Joseph and his brothers, p.140
Joseph and His Brothers, page 140
Indeed preparations for this coup—whose goals were to topple a dynasty, initiate a new age, and elevate the never-named concubine to the position of Goddess-Mother—were well advanced. Pharaoh's House of Women was its breeding ground; but with the assistance of several officials of the harem and officers guarding its gate and hungry for something new and different, connections were established: first, to the palace itself, where a number of sympathizers, some of them highly placed—a Lead Driver of the Royal Chariot, the Administrator of the God's Fruit Pantry, the Chief of Gendarmes, the Supervisor of the Cattle Herds, the Overseer of Salves in the Treasury of the Lord of the Two Lands, and others—were won over to the enterprise; and, second, to the world of the capital city outside,
where with the help of those officers' wives, male relatives of Pharaoh's graceful ladies were drawn into the conspiracy and urged to spread malicious rumors to incite Wase's population against the old Re, who was now nothing but gold, silver, and lapis lazuli.
In all there were seventy-two conspirators who backed the secret plan—a promising number dictated by tradition, for there had once been seventy-two conspirators to help red Seth lure Usir into the chest, and they in turn had had good cosmic reasons for setting their number at no more and no less than seventy-two. For that is the number of five-day weeks that make up the three hundred and sixty days of the year, leaving aside the extra days; and the lean fifth of the year, when the water level of the Provider is at its lowest and the god sinks into his grave, also lasts seventy-two days. So then, wherever a conspiracy takes place in this world, it is customary, indeed necessary for the conspirators to be seventy-two in number. And if the coup fails, one can be certain that had that number not been adhered to, the failure would have been far worse.
The current plot had now failed, although it was inspired by the best models and all the preparations had been made with greatest caution. The Overseer of Salves had in fact managed to pilfer a magic text from Pharaoh's library and, following its instructions, had formed certain wax figures that were smuggled here, there, and everywhere into the palace, spreading magical confusion and bewilderment that surely had to assist the cause. It was decided to poison Pharaoh's bread or wine or both at once and to use the ensuing turmoil for an armed coup inside the palace, which, in conjunction with an uprising in the city across the river, would have led to the proclamation of the new age and the elevation of the bastard Noferka-Ptah to the throne of the Two Lands. And then everything fell to pieces. Whether it was because at the last moment one of the seventy-two saw better chances for his career and was seduced by the promise of lovely inscriptions for his grave if he chose to remain loyal, or because a police decoy had wormed his way into their schemes from the start—however it came about, a list was placed in Pharaoh's hands, and painful reading it was, for it included a number of those who were truly close friends of the god, participants in his morning levees. Though not entirely free of blunders and mistaken identities, the list was largely correct, and countermeasures had been swift, silent, and thorough. The Isis of the House of Women was promptly
strangled by eunuchs, her young son exiled to remotest Nubia, and while a secret committee was formed to investigate both the plan as a whole and matters of individual guilt, those who were now compromised were labeled "Execration of the Land" and in addition, under cruelly distorted names, banished under custody to various locations, where they awaited their fate under conditions very different from those to which they were accustomed.
That is how Pharaoh's chief baker and butler had landed in the prison where Joseph himself was imprisoned.
Joseph Assists as an Interpreter
It was the thirty-and-seventh day those two gentlemen had spent there, and when Joseph, as always, obliged them with his morning visit to ask them how they had slept and if they had any orders to give, he found them both in a frame of mind that might be called excited, depressed, and angry all in one. By now they had begun to adjust to their simphfied situation and had ceased to whine; for it is not necessary for a man to live as they had amid lapis and malachite and with servants to scratch the soles of his feet, he can in the end make do quite well with a bath to his right and a latrine to his left and an occasional opportunity for target practice and a game of ninepins instead of a fashionable bird hunt. But today they had completely reverted to their coddled habits and no sooner had Joseph entered than they launched into their old bitter complaints of how they lacked everything, even the most necessary items, and how their life here, despite their honest attempts to reconcile themselves to it, still continued to be a dog's life.
They had dreamt that night, they said in reply to Joseph's sympathetic inquiry, both at the same time, but each his own dream; and these had been dreams of the most eloquent vividness, very forceful, unforgettable, leaving behind a most peculiar taste in the soul— highly meaningful dreams with the words "Understand me rightly" printed on their brows, for they were literally crying out for interpretation. At home each had had his own interpreter of dreams, knowledgeable experts on the whole monstrous brood of the night, with an eye for any detail in such a vision that manifestly carried some meaning or premonition, and also in the possession of the best
dream catalogues and case histories, both Babylonian and Egyptian, which they needed only to consult when they ran out of ideas of their own. If necessary, in cases that were very inscrutable or without precedent, these gentlemen could call together a council of temple prophets and scholars whose concerted efforts were sure to get to the bottom of the matter. In short, they had in every instance been provided prompt, dependable, and elegant service. But here and now? They had dreamt—each his own special, very strikingly accentuated, and peculiarly spiced dream, with which his soul was still overflowing—and there was no one in this cursed pit who could interpret the dreams and provide them their accustomed service. This was a hardship far worse than a lack of down, roast goose, or bird hunting, and the awareness of such intolerably straitened circumstances left them on the verge of tears.
Joseph listened, thrusting his lips up a little.
"Gentlemen," he said, "if it be of any initial comfort to you that someone commiserates with you in your sorrow, then know that in me you find such a person. Beyond that, however, some help just might be available to make up for this lack that so oppresses and offends you. I have been appointed your servant and caretaker and am, as it were, your all-purpose attendant, so then why not in the matter of dreams as well? I am not entirely inexperienced in the field and might even boast a certain familiarity with dreams—and please don't take that amiss, but simply as an apt way of stating that my family and clan have always dreamt a good many highly suggestive dreams. At one particular place in the course of his travels, my father, the king of flocks, had a first-rate dream that imbued his entire personality with dignity, and to hear him tell of it was an extraordinary pleasure. And I myself in my previous life was so involved with dreams that among my brothers I was known by a nickname that jocularly alluded to that fact. You've become so accomplished in taking potluck thus far, why not take it with me and tell me your dreams, so that I may try to interpret them?"
"Well now," they said. "Fine, fine. You're an amiable lad and when you speak of dreams you stare off into space with a veiled look in those handsome, even beautiful eyes of yours, so that we are tempted to trust in your ability to assist us. But all the same, dreaming is one thing and interpreting dreams quite another."
"Do not say that," he replied. "Do not say it without a second
thought. It may well be that there is a wholeness to dreaming, that it is a circle to which both the dream and its interpretation belong and that dreamer and interpreter only seem to be two entirely separate things, but in reality are interchangeable and actually one and the same, for together they make up the whole. Whoever dreams interprets as well, and he who would interpret must first have dreamt. My lord Prince of Bread, Your Excellency the Chief Cup-bearer, you have both lived in very luxurious circumstances where there is an excessive division of labor, so that you dreamt the dream and left its interpretation to your private prophets. But ultimately and by nature every man is the interpreter of his own dream and so has his dream interpreted only for the sake of elegance. I wish to reveal to you the secret behind our dreaming: the interpretation precedes the dream and what we dream issues from the interpretation. How else could it be that a person knows perfectly well if an interpretation is false and cries out: 'Begone, you bungler! I want a different interpreter, one who will tell me the truth.' So then, try it with me, and if I bungle it and do not interpret according to what you already know, then chase me off with curses and contumely."
"I do not wish to tell mine," the chief baker said. "I am accustomed to better things and I prefer to do without in this matter as in everything else, rather than use an unprofessional interpreter like you."
"I wish to tell mine," the butler said. "For in fact I am so eager to hear an interpretation that I'm willing to take the first that comes along, especially when the interpreter has that veiled look in his eye so full of promise and has demonstrated some familiarity with dreams. So prepare yourself, my lad, to hear and interpret, but pull yourself together just as I must do my best to pull myself together to find the right words for my dream and not take its life by telling it. For it was so terribly lifelike and clear, the spice of it so unique—and alas, we know too well how once a dream is wrapped in words it is only just a mummy, the gaunt swaddled image of what it was as we dreamt. Yet it budded, blossomed, and bore fruit, just like the grapevine that stood before me in this dream of mine, which, it seems, I have already begun to tell. For I saw myself with Pharaoh in his vineyard, under the arching branches of his vineyard, where my lord lay resting. And before me was a vine, I can still see it, it was a peculiar vine and had three branches. Understand me—it was green
and had leaves like human hands, but although the rest of the vineyard was hung heavy with grapes, this vine had not yet blossomed or borne fruit, for that took place only now as I watched. Behold—it grew before my eyes and began to blossom, shooting tender clusters of petals out from among the leaves, and the three clusters brought forth grapes, which ripened, swift as the wind, before my eyes, and their purple berries were as plump as my cheeks, filled to bursting like no other berries all around. And I was delighted and picked the grapes with my right hand, for in my left I was holding Pharaoh's cup, half filled with cool water. And I lovingly pressed the juice of the grapes into it—while recalling, I believe, that you, my lad, sometimes press a little grape juice into the water when we order wine— and placed the cup into Pharaoh's hand. And that was all," he concluded crestfallen, disappointed by his own words.
"That was quite a lot," Joseph replied, opening his eyes, which he had kept shut while bending an ear to listen. "There was the cup, and there was clear water in it, and with your own hand you pressed the juice of the grapes from the vine that had the three branches and gave it to the Lord of the Two Crowns. That was a pure gift and there were no flies in it. Shall I interpret it for you?"
"Yes, do!" the butler cried. "I can hardly wait."
"This is the interpretation," Joseph said. "The three branches are three days. And in three days you will receive the water of life, and Pharaoh will raise up your head and take your name of shame from you, so that you will be called Honorable in Thebes just as before, and he will restore you to your office, so that you will place the cup in his hand as you used to do as his butler. And that is all."
"Excellent," the fat man cried. "That is a sweet, excellent, exemplary interpretation. You have served me better than I have ever been served in my life, my sweet lad—have provided a service to my soul beyond all telling. Three branches—three days! The way you say it right out, you clever boy! And to be Honorable in Thebes again and in the same way and Pharaoh's friend once more! Thank you, my darUng lad, thank you so very, very much."
And there he sat and wept for joy.
Joseph, however, said to him, "Count of Abodu, Nefer-em-Wese! I have prophesied according to your dream—it was easily and gladly done. I take joy in having been able to offer you a joyful interpretation. And, cleansed of guilt, you soon will be surrounded by
friends. But here in these narrow confines let me be the first to congratulate you. I have been your servant and steward for thirty-seven days; and for another three yet, so the captain has commanded, I shall ask about your orders and provide you some hints of comfort, to the extent circumstances allow. I have come to you here in the Vulture Cabin each morning and evening and have been like an angel of God to you, if I may put it that way, into whose heart you could pour out your woe, and who comforted you in these unaccustomed straits. You, however, have not asked me much about myself. And yet I was not born to live in this hole, either, nor have I chosen it for my habitation, but rather ended up here, I know not how, and have been put away here as a convict and royal slave for a crime that is only a misrepresentation before God. Your souls were too full of your own sorrow for you to have given mine much thought and to have asked me questions. But do not forget me and my service. Count Chief Butler, but rather remember me when you are restored to your former glory. Mention me to Pharaoh and call his attention to how I sit here purely because of a misrepresentation, and plead for me that he might graciously release me from this prison, where I do not gladly reside. For as boy I was stolen, literally stolen from my homeland and brought down to the land of Egypt, and stolen again and put into this pit—and am like the moon, when a hateful spirit arrested him in his course so that he could not continue along his shining path, at the head of the gods, his brothers. Will you do that for me. Count Chief Butler, will you mention me there?"
"Why yes, a thousand times yes!" the fat man cried. "I promise you that once I stand before Pharaoh again, I will mention you at the first opportunity and will remind him on succeeding occasions if his mind does not seize upon it at once. I would be but a grubbing aard-vark were I not to remember you and not want to mention you to best advantage, for it makes no difference to me whether you have stolen or were stolen, you shall be mentioned, mentioned and pardoned, my honey-sweet lad."
And he embraced Joseph and kissed him on the mouth and on both cheeks.
"That I had a dream too," the tall man said, "appears to have been completely forgotten here. I did not know, Ibrim, that you are such a clever interpreter, otherwise I would not have refused your assistance. But now I am inclined to tell you my dream as well, to the
extent that is possible in words, and you shall interpret it for me. Make yourself ready to listen/'
"I'm listening," Joseph replied.
"What I dreamt," the baker began, "was this, and was the following. I dreamt—but here you can see how ludicrous my dream was, for how did it happen that I, Prince of Menfe, who most certainly never stick my head in the oven, how did it happen that like some baker's apprentice or delivery boy with crescents and twists— but enough, you see, I was strolling about in my dream, carrying on my head three baskets of fine cakes, one basket atop the other, the flat kind that fit neatly into one another, and each was filled with all sorts of pastries from the palace bakery, and in the top one were baked goods for Pharaoh, waffles and pretzels. Then three birds flew down, beating their wings, with their talons tucked back in flight and necks outstretched and beady eyes glaring, and they shrieked as they came. And these birds had the audacity to swoop down and eat the food on my head. I wanted to raise my free hand and wave it over the baskets and shoo the vermin away, but I couldn't do it, my hand hung limply at my side. And they hacked away and as they beat their wings there was the sour, foul stench of bird all around me ..." Here the baker got his usual alarmed look, blanched, and tried to smile with the drooping corner of his mouth. "That is to say," he said, "you shouldn't picture the birds with their foul stench or their beaks and beady eyes as all too ghastly. They were birds like any others and when I say they hacked—I don't recall exactly if I said that, but I might have—I chose a rather vivid word in an attempt to make my dream more understandable. I should have said they pecked. The little birds pecked at my basket, since they probably thought I wanted to feed them, because the top basket on my head wasn't covered and had no cloth spread over it—in short, everything in my dream happened very naturally, with the exception that it was I, Prince of Menfe, who was carrying baked goods on my head, and then perhaps also that I found it impossible to wave my hand, but maybe I didn't want to, because I was enjoying playing host to the little birds. And that was all."
