The temple of Dendera (formerly Tentyra) is on the western bank of the
Nile, nearly opposite Kenneh. Passing from the latter place, the path of
the traveler leads through a palm grove, where the lofty shafts of the
date and the vaulted foliage of the doum-palm, blend in the most
picturesque groupage, and in contrast with the lace-like texture of the
flowering mimosa, and the cloudy boughs of a kind of gray cypress.
Crossing the meadows to Dendera, leagues of rank grass roll away toward
the desert in shining billows, while the wind wafts the rich and mingled
odors of the various flowers on the traveler’s course. In the midst of
this beautiful plain, rise the earthy mounds of Dendera; and the portico
of the temple, almost buried beneath them, stands like a beacon, marking
the boundary of the desert. “We galloped our animals along the dike,”
says a late traveler, “and dismounted at a small pylon, which stands two
or three hundred paces in front of the temple. The huge jambs of
sandstone, covered with sharply cut hieroglyphics and figures of the
Egyptian gods, and surmounted by a single block, bearing the mysterious
winged globe and serpent, detained us but a moment, and we hurried down
what was once the dromos of the temple, now represented by a double wall
of unburnt bricks. The portico, more than a hundred feet in length, and
supported by six columns, united by screens of masonry, no stone of
which, or of the columns themselves, is unsculptured, is massive and
imposing, but struck me as being too depressed to produce a very grand
effect. What was my astonishment, on arriving at the entrance, to find
that I had approached the temple on a level with half its hight, and
that the pavement of the portico was as far below as the scrolls of its
cornice were above me. The six columns I had seen, covered three other
rows, of six each, all adorned with the most elaborate sculpture and
exhibiting traces of the brilliant coloring which they once possessed.
The entire temple, which is in an excellent state of preservation,
except where the hand of the Coptic Christian has defaced its
sculptures, was cleaned out by order of Mohammed Ali, and as all its
chambers, as well as the roof of enormous sandstone blocks, are entire,
it is considered one of the most complete relics of Egyptian art. I find
my pen at fault, when I attempt to describe the impression produced by
the splendid portico. The twenty-four columns, each of which is sixty
feet in hight, and eight feet in diameter, crowded upon a surface of one
hundred feet by seventy, are oppressive in their grandeur. The dim
light, admitted through the half closed front, which faces the north,
spreads a mysterious gloom around these mighty shafts, crowned with the
fourfold visage of Athor, still rebuking the impious hands that have
marred her solemn beauty. On the walls, between columns of
hieroglyphics, and the cartouches of the Cæsars and the Ptolemies,
appear the principal Egyptian deities, the rigid Osiris, the stately
Isis and the hawk-headed Orus. Around the bases of the columns spring
the leaves of the sacred lotus, and the dark-blue ceiling is spangled
with stars, between the wings of the divine emblem. The sculptures are
all in raised relief, and there is no stone in the temple without them.
I can not explain to myself the unusual emotion I felt while
contemplating this wonderful combination of a simple and sublime
architectural style with the utmost elaboration of ornament. My blood
pulsed fast and warm on my first view of the Roman forum, but in Dendera
I was so saddened and oppressed, that I scarcely dared speak for fear of
betraying an unmanly weakness. The portico opens into a hall, supported
by six beautiful columns, of smaller proportions, and lighted by a
square aperture in the solid roof. On either side are chambers connected
with dim and lofty passages, and beyond is the sanctuary and various
other apartments, which receive no light from without. We examined their
sculptures by the aid of torches, and our Arab attendants kindled large
fires of dry corn-stalks, which cast a strong red light on the walls.
The temple is devoted to Athor, the Egyptian Venus, and her image is
everywhere seen, receiving the homage of her worshipers. Even the dark
staircase, leading to the roof, up which we climbed over heaps of sand
and rubbish, is decorated throughout with processions of symbolical
figures. The drawing has little of that grotesque stiffness which I
expected to find in Egyptian sculptures, and the execution is so
admirable in its gradations of light and shade, as to resemble, at a
little distance, a monochromatic painting. The antiquarians view these
remains with little interest, as they date from the comparatively recent
era of the Ptolemies, at which time sculpture and architecture were on
the decline. We, who had seen nothing else of the kind, were charmed
with the grace and elegance of this sumptuous mode of decoration. Part
of the temple was built by Cleopatra, whose portrait, with that of her
son Cæsarion, may still be seen on the exterior wall. The face of the
colossal figure has been nearly destroyed, but there is a smaller one,
whose soft, voluptuous outline is still sufficient evidence of the
justness of her renown. The profile is exquisitely beautiful. The
forehead and nose approach the Greek standard, but the mouth is more
roundly and delicately curved, and the chin and cheek are fuller. Were
such an outline made plastic, were the blank face colored with a pale
olive hue, through which should blush a faint, rosy tinge, lighted with
bold black eyes and irradiated with the lightning of a passionate
nature, it would even now ‘move the mighty hearts of captains and of
kings.’ Besides the temple, there are also the remains of a chapel of
Isis, with a pylon, erected by Augustus Cæsar, and a small temple,
nearly whelmed in the sand, supposed to be one of the _mammeisi_, or
lying-in houses of the goddess Athor, who was honored in this form, on
account of having given birth to the third member of the divine triad.”