The form of the building is an oblong square, the ends of which are occupied by two large apartments, or vestibules, supported by monstrous columns, all covered with hieroglyphics likewise. Some are in form of men and beasts; some seem to be the figures of instruments of sacrifice, while others, in a smaller size, and less distinct form, seem to be inscriptions in the current hand of hieroglyphics, of which I shall speak at large afterwards. They are all finished with great care.
The capitals are of one piece, and consist of four huge human heads, placed back to back against one another, with bat’s ears, and an ill-imagined, and worse-executed, fold of drapery between them.
Above these is a large oblong square block, still larger than the capitals, with four flat fronts, disposed like pannels, that is, with a kind of square border round the edges, while the faces and fronts are filled with hieroglyphics; as are the walls and ceilings of every part of the temple. Between these two apartments in the extremities, there are three other apartments, resembling the first, in every respect, only that they are smaller.
The whole building is of common white stone, from the neighbouring mountains, only those two in which have been sunk the pirns for hanging the outer doors, (for it seems they had doors even in those days) are of granite, or black and blue porphyry.
The top of the temple is flat, the spouts to carry off the water are monstrous heads of sphinxes; the globes with wings, and the two serpents, with a kind of shield or breast-plate between them, are here frequently repeated, such as we see them on the Carthaginian medals.
The hieroglyphics have been painted over, and great part of the colouring yet remains upon the stones, red, in all its shades, especially that dark dusky colour called Tyrian Purple; yellow, very fresh; sky-blue (that is, near the blue of an eastern sky, several shades lighter than ours); green of different shades; these are all the colours preserved.
I could discover no vestiges of common houses in Dendera more than in any other of the great towns in Egypt. I suppose the common houses of the ancients, in these warm countries, were constructed of very slight materials, after they left their caves in the mountains. There was indeed no need for any other. Not knowing the regularity of the Nile’s inundation, they never could be perfectly secure in their own minds against the deluge; and this slight structure of private buildings seems to be the reason so few ruins are found in the many cities once built in Egypt. If there ever were any other buildings, they must be now covered with the white sand from the mountains, for the whole plain to the foot of these is o’erflowed, and in cultivation. It was no part, either of my plan or inclination, to enter into the detail of this extraordinary architecture. Quantity, and solidity, are two principal circumstances that are seen there, with a vengeance.