Joseph and his brothers, p.119
Joseph and His Brothers, page 119
Can even the most vigorous person, someone highly responsive to matters of love, declare as incredible a "chastity" rooted in a decision, demanded by the most basic religious prudence, to avoid an error more egregious and injurious to Joseph's future than any other he might commit?
These were the seven reasons why Joseph did not wish to follow the call of his mistress's blood—not for anything. We have them now at full count, feel their full weight, and can regard them with a certain composure—though the latter is hardly fitting, given the festal hour of the events we commemorate here, since Joseph still hangs in the balance of full temptation and, as the story originally told itself, it had not yet been determined at this point if he would be able to emerge unscathed. He just barely managed it, he came away with a black eye—we know that. But why did he risk going so far? Why did he ignore the whispered warnings of his true little friend, who already saw the pit gaping wide to receive him, and instead keep company with the phallic dwarf who poured deceiving panderer's words from his pouch of a mouth? In a word: why, after all, did he not choose to avoid his mistress, instead of allowing things to come to the pass between them to which, as we know, they did indeed come? Yes, well, there was his flirtation with the world, a curiosity and sympathy for what was forbidden; there was also a certain intellectual fascination with his own death-ridden name and the divine status it implied; moreover there was some self-assured cockiness, the confidence that he could venture far into danger—and always return if need be; and, as the more praiseworthy reverse of all this, there was a will to demand the impossible of himself, a proud desire to take the hard knocks, to not spare himself, to push things to their limits in order to emerge from temptation all the more triumphant— to be a virtuoso of virtue and more precious in his father's eyes than a cautious, less risky testing would have left him. Perhaps there was even a secret knowledge of his path and its winding course, a premonition that it wanted to complete another smaller loop and for the second time lead him into the pit that could not be avoided if all things written in the book of plans were to be fulfilled.
Part Seven
THE PIT
Billets-doux
As we have said and shall see, in the third year of her smitten state, the tenth of Joseph's sojourn in the chamberlain's house, Potiphar's wife began to offer her love to Jacob's son, and with ever increasing vehemence. In reality, there is no great difference between the "letting him know" of the second year and the "offering" of the third; the latter was already contained in the former—the border between them is fluid. But it does exist, and crossing it, moving from mere adoration and devouring glances (though these, to be sure, had implied pursuit) to actual demands cost the woman almost as much effort as it would for her to have overcome her weakness and renounce her desire for her slave—though not quite as much, really; for otherwise she would obviously have rather made the other effort.
She did not; instead of overcoming her love, she overcame her pride and her shame, which was difficult enough, though somewhat easier—a bit easier also because she was not left entirely alone in her effort, as would have been the case with overcoming her desire, but found help in Dudu, the propagating dwarf, who passed back and forth with dignity between her and Jacob's son, as the first and only man, or so he thought, to play the role of mischievous patron, counselor, and ambassador, all the while puffing his cheeks full and blowing to fan both fires. For there were indeed two fires here and not just one. The instructive, healing regimen with which Joseph attempted to justify the fact that he did not avoid his mistress, but stood before her almost daily, was outright asinine balderdash, because in fact, whether knowingly or not, he had long since achieved divine status, with mummy's wrappings ripped open wide—and Dudu understood all this, of course, no less than quivering Favored Bes, for in this regard his wit and expertise did not merely match those of his little cousin, they surpassed them.
"Young steward," he said at Joseph's end of his path, "until now you have known to make your fortune, as even eny—though I
know it not—must admit. Despite your doubtlessly respectable, though modest origins, you have shunted aside those over you. You sleep in the special chamber of trust, and the perquisites of grain, bread, beer, geese, linen, and leather that Usir Mont-kaw once enjoyed are now yours to enjoy. You bring them to market inasmuch as you cannot possibly consume them all; you increase your wealth and appear to be a made man. But as is often said, what goes up must come down, what is made can be unmade if a man knows not how to hold fast to his good fortune, to fortify it with underpinnings and unshakable foundations, so that it may endure like a temple of the dead. Again and again, it has been known to happen that a man may lack only some little something to crown his good fortune, to perfect it and make it unshakable, and he need only reach out his hand to grab it. But be it out of fear or bewilderment, be it out of indolence or even arrogance, the fool refrains from doing so, hides his hand in his robe, and for the life of him stubbornly refuses to reach out for that last bit of good fortune, neglects it, disdains it, casts it to the wind. And the outcome? The sad outcome is that all his fortune and all his gains collapse and are razed to the ground, so that the place where he was knows him no more—and all because of one act of disdain. For by it he provoked those powers that wished to join in his good fortune and proposed to add their lovely favor as the last and highest portion of his good fortune, so that it might endure forever; but once disdained and offended, they rage like the seas, so that their eyes shoot flames of fire and their hearts bring forth sandstorms like those from the mountains of the East, and they do not merely turn away from the man's good fortune, but turn against it in great wrath and destroy it to its foundations—which costs them nothing at all. I do not doubt that you recognize what great concern I, as an honest man, have for your good fortune, though not only for yours, but also and equally for that of the person to whom my words—unmistakably, or so I would hope—allude. But they are one and the same: her good fortune is yours—and yours, hers. That union has long since become happy truth, and all that matters now is that it be luxuriously perfected in reality. For when I think and picture in my soul what luxury that union would surely have to provide you, even I, stalwart as I am, grow giddy. I do not speak of fleshly luxury, first out of modesty and second because it would, but of course, be so very great because of said person's silken skin and the exquisite com-
position of her frame. The luxury of which I speak is that of the soul, by which that of the flesh would surely be exalted beyond measure, and it consists in the thought that you—being as you are of certainly honorable, but really quite modest and foreign origins—will embrace the most beautiful and noble woman of the Two Lands in your arms and evoke from her the finest sighs on your behalf, in token as it were that you, a lad of the wretched sands, have subdued the land of Egypt, which lies sighing beneath you. And how do you pay for this twofold bliss, of which the one form would necessarily prick the other to quite unheard-of heights? You do not pay a thing, but are rewarded—by the irreversible and unshakable perpetuation of your good fortune, inasmuch as you would truly rise up to become lord and master of this house. For whoever possesses its mistress," Dudu said, "is truly its master." And he raised his stubby arms just as he did before Potiphar and blew a kiss to the earth, as if to suggest that he was already kissing it before Joseph's feet.
Joseph had listened in disgust, it's true, to this seasoned pan-derer's very vulgar words—but he had listened, so that the haughtiness of his reply did not quite become him.
"I would prefer, dwarf, if you did not delight in speaking for yourself so much and in spinning out all on your own peculiar ideas that are little to the purpose, but that you would confine yourself to your post as messenger and informer. If you have anything to reveal and deliver from a higher party, then do so. If not, I would prefer you toddle off."
"It would be culpable of me," Dudu responded, "were I to toddle off prematurely, before having delivered my message. For I have something to transmit and offer to you. Surely a ranking messenger should be allowed some personal trimming, decorating, and elucidating of his message."
"And what is it?" Joseph asked.
And the gnome handed something up to him, a papyrus note, a small slip, long and very narrow, on which Mut, the mistress, had painted a few words . . .
For at the other end of his path, this jack-of-all-mischief had spoken as follows:
"If your most faithful servant, by which I mean myself, may speak to the depths of your soul, great mistress, he finds he has grown weary of the pace at which your affairs and concerns move
forward and progress, for it is sluggish and stagnant. This pinches your servant to the core with vexation and worry for your sake, for your beauty could suffer from it. Not that one sets it suffer at present—heaven forbid—for it flourishes at the zenith of its bloom and will enjoy all manner of increase yet, so that it could even diminish a great deal and still radiantly exceed the humanly commonplace. So far, so good. But your honor, if not your beauty, suffers—and mine with it as well—under conditions and circumstances pertaining to this young man who stands over the house, who calls himself Usar-siph, but whom I would like to call Nefernefru, for he is assuredly the most beautiful of the beautiful. . . The name pleases you, does it not? I devised it for your use—or, no, did not devise, but heard and snatched it up so that I might place it at your disposal; for he is frequently called that, whether in the house or upon highways and waterways or in the city; indeed, it is his special name among the women upon its roofs and walls, against whose behavior, sad to say, it has as yet proved impossible to take serious countermeasures. . . . But allow me to continue with my well-considered words. For the sake of your honor, your most humble servant is rankled to his liver by how very slowly you are nearing your goal with this Nefernefru—that being, as we both know, to discover his magic and bring him to ruin and for him to name you his name. It is true that I have arranged for and seen to it that my mistress and her servant no longer approach one another under escort of scribes and handmaids, so that wherever they chance to meet they may converse without constraint and onerous formalities, tete-a-tete and mouth to mouth. That improves prospects that he will at last tell you his name in some sweetest, most quiet hour, when you will faint away with the joy of your triumph over him, that wicked man, and over all those whom his mouth and eye have bewitched. For you will seal up his mouth in such fashion that his beguiling speech will fail him and you will cause the eye that enchants everyone to grow dim in the bliss of defeat. But the difficulty is that the lad resists his defeat and does not want to be brought to his ruin by you, his mistress, which to my eyes is sedition so shamefaced that Dudu does not shrink to brand it as shameless. For how is it? What is this? You wish to conquer him and call him to his defeat—you, the child of Amun, the blossom of his Southern House of Women. And he, a Habiru from Amu, a foreign slave and son of low rank, proves fractious, does not want what
you want, hides from you behind chitchat and household accounts? That is not to be tolerated. It is insurrection and saucy contempt by the gods of Asia, who owe tribute to Amun, the lord in his shrine. Thus the vexation of the house has changed its aspect and content, which at first consisted only in the rise of a slave within the house. But it has now become open rebellion by the gods of Asia, who do not wish to offer the tribute they owe to Amun, payable in the form of the defeat of this lad before you, Amun's child. For it has to come to that. I offered timely warning. But the just man cannot wash you entirely clean, either, great lady, or exonerate you of all guilt in the abomination that prevents progress in this matter, so that it is stagnant. For you do not push it forward and out of maidenly delicacy allow the lad to play his game with Amun, the king of the gods, and, by feints and subterfuges, prove more fractious with each new moon. This is most dreadful indeed. But it can be traced to your maidenly reserve, which falters for lack of full vigor and mature experience in such affairs. Forgive your sterling servant such a remark, but, in truth, from where else are you to gain what you lack? What you should do without hesitation is call this artful dodger before you and demand outright his tribute and defeat, so that he cannot slip from your grasp. If, in your maidenly reserve, you cannot do so in spoken words, behold, there are always written ones—the path of the billet-doux, so that, willy-nilly, he will understand when he reads something such as 'Do you wish to triumph over me today in a game? Let us play, the two of us, upon the board.' That is what is called a billet-doux, for in it vigorous maturity speaks with clarity, but in words of maidenly indirection. Let me place the utensils before you, and you can write as I dictate, so that I may deliver it to him and the affair may at last progress to the glory of Amun."
These, then, were the words of Dudu, the stalwart dwarf. In her dazed state and out of maidenly submission to his own fractious authority in these matters, Eni actually did prepare the note according to his direction; but as Joseph read it now, he could not hide the red of Atum that rose to his face, and in anger at his own reaction he roughly chased the letter carrier off without a word of thanks. Despite all the anxious whispers from the opposing side advising him not to accept this treacherous challenge, he accepted it nonetheless and played a game with his mistress—just the two of them, beneath the image of Re-Horakhte in the columned portico—during which
he "forced her into the water'' at one point, but then let himself be forced into it as well, so that victory and defeat canceled each other out and the score of their encounter was a zero—much to Dudu's disappointment, who regarded the affair as still stagnant.
Which is why he took yet another step and went for the prize, arranging things so that he could once again speak to Joseph from that pouch at one side of his mouth.
"I have something to present to you from a special party."
"What is it?" Joseph asked.
And the dwarf handed up to him a narrow slip that one might well say advanced matters with one desperate jolt, because it clearly and unmistakably contained a word that we previously said has been misinterpreted, because it came not from a harlot but from a woman who had been overwhelmed—a word expressed, however, in the roundabout way that the written word allows in all things, particularly the Egyptian written word (which of course was what the writer of the note used), an ornamental but concise script that allows vowels to remain mute, but by scattering symbols throughout to help indicate the conceptual category evoked by purely consonantal sounds, always retains about it something of a magic rebus, of a florid game of hide-and-seek, of a witty, logogriphic masquerade, so that it truly seems made for composing billets-doux, lending even the most straightforward statement an ingenious grace. The crucial passage in Mut-em-enet's message—what we would call the point of it—consisted of three phonic symbols, preceded by several other equally pretty ones and concluding with the swiftly sketched outline of a lion-headed couch with a mummy lying upon it. The rebus looked like this:
'^<=> ^
and it meant "to lie" or, indeed, "to sleep," for those two are a single word in the language of Keme; "to lie" and "to sleep" are the same in its script; and the entire line on the narrow slip, signed with the symbol of a vulture—which is what "Mut" means—clearly and bluntly said: "Come, that we may sleep together for an hour."
What a document! Precious as gold, so honorable and touching, but also by its very nature dangerous, depressing, and wicked. Here in its basic, original version—in the form that Egypt's language
Stamped upon it—we have the insistent proposal that tradition says Potiphar's wife made to Joseph. It was in this written form that she first made it to him, under the influence of Dudu, the propagating dwarf, who had dictated it to her from his pouch of a mouth. But if we are moved by the sight, what must have been Joseph's shock when he deciphered it. Pale with dismay, he hid the note, crumpling it up in his hand and chasing Dudu off with the handle of his fly-swatter. But the message—that sweet demand, that eager and promising call of love's mistress—had been delivered, and though in all honesty Joseph should hardly have been surprised, it came as a terrible shock and set his blood in such turmoil that if one did not know their outcome, one might be so caught up in the solemn events commemorated here as to fear for the power of his seven reasons to resist. Joseph, however, to whom these events happened just as they originally told themselves, was actually living in the immediate present of their solemn festal hour, was unable to see beyond it, and could not at all be certain of the outcome. At the point where we have paused to stop, his story still trembled in the balance and when the decisive moment came, it would hang by a hair whether Joseph's seven reasons would be overthrown and he would fall into sin—for things might just as easily have gone as badly amiss as they barely managed to go at all. Certainly Joseph knew that he was determined not to make this great mistake—not at any price would he destroy his relationship with God. But wizened Favored Bes had indeed been right in wanting to view his friend's delight in his freedom to choose between good and evil as something like a delight in evil itself and not just in the freedom to chose; above all, however, such an unacknowledged inclination toward evil, expressed as relishing one's own free choice, also includes an inclination to let evil pull the wool over one's eyes and cloud reason to the point where one is even willing to see some good in it. God had such wonderful plans for Joseph—could He actually be of a mind to begrudge him the proud and sweet delight offered him, perhaps offered by God Himself? Was this delight not perhaps the planned means for his being raised up—in the expectation of which he had lived since having been carried off—inasmuch as his advancement in the house had already raised him up so far that his mistress had now cast her eyes upon him, and by telling him her own sweet name, the name that comprised all the land of Egypt, did she not wish to make him, as it were.
