DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.4393#0131
S1UT TO BENDERAII. 113
It is not without something like a shock that one first
sees the unsightly havoc wrought upon the llathor-headed
columns of the facade at Denderah. The massive folds of
the head-gear are there ; the ears, erect and pointed like
those of a heifer, are there; hut of the benignant face of
the goddess not a feature remains. Ampere, describing
these columns in one of his earliest letters from Egypt,
speaks of them as being still " brilliant with colors that
time had lrad no power to efface." Time, however, must
have been unusually busy during the thirty years that have
gone by since then; for though we presently found several
instances of painted bas-reliefs in the small inner
chambers, I do not remember to have observed any
remains of color (save here and there a faint trace of
yellow ocher) on the external decorations.
Without, all was sunshine and splendor; within, all was
silence and mystery. A heavy, death-like smell, as of
long-imprisoned gases, met us on the threshold. By the
half-light that strayed in through the portico we could see
vague outlines of a forest of giant columns rising out of
the gloom below and vanishing into the gloom above.
Beyond these again appeared shadowy vistas of successive
halls leading away into depths of impenetrable darkness.
It required no great courage to go down those stairs and
explore those depths with a party of fellow-travelers: but
it would have been a gruesome place to venture into alone.
Seen from within, the portico shows as a vast hall, fifty
feet in height and supported on twenty-four llathor-
headed columns. Six of these, being engaged in the
screen, form part of the facade, and are the same upon
which we have been looking from without. By degrees, as
our eyes become used to the twilight, we see here and there
a capital which still preserves the vague likeness of a
gigantic female face; while, dimly visible on every wall,
pillar, and doorway, a multitude of fantastic forms—hawk-
headed, ibis-headed, cow-headed, mitered, plumed, holding
aloft strange emblems, seated on thrones, performing
mysterious rites—seem to emerge from their places, like
things of life. Looking up to the ceiling, now smoke-
blackened and defaced, we discover elaborate paintings of
scarabiei, winged globes, and zodiacal emblems divided by
borders of intricate Greek patterns, the prevailing colors of
which are verditer and chocolate. Bands of hieroglyphic
It is not without something like a shock that one first
sees the unsightly havoc wrought upon the llathor-headed
columns of the facade at Denderah. The massive folds of
the head-gear are there ; the ears, erect and pointed like
those of a heifer, are there; hut of the benignant face of
the goddess not a feature remains. Ampere, describing
these columns in one of his earliest letters from Egypt,
speaks of them as being still " brilliant with colors that
time had lrad no power to efface." Time, however, must
have been unusually busy during the thirty years that have
gone by since then; for though we presently found several
instances of painted bas-reliefs in the small inner
chambers, I do not remember to have observed any
remains of color (save here and there a faint trace of
yellow ocher) on the external decorations.
Without, all was sunshine and splendor; within, all was
silence and mystery. A heavy, death-like smell, as of
long-imprisoned gases, met us on the threshold. By the
half-light that strayed in through the portico we could see
vague outlines of a forest of giant columns rising out of
the gloom below and vanishing into the gloom above.
Beyond these again appeared shadowy vistas of successive
halls leading away into depths of impenetrable darkness.
It required no great courage to go down those stairs and
explore those depths with a party of fellow-travelers: but
it would have been a gruesome place to venture into alone.
Seen from within, the portico shows as a vast hall, fifty
feet in height and supported on twenty-four llathor-
headed columns. Six of these, being engaged in the
screen, form part of the facade, and are the same upon
which we have been looking from without. By degrees, as
our eyes become used to the twilight, we see here and there
a capital which still preserves the vague likeness of a
gigantic female face; while, dimly visible on every wall,
pillar, and doorway, a multitude of fantastic forms—hawk-
headed, ibis-headed, cow-headed, mitered, plumed, holding
aloft strange emblems, seated on thrones, performing
mysterious rites—seem to emerge from their places, like
things of life. Looking up to the ceiling, now smoke-
blackened and defaced, we discover elaborate paintings of
scarabiei, winged globes, and zodiacal emblems divided by
borders of intricate Greek patterns, the prevailing colors of
which are verditer and chocolate. Bands of hieroglyphic