Babuschka
nudged me under the table, to bring me to my senses, but it
merely had the effect of opening the flood-gates to their
fullest extent. It was incredible, in the presence of the
temples of ancient Egypt, that anybody could take such
garish haberdashery seriously.
Rohricht turned scarlet. But nothing could stop me
now. I fell to abusing the Alhambra, upon which, as every-
one knew, he had written an enormous tome. The Arabic
style was marked out as the perfect decoration for Turkish
baths. I did not aim all this at Rohricht, however, but at the
three Egyptologists, who took no notice of it. Rohricht can’t
help behaving like a kidney-specialist who is trying to cure
toothache with white of egg. It isn’t fair to blame him for
the hopeless specialization of our science, of which he is the
victim. At least he loves and cherishes his stalactites, like
the priest from Spitzweg with his snake-cactus, and extracts
46