Joseph and His Brothers, page 132
"In the kennel."
"I thought so. Have him brought to me. Let my saintly parents be called from the upper story, even if they may be sleeping. The household servants are to gather before my seat of authority, which I would have placed here where the mistress is sitting, that she may rise only after I have passed judgment."
These orders were hastily carried out, the only difficulty arising from the initial refusal of the parental siblings, Huya and Tuya, to appear. For they had been told about the disturbance by their
docile servants. With little funnel-shaped mouths, the twig-armed girls had informed them of these events, which, like their son of atonement and courtier of Hght, the old couple had always been secretly expecting; and now they were afraid and did not want to come down because any investigation of these matters promised to be a foretaste of their own judgment before the king below and they both knew themselves to be too weak in the head to muster arguments to justify their actions, knew that they would be unable to manage anything more than "we meant well." Which was why they sent word that they were shortly before their demise and no longer up to the rigors of a household court. But their son, the master, grew angry, even stamped his feet, and demanded that they have someone help them downstairs just as they were; for if their demise was imminent, the place where Mut, their daughter-in-law, sat lamenting and demanding justice was a very suitable spot for it.
And so they came downstairs to the gate, supported by their child attendants—old Huya, his little silver beard quivering, his head shaking terribly; old Tuya with a halfhearted smile and those blind slits in her broad white face shifting back and forth as if in search of something. They were made to stand beside Petepre's chair of judgment, and at first both of them could only excitedly stammer "We meant well," but they then calmed down. Mut the mistress sat with her forfeited token beside a footstool in front of the chair, behind which a red-robed Moor kept tall fans in motion, while men bearing torches were stationed around the group. But the courtyard was also brightened by torchlight wherever servants still on leave for the day had gathered; and Joseph was led forward to the stairs, manacled and accompanied by Se'enkh-Wen-nofre-et-cetera, for the little man refused to let go of his skirt; just as Dudu, in certain hope that his finest hour could only become finer still, also took his dignified place—so that the two men of reduced stature now stood next to the delinquent, one on each side.
Petepre was quick to speak, invoking legal formulas in his high voice: "Judgment will now be rendered here, but we are in haste. I call upon you of the ibis-head, who wrote the laws of mankind, upon you, white ape beside the scales; and upon you. Mistress Ma'at, whose charge is truth and whose adornment is ostrich feathers. The sacrifices we supplicants owe you will be offered afterward,
that is my pledge and they are as good as performed. But time presses. I shall speak justice over this house, which is mine, and this is what I speak."
Having said this with uplifted hands, he now took a more comfortable position in one corner of his chair of authority, and, bracing one elbow and casually letting his little hand dangle over the armrest, he now went on:
"Despite the host of precautions this house has taken against evil and in defiance of an impenetrable wall of charms and good words to ward off evil, sorrow has succeeded in forcing its way in and breaking for now the spell of peace and tender consideration in which this house rested. A very sad and horrible state of affairs, all the more so since this evil became manifest on the very day that Pharaoh's love and grace deigned to adorn me with the ring and splendid title of Sole Friend, on a day, that is, when one would expect finest courtesy and salutary congratulations from one's fellow men, not, however, to be met with the horror of tottering order. Be that as it may, this sorrow long ago penetrated the defenses of this house and has been gnawing at its lovely order and working toward its collapse, for such is its threat and so it is written: the rich shall be poor, the poor rich, and the temples shall be desolated. For a long time now, I say, this evil has been eating away in silence, hidden from most, but not hidden from the eye of its master, who is both father and mother to this house, for his eye is like the ray of the moon that impregnates the cow and the breath of his word like the wind that bears pollen from tree to tree in token of divine fertility. And since from the loins of his presence all beginning and thriving gushes like golden honey from the comb, nothing escapes his view, and though it be hidden from most, it lies open before his gaze. Learn this, then, from this occasion of such destruction. For I know very well the saying attached to my name, that is, that I concern myself with nothing on earth except the meals I take. But this is only idle chatter and misses the point. Let it be known, then, that I know all; and so if there emerges a fear of the master and a dread of his penetrating eye from this disruption over which I now sit here in judgment, it will then be said of it that despite its being a great sadness it has had its good side as well."
He grasped a malachite flacon of perfume that hung from a chain
down over his collar and put it to his nose, and having refreshed himself with it, he continued as follows:
"And so I have long been familiar with the paths this invading sorrow has followed within my house. But also open to my gaze were the paths of those who abetted it with arrogant cunning and prepared a way for it out of envy and hate—and not only that, but also first divulged those points where it might slip through all good protective charms and gain entrance to this house. The traitor stands before my chair in the dwarfish person of the erstwhile guardian of my jewels and chests, and his name is Dudu. He was forced to admit all his wickedness to me, how he opened the door to greedy evil and showed it the way. Let judgment be spoken against him! Far be it from me to rob him of the potency that the lord of the sun was once disposed to unite with his shrunken form—I will not touch it. But let the traitor's tongue be cut out."
"Half his tongue," he corrected himself and gave a wave of his hand in disgust when Dudu let out a loud wail of anguish. "But since I am accustomed," he added, "to having my gemstones and clothing kept in the care of a dwarf and it is not my wish that my customary ways should suffer from any confusion, I herewith name the other dwarf of my house, Se'enkh-Wen-nofre-Neteruhotpe-em-per-Amun, to be scribe of the wardrobe chamber—may he have charge over my chests from henceforth."
Favored Bes—that Httle nose in that wrinkled face now cinnabar red from weeping for Joseph—gave a leap of joy.
Mistress Mut, however, lifted her head to look up at Petepre's chair and whispered between her teeth, "What judgments are these that you render, my consort? They deal with only marginal affairs and are quite irrelevant. What are people to think of you as a judge, and how shall I rise again from this place if such are your judgments?"
"Patience," he replied just as softly, bending down to her from his chair. "For little by little justice and judgment shall be meted out to each and the evildoer will be overtaken by his offense. Just sit still. You will soon be able to rise again as gratified as if you yourself were judge. For I judge for you, my dear, but without intervention by all too much human heart—and be glad of that. For if the heart were to speak in its impetuosity, it might well fall prey to eternal remorse."
And having softly spoken these words to her, he sat up straight again and said, "Muster all your courage, Osarsiph, my erstwhile steward, for I now come to you, and you shall hear your judgment, which you have perhaps anxiously awaited for some time—I have intentionally prolonged your wait in order to magnify your punishment. For I intend to deal roughly with you and impose harsh punishment upon you—quite apart from that which arises from within your own soul, for those three beasts with ugly names are now hot on your heels. Their names, if I recall correctly, are Shame, Guilt, and Mocking Laughter. It is they who understandably cause you to sink your head and stand before my chair with lowered eyes, which I notice not for the first time; for I have not lifted my secret gaze from you during the long torment of the wait I have demanded of you. You stand manacled, your head sunk deep, and are silent, and how could you not be silent, for no questions will be asked you as to your justification and it is the mistress who has witnessed against you with her unimpeachable word, which of itself would suffice for my decision, but in addition to which there also lies before me the shameful evidence of your outer garment, speaking the irrefutable language of things and telling of your insolence, which finally went so far that you rose up against your mistress and, when she attempted to call you to account, you had to leave your garment in her hand. I ask you: What point would there be in your offering anything in your defense against the word of the mistress and the language of things?"
Joseph was silent and hung his head lower still.
"Apparently none," Petepre answered for his part. "You must be dumb as the lamb is dumb before its shearers—you have no other choice here today, however quick and indeed pleasant your speech may otherwise have been. But thank the god of your clan, your Baal or Adon, who is probably Hke the setting sun, that he guarded you in your insolence and did not allow your rising up against her to come to the worst, but stripped you of your garment—thank him, I say, for otherwise this would be the hour of the crocodile, or your portion were slow death by fire, if not the peg in the door to the hall. But there can indeed be no question of such punishments—for since you were protected from the worst, I am in no position to impose them. But do not doubt that it is nonetheless my will to deal roughly
with you, and now hear your judgment after your intentionally prolonged wait. I cast you into the prison where the king's prisoners lie—Zawi-Re, the island fortress in the river; for you no longer belong to me, but to Pharaoh and are a slave of the king. I give you into the hand of the jailer, a man who is not to be trifled with and who, one can assume, is not a man to be easily misled by your seemingly beneficial ways, so that you will have it very hard in prison, at least at first. Moreover, I shall particularly inform the warden about you in a letter that I shall send with you and in which I intend to describe you in a fashion befitting you. Tomorrow you will be taken by boat to that place of atonement, which knows no laughter, and will no longer behold my countenance, after having been near me for a succession of many cordial years, with permission to fill my goblet and to read to me from good authors. This may indeed pain you, and I would not be amazed to find your lowered eyes filled now with tears. Be that as it may, tomorrow you shall be taken to that very hard place. You need not return now to the kennel. You have served out that punishment, and it is rather Dudu who may spend the night there, until his tongue is cropped in the morning. You, however, may sleep where you normally sleep, in the special chamber of trust, which for this night, however, should bear the name of special chamber of custody. Furthermore, since you are manacled, justice demands that Dudu should be fitted with a manacle as well, that is, if there is another. But if there is none, then let Dudu wear it. I have spoken. The household court is ended. Let each man return to his post to receive our guests."
No one will be surprised to learn that upon hearing these judgments all those in the courtyard fell upon their faces, raising their hands and calling out the name of their gentle and wise master. And Joseph, too, fell upon his face in gratitude, as did Huya and Tuya, who, supported by their child attendants, bent low to honor their son—and were you to ask about Mut-em-enet, the mistress, you would hear that she was no exception. One saw her bend low across the footstool that stood before the judge's chair and hide her brow in her consort's feet.
"No need to thank me, my friend," he said. "I would be happy if I have succeeded in satisfying you in this affliction and in having proved my kindness with my power. We can now enter the reception
hall, that we may celebrate my day of honor. For since you wisely tended the house during the day, you have spared yourself for the evening."
And so Joseph descended into the pit and into prison a second time. How he rose up again from that hole to a higher life, let that be the subject of future songs.
JOSEPH THE PROVIDER
PRELUDE IN HIGHER ECHELONS
In higher circles and echelons there reigned at that time, as always under similar circumstances, a gentle but pointed satisfaction, a tiptoeing schadenfreude, revealed in every encounter by glances exchanged with demurely lowered lashes and lips pulled down into little pursed rounds. Once again the cup was brimful, mercy exhausted, justice overdue. In a complete reversal of plans and wishes—the result of pressure from the Realm of Sternness (before which the world, to be sure, could not even stand; indeed that realm could never have built it upon those all too soft foundations of compassion and mercy)—One had been compelled, in all the majesty of One's sorrow, to intervene and set matters aright, to overthrow, to destroy, and, yet once again, to level the whole—^just as in the time of the Flood, or on that day of raining brimstone when those wicked cities were engulfed by the caustic sea.
Granted, this concession to justice was not of that style or on that scale, not of such ferocity as when that great fit of remorse resulted in wholesale drowning—or when two of us, thanks to the depraved aesthetics of the people of Sodom, almost had an unspeakable city tax extorted from them. This was an instance not simply of humankind's landing in the pit, in the cesspool, or even of some human group whose corrupt ways cried out to heaven, but of one particularly saucy and arrogant individual specimen of the race, a man especially burdened with predilection, zeal, and far-reaching plans, who had been thrust in our faces—the result of a whimsical train of thought only too familiar to these circles and echelons and long a source of bitterness, though also of the not unfounded expectation that that same bitterness would soon be the portion of the One who had initiated the offensive scheme and set it into motion. "The angels," the scheme said, "were created in Our image, yet are not fruitful. Whereas, behold the beasts are fruitful, yet are not after Our Hkeness. We will create man—in the image of the angels, and yet fruitful!"
How absurd. Worse than gratuitous, injurious in fact, eccentric, and gravid with remorse and bitterness. We were not "fruitful"— certainly not. We were, one and all, chamberlains of light and serene courtiers, and the tale of our having once gone in to the daughters of men was baseless worldly gossip. But all in all, no matter what interesting corollaries, beyond mere bestiality, may be inherent in that bestial advantage and quality of "fruitfulness," we, though "unfruitful," at least did not drink iniquity like water; and One will see just how far One gets with One's fruitful race of angels—perhaps even so far as the insight that, for One's own peace of mind, an omnipotence informed by self-control and prudent foresight might well have rested eternally content with just our respectable existence.
An omnipotence that knows no boundaries in inventiveness and in calling things into being with a mere "Let there be" carried, needless to say, its own risks—even omniscience may not have been completely up to the task, may have been insufficient to prevent the blunders and highly egregious, otiose effects of exercising such absolute attributes. Out of pure restlessness, out of a pure need to act and a pure urge for "if one thing, why not another," for "after angels and beasts, why not an angelic beast as well," One became entangled in imprudence, created something flagrantly precarious and embarrassing—on which, given One's venerable obstinacy. One then, precisely because it was an undeniably botched creation, hung One's heart all the more and attended to it with a zeal insulting to all heaven.
Did One come up with the idea of calling this unpleasantness into being all on One's own, solely of One's own accord? Certain confidential and clandestine surmises suggesting the contrary circulated through the ranks of the hierarchy—surmises that although unverifiable were definitely based on the probability that the entire matter could be traced to the promptings of the great Sammael, who at the time, before his effulgent fall, had still stood very close to the Throne. Such whispered promptings were very like him—and why? Because his chief concern had been to initiate and make a reality of evil, which, although no one else entertained or cultivated such an idea, was his innermost thought, and because there had been no other means by which to enrich the world's repertoire with that same evil than through the establishment of man. There could be no question of evil—Sammael's great innovation—among the fruitful
beasts, let alone among us unfruitful images of God. In order that it might come into the world, one creature was needed, and in all probability Sammael suggested that it be introduced there: something like unto God, but at the same time fruitful, which is to say man. Not that this had required any deception of creative omnipotence, by the by, inasmuch as Sammael, in a display of his customary grandeur, presumably did not even conceal the consequence of his recommended creature—to wit: the birth of evil—but had instead fiercely and straightforwardly proclaimed it, though always, or so the hierarchy surmised, with an appeal to the significant growth in vitality that the Creator's own nature would experience through it. One needed only to think of the exercise of grace and mercy, of judgment and correction, of the emergence of merit and guilt, of reward and punishment—or, better, quite simply of the establishment of good, which was bound up with that of evil, since in fact the former had to lie in the womb of possibilities, awaiting its opposite, before it could come into existence; and in its essence creation itself was founded upon division, had begun in the moment of the dividing of light from darkness, so that the logical consequence would be for omnipotence to proceed from this purely external division to its establishment in the moral world.
The opinion that these had been the arguments with which the great Sammael had cajoled the Throne and won it over to his suggestions was widespread among the circles and echelons—very sly suggestions indeed, sly enough to set them giggling, for it was a trap despite all its fierce candor, the latter itself merely the cloak for a cunning and malice that did not meet with a total lack of sympathy among the echelons. Sammael's malice, however, consisted of the following: If those beasts for which the gift of fruitfulness was intended were not made after God's likeness, then neither, to be precise, were we courtiers made in His image, for, thank God, we enjoyed a tidy lack of fruitfulness. The qualities portioned out between them and us—godliness and fruitfulness—had originally been united within the Creator Himself, and only the creature suggested by Sammael would be truly created in His image, only in it was that union likewise to be found. With this creature, however—that is, with man—evil came into the world.
