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Hatshepsut, the Queen of Sheba, and Immanuel Velikovsky

© 1984 by David Lorton
revised for publication on the WWW 1999

Part I

In Ages in Chaos,[1] the first volume of the

1. Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1952. References to this work will be made by page number in the text of this paper.
“Ages in Chaos” series, Immanuel Velikovsky develops in essence two propositions: (a) that the Exodus of the Hebrews is to be dated to the end of the Egyptian Middle Kingdom, and (b) that “the beginning of the . . . Eighteenth Dynasty . . . coincided with the beginning of the line of Kings in Judea” (p. 103); the latter proposition necessitates the lowering of the dates of the Eighteenth Dynasty by about 600 years. Within this chronological framework, queen Hatshepsut of Egypt and king Solomon of Israel would have been contemporaneous (p. 104), and this leads Velikovsky, in Chapter III of his book, to make a case for identifying the famous expedition to the land of Punt in the reign of Hatshepsut with the renowned visit of the queen of Sheba to the court of king Solomon. He does this by comparing the information in the Punt reliefs of Deir el Bahari to the biblical account in I Kings and II Chronicles, to which he adds some information in Josephus’s Jewish Antiquities and the Ethiopic Kebra Negast. It is the arguments of this chapter that will be the focus of this paper, though I shall take into account some arguments and evidence adduced by Velikovsky and others since the publication of Ages in Chaos.

I should rightly begin by making it clear that I am convinced that the Punt expedition cannot be equated with the queen of Sheba’s visit to Jerusalem. While it might suffice to proceed immediately to a response to Velikovsky’s thesis in this regard, I prefer to take a different tack and respond to the main arguments and pieces of evidence cited by Velikovsky in his chapter. I do this because scholars of the ancient Near East have been remarkably silent regarding Ages in Chaos in the nearly five decades since its appearance,[2] and I think that lay readers would be

2. I am personally aware only of the following: William H. Stiebing, Jr., Pensée IVR 5 (Fall 1973): 10–12; idem, Pensée IVR 10 (Winter 1974–75): 24-26; idem, KRONOS 7/3 (Spring 1982): 72–74; Peter James, S.I.S. Review 3 (1979): 48–55; and Michael Jones, S.I.S. Review 6/1–3 (1982): 27–33. In view of the magnitude of the challenge raised by Velikovsky to the tenets of orthodox scholarship, and of the wide readership he has enjoyed among lay readers, these attempts have been too few, too brief, and too fragile. [The reader will note that this paper was written in 1984; I have made no effort to update the information here.]
interested to learn how a student of the ancient Near East reacts as he reads through Velikovsky’s text. In the remarks that follow, I shall of course not burden the reader with a reply to every sentence of Velikovksy’s; nor shall I make a summary of Velikovsky’s arguments, because this paper is written primarily for readers who are familiar with his work. I shall, however, even at the expense of adding to the length of this paper, refer to Velikovsky’s arguments for the most part by citing his relevant passages in full; I do this to escape the frequent complain on the part of Velikovksy’s supporters that his critics misrepresent or misquote him. To facilitate cross references, the individual arguments that follow are numbered.

Part II

1. On page 105, Velikovsky writes, “If Solomon was really a renowned king, as the Hebrew sources describe him, then the absence of any contact between this queen and this king is difficult to explain. It would, indeed, be very singular, for these two rulers were no ordinary occupants of throne halls, but very excellent suzerains. Nor would it fit our notion of the adventure-loving character of Queen Hatshepsut, or the words of praise: ‘Thy name reaches as far as the circuit of heaven, the fame of Makare (Hatshepsut) encircles the sea,’ and ‘her fame has encompassed the Great Circle’ (ocean). Neither would it accord with our idea of King Solomon, whose capital was visited by ambassadors from many countries and who had personal contact with many sovereigns: “And all the kings of the earth sought the presence of Solomon’ (II Chronicles 9:23), and ‘all the earth sought to Solomon. . . .’ (I Kings 10:24). Was the queen of Egypt excluded from ‘all the kings’?” (The Egyptian text references to Hatshepsut’s fame are cited by Velikovsky in footnotes.) I quote these words at length because in them, having made the point that Hatshepsut and Solomon were contemporaries, Velikovsky leads the reader to expect that they would be mentioned in one another’s records.

This is misleading to the general reader, for in point of fact, there is no reason to have such an expectation. While I would not argue that one never finds the name of a foreign ruler in Egyptian texts, the fact of the matter is that such a mention is highly exceptional. What we normally find is generalizing statements referring to the world or foreign lands in general (just as in the two references cited by Velikovsky), or general references to foreign rulers, who are referred to with the plural noun “chiefs.” Alternatively, the Egyptian texts might refer to a specific ruler, but not by his personal name. To cite an example familiar to readers of Ages in Chaos, Velikovsky argues in Chapter IV that Thutmose III’s campaign after the death of Hatshepsut is to be identified with Shishak’s campaign against Rehoboam, so that “the ‘wretched foe,’ the king of Kadesh, was Rehoboam” (p. 153). Yet, the name of Thutmose’s Asiatic foe is never stated in the Egyptian account. Confining ourselves to instances cited by Velikovsky, he is referred to in such terms as “The wretched enemy [the chief] of Kadesh has come and entered into Megiddo” and “the wretched foe of Kadesh [Kds] and the wretched foe of this city were hauled up in haste to bring them into this city” (both passages cited on p. 149).[3]

3. I am aware that it might be objected that the record of Thutmose III’s expedition is in damaged condition, and thus that it is possible that the name of Rehoboam might have appeared in some place now in lacuna. But I only cited this as an example familiar to readers of Velikovsky. Any reader who has access to the historical records of the Eighteenth Dynasty, as translated into English by James Henry Breasted in Volume II of his Ancient Records of Egypt (New York: Russell and Russell, Inc., 1906; reprint ed., 1962) can see how many times there are references to “lands” and “foreign countries” and to “the prince/ruler of” a particular country without his personal name, on the one hand, and on the other hand, how many examples there are of a foreign king mentioned by his own personal name. Breasted’s work will hereafter be cited at ARE, followed by volume number and section number.
Thus, there is no reason to expect an explicit reference to king Solomon, or to any foreign king, in the records of any Egyptian monarch, including Hatshepsut.

By the same token, the Biblical words cited by Velikovsky, as quoted above, in regard to Solomon might lead one to expect that many monarchs are mentioned by name in the records of his reign. Yet, in the passages dealing with peaceful relations during Solomon’s reign (I Kings 3:5 and 9-11; II Chronicles 1 and 8-9), we find reference only to “Pharaoh” or “Pharaoh, king of Egypt,” Hiram of Tyre, and the queen of Sheba.

It should be clear that had the name of Solomon appeared in the Punt reliefs, or in any of Hatshepsut’s records or the tomb inscriptions of her officials, or had the name of Hatshepsut appeared in the biblical account (see also point 6 below), scholars would long ago have recognized the synchronism of the Eighteenth Dynasty with the Hebrew monarchy, and the identity of the Punt expedition with the queen of Sheba’s visit. Indeed, had either royal name explicitly appeared in the record of the other monarch, Velikovsky would have had to argue no further. Quite contrary to the impression the Velikovsky conveys in the remarks cited verbatim above, it is the absence of such an explicit mention that compels him to argue at great length to establish the identity.

2. On page 106, Velikovsky quotes the motive for the queen of Sheba’s journey: “‘And when the queen of Sheba heard of the fame of Solomon, she came to prove Solomon with hard questions at Jerusalem. . . .’” The motive for Hatshepsut’s expedition, as preserved in the Egyptian records, is presented as a command of the god Amon: “Sailing . . . to the land of Punt . . . according to the command of the Lord of Gods, Amon, lord of Thebes, presider over Karnak, in order to bring for him the marvels of every country, for he so much loves the King of Upper and Lower Egypt . . .”;[4]

4. ARE II, Sec. 253.
“a command was heard from the great throne, an oracle of the god himself, that the ways to Punt should be searched out, that the highways to the Myrrh-terraces should be penetrated: ‘I will lead the army on water and on land, to bring marvels from God’s-Land for this god, for the fashioner of her beauty’”[5] “[a decree of] my majesty commanding to send to
5. Ibid., Sec. 285; quoted by Velikovsky, p. 117.
the Myrrh-terraces, to explore his ways [for him,] to learn his circuit, to open his highways, according to the command of my father, Amon”;[6] and “I have hearkened to my father
6. Ibid., Sec. 294. “My majesty” refers to Hatshepsut, who is speaking here. [The ASCII format needed to make this publication possible prevents the correct reproduction of the half square brackets employed by Breasted to indicate a restoration made from partially preserved signs.]
. . . commanding me to establish for him a Punt in his house, to plant the trees of God’s-Land beside his temple, in his garden, according as he commanded.”[7]
7. Ibid., Sec. 295; quoted, except for the last four words, by Velikovsky, p. 128. Again, Hatshepsut is speaking.

I have cited all four references to the motive for the expedition that we find in the Punt reliefs in order to show that Velikovsky is not correct when he states in his summary at the end of the chapter, “The complete agreement in the details of the voyage and in many accompanying data makes it evident that the Queen [of] Sheba and Queen Hatshepsut were one and the same person” (p. 141). Here, as in other instances that will be explored below, there is no such “complete agreement.” The Egyptian texts state the motive for the expedition to be the searching out of the route to Punt so as to bring that land’s goods directly from there (as opposed to engaging in indirect trade through intermediaries, as had previously been the case[8]), and more specifically to

8. This is made clear in a portion of Amon-Re’s remarks: “No one trod the Myrrh-terraces which the people (rmt) knew not; it was heard of from mouth to mouth by hearsay of the ancestors--. The marvels brought thence under thy fathers, the Kings of Upper and Lower Egypt, were brought from one to another, and since the time of the ancestors of the Kings of Upper Egypt, who were of old, as a return for many payments; none reaching them except thy carriers” (Ibid., Sec. 287).
make a garden of the flora of Punt in Amon’s temple, and it is stressed that Amon chose to have this great accomplishment occur in Hatshepsut’s reign because of his special love for her. These statements of motive do not correspond to the Biblical account, because they make to mention of the fame of the monarch of Punt, or to any desire to test him “with hard questions.” The biblical account mentions that the queen of Sheba brought gifts for Solomon, and that she intended to get gifts from him (see Velikovsky’s quotations on p. 106 and pp. 122-123), but describe her principle motive as the testing of Solomon’s fame that she had heard from rumor (see also point 14 below), not the obtaining of goods by command of an oracle of her god, as the Egyptian text tells us.

3. On page 107, Velikovsky cites Josephus’ account of the queen of Sheba’s journey, which begins, “Now the woman who at that time ruled as queen of Egypt and Ethiopia. . . .” On page 127, he quotes Josephus again: “And the queen of Egypt and Ethiopia . . . returned to her own country.” I must signal these citations in all fairness, since they certainly give one pause. In response, I can only say the following, though its force might not seem evident to those not well versed in these matters: we know, on the basis of our ability to read the ancient texts, that a great deal of what authors of the classical period had to say about Egypt and the Near East in general, when they wrote of matters not contemporary with them or in their immediate past, is full of errors both great and small. Thus, while scholars today do not entirely ignore the classical sources, we base our conclusions primarily on the more ancient sources themselves, and we do not accept any given detail in the classical sources unless it is clearly corroborated by the ancient Near Eastern evidence itself. Hence, we can accept Josephus’ reference to “the queen of Egypt and Ethiopia” as an accurate substitution for the biblical “queen of Sheba” only if records contemporary with the event itself unequivocally support it; and it is my purpose to argue that they do not.

Now, let us suppose, for the sake of argument, that Hatshepsut and Solomon were contemporary, but that Hatshepsut’s Punt expedition was not the queen of Sheba’s visit to Solomon (see Part IV below). Might not Josephus have been aware of their contemporaneity and, being a Jewish scholar enjoying the favor of the Roman leadership in the time of Vespasian, writing with the project of making a favorable impression of his people on his masters,[9] simply

9. See Oskar Seyffert, Dictionary of Classical Antiquities (Cleveland, Ohio: The World Publishing Company, 1956), p. 330.
have substituted a reference to the queen of the mightier and more prestigious realm?

If we do not grant this contemporaneity, however (and scholars of the ancient Near East do not), then perhaps we are left with a perplexing historical inaccuracy. But considering that the queen involved is not named by either Josephus or the Old Testament (see points 5 and 6 below), the motive for the substitution of “Egypt and Ethiopia” for “Sheba” suggested in the last paragraph could still be proposed.

4. On pages 106-112, Velikovsky discusses the difficulties that modern scholarship has encountered in identifying the exact location of the biblical land of Sheba as well as that of the land of Punt often mentioned in Egyptian texts. Let us dwell for a moment on the name Sheba. As the name of a country, it is attested a number of times in the Old Testament other than in the story of the queen of Sheba, and it is frequently enough mentioned in close connection with the names of Arabian tribes that there has been a scholarly consensus that it was a trading nation located in the southwest of the Arabian peninsula, in the area of modern Yemen.[10] It is worth mentioning here that

10. See, e.g., John L. McKenzie, Jr., S.J., Dictionary of the Bible (Milwaukee, Wisconsin: The Bruce Publishing Company, 1965), pp. 796–797.
the New Testament references to the story of the queen of Sheba (Matthew 12:42 and Luke 11:31, cited by Velikovsky on p. 135) use these words: “The queen of the South will arise at the judgment with this generation and condemn it; for she came from the ends of the earth to hear the wisdom of Solomon, and behold, something greater than Solomon is here” (thus Matthew; Luke is identical except for the wording “with the men of this generation and condemn them”). Now, Egypt was a country located close to the land of the Israelites, and, in biblical tradition, it was a favorite place of refuge for those from the latter place: thus, e.g., Abraham, the family of the Old Testament Joseph, and Joseph and Mary with the infant Jesus. Why would Matthew and Luke have said “the queen of the South” when they might so easily have said “the queen of Egypt”? And is not “the ends of the earth” a better description of a place such as the southwest corner of Arabia than Israel’s old, familiar neighbor Egypt? And finally, as a glance at a map will show, is not the southwest corner of Arabia, which is only a little to the east of due south from Israel, a more likely origin for the “queen of the South” than Egypt, which is decidedly to the southwest?

5. Velikovsky does not tackle the difficulty presented by the Biblical designation “queen of Sheba” (after all, why not “queen of Egypt”?) head on, but rather treats of the matter in two widely separated, brief statements in this chapter: “Neither of the two Talmuds contains any clear historical reference to the mysterious adventurous queen. However the opinion is expressed in the Talmud that ‘Sheba’ in the name Queen of Sheba is not a geographical designation but a personal name” (pp. 106-107); and “The complete agreement in the details of the voyage and in many accompanying data makes it evident that the Queen [of] Sheba and Queen Hatshepsut were one and the same person, with the footnote, “Shwa (the Hebrew for Sheba) might be the last part of the name Hatshepsut. R. Engelbach, The Problem of the Obelisks (London, 1923), spells her name Hatshepsowet. The final t in her name was not pronounced. Naville (Deir el Bahari) spells it Hatshepsu. It was usual to shorten the Egyptian names: so Amenhotep was often shortened to Hui” (p. 141). Writing at a much later date, Velikovsky added the following: “the Septuagint (‘translation of seventy’) that dates from the third century before the present era and similarly the Vulgate (the earliest Latin translation) see in Shwa (Seba) the personal name of the Queen (Regina Seba), not the name of a region.”[11]

11. S.I.S. Review 6/1–3 (1982): 7.

Several responses can be made to these points. First of all, not all Egyptian names are attested with a shortened form, and no shortened form of Hatshepsut is in fact attested; thus, we do not know what the shortened form of the name would be, or even whether such a form existed. Moreover, is it not asking too much of coincidence that this purported short form of the name Hatshepsut is precisely identical to the name of the land of Sheba, which is well attested in the Old Testament (e.g., Isaiah 60:6, Jeremiah 6:20, Ezekiel 27:22, Psalms 72:10, Job 6:19), a fact not clearly brought out by Velikovsky? Velikovsky might also have made it clear that the Massoretic text (that is, the received Hebrew text of the Old Testament) clearly writes malkat shba, where the grammatical form malkat is unequivocally what grammarians call status constructus, that is, a form that indicates that the word following it is in genitival relationship, thus “queen of Sheba.” Had the Massoretic text wished to indicate “queen Sheba,” with Sheba being the personal name of the queen, it would have written the first word differently, thus: malkah shba.

The evidence cited by Velikovsky for an alternative understanding must be taken seriously, of course. The Massoretic text writes malkat shba “the queen of Sheba,” and it was this version that Matthew and Luke knew when they wrote of “the queen of the South” who “came from the ends of the earth” (see point 4 above). It is possible to argue that there was another Hebrew textual tradition, one that has not survived, that wrote malkah shba “queen Sheba,” and that this accounts for what we find in the Septuagint, the Vulgate, and the Talmud.[12] But it is not necessary to

12. In fairness, it must be noted that Velikovsky nowhere says, in so many words, that he thinks that the Septuagint, the vulgate and the Talmud represent a better textual tradition on this point than the Massoretic text of the Hebrew Bible. But it seems equally fair to ask, if this was not what he had in mind, what was his intention.
posit such a second textual tradition—and it is always preferable to avoid postulating the existence of something not attested—to account for the discrepancy in the evidence, for there might not be a discrepancy at all. The Hebrew word shba refers not only to the land, but also to an inhabitant of it (“a Sabean person”). We find it used thus, for instance, by the prophet Joel (4:8): “I will sell your sons and daughters into the hand of the sons of Judah, and they will sell them to the Sabeans, to a nation far off; for the Lord has spoken” (I cite this passage in particular, for “a nation far off” gives Old Testament support for the reference in Matthew and Luke to Sheba as lying at “the ends of the earth.”) Now, it is clear that the Septuagint and the Vulgate are not translating the Massoretic version literally as “queen of (the land) Sheba.” Either they are translating another Hebrew version that wrote “a queen, a Sabean woman,” that is, “a Sabean queen,” or they are so interpreting (that is, rendering loosely) the version of the Massoretic tradition. The same explanation can be applied to the Talmudic explanation cited by Velikovsky; and it might further be added that the rabbis, in offering this interpretation, were well aware that in addition to the meanings “(land of) Sheba” and “Sabean person,” the Hebrew word shba is also well attested in the book of Genesis as a personal name—or, one might rather say, the name of a hypothetical person who was the eponymous ancestor of the Sabean nation (Genesis 10:7, 10:28, 25:3). Thus, the discrepancy that Velikovsky tries to exploit between a Massoretic Old Testament/New Testament tradition and a Septuagint/Vulgate/Talmudic tradition is not real, but only apparent.[13] It can easily be explained on the basis of the
13. This suggests a negative answer to the question raised in point 5 above of whether there might have been a Hebrew textual tradition alternative to the Massoretic version on this point.
known meanings of the Hebrew word shba, and we are in no way forced to appeal to a hypothetical, unattested shortened form of the Egyptian name Hatshepsut to account for it.

6. The preceding argument is sufficient to show that we ought to see in the biblical word shba a reference to “Sheba” or “a Sabean,” and not a reflection of the Egyptian name Hatshepsut. However, it is possible to pursue the matter further, taking a different tack altogether.

The most common designation for the Egyptian king in the Bible is the title “Pharaoh” alone, with no further specification (thus, e.g., Genesis 12:15, 37:36, 40:2). Less frequently, the designation is “Pharaoh king of Egypt” (e.g., 1 Kings 3:1, 2 Kings 17:7 and 18:21), again with no mention of the monarch’s name. Still less frequent, though it occurs, is the insertion of the monarch’s name into the designation just mentioned, thus: “Pharaoh Necho king of Egypt” (2 Kings 23:29), “Pharaoh Hophra king of Egypt” (Jeremiah 44:30). There are a few other, relatively unique, possibilities. “Pharaoh Necho” occurs in 2 Kings 23:33 and 35, but this is in the continuation of the narrative introduced by the full form “Pharaoh Necho king of Egypt” just quoted. We also find the omission of “Pharaoh” in “Shishak king of Egypt” in 1 Kings 11:40, 14:25 and 2 Chronicles 12:2 and 9) (“Shishak” occurs alone, with no royal titles, in 2 Chronicles 12:5 and 7, but these references are inserted into the narrative between the two fuller references to “Shishak king of Egypt” just quoted) and “So king of Egypt” in 2 Kings 17:4. “King of Egypt” is melek mitsraim in Hebrew. “Queen of Egypt” does not occur in the Old Testament, but if it did, it would be malkat mitsraim.

The proper name first, followed by the word melek “king” and the name of the monarch’s country, is the standard way of referring to foreign kings other than the Egyptian king; thus, e.g., in the long list of kings in Genesis 14 that begins with “Amraphel king of Shinar, Arioch king of Ellasar, Chedolaomer king of Elam . . .” “king” (or “queen”) followed by a personal name does occur, but always, by a peculiarity of Hebrew usage, with the definite article “the”; thus, e.g., ha-melek dawid “king David” (1 Kings 1:1); ha-melek shlomo “king Solomon” (1 Kings 7:13). This usage can be applied to foreign as well as Hebrew monarchs: thus, e.g., ha-melek achashwerush “king Ahasuerus” (Esther 1:2 and 9); ha-malkah ‘ashta “queen Vashti” (Esther 1:9). In the later books of the Old Testament, the word order can be reverse, but the definite article is still used; thus, e.g., artachshast ha-melek “Artaxerxes the king” (Ezra 8:1; and note, just before this, artachshast malka’, Ezra 7:21, which is Aramaic rather than Hebrew and the -a’ at the end of the word is the definite article in Aramaic). As the example from Esther 1:9 shows, the way to say “queen” followed by a personal name in biblical Hebrew is thus “ha-malkah so-and-so.” By a peculiarity of Hebrew grammar that might seem contrary to our expectations, a definite noun (or more accurately put, a noun that we would precede by the word “the”) loses its definite article in the status constructus, so that ha-malkah ‘ashta “queen Vashti” looks (to us) in Hebrew like “the queen Vashti,” while malkat shbathe queen of Sheba” is expressed without ha- “the.”

Returning to the story of Solomon and his queenly visitor, it follows from these observations of Hebrew grammar that malkat shba, with the status constructus form malkat, with shba following malkat rather than preceding it, and lacking the definite article, can only be interpreted as “the queen of Sheba”; Velikovksy’s suggested interpretation “queen Sheba” would have to be expressed in Hebrew as ha-malkah shba or shba ha-malkah “Sheba the queen.”[14] But does not

14. Velikovsky refers to “Shwa” as “the Hebrew for Sheba.” Since I have repeatedly transcribed the Hebrew word as shba, and since I have made reference to the sounds “b” and “p,” readers not familiar with the Hebrew language might be perplexed, so that it would be useful to append a note on this matter. I was myself puzzled by Velikovsky’s “Shwa,” since the Hebrew letter beth is certainly not pronounced like our “w.” It finally occurred to me that “Shwa” is perhaps an unconscious Germanicism on his part, for “w” in German is pronounced like English “v”; and there is a Jewish tradition of using the “v” sound for beth in reading the Hebrew Old Testament, a pronunciation that is also used in modern Hebrew. The letter beth originally and exclusively represented the sound “b.” At some point in time, however, the “b” sound was somewhat modified, depending primarily on its position in the word, and we thus find it indicated as to be pronounced in two ways in the Massoretic text. It is sometimes to be pronounced as a “b” and sometimes as a fricative; the Massoretic text differentiates the two by placing a dot inside the letter beth when it is to be pronounced “b,” and omitting the dot for the other sound. The fricative sound is like that of Castillian Spanish “b” when it occurs between two vowels; the reader can imitate it by pronouncing “b” while holding the lips slightly apart as though to blow out a match. It is the fricative sound that developed, by a slight modification, into the “v” that is currently familiar in the pronunciation of both biblical and modern Hebrew; Velikovsky might thus have written “Shva.” I have simplified matters in my discussion of the name “Sheba” because it made no difference to the points I was making, and it is not possible here to burden either the discussion or the lay reader with linguistic symbols. The Massoretic writing system, whose date is subsequent to 500 A.D., writes the word with the fricative sound; but, as explained above, this is a derivative of an original “b,” and it is quite distinct from the “p” of Hebrew, which also has its corresponding fricative form (pronounced in modern Hebrew, however, like our “f”).
this conclusion conform to what common sense tells us in any case, even without recourse to these details of Hebrew usage? If the monarch of the rich and mighty land of Egypt, so important in Israel’s history and which in Biblical tradition had held the Israelites in bondage, had come to Jerusalem in awe of Solomon, would not the authors of Kings and Chronicles have proudly referred to her in the full forms by which other Egyptian monarchs are designated in the Old Testament, as “Pharaoh Hatshepsut queen of Egypt,” or “Hatshepsut queen of Egypt”?

Let us take the matter a bit further. As noted above, Velikovsky rather disingenuously remarks, “Shwa (the Hebrew for Sheba) might be the last part of the name Hatshepsut. . . . It was usual to shorten the Egyptian names: so Amenhotep was often shortened to Hui” (p. 141, n. 2). Might it indeed be? The shortened forms of Egyptian names to which Velikovsky alludes are nicknames, much like ours, as when we call someone named Frederick “Fred” or “Freddie,” or someone named Dorothy “Dottie.” Would the Hebrew authors have been aware of Hatshepsut’s nickname (assuming she had one; none is attested)? And even if they were, would they have used it? To state the matter in terms of one of the modern examples just cited, for the sake of clarity: If the queen of Egypt had been named Dorothy, and if she had journeyed to Jerusalem in awe of Solomon, would not the Hebrew authors have referred to her as “Pharaoh Dorothy queen of Egypt,” or “Dorothy queen of Egypt”? Would anyone seriously propose that the Hebrew authors would have called her “queen Dottie”?

One final, and perhaps anticlimactic, point remains to be raised. The last part of Hatshepsut’s name, if it was in fact pronounced -showe (in fact, we do not know the exact pronunciation, for we do not know what the vowels were) has a “w”; the Egyptian language also had a “b,” and the Egyptians could represent it in their writing system. By the same token, the Hebrew name shba has a “b,” and the Hebrew alphabet has a separate letter for “w.” This point and all the others raised here and in section 5 above lead to the following conclusion regarding Velikovsky’s proposed equation of shba with the last part of Hatshepsut’s name: the two cannot be equated, because they do not equate.[15]

15. Adolph Erman and Hermann Grapow, eds., Wörterbuch der aegyptischen Sprache (Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs Verlag, 1926–1963), Vol. V, p. 610. This work will henceforth be cited as Wb. followed by volume and page numbers.

7. On pages 108-111, Velikovsky discusses the question of the location of the land of Punt. It would be helpful to begin by clearing up confusions regarding the alternate designations “Punt” and the “Land of God,” and the meaning of the latter; these confusions are not to be attributed to Velikovsky, but to insufficient clarity in the Egyptological literature. Ta-netjer (I prefer this spelling) means, literally, “the land of the god” (we don’t know which god). The translation “Divine Land” appears in Egyptological literature, but this is only a convention, and a potentially misleading one: the way to express this meaning in Egyptian would be ta-netjery, where the ending -y makes an adjective “divine” out of the word “god.” Velikovsky’s rendering “Holy Land” (introduced on p. 108) is thus based on the less accurate translation. Further, it is interpretive on his part and stems from his desire to equate Punt with “the region of Jerusalem” (p. 112). The word for “holy” in Egyptian is djeser,[16] and the name ta-

16. Adolph Erman and Hermann Grapow, eds., Wörterbuch der aegyptischen Sprache (Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs Verlag, 1926–1963), Vol. V, p. 610. This work will henceforth be cited as Wb., followed by volume and page numbers.
djeser “holy land” occurs frequently in Egyptian texts as a designation of the land of the dead.[17]
17. Wb. V, 228.

More importantly, it is necessary to recognize a fundamental distinction. Punt is a geographical designation for a specific place (the technical term is “toponym”). Ta-netjer (“Land of God,” “God’s Land”) is not a toponym, but rather a descriptive phrase, and as such can be applied to various geographical locations.[18] (By way of

18. This is recognized ibid., V, 225: “God’s Land, as reference to lands lying east of Egypt: especially Punt and the lands of incense, but not seldom also Sinai and the Lebanon region.” Note, in this last connection, the references to Asia as Ta-netjer cited by Velikovsky, p. 110.
a comparison, Americans passing through beautiful and impressive landscapes might say, “This is God’s country,” though I do not mean to suggest that this is the motive behind the Egyptian expression, for we do not in fact know why they chose to employ it.) Thus, “God’s Land” is neither a toponym nor a synonym for Punt, but rather a descriptive expression applicable to Punt and other places as well. Therefore, it cannot be argued from the fact that ta-netjer is attested in reference to Asiatic regions that Punt was located in Asia; and understanding this is a beginning in unraveling Velikovksy’s arguments regarding the location of Punt.

8. In the course of the aforementioned discussion, Velikovsky makes the statement, “The name of Punt or Divine (God’s) Land is not accompanied by the sign designating a foreign country, showing that the Egyptians regarded Punt as a land affiliated in some way with Egypt” (p. 109); this argument is repeated on page 117, with a footnote showing that it is derived from a statement by Naville in his publication of Hatshepsut’s monument at Deir el Bahari. It is unfortunate that Velikovsky did not know ancient Egyptian, for Naville’s statement is quite mistaken. Not only is the name Punt typically written with the foreign-country determinative in Egyptian texts as a whole, but I have checked the Deir el Bahari inscriptions[19] and found

19. In addition to Naville’s original publication, the hieroglyphic texts are also available in Kurt Sethe, Urkunden der 18. Dynastie, 2d ed. (Leipzig: J. C. Hinrichs Verlag, 1927–1930), Vol. IV, pp. 315–355. This work will henceforth be cited as Urk. IV.
that every occurrence of “Punt” and “Ta-netjer” therein is accompanied by the determinative for a foreign country. Readers can easily verify this, for on Plate IV opposite page 136, in the second column from the left, they will find “Punt” and “ta-netjer,” both written with the determinative (a picture of three hills) that indicates a foreign country.

9. Again in the same discussion, Velikovsky points out, “In a number of Egyptian inscriptions Punt is mentioned as situated to the east of Egypt” (p. 109); in his summary at the end of the chapter, he states, “I also had to show that Punt and the Divine Land are Phoenicia and Palestine. Repeated reference to Punt as a country east of Egypt exclude Somaliland” (p. 140). These are rather remarkable statements, for they give the impression that the Egyptian texts represent Punt as being due east of Egypt, whereas the merest glance at a map (the ones published in each volume of the “Ages in Chaos” series will do) show that Phoenicia is not due east of Egypt, and that only the northernmost part of the Nile delta is due west of Palestine, the northernmost tip of the Nile delta being at about the latitude of Jerusalem. What is due east of the vast majority of Egypt, and let us bear in mind particularly the major capital cities of Memphis in the north and Thebes in the south, are the Sinai peninsula and the Arabian desert. The real choice for the location of Punt, therefore, is not between east and south, but between approximately SSE (for Somaliland and/or the southwest corner of the Arabian peninsula as Egyptological literature has it) and approximately NE from Memphis or NNE from Thebes (for Phoenicia and Palestine, as Velikovsky would have it).

I do not wish to dwell here on distinctions such as NE versus NNE, for these are not germane to the way that the ancient Egyptians expressed themselves. For the most part, they referred only to the four cardinal points. Moreover, to them the basic dichotomy of east and west was simply that between the side of the Nile on which the sun rose, and that on which it set, all along the Nile river, which flows in a basically south-north direction. Thus, when an ancient Egyptian text makes a statement such as “When I turn my face to the sunrise . . . I cause to come to thee the countries of Punt” (cited by Velikovsky, p. 109), we are informed only that Punt is on the sunrise or east side—as opposed to the sunset or west side—of the Nile, with no further guidance as to whether the true direction was NNE, SSE, or anything between.

10. In the same discussion, Velikovsky asserts that “the name Punt or Pont can be traced to ‘Pontus, father of Poseidon and Sidon,’ as narrated by Sanchoniaton, the early Phoenician writer. Sidon was a Phoenician metropolis” (p. 110; see also p. 137); he also refers to “a passage in Herodotus, who wrote that the Phoenicians at an early date came from the Eritrean Sea to the Mediterranean” (p. 111), and in a paper written many years later, he cites Herodotus again to account for any explicit references to Punt as a southern country that might appear in Egyptian literature (though, strangely, he does not cite any such references).[20] In Chapter III of Ages in Chaos, he seeks

20. S.I.S. Review 6/1–3 (1982): 7.
to derive the Latin word pontifex “high priest” from the name Punt (pp. 132-133), notes that “Rome waged so-called ‘Punic Wars’ against Carthage, which was built by immigrants from Tyre” (p. 133), and suggests that “if Punt was originally the word for Phoenician temples, then it could have been derived from the Hebrew word panot, and in this case the Phoenicians received their name from the houses of worship they built” (p. 134). I have juxtaposed these statements from two different parts of Chapter III, thereby deviating from my plan of responding to Velikovsky’s points in the order of their occurrence, partly because they belong together thematically and thus should be responded to together, and partly because they involve a chain of logic parts of which seem very strange to me. But before proceeding to an analysis, let me state that I have looked in dictionaries of both biblical and modern Hebrew, and I have not been able to find citations of a word panot “temple,” or a word panot at all.

The name “Phoenicia” refers to that part of the Mediterranean coastal strip which included the city-states of Tyre, Sidon, Byblos, Arwad and Ugarit.[21] Even if “Punt”

21. See McKenzie, Dictionary of the Bible, p. 676.
lies behind the name “Phoenicia,” how can one make “Punt” into a designation of the kingdom of Solomon?—and this point is critical, because the biblical text makes it clear that Jerusalem was the goal of the queen of Sheba’s journey, while it is equally clear from the Egyptian records that the goal of Hatshepsut’s expedition was the land of Punt. We must bear in mind in this connection that the Phoenician area was independent of the kingdom of Solomon and under the hegemony of Hiram king of Tyre, who enjoyed friendly relations with Solomon,[22] and also that it is clear from the Hebrew bible
22. Ibid., p. 905. Cf. also Velikovsky’s statement, “The Phoenician king of Tyre, Hiram, sought an alliance with King Solomon and his friendship. . . . (p. 114)
that the people of that area were designated “Sidonians” (perhaps reflecting a hegemony under Sidon at a period earlier than that of Hiram and Solomon), the designation “Phoenicia” appearing first in the Greek New Testament.[23]
23. McKenzie, Dictionary of the Bible, pp. 675–676 and 811.
Phoenicia was thus not an indigenous designation in Old Testament times, but rather a designation derived from Greek usage and imposed upon the area in the Hellenistic period. Moreover, since Velikovsky seems willing to accept a southern land punt, along the coast of the Red Sea, as the ancestral home of the Phoenicians, I fail to see how a Hebrew word panot (even if it existed) could have stood behind the name of that land: Hebrew was surely not spoken in Arabia or Africa! But aside from the anachronism of the name “Phoenicia,” one must stress the logic: if “Punt” were “Phoenicia,” then Hatshepsut’s expedition must have gone to Hiram king of Tyre; if the expedition went to the court of Solomon at Jerusalem, it did not go to “Punt/Phoenicia.”

It would be worthwhile at this point to look more closely at the Egyptian word “Punt,” which is spelled pwnt in the consonantal system of the hieroglyphic script. The final “t” is not part of the “root” of the word, but rather the consonantal part of a grammatical ending showing that the word is of feminine gender; for the most part, names of countries are grammatically feminine in ancient Egyptian.[24] This “t” actually ceased to be

24. See Sir Alan Gardiner, Egyptian Grammar, 3d ed., revised (London: Oxford University Press, 1964), p. 69, § 92. This work will hereafter be cited as EG3.
pronounced well before the New Kingdom, indeed probably as early as the Old Kingdom,[25] though the Egyptians tended to
25. Ibid., p. 34, n. 1a.
retain historical spellings, much as we do in English, and the “t” continued to be written as a clear marker of feminine gender. The “root” (this is a technical term) of the word is thus pwn, and in a study of the word, Maurice Alliot[26] has noted that, on the basis of words of identical
26. Revue d’égyptologie 8 (1951): 1–2.
consonantal structure that survived into Coptic (the last stage of ancient Egyptian, written with a version of the Greek alphabet and thus showing the vowels), the pronunciation of the word was pwan or pwon (with long “o”) or poun (with long or short “o”). The last spelling is not to be taken as the “ou” of English “ouch,” but rather as a diphthong combining the vowel sounds of “o” and “u,” such that the “u” has the status of a “semiconsonant w” sound, like the “ow” of the English word “owe.” these facts eliminate all the identifications proposed by Velikovsky. Although Egyptologists employ the conventional rendering “Punt” (I shall discuss the issue of “conventional renderings” at length in point 20 below), the “t” was not pronounced during much of the history of ancient Egypt, and this rules out any possibility that the words “Pontus,” “pontifex” and (evidently nonexistent) panot are to be connected with it. As for the word “Phoenicia,” we must not be misled by the way it is pronounced by speakers of English. Both the Latin spelling with “oe” and the Greek spelling with “oi” indicate a diphthong composed of the vowel sounds “o” and “i,” as in the “oy” of “boy.” the name can thus in no way be connected with pwnt, where the “w” (which is a consonant, not a vowel) wither precedes a vowel sound or follows the vowel as the second part of a diphthong “ou” which is not identical to “oe/oi” in “Phoenicia.” For any possibility of a connection between “Phoenicia” and “Punt” to exist, the latter word would have to be written pynt in Egyptian, which of course is not the case. The Latin word “Punus” alluded to by Velikovsky in the phrase “Punic Wars” is a secondary form derived from “Poenus,” as can be ascertained by looking in any Latin dictionary, and again the diphthongs do not equate.

In an article supportive of Velikovsky’s identification of “Punt” and “Phoenicia,” Ralph E. Juergens and Lewis M. Greenberg[27] have correctly pointed out that

27. KRONOS 1/2 (Summer 1975): 89–93.
the Greek word for Phoenicia is itself derived from the Semitic term for the crimson dye made on the Lebanese coast. However, it needs to be stressed again that the designations “crimson-dye country” and “crimson-dye people” were Greek ways of referring to the Lebanese coast and its inhabitants, and that they were not used by the inhabitants themselves in Old Testament times; and, also, that the queen of Sheba visited Jerusalem, not “Phoenicia.” Juergens and Greenberg quote Astour to the effect that the Greek phoinos might be derived from a form phonios;[28] but as noted above, the consonant “w”
28. Ibid., p. 92, n. 15.
within the Egyptian word pwnt precludes an identification with either form. They also quote Astour on the Hebrew word puwwaRubia tinctorum” (a plant from which red dye and imitation purpose were made) and the Hebrew clan name Puwwa, gentilic Puni, as specific courses of the Greek form of the name Phoenicia.[29]
29. Ibid., pp. 89–90.
Even if this is correct, these forms cannot be equated with the Egyptian place-name pwnt. It is inconceivable that the Egyptians would have derived the toponym (place-name) from the gentilic form meaning “person belonging to the clan Puwwa.” Moreover, notwithstanding the conventional spelling of the place-name as “Punt,” the “w” of pwnt is a consonant, thus precluding its identification with Puni. The form Puwwa, lacking the consonant “n,” cannot be equated with pwnt. And once again, let us consider the logic of the matter. The kingdom of Solomon is nowhere in the Hebrew bible called by the clan-name Puwwa; and why would Hatshepsut, if the goal of her expedition was Jerusalem, have referred to that city or to the kingdom of Solomon by the name of a clan in Galilee adjacent to the area of Phoenicia?

The origin of the Latin word “pontifex” does not need explanation here. The name “Phoenicia” was not used by the “Phoenicians” in reference to themselves in Old Testament times; it is derived from a native word for red dye, to be sure, but the place-name and gentilic in reference to them were invented by the Greeks, and the name entered the area—along with the Greek language—after the conquest of Alexander the Great, so that it could appear in the New Testament. The Greek word pontos (Latin pontus), containing the consonant “t” in its root, has of course no etymological relation to the word “Phoenicia,” which lacks the “t”; it is a Greek word meaning “sea,” and the tradition of a “Pontus” (i.e., “Sea”) who was the ancestor of the Phoenician people is perhaps a tribute to their seafaring prowess. We know the work of Sanchoniaton, a Phoenician writer, through fragments of a translation of it into Greek by Philo of Byblos in the first century of the present era; what Philo translated as “Pontos” was presumably a native Semitic word for “sea.” It might also be noted that Sanchoniaton’s tradition that Pontos (“sea”) was the father of Poseidon (the Greek sea-god, again Philo’s substitution for the name of a Semitic sea-god) and Sidon (a city) perhaps reflects an indigenous, pre-Greek, custom of the inhabitants of calling themselves “Sidonians,” as noted above. Herodotus’ report that the Phoenicians thought they originated on the shores of the Eritrean (Red) Sea has noting to do with the place-names “Phoenicia” and “Punt” (as Velikovsky would have it), as we have seen. It must stand as a classical tradition unconfirmed by the surviving earlier documentation. If the tradition was not historically accurate, one might conjecture that it was an attempt, in Greek times, to account for the identical forms of the Greek words libanos “frankincense tree” (incense was imported from the Red Sea area) and libanos “Mount Lebanon.” (Actually, both words are borrowings from Semitic words based on the root “white”: the purest frankincense is white in color, while the eastern ridge of Mount Lebanon is partly covered by perpetual snow.[30]).

30. See William Gesenius, Hebrew and Chaldee Lexicon, tr. Samuel Prideaux Tregelles (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1957), p. 429.

11. On page 115, Velikovsky notes that after the Egyptian fleet landed in Punt, a royal messenger was greeted by “‘a chief of Punt P’-r’hw’ (Perehu or Paruah)” (the words in single quotes are from an annotation to the scene; the words in parentheses are Velikovsky’s). In the two short paragraphs that follow, he goes on to state, “Paruah must have been Solomon’s representative in the land of Edom, possibly an Edomite vassal of his. Among the twelve governors of King Solomon—at a later period in his reign (when some of these officials were his sons-in-law)—one was a son of Paruah (I Kings 4:17). Jehoshaphat, the son of Paruah, was governor in Ezion-Geber and Aloth; his father, apparently, administered the same region.”

The alert reader undoubtedly is aware that the biblical text does not affirm that Paruah preceded his son Jehoshaphat in this position; this is inferential on Velikovsky’s part. Velikovsky’s vocalizations “Perehu, Paruah” are also without justification, and even if they were, the name of the chief of Punt cannot be equated with the biblical Paruah.

Renderings of Hebrew names into our alphabet frequently do not distinguish between the two quite different letters in Hebrew that can both be transcribed “h.” One of these is an “h” like ours, while the other is pronounced like the “ch” in the German word ach. It is this second letter that actually appears in the biblical name, so that a better transcription would be “Paruach.” the ancient Egyptian language also had both these sounds, represented by different signs, and the sound that is represented in the Egyptian “P’-r’hw” is the “h” like our “h.” Thus, the identification of the two names is not tenable, since it results from an incorrect understanding of the consonant in the biblical name.

However, it is possible to take the matter further. The renderings “Perehu” and “Paruah” for the name in the Egyptian text are merely conjectural on Velikovsky’s part. We cannot in fact arrive at a conclusive rendering, but we can come close. The name is written in the so-called “syllabic orthography” that was used in the New Kingdom to write foreign words and names. The sign-groups in the orthography were designed to help the Egyptian reader deal with these foreign terms by indicating the position of the vowels as well as the consonants—though, unfortunately for us, they are not absolutely specific as to what the vowels were. William Foxwell Albright long ago put together the words written in this syllabic orthography with their attested equivalents in Hebrew and cuneiform, where the vowels are written, so as to arrive at the allowable possibilities for rendering each syllabic sign group in this orthography.[31] His results show that p’ stands for “pa, pi,”[32] r’ for “ra, la,”[33] and hu for “hu.”[34] This

31. The Vocalization of the Egyptian Syllabic Orthography, American Oriental Series, Vol. 5 (New Haven, Connecticut: American Oriental Society, 1934). 32. Ibid., p. 41. 33. Ibid., p. 47. 34. Ibid., p. 52.
leads to the following possibilities for rendering “P’-r’-hw”: Parahu, Pirahu, Palahu, and Pilahu. There is no further evidence to allow us to choose among these possibilities. But it is clear that, in addition to the difference in the “h”-sounds, all four possibilities differ in their syllabic structures from the biblical name Paruach.

12. It is the universal opinion among Egyptologists that Hatshepsut did not lead the expedition to Punt herself, and if this is so, then there can be no equation of that expedition with the queen of Sheba’s personal visit to Solomon in Jerusalem. Thus, on pages 116–119, Velikovsky devotes a section to the proposal that, as indicated by its title, “Hatshepsut Led the Expedition to the Divine Land.” He acknowledges that Hatshepsut is not shown on any of the boats in the representation of the departure of the fleet, but notes that there is a representation of her in much larger scale than the fleet in this depiction. Since it was common practice to represent the Egyptian monarch on a larger scale than ordinary mortals, he notes that it would have been impossible to depict her on one of the boats, so that the representation as we have it is sufficient to indicate her participation in the expedition (p. 116). Eva Danelius, in an article supportive of the equation of the Punt expedition and the queen of Sheba’s visit to Solomon, has repeated this point, noting the unlikelihood of Breasted’s suggestion that the depiction is one of a statue of Hatshepsut that was to be erected in Punt.[35] To these

35. KRONOS 1/4 (Winter 1976): 11–12.
points, on can easily reply that the representation might well be of the queen herself, but by the nature of the depiction, there is no way to say whether the queen was there to accompany (i.e., lead) the expedition or to bid it farewell. Two-thirds of the wall containing the description of Punt has not survived,[36] so that we do not know whether
36. Ibid., p. 11.
Hatshepsut might have been depicted on that wall. But the scenes depicting the aftermath of the return of the expedition show first the presentation of foreign chiefs and products to the queen, and then the presentation of products from the expedition by Hatshepsut to Amun,[37] which certainly suggests that she
37. ARE II, Sec. 267–282. See also the sketch of the location of the respective scenes on the walls, ibid., p. 104.
remained in Thebes, for if she had led the expedition, the presentation to her would have occurred in Punt itself, not in Thebes after the return of the expedition. But the evidence for the expedition consists of texts as well as depictions, and so we must turn to the text passages cited by Velikovsky.

13. Velikovsky begins this section of the chapter as follows: “The next picture shows the departure of a fleet of five vessels; three are under sail, while two are still moored. The inscription reads: ‘Sailing in the sea, beginning the goodly way toward God’s Land, journeying in peace to the land of Punt . . .’” If one wonders what appears in the ellipsis left by Velikovsky, one can turn to Breasted’s translation, from which he is quoting: “. . . journeying in peace to the land of Punt, by the army of the Lord of the Two Lands, according to the command of the Lord of the Gods, Amon, lord of Thebes, presider over Karnak, in order to bring for him the marvels of every country, because he so much loves the King of Upper and Lower Egypt, [Makere (Hatshepsut)], for his father Amon-Re, lord of Heaven, lord of earth, more than the other kings who have been in this land forever.”[38] I have quoted the continuation in full to

38. Ibid., Sec. 253.
remove any trace of ambiguity. The “Lord of the Two Lands” is probably Hatshepsut (nb “lord” for nbt “lady”; a female monarch was so unusual that the scribes during her reign often wrote masculine rather than feminine words in reference to her), or it could be the god Amon. But the important point, suppressed by Velikovsky, is that the text specifically says that it was the army that departed, not Hatshepsut. Monarchs did not always lead their expeditions, and we might compare the passage from the Punt reliefs just cited to the following instance from Hatshepsut’s predecessor, Thutmose II: “Then his majesty dispatched a numerous army into Nubia (T’-pdt) on his first occasion of a campaign, in order to overthrow all those who were rebellious against his majesty or hostile to the Lord of the Two Lands.”[39] These passages can be contrasted
39. Ibid., Sec. 122.
to the following description of the outset of the first great Asiatic campaign (the one that is the subject of Chapter IV of Ages in Chaos) of Hatshepsut’s coregent and successor, Thutmose III: “The king himself, he led the way of his army, mighty at its head, like a flame of fire, the king who wrought with his sword.”[40] Had Hatshepsut herself led
40. Ibid., Sec. 413.
the expedition to Punt, we might expect the text describing the departure to have said something like: “Sailing in the sea (or “departure”) by king Makere at the head of her army.”

On page 117, we find the following passage, which includes a quotation from the Punt reliefs: “Queen Hatshepsut undertook the journey like a devout pilgrim who, hearing an inner bidding, takes staff in hand: “. . . a command was heard from the great throne, an oracle of the god himself, that the ways to Punt should be searched out, that the highways to the myrrh-terraces should be penetrated: “I will lead the army on water and on land, to bring marvels from God’s land for this god, for the fashioner of her beauty. . . .”’ It was an oracle or a mysterious voice that Queen Hatshepsut heard within her, and she thought it was her god.” What immediately follows the portion of the text quoted by Velikovsky should also be noted; we begin with the last words he quotes. “‘I will lead the army on water and on land, to bring marvels from God’s land for this god, for the fashioner of her beauty.’ It was done, according to all that the majesty of this revered god commanded, according to the desire of her majesty (fem.), in order that she might be given life, stability, and satisfaction, like Re, forever.”[41] When the passage quoted by Velikovsky is read

41. Ibid., Sec. 285.
together with its continuation, it is crystal clear that the statement “I will lead the army . . .” contains the words of Amon’s oracle, not Hatshepsut’s. The words “for this god, for the fashioner of her beauty” are Amon’s reference to himself as the fashioner of her (Hatshepsut’s) beauty; this is further confirmation of the attribution of the words, for if it were Hatshepsut speaking, she would have to refer to Amon as “this god, the fashioner of my beauty.” Thus, once again, Velikovsky has suppressed the continuation of a passage that he quotes, with the result of making it appear to have a meaning quite different from its real one.

The only other passage from the Punt reliefs that Velikovsky quotes in connection with his contention that Hatshepsut led her expedition is cited on page 118: “(I have led them [the company of the expedition] on water and on land, to explore the waters of inaccessible channels, and I have reached the myrrh-terraces.” He alludes to this passage again on page 121: “The queen wished to see with her own eyes the land of which she had heard marvelous reports. She decided to tread and to explore that land (‘I have led them on water and land’); she reached that country (‘I have reached the myrrh-terraces’); and she found it glorious. It is evidently this passage that Velikovsky has in mind when he states on page 140, in his summary of the chapter, “That she participated in the expedition is not difficult to establish by explicit statements, in which she calls herself the leader of the expedition.” One might wonder how Egyptologists could be so obtuse in denying Hatshepsut’s participation in the expedition (regardless of its actual destination!) if the statements are indeed so explicit. Once again, we must consider the passage cited by Velikovsky in context, this time including the sentences that immediately precede and follow it. For ease of reference in the ensuing discussion, I shall number the sentences: “(1) The marvels brought thence under thy fathers, the Kings of Lower Egypt, were brought from one to another, and since the time of the ancestors of the Kings of Upper Egypt, who were of old, as a return for many payments; none reaching them except thy carriers. (2) But I will cause thy army to tread them, I have led them on water and land, to explore the waters of inaccessible channels, and I have reached the Myrrh-terraces. (3) It is a glorious region of God’s-Land; it is indeed my place of delight. (4) I have made it for myself. . . .[42]

42. Ibid., Sec. 287–288.

From this fuller citation, the reader can easily see that these are words of Amon-Re addressed to Hatshepsut; it is, in fact, part of a long speech of Amon-Re following Hatshepsut’s presentation to him of products brought back by the expedition.[43] In the portion cited, the god notes that

43. For the entire speech, see ibid., Sec. 286–288. The speech is introduced by the words “Utterance of Amon-Re, lord of Thebes.” It is one continuous passage on the wall, and within it, there is no indication of any change of speaker.
there has not been direct trade between Egypt and Punt. In point of fact, there were Egyptian expeditions to Punt in the Old and Middle Kingdoms; evidently, this direct trade was afterwards broken off, and it was not resumed until well into the Eighteenth Dynasty, in the reign of Hatshepsut. This point alone—the text’s clear stress on the (re)establishment of direct trade relations with Punt—is sufficient to disprove Velikovsky’s equation of Punt with the kingdom of Solomon, for with the expulsion of the Hyksos at the beginning of the Eighteenth Dynasty, the way was clear for direct trade between the Theban rulers and the area of Palestine. Velikovsky himself makes Hatshepsut’s father, Thutmose I, the pharaoh who gave one of his daughters as wife to Solomon; see pages 103–104. Returning to the text, the god notes that the success of the expedition was really his doing, and he promises that there will be more such expeditions (“But I will cause thy army to tread them”). That the god is speaking to Hatshepsut is absolutely clear from the allusion to “thy fathers, the Kings of Lower Egypt” in sentence (1). The point is made even more certain when one consults the hieroglyphic text itself. Ancient Egyptian had two second-person pronouns, one for masculine gender and one for feminine gender, and the “thy” of “thy fathers” (sentence 1) and “thy army” (sentence 2) is feminine.[44]
44. See Urk. IV 344, lines 12 and 17.

I think one is entitled, at this juncture, to express an objection that Velikovsky quoted part of sentence (2), while suppressing sentence (1) and the first clause of sentence (2), which make it clear that Hatshepsut is the addressee, not the speaker, of the words. Reason for objection increases when one notes that sentences (3) and (4) are cited by Velikovsky in Chapter IV, page 146, where he writes: “Already in the oracle scene of the Punt expedition it is said in the name of the god “Amon-Ra: ‘It is a glorious region of God’s Land, it is indeed my place of delight. I have made it for myself. . . . I know [them], I am their wise lord, I am the begetter Amon-Ra.’” Objection shades into incredulity when one notes—and this “clue” was there all along for some astute reader to discover—that Velikovsky makes the connection between sentence (2) and sentence (3) on page 120, where he writes: “The queen who came from the plains of Egypt later wrote on stone: ‘I have reached the myrrh-terraces. It is a glorious region of God’s Land.’” In short, Velikovsky must have known that he was putting Amon-Re’s words into Hatshepsut’s mouth to “prove” that she led her expedition to Punt!

14. The passage from the speech of Amon-Re just discussed shows clearly that Hatshepsut’s expedition was a voyage of exploration and discovery, and I have remarked that logically its object could not possibly have been the land of Israel. Let us apply logic to the next point raised by Velikovsky as well. In the biblical text, it is clear that the queen of Sheba’s journey was motivated by the reputation of Solomon himself. Thus, II Chronicles 9:1 begins the narrative of this even, “Now when the queen of Sheba heard of the fame of Solomon she came to Jerusalem . . ., while I Kings 10:1 uses almost the same words: “Now when the queen of Sheba heard of the fame of Solomon concerning the name of the Lord, she came. . . . She came to Jerusalem. “ Josephus, as quoted by Velikovsky (p. 107), stresses the same point: “. . . when she heard of Solomon’s virtue and understanding, [she] was led to him by a strong desire to see him which arose from the things told daily about his country.” The only passage from the Punt reliefs regarding the reputation of Punt is quoted by Velikovsky on page 121: “It was heard of from mouth to mouth by hearsay of the ancestors. . . .” (I have cited this passage in fuller context in note 8.) Since this statement is quoted in isolation, and without a footnote reference, it is worth noting that it is from the long speech of Amon-Re and immediately precedes sentence (1) of the passage just discussed; thus, it is a part of the text’s stress on the long period when Egypt and Punt had no direct relations.[45]

45. ARE II, Sec. 287.
Yet, one must wonder at how much Velikovsky trusts the credulity of his readers, even those with no recourse to Breasted’s translation, for the applicability of the passage to Velikovsky’s argument cannot withstand even a moment’s consideration. If Hatshepsut and the queen of Sheba were one and the same, and the Punt expedition is thus to be equated with the queen of Sheba’s journey to Jerusalem, and if it was motivated by the reputation of Solomon himself, as the biblical and non-biblical sources stress, and if this reputation came to Hatshepsut, in the words of the Punt relief, “from mouth to mouth by hearsay of the ancestors”—then obviously, Solomon would have been long since dead!

15. On page 123, in describing the scene in the Punt reliefs in which Hatshepsut dedicates products obtained by the expedition to Amun, Velikovsky states, “She gave gold and received ‘green gold of the land of Amu’. . . .” This phrase “green gold of the land of Amu” is quoted very much in passing, and I pause here to comment on it only because it has been cited and discussed by Eva Danelius in an article supportive of Velikovsky’s argument. She suggests that the “green gold” is copper, but this is not the point on which I want to focus. She states, “Among the gifts presented to the Egyptians was ‘green gold of the land of ‘Amu.’ The ‘Amu are an Asiatic people, but the inscription clearly speaks of their land, not of the people.”[46] Since

46.KRONOS 1/4 (Winter 1976): 13.
Danelius states that she has studied ancient Egyptian and read the Punt expedition texts at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem,[47] it is astonishing to find her echoing
47. Ibid., p. 22, n. 111.
Velikovsky’s false attribution of Amon-Re’s words “I will lead the army on water and on land” to Hatshepsut,[48] and
48. Ibid., p. 12.
equally astonishing to see what she does here with the word rendered by Breasted, in point of fact not as “Amu,” but as “Emu.”[49] It is not the vowel that is in question, for this
49. ARE II, Sec. 265.
is just a matter of conventional renderings (on this issue, see point 20 below), but rather the Egyptian word itself, which is written in hieroglyphs only with consonants. There is indeed an ancient Egyptian word ‘3m, used as early as the Old Kingdom in references to Egypt’s Asiatic neighbors, and which could be given a modern conventional rendering of “Aamu” or “Amu”; the term is always used in reference to a people, not to a country, a problem that Danelius’ work seems to acknowledge.[50] The land of “Emu”
50. For the word, see Wb. I, p. 167. The consonants of this word are “ayin (‘),” “aleph (3),” and “m.” The consonant “ayin” is virtually impossible to describe in writing for laypeople, but its sound is roughly similar to that of “r” in French or German. The consonant “aleph” is the catch in the throat that one hears at the beginning of a word such as “oh!”; we do not attach much importance to this sound, but it has the full status of a consonant in the Semitic and ancient Egyptian languages and their writing systems.
or “Amu” in the Punt reliefs to which Danelius refers is not only written with the foreign-country (on this hieroglyphic sign, see point 8 above), which is never the case with ‘3mw, but it has a different consonantal structure—’mw (ayin, m, w), without the aleph[51]—and this, as
51. See Urk. IV, p. 329, line 6.
Danelius should certainly know, precludes an identification of the two words. In point of fact, the peculiarities of the Egyptian writing system are such as to makes the two words less similar in appearance than the conventional renderings, or even the transliterations just given, might seem to allow. [For the present, at least, I am technically unable to cite the hieroglyphic writings here to show how different they actually are. Readers with access to Egyptological materials can compare the writings of ‘3m “Asiatic” in A. Erman and H. Grapow, Wörterbuch der aegyptischen Sprache, Vol. I, p. 167 with the writing of ‘mw in K. Sethe, Urkunden des ägyptischen Altertums, Vol. IV, p. 329, line 6.]

16. On pages 124 and 125, Velikovsky discusses ancient trade in exotic and valuable trees, minerals, and animals as portrayed in I Kings and in the punt reliefs, in order to establish a similarity between the two historical records in this regard. I do not wish to quarrel with the general similarity: the ancient Egyptian trade in exotica was remarkably extensive, so much so that African products (ivory and apes, see p. 125) could be acquired by Hiram of Tyre. With products that could serve as gifts from any monarch to another, it is clear that their mere citation in the bible does nothing to establish Phoenicia or Israel as the destination of Hatshepsut’s expedition. What needs special consideration here is a particular items mentioned in the discussion, namely the almug trees from Ophir, for it is clear that Velikovsky wishes to identify them with the anti (frankincense or myrrh) trees brought to Egypt by the Punt expedition; indeed, on pages 128–129, he entitles a section of his chapter that deals ultimately with the planting of these trees in Egypt, “Terraces of Almug Trees.”

First, we must be sure to keep the record clear: the biblical record speaks of almug and does not use the word anti; the Punt reliefs speak of anti and do not use the word almug. Velikovsky’s section title thus might mislead readers, and in view of the difference in the names of the trees in question, it is clear that there is no evident reason—except perhaps to support a foregone conclusion—to assert their identity.

But the matter can be pursued further. Let us look at Velikovsky’s citation from I Kings 10:11–12: “And the navy also of Hiram, that brought gold from Ophir, brought in from Ophir great plenty of almug trees, and precious stones. . . . There came no such almug trees, nor were seen unto this day.” Once again, we have the phenomenon of an ellipsis in Velikovsky’s citation, and it would be prudent to find out what is missing. Here is the passage in full: “Moreover, the fleet of Hiram, which brought gold from Ophir, brought from Ophir a very great amount of almug wood and precious stones. And the king made of the almug wood supports for the house of the Lord, and for the king’s house, lyres also and harps for the singers; no such almug wood has come or been seen, to this day.”[52] For good measure, let us cite, as Velikovsky

52. I am quoting from the Revised Standard Version and Velikovsky from a different translation. There is no issue to be made out of the divergent translations “trees” and “wood”; the Hebrew word ‘atse has both meanings.
does not, the only two remaining biblical passages where almug (in point of fact algum, with a transposition of letters) is mentioned. The first occurs in a letter from Solomon to Hiram of Tyre, in which the former requests craftsmen and materials for the construction of the great temple at Jerusalem; the wording gives at least an impression (though only an impression) that almug/algum trees, whose origin was the land of Ophir,[53] had been successfully
53. Because the biblical “table of nations” lists Ophir together with Arabian tribal and geographical names, the most likely location of that land is on the Arabian coast; see McKenzie, Dictionary of the Bible, p. 628.
transplanted in Hiram’s kingdom: “Send me also cedar, cypress, and algum timber from Lebanon, for I know that your servants know how to cut timber in Lebanon” (II Chronicles 2:8). the second is the parallel to the passage in I Kings cited by Velikovsky: “Moreover the servants of Hiram and the servants of Solomon, who brought gold from Ophir, brought algum wood and precious stones. And the king made of the algum wood steps for the house of the Lord and for the king’s house, lyres also and harps for the singers; there never was seen the like of them before in the land of Judah” (II Chronicles 9:10–11).

Since Hatshepsut’s expedition brought back trees growing in Punt to be transplanted in Egypt, it is noteworthy that there is no evidence of the planting of almug trees in Solomon’s kingdom. Indeed, the biblical evidence proves that they were not planted there in Solomon’s day, for Solomon had to request almug wood from Hiram of Tyre. It is not even absolutely clear from II Chronicles 2:8 that the trees were growing in Hiram’s kingdom. the imported wood from Ophir might simply have been stored there, and even if transplanting did occur, the experiment evidently did not work out, for I Kings 10:12 makes it clear that at the time in question, almug wood was available for use in Phoenicia and Israel only for a short time. It is also clear from the wording of II Chronicles 2:8 that Solomon anticipated receiving all the wood he requested, including the algum, in the form of cut timber.

But the most important point to be made in regard to anti and almug is their respective uses. Anti—or, to cite the transliteration of the Egyptian word, ’ntyw—is an extremely common term in ancient Egyptian. While there is scholarly disagreement about whether it is properly to be translated as “frankincense” or as “myrrh,” there is no doubt that it was a plant from which one derived a good-smelling oil or salve, and from which a kind of incense for burning was derived.[54] There is no record of the use of

54. See Wb. I, pp. 206–207.
’ntyw—wood for building or for the fashioning of wooden objects such as musical instruments. As to almug, we cannot specify what wood it actually was, but we do have the biblical evidence as to its use: it was used in the construction of buildings, as (to cite the RSV version) “supports” or “steps,” and it was used in fashioning musical instruments. There is no record of its use in the manufacture of good-smelling oil, salve, or incense. Its use in construction would seem to imply that it was a solid timber, while its use in making harps and lyres might indicate that it was pliant; though, of course, it is possible that the frames of the instruments were carved out of solid wood rather than bent into shape. It is also possible to account for the seeming discrepancy by conjecturing that beams from the solid trunk of the tree were used in construction, while pliant branches were employed in manufacturing musical instruments. And with due cognizance of the risks attendant upon entering into the realm of conjecture, I wonder whether the evident discrepancy between the uses of the almug tree can be accounted for by supposing that in both of its practical applications, this rare and precious wood was used as inlay.

Even if we did not have the evidence of its use, the impossibility of equating almug with ’ntyw is clear. The biblical statement that “no such almug wood has come or been seen, to this day,” or as an alternative rendering in the version quoted by Velikovsky, “there came no such almug trees (i.e., before), nor were seen unto this day” makes it clear that almug wood was available to Phoenician and Hebrew carpenters only for a short while, as a result of the extraordinarily far-reaching sea trade organized by Hiram of Tyre. ’ntyw, on the other hand, could always have been obtained, if not from its original source, then through trade with neighboring Egypt.

I would not attempt to resolve here the controversy whether ’ntyw designates frankincense or myrrh; perhaps the Egyptians, at least sometimes, used the term loosely to designate both of these odiferous flora. In any case, it becomes even clearer that almug and ’ntyw cannot be identified when we consider that Hebrew has well-attested words for frankincense and myrrh: lebonah and mor, respectively.

It should by now be clear that Velikovsky, in quoting only one of the three biblical passages mentioning almug/algum, and in failing to cite a portion of it, leaving only an ellipsis, created a misleading impression. The fetching of ’ntyw as a derived product, and of ’ntyw trees themselves to be planted in Egypt, was an essential, if not the most important object of Hatshepsut’s expedition to Punt. In order to equate that expedition with the queen of Sheba’s visit to Jerusalem, it was therefore desirable to find mention, in the biblical record of Solomon’s reign, of a precious tree whose identify with the ’ntyw could be asserted. The almug was there to serve the purpose. But the biblical evidence of the almug’s uses in and of itself disproves the equation of almug with ’ntyw, a point that could be lost on readers as a result of Velikovksy’s failure to present all the relevant evidence, in this case, especially the biblical evidence.

17. On page 127, Velikovsky writes, “The inscription to the next bas-relief states simply and clearly: ‘The ships arrived at Thebes.’ Thebes is situated on the banks of the Nile. To reach it by water, the ships must have sailed along the Nile, entering from the Mediterranean. A voyage from Punt in southern Arabia or in Somaliland to Thebes by the sea route would have meant disembarking at el-Qoseir and journeying overland from there to Thebes.” He proceeds to reject—rightly—the idea that there was a canal linking the Red Sea to the Nile,[55] and he concludes that,

55. Velikovsky cites Meyer in this connection (p. 127, n. 1), but the suggestion is also made by Breasted: see ARE II, Sec. 248.
the object of Hatshepsut’s expedition having been Jerusalem, the problem is solved by imagining that the return voyage was via the Mediterranean, departing from a port on the Syrian shore and sailing up the Nile to Thebes.

Here, Velikovsky has unfortunately been misled by erroneous Egyptological opinion regarding this depiction. The relief shows one ship, under full sail and all its oars being plied; water with fish in it is shown underneath, but nothing is depicted in the background.[56] There is thus no

56. See Edouard Naville, The Temple of Deir el Bahari, Part III (London: The Egypt Exploration Fund, 1898), Plate 75.
way to tell whether the ship in question is on the seashore or on the Nile.

Help in resolving the problem is afforded by material other than Hatshepsut’s own reliefs. The fact that Egypt enjoyed direct trade relations with Punt in the Old and Middle kingdoms has been alluded to above. Voyages to Punt are mentioned in a number of inscriptions from those periods; most of them were already known in Breasted’s time, and they are summarized by him in ARE II, Sec. 247. Two of those from the Middle Kingdom are critical for our understanding of the trade with Punt, for they were found at Wadi Gasus, a locale on the Red Sea shore 60 kilometers north of Qoseir. One, from the reign of Amenemhet II, states, “Giving praise a laudation to Horus [. . .], to Min of Coptos, by the hereditary prince, count, wearer of the royal seal, the master of the judgement-hall Khentkhetwer after his arrival in safety from Punt; his army being with him, prosperous and healthy; and his ships having landed at Sewew. Year 28.”[57] (Sewew is the ancient name of Wadi Gasus, or

57. ARE I, Sec. 605.
more likely, Wadi Gawasis two kilometers to the south of it; see note 58). The second, from the reign of Sesostris II, states—laconically but importantly—“Year 1, his (i.e., the king’s) monument in God’s-Land was executed.[58] From
58. Ibid., Sec. 618. These two monuments found at Wadi Gasus were probably brought there in Roman times from Wadi Gawasis. It is the latter site that was the Red Sea harbor from which expeditions to Punt were launched during the Twelfth Dynasty, as shown by excavations there; see Abdel Monem A. H. Sayed, Revue d’égyptologie 29 (1977): 138–178. The inscription on a stela of Antefoker, an official of Sesostris I, makes it clear that the ships of the expedition that he led to Punt were constructed in the dockyards of Coptos, which means—amazingly enough!—that they were transported, probably in dismantled form, overland to the Red Sea coast, and presumably back again; see ibid., p. 170. Antefoker’s stela informs us that a total of 3,756 men participated in the expedition, which seems an improbably high number for the sea journey. The numbers of men are broken down by profession. In addition to a small number of functionaries, 3,200 of them were “soldiers” and 500 of them were “sailors.” I suspect that the “soldiers” were responsible for the overland transport function, while the sailors and at least some of the functionaries (and perhaps some soldiers as well) actually participated in the voyage.
Khentkhetwer’s inscription we learn definitively that an expedition returning from Punt would have disembarked at a Red Sea harbor and proceeded overland to Coptos on the Nile, whence it could have sailed north to Memphis or south to Thebes (see the map in Ages in Chaos). From the material cited in note 58, we learn that the boats used in the sea voyages were actually transported overland between the seacoast and the Nile.

It is easy to establish that the evidence from Hatshepsut’s relief is not irreconcilable with the Middle Kingdom evidence just cited. First, let us dispense with Breasted’s remarks concerning the relief: “The expedition, like those of Henu[59] and Khentkhetwer, may have left the

59. Henu, an official of the Eleventh Dynasty, specifies in an inscription that Coptos was his starting point for an expedition to Punt; the inscription is cut on a rock wall in the Wadi Hammamat, and he states explicitly that he returned by way of this wadi. See ARE I, Secs. 427–433.
Nile at Koptos, and proceeded to caravan to Wadi Gasûs on the Red Sea, where the ships may have been built. But as no shift of cargo is mentioned, and the same ships depicted as sailing the Red Sea are afterward shown on the Nile, it is possible that the canal through the Wadi Tumilât connecting the Nile and the Red Sea had existed from the Twelfth Dynasty, having been made by one of the Sesostrises.”[60] As
60. ARE II, Sec. 248.
already noted, there is no way to tell whether the ship in the relief in question is on the Nile or on the Red Sea coast. Even if it is a ship on the Nile, we know from Antefoker’s stela (see note 58) that ships used in voyages to Punt were transported overland between Coptos and the Red Sea. The only surviving inscription giving any details about the movement between Coptos and the Red Sea coast is that of Henu (see note 59); it makes much of the details of provisions of food for the personnel of the expedition, the digging of wells along the way for water, and fighting hostile desert-dwellers on the way to the coast—and it makes a very brief mention that the expedition returned to the Nile valley by way of the Wadi Hammamat. But, interestingly enough, nowhere does this detailed inscription make any mention of the logistics of loading and unloading cargo and the overland transport of cargo and ships. Breasted is therefore quite wrong in taking the fact that “no shift of cargo is mentioned” as significant; for reasons that we could only speculate on, the ancient Egyptians never regarded the task of the overland transport, arduous as it must have been, as a detail worth mentioning.

Let us now turn to the inscription that accompanies the ship in Hatshepsut’s relief; its opening words are unfortunately not cited correctly by Velikovsky in his passage quoted above. The inscription reads, “Sailing, arriving in peace, journeying to Thebes with joy of heart, by the army of the Lord of the Two Lands, with the chiefs of this country behind them.”[61] This translation by Breasted

61. Ibid., Sec. 266.
is not literal, and a clearer understanding of the first three portions of the sentence is obtainable through a more literal rendering: “Sailing, coming in peace, landing at Thebes with joy of heart.”[62] There are two ways to
62. For the Egyptian itself, see Urk. IV, p. 329, lines 15–17.
interpret these words, both of which avoid the difficulty evisaged by Meyer and Breasted (and followed by Velikovsky). If all these phrases refer to the same thing, then they refer to the final stage of the return from Punt, the Nile journey from Coptos to Thebes. Since the preceding depiction in the reliefs is that of “loading the boats” (in Punt),[63] this
63. Ibid., p. 328, line 17.
alternative, which is certainly a possible interpretation, would leave us with no indication of the greater part of the return trip. While no such indication is absolutely required—the safe and successful arrival at Thebes would in any case have been the most significant aspect of the return—the second alternative, which I in fact prefer, is to see the three phrases as referring to different stages of the return: “sailing” indicates the sea voyage from Punt to Egypt’s Red Sea coast harbor, “coming in peace” refers to the overland passage to Coptos and the last leg of the journey up the Nile in the direction of the capital city, while “landing at Thebes” denotes the final docking.

18. Interestingly enough, in the section entitled “The Temple and Its Service Copied,” on pages 129–132, the two main points developed by Velikovsky are refuted by material cited in his own footnotes.

Velikovsky wishes, first, to argue that Hatshepsut’s temple was directly inspired by Solomon’s temple in Jerusalem. Though each has a hall whose dimensions form a ratio of three to one, Velikovsky acknowledges that the two buildings were not were not identical and states, “This difference in location must have influenced the architects to alter their plans” (p. 130). But if the plans differ, they differ, and the argument is not cogent. More importantly, after citing two outdated statements by Mariette as to the uniqueness of Hatshepsut’s structure at Deir el Bahari and the possibility that it might have been inspired by buildings seen in Punt, Velikovsky states in a footnote, “However, a more ancient temple of similar architecture was discovered in the vicinity; it probably represents, too, a Phoenician influence.” The “more ancient” building in question is, in fact, the funerary structure of Montuhotep the Great of the Eleventh Dynasty (this king reunited Egypt after the internal dissolution of the First Intermediate Period and paved the way for the splendor of the Middle Kingdom; he ruled about 2052 to 2010,[64] about 520 years before Hatshepsut in the

64. H. E. Winlock, The Rise and Fall of the Middle Kingdom in Thebes (New York: The Macmillan Company, 1947), p. 30. A drawing of the temples of Montuhotep and Hatshepsut can be found in Edouard Naville, The XIth Dynasty Temple at Deir el Bahari, Part 2, Thirty-first Memoir of the Egypt Exploration Fund (London: Egypt Exploration Fund, 1907–1908. For photographs, see Sir Alan Gardiner, Egypt of the Pharaohs: An Introduction (New York: Oxford University Press, 1966), Pl. IX (facing p. 118) and John Baines and Jaromír Málek, Atlas of Ancient Egypt (New York: Facts on File Publications, 1980), p. 96.
orthodox chronology, and about 1,060 years before her in Velikovsky’s revised chronology). Hatshepsut was a usurper on the Egyptian throne, and perhaps she erected her funerary monument next to her glorious Theban predecessor, and imitated its plan, as a way of legitimizing her rule; but whatever her reason, the similarity of plan of the two monuments is evident [64]. That Hatshepsut’s building is not
64. The resemblance of the two buildings as one approaches them is even clearer in the photograph published by Sir Alan Gardiner in Egypt of the Pharaohs; see the preceding note.
simply a slavish copy of Montuhotep’s, but rather an enlarged and more elaborate version, is clear; but the architectural relationship of the two is obvious. What inspired the plan of Montuhotep’s monument is unknown. However, it seems best viewed as an indigenous development, and not inspired by a known foreign model, as Velikovsky suggests, for its excavators found that it underwent several changes in plan during the course of its construction.[65]
65. See Winlock, op. cit., pp. 38–41.
Most important here, since Hatshepsut’s monument is based on Montuhotep’s, it did not have a foreign inspiration. (It might be added that, since Solomon’s temple was that of a deity, while Hatshepsut’s construction, like that of Montuhotep, was a funerary monument, there is no immediate conceptual link between the two; see also point 19 below.)

Velikovsky’s other argument, that Hatshepsut copied the service of Amon from that of Solomon’s temple, is based on only one postulate, that “the office of the high priest was established in the Egyptian service only at the time of Queen Hatshepsut” (p. 132). He cites as support for this, in his footnote 9, Breasted, ARE II, Sec. 388. But in point of fact, he misrepresents Breasted’s statement there. Breasted is speaking of the following titles borne by Hatshepsut’s contemporary Hapuseneb: “High Priest of Amon, and chief of the prophets of South and North,” and his remark on the innovation in Hatshepsut’s time is this: “The formation of the priesthood of the whole land into a coherent organization, with a single individual at its head, appears here for the first time.” It is thus the second of the two titles that Breasted is commenting on, and not the title “High priest of Amon.”

Curiously, in his footnote, after citing Breasted, Velikovsky continues: “But according to G. Lefebvre, the office of the high priest was already established by Ahmose (Histoire des grands prêtres d’Amon de Karnak [Paris, 1929], p. 69).” This fact alone, of course, is enough to defeat the argument. The Egyptian title for the high priest of Amon is more literally rendered “first prophet of Amon”; in the New Kingdom, we have evidence of a “first prophet,” a “second prophet,” a “third prophet,” and a “fourth prophet.” In point of fact, Lefebvre mentions three Eighteenth Dynasty individuals prior to the reign of Hatshepsut who held the title “first prophet of Amon” (op. cit., pp. 69–71). Unfortunately, there are few preserved records of the Theban priesthood prior to the Eighteenth Dynasty. Lefebvre (ibid., pp. 63–66) notes that a story of Twentieth Dynasty date, which purports to deal with events of the Second Intermediate Period, mentions a “first prophet of Amon Khonsuem[heb]”; but this is not contemporary evidence, and it will thus not receive further consideration here. More to the point, Lefebvre (ibid., p. 62) is able to cite a Middle Kingdom individual who held the title “second prophet of Amon”—and it follows logically that if there was a “second prophet of Amon,” there must have been a “first prophet of Amon.” The office of high priest of Amon therefore far antedates the reign of Hatshepsut, going back at least to the Middle Kingdom, and the contention that she copied the office from the service of Solomon’s temple cannot stand.

For what it is worth, it might be noted that some biblical scholars have expressed uncertainty that there was an office of high priest in the Temple at Jerusalem during the monarchic period. They believe, rather, that the office is entirely postexilic in date.[66]

66. See the discussion in McKenzie, Dictionary of the Bible, p. 691. McKenzie himself favors the opinion that there was a high priest in the preexilic period.

19. The sections “Terraces of Almug Trees” and “The Temple and Its Service Copied” (pp. 128–132) have already been discussed in points 17 and 18, but an important theme that runs through them has not yet been addressed: namely, that Hatshepsut’s monument at Deir el-Bahari was intended to represent what the Egyptian texts call the “myrrh-terraces” of Punt, by its terraced architecture and by the planting there of the myrrh trees brought back by the Punt expedition. We might consider that the monuments of Montuhotep and Hatshepsut both consciously imitated the myrrh-terraces of Punt; or we might imagine that Hatshepsut, in enlarging and elaborating on Montuhotep’s layout, could have had this intention. The first alternative is ruled out, as already mentioned, by the fact that Montuhotep’s monument underwent changes of plan in the course of its construction; this strongly suggests that the architects were “feeling” their way toward a new form, without the aid of a preconceived inspiration. As to the second alternative, I can only express doubt. The relevant passages in the Punt reliefs cited by Velikovsky are: “I have hearkened to my father . . . commanding me to establish for him a Punt in his house, to plant the trees of God’s land beside his temple, in his Garden”;[67] and “Trees were taken up in God’s Land and set in the ground [in Egypt].”[68] Velikovsky paraphrases these

67. ARE II, Sec. 295; cited p. 128. 68. Ibid., Sec. 294; cited p. 129.
passages on page 129: “The queen even emphasized that she built a ‘Punt!’” It is misleading to introduce the word “build” into the discussion, since it gives an unwarranted impression of architectural endeavor; Breasted’s rendering “to establish,” which does not necessarily include the idea of building, is an accurate translation of the verb smn that occurs in the text.[69] One other passage, not cited by
69. Ibid., Sec. 294; cited p. 129.
Velikovsky, is relevant to the discussion: “I have made for him a Punt in his garden, just as he commanded me, for Thebes”:[70] the verb here is simply iri “to make.”[71]
70. ARE II, Sec. 295
71. Urk. IV 353, line 16.

It is difficult to glean from Velikovsky’s discussion that Hatshepsut’s edifice at Deir el Bahari was her funerary monument, constructed in a part of the vast Theban cemetery region in the desert on the west side of the Nile. Within the monument, a text in the niche of the great court piously dedicates the building to Amon, and the granite door of the court is also dedicated to him. There is a chapel of Hathor in the building complex. Further, a limestone altar is dedicated to Re-Harakhty, a shrine of ebony is dedicated to Amon-Re, and a portion of the building was also dedicated to Anubis, the god of embalming. This divine involvement, with its implication of divine approval, does not, however, alter the essentially funerary character of the monument. Moreover, it is noteworthy that none of the several texts related to these dedications[72] makes any reference

72. They are collected in Urk. IV, pp. 294–304.
whatsoever to “a Punt” or to the planting of myrrh or frankincense there.

It is likely, therefore, that the references cited above to the “making” or “establishing” of a Punt and to the planting of ‘ntyw trees, refer to something other than the edifice at Deir el Bahari. If Hatshepsut’s monument there had in fact been an imitation of the “myrrh-terraces” of Punt, then the edifice as a whole would have been “a garden,” or “a Punt.” Yet, one of the passages quoted above says, “to establish for him a Punt in his house, to plant the trees of God’s land beside his temple, in his garden” (italics mine), clearly implying that the “Punt” and “trees” did not in and of themselves constitute the “house” or “temple,” but rather that they were a portion of a larger architectural complex. The most likely candidate for the place in question is surely Amon’s central place of worship, the great Temple of Karnak in Thebes on the eastern bank of the Nile, where the “Punt” would have been an arboretum of ‘ntyw-trees transplanted from Punt to the gardens of the temple. Hatshepsut’s coregent and successor, Thutmose III, embellished these gardens with botanical and zoological collections of his own, as discussed by Velikovsky himself on pages 164–166 of Ages in Chaos.

20. In a section entitled “Make-da and Make-ra” (pp. 134–139), which is the final section of the chapter except for a summarizing one, Velikovsky argues that Hatshepsut’s throne-name “Makera” is to be equated with “Makeda,” the name of the queen of Sheba as preserved in the medieval Ethiopian collection of legends entitled Kebra Negast. “Ra” is the name of the Egyptian sun god, and Velikovsky suggests that the variation “da” in the latter name might be a substitution of a form of the Semitic deity Adad or Ada (p. 137, n. 7). The astute reader might have noticed that Velikovsky has, without any word of explanation or justification, substituted “Makera” for the form “Makere” that he has consistently employed earlier in the chapter in quoting from Breasted’s translation of the Punt reliefs. Both are acceptable “conventional renderings,” but one wonders at the facility with which Velikovsky selects a form that happens to suit his purpose at this juncture without inquiring as to the ancient pronunciation behind the modern convention.

Here, it would be a propos to pause and make an excursus on the subject of the conventional renderings of words and names that Egyptologists employ, for this can be a source of considerable confusion to non-specialists. Behind the superficial complexity of the hieroglyphic writing system (and its derivatives, hieratic and Demotic) lies the simple notion of rendering words by their consonantal skeletons only, along with determinatives, that is, picture-signs to help the reader by indicating basic categories of meaning.[73] (The value of determinatives in helping the

73. This means that the ancient Egyptians wrote the consonants of words, but not the vowels. There are, however, a few partial exceptions. In the “syllabic orthography” mentioned in point 11 above, the scribes of the New Kingdom devised a way to use groups of signs originally indicating consonants in such a way that the location of vowels (but not specific information on which vowels) in words would be indicated; this system was used for the rendering of foreign words and names. It might be the case (this is a matter of debate among Egyptologists) that all along, the consonant “y” in Old Egyptian and “w” in Middle Egyptian were written at the ends of certain grammatical forms to indicate the presence of a vowel (but again, without specification of which vowel). In Late Egyptian, consonants sometimes occur in grammatical forms where we know that there was really a vowel; thus, sw and sy are both written to indicate the pronunciation se of a pronoun meaning “him” or “her.” Finally, in the Ptolemaic and Roman Periods, a system was developed in which certain signs that originally indicated consonants were used to indicate specific vowels; this system was used in writing the names of the kings and queens.
reader can readily be appreciated by means of an example. If we wrote English by indicating only the consonantal skeletons of words, how many different words can the reader think of, by supplying various vowels before, between and after the consonants, for the consonant group “brd”?) While Egyptologists can write strings of consonants, they certainly cannot pronounce them when speaking to one another, and thus there is a tradition of conventional renderings that make it possible to pronounce the words out loud. Egyptologists sometimes also use them when writing, particularly when writing for the general public.

The most basic convention is to insert the vowel “e” between the consonants of a word. However, for no better reason than to “spice things up,” certain variations are added. When the consonants “aleph” and “ayin” occur in a word, rather than pronounce or write the consonants, Egyptologists employ the vowel “a.” By the same token, the consonant “we” is usually rendered by the vowel “u,” and the consonant “y” by the vowel “i.” Sometimes, particularly in rendering proper names, further variation is added on the basis of Greek transcriptions or Coptic survivals (on Coptic, see point 10 above; not all of the words, names, and grammatical forms of the earlier language survived into this last stage of Egyptian, so that Coptic is only a partial and sometimes unreliable guide to the more ancient pronunciations) of the names. As an example of this phenomenon, the Egyptian phrase “Amun-Re, king of the gods” was rendered by the ancient Greeks as “Amonrasonther,” thus justifying a rendering “Amon” for the great god of Thebes and “Ra” for the sun god with whom he was often identified. But the Greek rendering “Amun” also exists, and the name of the sun was written “Re” (with a long “e,” that is, a long eta) in Coptic. Egyptologists do not attempt to explain these evident conflicts in the surviving evidence, but rather arbitrarily choose among the variations, so that readers perusing the works of Egyptologists will find “Amen,” “Amon,” and “Amun,” as well as “Re” and “Ra.” Further variations in the spellings of conventional renderings can be influenced by the native language of the scholar: thus, English- and German-speaking Egyptologists will render a particular ancient Egyptian name as “Sinuhe,” while those who are French-speaking will render “Sinouhé.” Finally, there are variations that reflect nothing more than the individual taste of the scholar; thus, one Egyptologist might render the verb “to be broad” as “usekh,” while another might render it as “wesekh.”

I leave it to what authors once called “the gentle reader” to decide whether it is understandable that Egyptologists must resort to conventional renderings in order to communicate, or whether they are to be soundly condemned for not, at the very least, agreeing on a single system of such renderings and moreover for introducing such renderings into books and articles addressed to the general reader without any explanation or disclaimer. What is really important is that the reader understand the practical result of all this: that these renderings of ancient words and names in our own alphabet are not, and are not intended to be, scholarly statements as to their actual pronunciation in ancient times. Thus, to take a conventional rendering of a name, or to search among the available, varying renderings for one that suits one’s preconceived purpose, and compare it with a word or name in another language whose vowels are known, is an exercise in futility. This is a mistake that we have already seen Velikovsky make more than once, in regard to the names “Punt” (point 10 above) and Paruah (point 11 above); and the mistake is made here as well, with regard to Hatshepsut’s throne name.

Makera and Makere are conventional renderings of a name that consists of three words. The proper transliteration of the consonants is M3‘t-k3-R‘, and the name means “Maat (the name of a goddess who stands here for the harmony of the universe) is the spirit of Re.” In considering how the name might actually have been pronounced in Hatshepsut’s time, we fortunately do not have to rely on possibly conflicting or misleading evidence from later Greek or Coptic sources. The cuneiform script employed in writing the Akkadian language, and other languages of western Asia, is a syllabic script that indicates both consonants and vowels. There are some Egyptian words and names preserved in cuneiform texts. The Akkadian-language royal correspondence of the latter part of the Eighteenth Dynasty, which we call the “Amarna texts,” “Amarna tablets,” or “Amarna letters,” is well known to readers of Velikovsky from Chapters VI, VII, and VIII of Ages in Chaos. The throne name of Amenophis III, Nb-M3‘t-R‘, which contains two of the three words in Hatshepsut’s name, is rendered in the Amarna letters as Nibmuaria. We also know from cuneiform evidence that the remaining word in her name was pronounced ku.[74] The reader will quickly see that something is

74. For this information, see EG3, p. 428.
“missing” in these cuneiform renderings, so that a few words of explanation are in order. The “t” of M3‘t is the grammatical ending indicating feminine gender, which was no longer pronounced in the New Kingdom, though it was preserved in the writing (on this phenomenon, see point 10 above). Moreover, the cuneiform script, which was developed by native speakers of Sumerian, a language unrelated to the Semitic languages and Egyptian, had no means of representing the consonants “aleph” (3) and “ayin” (), so that these are missing as well.

But we can easily put together the consonants as the Egyptians wrote them and the vowels of the cuneiform renderings land arrive at the pronunciation of Hatshepsut’s name in her own day: Mu3‘aku3ri‘a. (On the pronunciation of “aleph” and “ayin,” see n. 49.) This is quite a mouthful indeed for speakers of modern Western languages, but it is obvious that Mu3‘aku3ri‘a has nothing whatsoever to do with the name Makeda in the Kebra Negast.

Part III

As indicated at the outset, Part II of this paper was designed as a running commentary on the main points raised in Chapter III of Ages in Chaos for the purpose of demonstrating to the lay reader how a specialist might react while reading through Velikovsky’s text. Such a commentary, however, is not necessarily the same as the mounting of a refutation. Had I chosen to do the latter, I would have produced a much briefer text, and I would have begun with a single point, not addressed in Part II, that in and of itself is sufficient to defeat the thesis that the Punt expedition went to the kingdom of Solomon: namely, that it can be clearly established that Hatshepsut’s Punt was located to the south of Egypt.[75] In what follows, I shall continue the

75. “South” is an approximate direction employed here in distinction to “north” in part for the sake of simplicity, and in part because the terminology corresponds to that of the Egyptian texts. For the more specific geographical nuances, see point 9 above.
numbering of points introduced in Part II.

21. For approximately two decades, Hatshepsut and Thutmose III occupied the throne in a sort of “joint rule.” The motive behind Hatshepsut’s usurpation of the royal office while Thutmose was a still a child is never stated in the Egyptian records; it has been the subject of much conjecture, and I think it requires reevaluation, but these are details that do not affect the specific issue of the revised chronology.[76] Shortly after Hatshepsut

76. For a brief statement of my own views regarding this matter, see Journal of the American Oriental Societyx 99 (1979): 462.
disappeared from the scene, perhaps by death from natural causes, Thutmose III found it necessary to mount a major military offensive in Asia. This is the event that Velikovsky proposes to identify with the campaign of “Shishak king of Egypt” against the kingdom of Judah during the reign of Rehoboam, and it is familiar to readers as the topic of Chapter IV of Ages in Chaos. Thutmose considered it to be the most important of his many forays into Asia and Africa, as can be seen from the disproportionately great detail of its description in that monarch’s inscriptions at Karnak.

Most pertinent to our purposes here, Thutmose’s scribes at the temple of Karnak chose not once, but three times, to express the aftermath of that great expedition with identical lists of “northern” and “southern” peoples who, primarily as vassals but in some cases also as trading partners, were a part of the orderly realm presided over by the king.

On the west front of the sixth pylon, the northern list is introduced (all the translations that follow are mine) as “Summary of the foreign countries of Upper Retenu, which his majesty had shut up in the town of doomed Megiddo, and whose children his majesty had brought back as living captives to the town [. . .] in Karnak, in his first campaign of victory, as his father Amon, who led him to the goodly roads, had commanded.”[77] The corresponding southern list

77. Urk. IV, p. 780, lines 4–9.
is introduced as “Summary of these southern foreign countries of the Nubian ’Iwntyw-people of Khenthenofer whom his majesty had slaughtered, a massacre made of them, the numbers not known, all their inhabitants brought back as living captives to Thebes to fill the workhouse of his father Amon-Re lord of the thrones of the Two Lands. Lo, all the foreign countries are serfs of his majesty, as his father Amon had commanded.”[78]
78. Ibid., p. 795, lines 7–14.

On the southwest facade of the seventh pylon, the northern list is introduced as “All the mysterious lands of the northern regions of Asia, which his majesty had brought back as living captives when he made a great [slaughter] among them, which had never been trodden by any other king except his majesty: ‘The reputation of a valiant one consists of [what he has done], and it cannot be obliterated in this land [forever].’”[79] For reasons of space in this

79. Ibid., p. 780, lines 10–15. The last portion, interestingly enough, is a proverbial saying known from other sources as well; see Hans Goedicke, Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt 11 (1974): 31–33.
particular case, the last part of the northern list had to be placed with the southern list, and so the latter is introduced as “Summary of these southern and northern foreign countries whom his majesty had slaughtered, a great massacre made of them [. . .].”[80]
80. Urk. IV, p. 795, lines 15–17. The remainder is pretty well lost, though just enough remains to suggest that the wording was identical to that on the west front of the sixth pylon; see Ibid., p. 796, lines 1–3.

On the northeast facade of the seventh pylon, the northern list is introduced as “Summary of the foreign countries of Upper Retenu, which his majesty had shut up in the town of doomed Megiddo, and whose children his majesty had brought back as living captives to the town of Thebes to fill the workhouses of his father Amun in Karnak, in his first campaign of victory, as his father Amon, who led him to the goodly roads, had commanded.”[81] The beginning of the

81. Ibid., p. 780, line 16–731, line 4.
introduction of the southern list is lost, but what remains is virtually identical to the version on the west front of the sixth pylon: “[. . .] the numbers [not] known, their inhabitants brought back as living captives to fill the workhouse of his father [Amon] in [Karnak]. Lo, all the foreign countries are serfs of his majesty.”[82]
82. Ibid., p. 796, lines 5–8.

The three lists are identical, the only differences among them being minor orthographic variations.[83] I have

83. The northern list is presented, not with the three versions listed separately, but rather synoptically—that is, as one list with the spelling variations shown—Ibid., pp. 781–786; a supplementary list of northern countries on the northeast facade of the seventh pylon is presented Ibid., pp. 788–794. The southern list is presented, again synoptically, Ibid., pp. 796–800; another supplementary list, this time of southern countries, on the northeast facade of the seventh pylon, is presented Ibid., pp. 801–806.
quoted the introductory passages at length to show that, despite some variation in wording and some loss of text, the variants are nevertheless explicit as to the fact that one of these is a list of northern countries and the other a list of southern countries. That the northern list is indeed northern is clear not only from the fact that it calls itself such, but also from the inclusion in it of a number of cities (e.g., Kadesh, Megiddo, Taanach, Aruna) that are known from biblical and extrabiblical Asiatic sources; Velikovsky himself acknowledges this on pages 143 and 150–151, where he mentions Kadesh as being the first city in the list. Because of the possibility of such comparisons with the Bible and other Asiatic texts, the northern list has attracted much scholarly attention, as can readily be seen in the footnote references of Chapter IV of Ages in Chaos. Since the peoples of Africa were not literate at this time and thus did not leave similar records to facilitate such comparisons by modern scholars, Thutmose’s southern list has received relatively little attention. I feel it necessary to stress this point because Velikovsky did not read ancient Egyptian, and so, as best I can determine, he was innocently unaware, if not of the existence of the list, then certainly of its potential significance to his argument.

And so, after somewhat lengthy introductory remarks, I reach the point that needs to be raised: the forty-eighth land in Thutmose’s southern list is Punt.[84] Thus, Punt

84. See Ibid., p. 798, line 11, no. 48. For a collection of the occurrences of the name “Punt” in ancient Egyptian texts, see Karola Zibelius, Afrikanische Orts- und Völkernamen in hieroglyphischen und hieratischen Texten, Beihefte zum Tübingen Atlas des Vorderen Orients, Reihe B (Geisteswissenschaften), Nr. 1 (Wiesbaden: Dr. Ludwig Reichert Verlag, 1972), p. 114.
is unequivocally attested as a land to the south of Egypt no more than about fourteen years after Hatshepsut’s Punt expedition.

22. Punt was a land so well-known to the ancient Egyptians that its geographical location was seldom mentioned in the texts that have survived to us. Many years after the publication of Ages in Chaos, Velikovsky wrote the following words, which deserve to be quoted in full: “As to some Egyptian reference or references to Punt [Pwene(t)] as located in the south, a point brought up by a few of my readers, the following needs to be said: The opening passage in the History of Herodotus tells that the Phoenicians came to their country on the eastern shores of the Mediterranean from their original home on the shores of the Eritrean Sea, by which the Red Sea and also the Indian Ocean are known to have been named by the Greeks. This would explain such early reference. But in another Egyptian text Punt is referred to as being to the north of Egypt. Besides, we should be mindful of the fact elucidated in Worlds in Collision that in historical times—and more than once—the cardinal points have been reversed, or as it is put in a hieroglyphic text, “The south becomes north,. and the Earth turns over.’”[85]

85. S.I.S. Review 6/1–3 (1982): 7–8.

These remarks are rather unusual, and each of them needs to be addressed. I have already dealt with the possible untrustworthiness of Herodotus’s account, and also with the linguistic obstacles to identifying the names “Phoenicia” and “Punt” (both in point 10 above); but these are the least of the points to be raised. It is surprising and unfortunate that Velikovsky does not cite the “reference or references” to Punt located in the south that he alludes to, but his words “such early reference” suggest that it (they?) is pre-Hatshepsut. I do not myself know of such an “early reference” that explicitly labels Punt as a southern country, and Velikovsky was lax in his scholarly duty in not giving his citation(s) so that his readers could properly evaluate it (them). If the “early reference” is indeed pre-Hatshepsut, then it is very strange indeed that Velikovsky mentions in this connection the possibility of the reversal of the cardinal points and cites by way of support (p. 11, n. 17) the Magical Papyrus Harris, a hieratic (not hieroglyphic) text that can be dated on the basis of its handwriting style to the Nineteenth or Twentieth Dynasty,[86]

86. H. O. Lange, Der Magische Papyrus Harris, Det Kgl. Danske Videnskabernes Selskab, Historisk-filologiske Meddelelser, XIV, 2, p. 7. Since Velikovsky quotes this study, he was presumably in a position to know the date of the papyrus.
that is, long after the reign of Hatshepsut (even longer in Velikovsky’s revised chronology than in the orthodox chronology). The passage from which he draws his citation[87] is a magical spell that makes general reference
87. Ibid., p. 58.
to divine power and has no demonstrably historical significance.

Velikovsky’s sole citation (p. 11, n. 16) of an Egyptian text referring to Punt as north of Egypt is “P. Schott, Les chants d’amour de l’Égypte Ancien, p. 97.” There has evidently been a misprint, for the author is Siegfried Schott, the volume in question being Paule Kriéger’s translation of Schott’s German original. What we find on page 97, in a hymn to Hathor, is:

Tes yeux ont abattu les Nubiens,
O! grande maîtraisse de Pount,
Source délicieuse du vent du Nord,
Maîtraisse de l’air agréable.

(Your eyes have felled the Nubians,
oh, great mistress of Punt,
delightful source of the north wind,
mistress of the pleasant air.)

The “eye” as a destructive power, particularly as destructive of enemies, is well-grounded in Egyptian mythology, and Hathor as “mistress of Punt” who fells Nubian enemies could well be an allusion to an important myth of the flight of the sun’s (Re’s) eye to Nubia and its eventual return.[88] References to the “sweet breeze of the north

88. Hans Bonnet, Reallexikon der ägyptischen Religionsgeschichte (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter & Co., 1952), pp. 281 and 734.
wind” are frequent in Egyptian texts, for it is the cool northern breeze that brought relief from the heat of Egypt’s climate.[89]
89. Wb. V, p. 352.

The attentive reader has undoubtedly noticed that this passage is at best ambiguous as to the location of Punt, for the reference to that land stands between a reference to the Nubians, who were located to the south of Egypt, and a reference to the northern breeze, so that it could potentially be connected with either of them. I have already cited grounds in Egyptian mythology for connecting the Punt reference to the Nubians. it should also be noted that there is something contradictory between the beneficent north wind and the “felling” of Nubians, all the more so if the Punt reference is connected with the north wind, and a further illogic in connecting punt and the north wind to the felling of Nubians to the south of Egypt. These evident ambiguities vanish when we realize that Egyptian poetry, and even prose of an elevated style, was usually constructed in groups of two parallel clauses, with a further grouping of two and two into constructs of four clauses or verses, as in the passage we are considering here. These parallel units complement one

90. See Miriam Lichtheim, Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt 9 (1971–1972): 103–110; eadem, Ancient Egyptian Literature, Vol. I (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1973), pp. 11–12; John L. Foster, Thought Couplets and Clause Sequences in a Literary Text: The Maxims of Ptahhotep (Toronto: The Society for the Study of Egyptian Antiquities, 1977), pp. 5–30.
another by referring to the same thing, or to contrasting things. Thus, in our passage, “Your eyes have felled the Nubians,/oh, great mistress of Punt” are parallel phrases referring to the south, while delightful source of the north wind,/mistress of the pleasant air” are parallel phrases referring to the north. The two thought couplets further form a group of four verses, complementing one another by their references to south and north, in effect praising Hathor by referring to the world-wide scope of her divine power. There is also a contrast between Hathor’s capacity for destruction (felling the Nubians) and her beneficent aspect (the cool north breeze)—though to be sure, from the Egyptian point of view, both aspects are ultimately beneficent, for foreign enemies are indeed to be slain. Thus, quote contrary to Velikovsky’s claim that this is a reference to Punt as a land located to the north of Egypt, it emerges from a consideration of the passage on mythological and literary grounds that it is in fact a reference to Punt as south of Egypt!

It is possible that someone anxious to preserve this as a reference to Punt in the north might cite the concept of the reversal of the cardinal points in historical times, so that Nubia, and by inference Punt, would be to the north of Egypt, this being complemented by the reference to the cool breeze. However, this cannot work.; Nubia was located up the Nile from Egypt, so that Punt would have to be in the same general direction, whether expressed as south or north. Egypt is located sufficiently close to the Equator that through much of the year its climate is unbearably hot, so that the cool evening breeze that brings relief must come from the direction opposite to that of the Equator; a wind coming from the same direction as the Equator would be a hot one that makes matters worse. It follows, then, that if this text referred to a situation in which the cardinal points were reversed, a reference to the “delightful source” and “pleasant air” would have to be the south wind. But the text explicitly mentions the north wind, so that such an argument cannot stand.

23. While the appearance of Punt in Thutmose III’s list of southern lands is basically decisive in securing Punt’s location vis-à-vis Egypt, Velikovsky’s reference to the reversal of the cardinal points in his S.I.S. Review article could be used as an argument in favor of a northerly direction for Hatshepsut’s Punt expedition, and so this point must be addressed here.

First, let us consider the matter from the point of view of logic. Thutmose III’s northern list embraces the lands of Asia, while his southern list, which includes Punt, enumerates lands located in the opposite direction. If there had been a reversal of the cardinal points in the approximate decade and a half that intervened between Hatshepsut’s Punt expedition and the great Asiatic campaign of Thutmose III that prompted the carving of the geographical lists on the pylons of Karnak, then Punt would indeed have been to the north of Egypt. But the lands of Asia would then have been to the south of Egypt, and an identification of Punt with the kingdom of Solomon is thus precluded.

There is also an “argument from silence” to be made. I am not a scientist (and thus I am making no attempt to address the basic issue of catastrophes affecting the earth at any time, whether prehistoric or historical), but it seems to me that anything that might have induced a reversal of the cardinal points would have involved massive geological, tidal, and other upheavals. Indeed, the very fact of the reversal would have been so stunning that literate peoples would have recorded it. But neither the biblical accounts of Solomon’s reign nor the Egyptian records that have survived from the reigns of Hatshepsut and Thutmose III make any mention of such a reversal of cardinal points, or of the catastrophes that would have accompanied it.

Finally, there is something in the surviving records that indicates that the cardinal points were the same in Hatshepsut’s time as in that of Thutmose III. A scene in the Punt reliefs shows the presentation of gifts to Hatshepsut by the Puntites, as well as by people called the “chiefs of Irem” and the “chiefs of Nemyew.” The next scene shows the queen offering the gifts to Amon, and the products of Punt, Irem, and Nubia are depicted.[91] Velikovsky has

91. ARE II, Sec. 267 and 270.
noted these scenes in his discussion in Chapter III of Ages in Chaos. He notes that the chiefs of Irem “are not unlike the Egyptians,” while “the men of Nm’yew or Khenthenofer . . . look entirely different—they are dark-skinned and have round heads and thick lips, and seem themselves gifts like the animals and plants” (p. 125). Making a comparison with biblical information, he concludes that “the men of Nm’yw or Khenthenofer were probably the men of Ophir,” a land that he acknowledges to be somewhere to the south of Egypt (p. 126, with n. 8), while “the chiefs of Irem were therefore the messengers of Hiram (p. 126).[92] It is
92. I cannot tell from Velikovsky’s wording whether he is thinking of an identification of the word “Irem” with the name Hiram, but this is in any case a secondary matter.
worth mentioning here that the faces of the chiefs of Irem are almost completely destroyed in the surviving depiction,[93] so that there is in fact no basis for
93. Naville, Deir el Bahari, Part III, Plate 76.
Velikovsky’s contention that they “are not unlike the Egyptians.”

Let us, then, consider the inscriptions that accompany these scenes. The first is very broken; the surviving words of geographical interest are “the chiefs of Punt” and “the Nubian Troglodytes of Khenthennofer”[94]

94. ARE II, Sec. 268.
(thus, Khenthenofer was in Africa, as we know also from the introduction to Thutmose III’s southern list on the west front of the sixth pylon, cited above). The second, which accompanies the presentation to Amon, reads: “The King himself, the King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Makere (Hatshepsut); presentation of the marvels of Punt, the treasures of God’s-Land, together with the gifts of the countries of the South, with the impost of the wretched Kush, the baskets of the Negro-land, to Amon, lord of Thebes, presider over Karnak, for the sake of the life, prosperity, and health of the King of Upper and Lower Egypt, Makere (Hatshepsut), that she may live, abide, and her heart be joyful; that she may rule the Two Lands like Re, forever.”[95] It is clear from the wording of the
95. Ibid., Sec. 271.
inscription that all the products offered to the god, other than those of Punt (or God’s-Land), whatever the geographical direction of Punt, are from areas to the south of Egypt, and thus that Irem, whose products are depicted in the relief that the inscription accompanies is to the south of Egypt. But, as it happens, Irem occurs as number 11 in Thutmose’s list of southern countries![96] It thus follows
96. See Urk. IV, p. 796, line 14.
that the cardinal points were the same at the time of Hatshepsut’s Punt expedition as they were at the time of Thutmose III’s great Asiatic campaign approximately fourteen years later. Thus, Velikovksy’s remarks regarding reversals of the cardinal directions cannot save his argument: the Egyptian record shows unequivocally that in the reigns of Hatshepsut and Thutmose III, Irem and Punt were located to the south of Egypt.

24. the points just raised in justification of the traditional identification of Punt as a land somewhere to the south of Egypt are sufficient in and of themselves to demonstrate that the thesis of Chapter III of Ages in Chaos cannot be correct. It is hoped that the points raised in Part II of this paper explain, to the satisfaction of the lay reader who might have found Velikovsky’s arguments cogent, the mistakes and faulty logic that permeate that chapter. There remain, however, further points to be addressed.

In Chapter IV of Ages in Chaos, by way of substantiating his argument that Punt was in Asia, Velikovsky makes the following statements (pp. 171–172): “The sixth campaign of Thutmose III, like the first, was military: he conquered the north of Syria. Three years later he went to Palestine to gather the levy. After describing the tribute obtained from Sinar and Kheta and the land of Naharin, the register reads: ‘Marvels brought to his majesty in the land of Punt in this year: dried myrrh . . .’ The translator was surprised by this phrase.” Checking the footnote reference to the last sentence, I find not one word of surprise on Breasted’s part, but rather the following comment: “Or possibly ‘from’.”[97] Since we know that Punt was to the

97. ARE II, Sec. 486, footnote 3.
south of Egypt, we can be sure that the inscription is telling us nothing more than that products from Punt arrived in Egypt in the year of the sixth campaign; perhaps Thutmose returned to Egypt to find them waiting for him. The most basic meaning of the preposition her, which is used at this point in the inscription, is “upon,” but its meaning “from” in reference to foreign countries is well-attested.[98] Considering how long ago Breasted wrote his
98. See Wb. III, p. 131, no. VII.
Ancient Records of Egypt (it was published in 1906), it is quite possible that his hesitancy in assigning the correct meaning to the preposition was due to its not having been firmly established at that time. In any case, it can be seen that Velikovksy’s incorrect argument is based on his own inability to read ancient Egyptian and his reliance on an old translation.

25. In her article supportive of Velikovksy’s chapter on the queen of Sheba, Eva Danelius has described in detail the discovery of a temple of Hathor at Timna, where there are Egyptian inscriptions with royal names, beginning with Sethos I of the Nineteenth Dynasty and ending with Ramses V of the Twentieth Dynasty.[99] One of the objects of

99. KRONOS 1/3 (Fall 1975): 15–16.
Hatshepsut’s expedition, according to the inscriptions at Deir el Bahari, was “to bring all good things from the sovereign to Hathor, the lady of Punt,” and Danelius devotes several pages to an argument that the inscriptions refer to the erection of the Timna temple by Hatshepsut.[100]
100. Ibid., 1/4 (Winter 1976): 15–20.

By now, the reader is aware that Hatshepsut was not the queen of Sheba, and that the Punt expedition went to a land south of Egypt. The flaws in Danelius’s argument are these: First, the Egyptian inscriptions do not say that Hatshepsut’s expedition built a temple, but rather that it presented an offering to Hathor of Punt. Second, the inscriptional evidence from Timna goes back no further than Sethos I of the Nineteenth Dynasty; despite all her words, Danelius cannot establish any connection between this temple and the Eighteenth Dynasty, much less the specific reign of Hatshepsut.

But the matter of a “Hathor Lady (or Mistress) of Punt” who received Egyptian veneration surely arouses the curiosity of the reader, and an Egyptological explanation is in order. The name of the goddess Hathor consists of two words and means “House of Horus”; the translation “house” is inevitably a bit misleading, for the nuance of the Egyptian word is not specifically an edifice per se, but rather a landholding institution.[101] Thus, the basic concept

101. Hans Goedicke, Mitteilungen des Deutschen Archäologischen Instituts Kairo 21 (1966): 18.
underlying the goddess of Hathor is that of nature, that is, the natural world in which the Egyptian king, as representative of the god Horus, operates to rule and order it, both within Egypt and outside its borders.[102] In this
102. See Bonnet, Reallexikon, p. 277; Goedicke, Journal of the American Research Center in Egypt 8 (1969–1970): 15, with n. 29.
connection, the Egyptian timber trade with Byblos was so important that, while Byblos remained independent of Egypt, the Egyptians identified the local goddess Baalat with Hathor, and the Egyptian kings presented statues of themselves and other votive objects to her. Similarly, when the Egyptian kings sent copper mining expeditions into the wasteland of Sinai, they viewed Hathor as the patron goddess of that region and built a temple for her there.[103] This
103. Bonnet, op. cit., p. 281; Goedicke, loc. cit.
is why the kings of the Nineteenth Dynasty, when, for reasons we do not know, undertook direct supervision of the mining at Timna,[104] built a temple of Hathor there.
104. I do not understand why Danelius confuses the issue of Timna and Sinai by invoking the Amalekites as conducting the mining on behalf of the Egyptians; no Egyptian text mentions them.

In light of these facts, and of Punt’s importance to Egypt as a source of precious materials, it is not at all surprising to find that there was a “Hathor Mistress of Punt.”[105] We know that she was recognized by the Egyptians

105. See Bonnet, loc. cit.
from at least very early in the Twelfth Dynasty, for an inscription found in the Wadi Gasus excavations refers to Sesostris I as “beloved of Hathor Mistress of Punt.”[106] An
106. Sayed, Revue d’égyptologie 29 (1977): 159–160. v
inscription from the reign of Sesostris II makes the laconic statement: “Year 1, his monument in God’s-Land was executed.”[107} Though it cannot be proved, this certainly
107. ARE I, Sec. 618.
sounds like a reference to construction of an Egyptian temple to Hathor, or to a local goddess identified with Hathor. As already noted, Hatshepsut’s great accomplishment was the reestablishing of a direct trade with Punt, one that had been interrupted when the Hyksos invasion brought the Middle Kingdom to a close. The mention of Hathor Mistress of Punt under Sesostris I (and possibly the Sesostris II reference) is sufficient to show that in Hatshepsut’s day there was a historical recollection of Egyptian worship of Hathor in that land.

Part IV

It has been established in Part III of this paper that Punt lay to the south rather than to the north of Egypt, and thus in the opposite direction from the kingdom of Solomon. In Part II, it has been shown that Velikovsky’s arguments for an equation of Hatshepsut’s Punt expedition with the queen of Sheba’s visit to the court of Solomon, appealing though they might seem at first glance, cannot stand up against a critical scrutiny based on considerations of evidence, philology, and logic. Inevitably, the question arises, what implication does this have for the rest of Ages in Chaos and for the revised chronology as a whole?[108]

108. I have not been following the ongoing discussion of Velikovsky's work since I wrote this paper in 1984. I can only refer the reader to the works cited in note 2 for critiques of other portions of the revised chronology.

Intellectual honesty compels the admission that, strictly speaking, there is no implication. Ages in Chaos is written in such a manner that Chapter III can be removed from it without disturbing the remainder. The most that has literally been proved here is that Hatshepsut and the queen of Sheba, and their respective expeditions, were not the same; to those committed to Velikovsky’s revised chronology, the Punt expedition and the visit to the court of Solomon can be viewed as different events, but nevertheless contemporary or roughly contemporary.

This admission might give rise to some suspicion that in writing at such great length, I have put myself in the position of the mountain that labored to give birth to a mouse. But I do not think that this is the case. I mentioned at the outset my hope that these remarks would have some educational value for readers who are interested in Velikovsky’s work, but who are not familiar with the workings of scholarship in the area of the ancient Near East. Further, as I also indicated, there has been on the whole a curious silence in academic circles regarding the revised chronology, and I think that it is worthwhile, in partial rectification of this situation, to have treated at least one text of Velikovsky’s (in this case, a single chapter) at length, taking it at face value as a learned contribution to scholarly understanding of a historical question, and subjecting it in that light to a critical evaluation. The findings in this case have been negative, and although this does not in and of itself disprove the rest of Velikovsky’s revised chronology, there have emerged in the course of this discussion a number of considerations that must surely have some bearing on any future evaluation of the remainder.

As a man educated in science and medicine, Velikovsky took a very brave. but potentially risky, step in venturing into areas far removed from his own specialty when his researches led him to conclude that a major revision of ancient chronology was necessary. Several of the points raised above have shown that evidence that Velikovsky was unaware of can be brought to bear upon his arguments in a negative way (in this connection, see also the papers cited in note 108). A more fundamental difficulty clearly lies in the fact that, during the decades when he was working on the revised chronology, Velikovsky never undertook to acquire a rudimentary knowledge of the ancient near eastern languages that would have given him some degree of “control” over the materials with which he was working. (Though the results of archaeological investigations play some role in Velikovksy’s work, it is clear from even a cursory reading of the volumes of the “Ages in Chaos” series dealing with the ancient Near East that he dealt primarily with written history, that is, with the textual evidence of the ancient literate cultures.) Thus, we have seen that for lack of knowledge of ancient Egyptian, he was misled by a grossly inaccurate statement by Naville (point 8) and by an incorrect translation by Breasted (point 24). Similarly, in relying on translations of Old Testament passages, he made errors based on Hebrew grammar (points 5 and 6) and the Hebrew alphabet (point 11) that would never have been made had he considered the Hebrew text. Further, it has been shown in Part II that each time Velikovsky tried to equate names from two different languages, his argument was wrong for reasons that are known to every first-year student of the languages in question.

I am sorry to say that instances of the abuse of evidence have also been noted. In three cases, portions of text passages that provided evidence against the very arguments they were cited to support were not quoted, their presence being indicated only by an ellipsis (points 13—two instances—and 16). In another instance, words spoken by the god Amon-Re were placed in the mouth of Hatshepsut (point 13). I regret that these instances came to light, and I do not intend to dwell on the possible implications of this phenomenon; but I cannot avoid noting its occurrence.

In Part II, there were also several instances where logic alone—that is, clear thinking—could have sufficed to argue against Velikovsky’s contentions, even without the citation of evidence or the adducing of philological considerations. Indeed, it emerges from the commentary in Part II that what might appear at first glance to be a carefully researched and tightly woven argument turns out to be an illogical concatenation of superficially similar points that quickly falls apart when subjected to close scrutiny.

It should be clear to the reader that the considerations just outlined are so fundamental that it is impossible for their effect to be limited to only one chapter of one book of the “Ages in Chaos” series (that they are indeed not is shown in the articles cited in note 2). It is too great an inferential leap to insist that the remainder of “Ages in Chaos” must therefore be dismissed; but it is equally clear that, to a greater or lesser degree, these problems surely affect the arguments therein.

It is thus necessary to caution the lay reader against too ready an acceptance of Velikovsky’s admittedly seductive arguments. Even without knowledge of the ancient languages or access to a library filled with recondite scholarly journals, the reader can at least subject the logic of Velikovsky’s arguments to close scrutiny; and to the extent possible, the reader can refer to translations of ancient texts cited by Velikovsky to note the general context of the passages cited, and to discover the contents of anything he represents only by ellipses.

To those in academics who have taken pen in hand to defend all or part of the revised chronology, or who plan to do so, I would urge the following, and I do so in a spirit of friendship and respect for dispassionate scholarly inquiry. Velikovsky’s text must be subjected to as close and careful a scrutiny as articles written in opposition to Velikovsky (primarily by scientists) have been subjected in the journals of Velikovskian interest. It is essential (and perhaps all the more so in light of the instances of abuse of evidence that I have cited) that one be sure that one is defending the defensible. I think that it is time for a further critical consideration of Velikovsky’s arguments; and by “critical” I mean here, as I have meant elsewhere in this paper, not the intent of fault-finding, but rather a close and careful evaluation.

The task of examining the remainder of Ages in Chaos, however, would surely best be placed in other hands than mine. My own academic specialty is Egyptology, while most of the remainder of the volume deals with matters that fall within the realms of biblical scholarship, Ugaritic studies, and Assyriology (the Amarna Letters).

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