On Joseph

Philo of Alexandria · a new plain-English translation from the Greek

There are three forms through which the finest end is reached—learning, nature, and practice—and there are also three sages, the eldest according to Moses, named for these very things. Having written their lives—the one who learned by instruction, the one who was self-taught, and the one who trained by practice—I shall now write, fourth in sequence, the life of the statesman, whose name in turn is borne by one of the tribal patriarchs, a man formed for statesmanship from his earliest years.

He began, in fact, to be formed for it at about seventeen years of age, through the principles of shepherding, which harmonize with the principles that govern a city. This, I think, is why the poetic tradition is accustomed to call kings "shepherds of the peoples": for the man who has mastered shepherding would also make the best king, having been trained, in matters that seem to deserve less effort, in the care of the finest flock of living creatures, human beings.

And just as for the man who intends to command in war and lead an army, exercises in hunting are most necessary, in the same way, for those whose hope it is to govern a city, shepherding is most fitting, since it is a kind of preliminary training in oversight and command.

His father, then, seeing in him a noble disposition, greater than that of a private man, admired and cherished him, and loved him more than his other sons, both because he was born to him in his old age—which is no less than anything else conducive to affection—and because, being a lover of what is fine, he kindled the boy's nature into flame through special and extraordinary attentions,

so that it might not merely smolder but blaze up all the sooner. But envy, ever the adversary of great prosperity, then set upon a household that was flourishing in every part and turned brother against brother, arming many against one; and they, in a hatred that matched the father's affection for him, showed as much ill will as the measure of the love he was shown. Yet they did not speak their hatred aloud, but stored it up within themselves, and so, naturally enough, it grew all the more troublesome; for passions that are shut in and find no outlet through reasoned words become heavier.

Now the boy, being of guileless character and not perceiving the enmity smoldering beneath the surface among his brothers, saw an auspicious dream and told it to them as though they were well disposed to him. "I thought," he said, "that the season of harvest had come, and that all of us had gone into the field to gather in the crop, and, taking sickles, were reaping; and suddenly my own sheaf rose up and stood erect, lifted on high, while yours, as though at a signal, ran up to it and, struck with awe, did obeisance to it with every mark of honor."

But they, being sharp of understanding and clever at tracking down through signs a matter otherwise hidden, by plausible conjectures, said, "Do you suppose you will become our king and master? For this is what you are hinting at through your invented vision." And their hatred blazed up all the more, ever seizing on some new pretext by which to grow.

He, suspecting nothing, a few days later had another dream, more astonishing than the first, and reported it to his brothers: for he thought that the sun and the moon and eleven stars came and did obeisance to him. His father, marveling at what had happened, laid it up in his mind, storing it away and watching to see what would come of it.

But he admonished the boy gravely, out of fear that he might go wrong in some way, and said: "Shall we indeed be able—I and your mother and your brothers—to do obeisance to you? For by the sun you seem to signify your father, by the moon your mother, and by the eleven stars your eleven brothers. May this never enter your mind, my son; and may even the memory of what has appeared to you slip away and be forgotten. For to hope for and look forward to dominion over one's own kin is, in my judgment, a thing altogether to be shunned—and, I think, in the judgment of all who care for equality and the rights owed to kindred."

The father, being cautious lest some disturbance and discord should arise among the brothers from their living together, since they bore a grudge over the dreams against the one who had seen them, sent the others out to tend the flocks, but kept this one at home, watching over the proper time, knowing that time is said to be the physician of the soul's passions and sicknesses, capable of removing grief, quenching anger, and curing fear; for it eases everything, even those things that are by nature hard to heal.

But when he judged that no hostility any longer lay hidden in their minds, he sent his son both to greet his brothers and, at the same time, to report how they and the flocks of their herds were faring.

This journey came to be the beginning of great evils, and again, beyond all expectation, of great goods for both parties. For he, obeying his father's instructions, went to his brothers; but they, seeing him arriving from a distance, spoke to one another words of ill omen, since they did not even think him worthy to be addressed by name, but called him "the dream-struck one" and "the dreamer" and such names, and worked themselves up to such a pitch of anger that the greater part of them, though not all, plotted his murder, and, in order not to be found out, resolved to kill him and throw him into a very deep pit dug in the earth; for there are many cisterns for rain-water in that region.

And they came close to committing the greatest of impieties, fratricide, had they not, with difficulty, been persuaded by the pleas of the eldest, who urged them not to lay a hand upon this pollution themselves, but only to throw him into one of the pits, having in mind something that might save him: that after their departure he might take him out, unharmed by any evil, and send him back to their father.

When they had agreed, he came up to them and greeted them; but they seized him as though he were an enemy, stripped off his robe, and let him down into deep pits, while the robe, stained with the blood of a kid, they sent to their father, with the pretext that he had been devoured by wild beasts.

That very day, as it happened, some merchants were traveling by, of those accustomed to carry goods from Arabia to Egypt; and to them, drawing their brother up, they sold him, following the judgment of the one who was fourth in age. For this one, I think, fearing that he might be treacherously killed by those who kindled an implacable anger against him, advised that he be sold, exchanging slavery for death—a lighter evil for a greater one.

But the eldest—for he had not been present when he was sold—peered down and, not seeing the one he had left there only a little before, cried out and shouted, and, tearing his garments, was carried this way and that as though out of his mind, clapping his hands and pulling his hair, saying, "What has happened to him?"

"Tell me, does he live, or is he dead? If he is no more, show me his corpse, that I may weep over the fallen body and find relief from my misfortune; seeing him laid out, I shall be consoled. Why should we bear a grudge even against the dead? Toward those who are gone, no envy arises. But if he lives, to what part of the earth has he gone? With whom is he kept? For surely I too am not under suspicion, as he was, that I should be disbelieved."

When they told him that he had been sold, and showed him the price, he said, "A fine piece of business you have transacted! Let us divide the profits! Let us contend with slave-traders for the prize of wickedness, and wear the victor's crown, taking pride in outdoing them in cruelty! They deal so against strangers—but we, against our own closest and dearest kin."

A great reproach has now been freshly created, a notorious disgrace. Our fathers left behind, throughout the whole inhabited world, monuments of nobility of character; and shall we too leave behind incurable slanders of faithlessness and hatred of humankind? For the reports of great deeds outrun everything, everywhere, admired when they concern what is praiseworthy, but meeting blame and accusation when they concern what is culpable.

In what manner, then, will our father receive the news of what has happened? You have made a life not worth living for one who was thrice blessed and thrice fortunate. Will he pity the one who was sold, for his slavery, or those who sold him, for their cruelty? I know well it will be far more for us; since to do wrong is harder to bear than to suffer it. For the one who suffers wrong is helped by two very great things, pity and hope, while the one who does wrong, sharing in neither, is condemned by every judge. But why do I go on lamenting these things uselessly?

It is better to be silent, lest I too suffer some dreadful thing myself; for men are most harsh and implacable when angry, and the passion in each of them still blows fierce and strong.

When the father heard—not the truth, that his son had been sold, but the lie, that he was dead and had been devoured by wild beasts—struck both in his ears by what was said and in his eyes by what was shown him (for the boy's tunic, torn, mutilated, and drenched with much blood, had been brought to him), he was overwhelmed by his suffering and lay speechless for a very long time, unable even to lift his head, so crushed and broken was he by the calamity.

Then, suddenly letting loose a fountain of tears, with bitter wailing he drenched his cheeks, his beard, and his chest, and his garments too, all the while saying such things as these: "It is not his death that grieves me, child, but its manner. If you had been buried in your own land, I would have been consoled; I would have tended you, nursed you in your sickness, shared with you your last embraces as you died, closed your eyes, wept over your body as it lay there, given you a costly funeral, and left out none of the customary rites.

"But even if it had happened in a foreign land, I would have said: nature has only received back what was owed to her; do not grieve, my friend—one's homeland belongs to the living, but for the dead every land is a grave; no man dies too soon, or rather all men do, for even the longest-lived is short-lived when measured against eternity.

"But if indeed he had to die by violence, through a plot, it would have been a lighter evil for me had he been killed by men, who, having slain him, would yet have pitied his corpse, so as to heap up earth and cover the body from sight; and even had they been the cruelest of all men, what more could they have gained than to cast him out unburied and go their way? And perhaps someone passing by on the road might have stopped, and, seeing him, taken pity on our common nature, and thought him worthy of care and burial. But now, as the story goes, you have become a banquet and a feast for savage, flesh-devouring beasts, who have tasted and feasted on my very own flesh and blood."

"If I had to die by violence, by a plot against me, that would have been a lighter evil for me, killed by men who, having slain me, would still have pitied my corpse enough to heap up dust and cover my body. But even if they had become the cruelest of all, what more would they have gained than to fling me down unburied and go their way? Some passer-by on the road might perhaps have stopped, and on seeing me, moved by pity for our common nature, thought me worthy of care and burial. But now, as the story goes, you have become a banquet and feast for savage flesh-eating beasts, who have tasted and feasted on my very own flesh and blood."

"I am an athlete of misfortunes I never chose, trained at random through many hardships—wandering, living as a stranger, serving as a slave, coerced, even plotted against as far as my very life, by those who least should have done so. I have seen much, heard much, and myself suffered countless irreparable things, and though schooled by them to moderate my feelings, I was not bent. But nothing that has now befallen me is more unbearable; it has overturned and demolished the strength of my soul. For what grief is greater, or more pitiable, than this?"

"My son's garment has been brought back to me, his father, but of him not a part, not a limb, not the smallest remnant; he has been utterly and wholly consumed, without even being able to share in burial, while the garment, it seems to me, would not have been sent to me at all, except to remind me of my anguish and renew what I have endured, into griefs unforgettable and unceasing for me." Such were his lamentations. Meanwhile the merchants sold the boy in Egypt to one of the king's eunuchs, the chief cook.

It is worth adding, after the literal narrative, what lies in its hidden meanings; for nearly all, or most, of the legislation is allegorized. Now the character under examination is called, among the Hebrews, Joseph, and among the Greeks, "addition of a lord"—a name most apt and most fitting to the thing signified; for civic administration organized by peoples is an addition to nature, whose authority holds sway over all things.

For this great city, the cosmos, is one, and it employs a single constitution and a single law; and this law is reason, the ordinance of nature, which commands what must be done and forbids what must not be done. But these cities arranged by locality are unbounded in number, and employ differing constitutions and not the same laws; for different peoples have different customs and statutes, devised and added on.

The cause of this is the lack of mixture and community, not only of Greeks toward barbarians or barbarians toward Greeks, but also of each race, taken separately, toward its own kindred. Then, it seems, blaming what is not to blame—unwelcome seasons, failure of crops, poverty of soil, a location that is coastal or inland or on an island or on the mainland, or other such things of like kind—they pass over the truth in silence; but the true cause is greed and mutual distrust, on account of which, not content with the ordinances of nature, they have proclaimed as laws whatever seemed advantageous in common to those of like mind gathered together.

And so it stands to reason that the particular constitutions are additions, each to the one constitution according to nature; for the laws of individual cities are additions to nature's right reason, and

the statesman is an addition to the one who lives according to nature. It is not, then, beside the point that he is said to take up a coat of many colors (Genesis 37:3); for civic administration is many-colored and versatile, admitting countless changes—of persons, of circumstances, of causes, of the particular character of actions, of differences in occasions and places.

For just as a helmsman changes his aids toward good sailing along with the changing winds, steering his vessel by no single method, and a physician employs no single treatment for all who are ill—nor even for one patient, since the ailment does not remain constant, but watching for relaxations, intensifications, fillings, emptyings, changes of cause, varies these remedies toward safety, applying now this and now that—so too, I think,

the statesman must necessarily be a man of many forms and many shapes: one sort in peace, another in war; another again when few or when many combine against him—vigorously rising up against the few, but dealing with the many through persuasion; and where existence involves danger, outstripping others for the common good by his own action, but where the matter calls for deliberation, withdrawing and letting others serve.

It is well said, however, that the man is sold; for the demagogue and public speaker, mounting the platform, becomes, like slaves put up for sale, a slave instead of a free man through the honors he thinks he is receiving, led off by countless masters.

And this same man is also brought in as one caught by wild beasts; for vainglory lying in ambush is an untamed beast, seizing and destroying those who indulge it. And those who have bought him sell him again in turn; for the one who governs is master not of one but of a crowd, one after another in succession and rotation; and these thrice-sold men, in the manner of wretched servants, keep changing their masters, unable to endure their former ones because of the fickle and novelty-loving instability of their characters.

So much, then, for these matters. As for the young man, once he had been brought to Egypt and had come, as was said, into the possession of a eunuch master, within a few days he gave proof of his nobility and good character, and received charge over his fellow slaves and care of the whole household; for by now his owner had confirmed, through many signs, that the young man's every word and deed came not without divine providence.

In appearance, then, he was appointed steward of the household by the one who had bought him; but in fact and in truth, by nature, which was already preparing him for the leadership of cities and a nation and a great country. For the man destined to become a statesman had first to be trained and practiced in matters of household management; for a house is a city compressed and small, and household management a kind of constitution drawn together, just as a city is a great household, and a constitution a kind of common household management.

By these facts it is made especially clear that the same man is both householder and statesman, even though the subjects over which he presides differ in number and magnitude—just as it is in painting and sculpture; for the good sculptor or painter, whether he fashions many colossal figures or few and

smaller ones, displays the same art and is the same man. Now while he was highly esteemed in his management of the household, he became the object of a plot by his master's wife, a plot born of unchaste desire. For she, maddened with passion for the young man's beauty and raging uncontrollably in her affliction, pressed on him proposals of intercourse with all vigor, though he resisted with strength and would not entertain them at all, because of the propriety and self-control that were his by nature and by practice.

But when, though she kept stirring and inflaming her lawless desire, she kept trying again and again and again failing, she resorted at last to force, and, seizing his garment, dragged him vigorously all the way to the bed with mightier strength, her passion lending her power—passion which is accustomed to give sinew even to the weakest.

But he, proving stronger than the present crisis, burst out with words befitting a free man worthy of his lineage: "Why do you use force?" he said. "We, the descendants of the Hebrews, follow distinctive customs and laws.

To others it is permitted, after the fourteenth year of life, to consort with prostitutes and streetwalkers and all who hire out their bodies, with full license; but among us it is not even lawful for a courtesan to live (Deuteronomy 23:17), and against the woman who plays the harlot, death has been fixed as the penalty. Before lawful marriage we know no intercourse with another woman, but chaste, we come to chaste virgins, setting as our goal not pleasure but the begetting of legitimate children.

Having kept myself pure up to this very day, I will not begin to transgress the law with adultery, the greatest of wrongs, since I am obliged—even had I spent the rest of my time dissolutely, driven by the impulses of youth and emulating the luxury of this land—still not to hunt after another man's marriage; and at this what man does not feel murderous rage? For though men are accustomed to disagree about everything else, on this alone, in complete agreement everywhere, all have judged it worthy of countless deaths, handing over the guilty, without trial, to those who have caught them.

But you, lavishly generous, add for me a threefold pollution, bidding me not merely commit adultery, but corrupt a mistress, my master's own wife—unless indeed this is why I came into your household, that, abandoning the services a servant must render, I should grow drunk and behave with the insolence of drunkenness toward the hopes of the man who bought me, adulterating his marriage, his household, his kinship.

But no—I am led to honor him now not only as master but already as benefactor; he has entrusted all his affairs to me, withholding nothing whatever, small or great, apart from you, his wife; in return for this, is it fitting that I repay him with what you urge? Fine gifts, it seems, I would be giving in exchange for the favors already bestowed on me as one of his household!

My master, though I was a captive and a stranger, has by his kindnesses made me, as far as lies in his power, a free man and a citizen; and shall I, the slave, treat my master as though he were the stranger and the captive? With what soul could I take on myself this unholy deed? With what eyes shall I, iron-hearted as I would be, look upon anyone? My own conscience, laying hold of me, will not allow me to look at people with straight eyes, even if I should manage to escape notice; but I shall escape notice in no way at all, for there are countless examiners of deeds done in secret, for whom it is not lawful to keep still.

I say nothing of the fact that, even if no one else perceives it, or perceiving it does not denounce me, I myself will nonetheless become my own informer against myself, through my color, my look, my voice, convicted, as I said a moment ago, by my own conscience; and even if no one else will denounce me, do we neither fear nor feel shame before God's assessor and overseer of all deeds?"

As he wove together many such words and reasoned on, she was deaf to all of it; for desires are terrible things, able to overshadow even the most exact of the senses. Perceiving this, he fled, leaving his garments behind in her hands, which had taken hold of them.

This gave her the material to devise pretexts against the young man, by which she would take revenge on him; for when her husband returned from the marketplace, feigning modesty and propriety and great displeasure at licentious conduct, she said, "You have brought us a Hebrew boy as a servant, who has not only already corrupted your soul, since you entrusted him with the household easily and without scrutiny,"

"But he even dared to violate my body. For it was not enough for him to make use of my fellow slaves alone, having become utterly wanton and lustful — he attempted also to seduce his mistress and to force himself on me. And the proofs of his derangement are clear and evident: for when, overcome with distress, I cried out and called for those inside to help me, he, terrified because of his recklessness, left his garment behind and fled, fearing to be caught." And in displaying this garment she seemed to offer proof of what she said.

His master, believing these things to be true, ordered the man to be led away to prison, erring in two very grave respects: first, that without giving him a chance to defend himself he condemned, without a trial, one who had done no wrong as though he had committed the gravest crime; second, that the garment, which the woman produced as having been left behind by the young man, was proof of violence — not the violence he had committed, but the endurance he had endured at the hands of the woman. For it is the mark of one committing violence to hold fast to the garment of his mistress, but of one suffering violence to have his own garment torn from him.

Perhaps he is to be forgiven for his excessive lack of education, since he made his living in a kitchen full of blood and smoke and ash, where reasoning has no opportunity to find calm and leisure for itself, because he is more caught up in confusion than not, no less than his body is.

He has now sketched three types of the statesman: the pastoral, the domestic, and the self-controlled. Of the first two he has already spoken; the self-controlled type contributes no less than they to statesmanship.

Self-control is profitable and salutary for all the affairs of life, but especially for those of the city, as anyone who wishes to learn may see readily and most plainly.

For who does not know the disasters that incontinence has brought upon nations and lands and whole regions of the inhabited world, on land and sea? For most of the greatest wars have arisen through erotic passions, adulteries, and the deceptions of women, by which the greater and better part both of the Greek and of the barbarian race was consumed, and the youth of the cities destroyed.

But if the products of incontinence are civil strife, wars, and evils upon evils beyond telling, it is clear that the products of self-control are stability and peace and the possession and enjoyment of perfect goods.

It is worthwhile also to set forth, in due order, what is signified through these things. The eunuch who bought the man on trial is said to be the chief judge — fittingly; for the crowd that purchases the statesman is, in truth, a eunuch, possessing the organs of generation in appearance only, but deprived of the powers for generation, just as those whose eyes have been overlaid with cataract, though possessing eyes, are deprived of the function that comes through the eyes, being unable to see.

What then is the resemblance to a crowd of eunuchs? That it is barren of wisdom while seeming to practice virtue; for whenever a mixed and promiscuous multitude of people comes together into one, it says what is fitting, but thinks and does the opposite, accepting the counterfeit before the genuine, for the sake of being overcome by reputation rather than practicing what is truly good.

Hence also — the most absurd thing — a woman lives with this eunuch; for the crowd woos desire as a husband woos a wife, and through her it both speaks and does everything, making her counselor of all things spoken and unspoken, small and great alike, being least accustomed to attend to the dictates of reason.

Most fittingly indeed, he also calls him chief cook; for just as a cook practices nothing else but the endless and excessive pleasures of the belly, in the same way the political crowd practices, through hearing, delights and indulgences, by which the sinews of the mind are relaxed and, in a manner of speaking, the nerves of the soul are unstrung. And who does not know the difference between doctors and cooks?

The former prepare with all diligence only what is healthful, even if it should not happen to be pleasant, while the latter, on the contrary, take no account of what is beneficial, considering only what is pleasant.

Laws among a people, then, resemble doctors, and so do the magistrates who govern according to the laws — councillors and judges — who care for the safety and security of the common good without flattery; but the numerous throngs of the young resemble sauce-makers; for what concerns them is not what will be advantageous, but only how

they may reap pleasure in the present moment alone. And the desire of the crowds for the statesman is amorous, like an unchaste woman, and it says to him: "Come now, sir, into the crowd with which I live, and forget all your own habits, pursuits, words, and deeds, in which you were raised; obey me instead, attend to me, and do all the things that are pleasurable to me.

For a companion who is austere and outspoken and truthful and scrupulously just, who behaves with gravity and solemnity toward everyone and yields to nothing, holding fast always to the advantageous alone, without flattering his listeners — such a one I cannot bear.

I will heap countless slanders against you before my husband, the crowd, your master; for up till now you seem to me to be playing the freedman, and you are altogether ignorant that you have become the slave of a tyrannical master. But if you knew that acting on one's own initiative is most proper to the free man, but foreign to the household slave, you would have learned to set aside your self-will and look instead to his wife — that is, desire — and to do what pleases me, by which above all you will give satisfaction."

But the true statesman is not ignorant that the people hold despotic power, yet he will not confess himself a slave but a free man ... the satisfaction of the soul. Rather he will say outright: "I neither learned nor will I ever practice flattering the populace; but having been entrusted with the leadership and care of the city, I will exercise it as a good guardian or a well-disposed father ..., without deceit and purely, without hostile pretense.

Holding these convictions I will be put to the test, concealing and hiding nothing, in the manner of a thief, but making my conscience shine as in sunlight and daylight; for truth is light. And I will fear nothing that anyone may threaten, even if death is the threat; for to me there is no evil more grievous than death — namely, the pretense of such men. For whose sake should I endure it?

For even if the people is my master, I am not a slave, but well-born if anyone is, aspiring to enrollment as a citizen in the greatest and best commonwealth — this cosmos.

For when neither gifts nor entreaties nor love of honors nor desire for office nor boastfulness nor the longing for appearances nor licentiousness nor cowardice nor injustice nor anything else that comes from passion or vice can sway me, of what mastery shall I still be afraid? Clearly only that which comes from men.

But these men lay claim only to lordship over the body, not over what belongs to me; for I derive my standing from what is superior — the understanding within myself — according to which I have prepared myself to live, caring little for my mortal body, which, clinging to me like a shell to an oyster, may be maltreated by some, yet, being released from the harsh masters and mistresses within, I shall not be grieved, having escaped the heaviest necessity.

If, then, I must judge, I shall judge neither favoring the rich because of his wealth nor the poor because of pity for his misfortunes, but, veiling the rank and outward show of the litigants, I shall award without deceit whatever shall appear to be just.

And if I must give counsel, I shall propose opinions that serve the common good, even if they are not pleasing; and if I must address the assembly, I shall leave flattering speeches to others and shall use words that are salutary and beneficial, rebuking, admonishing, correcting — having practiced not raving and frenzied self-will, but sober frankness of speech.

But if someone takes no pleasure in these improvements, let him rebuke also parents and guardians and teachers and all who have the care of others, because they speak ill of their legitimate children and orphan wards and pupils, and sometimes even strike them — acts to which it is not right to attach the name of insult or outrage, but rather, on the contrary, the names of friendship and goodwill.

For it would be utterly unworthy that I, a statesman entrusted with all the affairs of the people, should prove inferior, in reasonings concerning the common good, to someone practicing the art of medicine.

That man, after all, gave no thought to the outward splendor of his patient in what people call good fortune -- not that he was well-born, or wealthy, or the most illustrious king or ruler of his time -- but held to one thing alone, saving him as far as he could, and if cutting or cauterizing was needed, the subject and so-called slave burns and cuts his ruler and master.

But I, taking in hand not one man but a whole city sick with more grievous diseases -- diseases that its own inborn desires had produced -- what ought I to do? Should I let go of what benefits everyone in common and instead tend this or that person's ears with servile and thoroughly slavish flattery? I would rather die than conceal the truth by saying something for the sake of pleasure, and neglect what is advantageous.

"Against this," as the tragic poet says, "let fire come, let the sword come" -- "burn, scorch my flesh, drink your fill of my dark blood; sooner shall the stars go down beneath the earth and the earth rise up into the sky, than a flattering word from me shall come to meet you."

So then, when a resolve has become manly in this way and stands outside all the passions -- pleasure, fear, grief, desire -- the sovereign populace cannot endure the statesman who possesses it; instead it seizes him as an enemy and punishes the man who is well-disposed and a friend, and in doing so punishes itself first, with the greatest of punishments, namely ignorance, on account of which it never learned to be ruled -- the finest and most beneficial thing, from which the capacity to rule itself also arises.

Having now discussed these matters sufficiently, let us look at what follows. The young man, slandered by the woman he loved -- who had fabricated to his master charges that reversed the truth, charges of which she herself was guilty -- was led away to prison without even obtaining a defense. And once in the jail he displayed such greatness of virtue that even the most depraved of those there were struck with wonder and amazement, and supposed they had found in the man a remedy against evils, a comfort for their misfortunes.

No one is ignorant of how much inhumanity and savagery jailers are full of. By nature they are pitiless, and by practice they are hardened, growing more brutish every day toward savagery, seeing and saying and doing nothing decent, not even by chance, but only what is most violent and harsh.

For just as men who are well built in body, when they add athletic training, gain an invincible strength and an outstanding condition, in the same way, when an untamed and unsociable nature adds training toward savagery, it becomes doubly unreachable and inaccessible to pity -- to that good and humane feeling.

For just as those who keep company with good people improve their characters by delighting in their companions, so too those who live with wicked people take on something of their vice; for habit has a terrible power to make one like its object and to force one against nature. Do jailers, then, spend their time with cloak-snatchers, thieves?

With house-breakers, violent men, the brutal, seducers, murderers, adulterers, temple-robbers -- and from each of these they draw off some portion of depravity and gather it together, and out of the promiscuous mixture produce one single evil, utterly confused and utterly polluted.

But even such a man was tamed by the young man's nobility of character, and not only granted him safety and a truce, but even authority over all the prisoners, so that in name only, for the sake of appearance, did he remain the jailer, while in actual practice he had yielded his office to the young man -- through whom no small benefit came to those who had been led away to prison.

Indeed, they no longer thought it fitting even to call the place a prison, but a house of correction; for instead of the tortures and punishments which they used to endure night and day -- being beaten and bound and suffering every kind of evil -- they were filled with the words and doctrines of philosophy, and with deeds more effective than any argument on the part of the one who taught them.

For he set his own life in their midst, like a well-crafted archetype of self-control and every virtue, and turned around even those who seemed altogether incurable, whose long-standing diseases of the soul now abated; and they reproached themselves for what they had done, repented, and cried out such things as this: "Where, then, was so great a good all this time, at which we stumbled from the start? For now that it has shone upon us, we see our own disorder as in a mirror, and are ashamed."

While men were being improved in this way, two eunuchs of the king were brought in -- the chief cupbearer and the chief baker -- accused and condemned in the matters entrusted to them. He took the same care of these men as of the others, praying that he might be able to make those under him no worse than men beyond reproach.

When not much time had passed, going about among the prisoners he saw the eunuchs full of gloom and dejection more than before, and, conjecturing from the intensity of their grief that something new had befallen them, he inquired the cause.

When they answered that they had seen dreams and were filled with distress and anguish, there being no one to interpret them, he said, "Take courage and tell them, for they will become known, if God so wills; and God wills to uncover things that are hidden, for those who long for the truth." Then the chief cupbearer spoke first.

"I dreamed that a great vine had grown up from three roots, a single, most flourishing stock, in full leaf and bearing clusters as at the height of the fruit season; and as the grape was beginning to ripen I picked the clusters and pressed them into the royal cup, which held enough to bring undiluted wine to the king."

He, pausing a little, said, "Your vision proclaims good fortune to you, and the recovery of your former office; for the three roots of the vine signify three days, after which the king will remember you and, sending for you from here, will grant you amnesty, and will allow you to resume the same position; and to confirm your restoration to office you will pour wine for him, handing the cup to your master." And the man rejoiced

to hear this. But the chief baker, having welcomed the interpretation, since he too had seen a fortunate-seeming dream -- though it was in fact quite the reverse -- was deceived by the good hopes given the other man, and said, "I too dreamed that I was carrying baskets, and bore on my head three baskets full of pastries, the topmost one full of every kind that the king is accustomed to use -- for the elaborate arts of bakers catering to the royal diet are varied -- and birds swooped down and snatched from my head and gorged themselves insatiably, until they had consumed everything and left nothing of what had been prepared."

He said, "I could have wished that this vision had not appeared to you at all, or, once it had appeared, that it had been kept quiet -- or, if someone had to tell it, that the telling had at least stayed far from my ears, so that I would not have heard it. For I am reluctant, if anyone is, to be a messenger of evil, and I share the suffering of those in misfortune, being pained on account of my humanity no less than those who must endure it.

But since it is necessary for interpreters of dreams to speak truly, as they explain and prophesy divine oracles, I will speak, holding nothing back; for to be truthful is best in all things, but concerning divine pronouncements it is also the most sacred duty.

The three baskets are a symbol of three days; after these have passed the king will order that you be impaled and your head cut off, and birds swooping down will feast on your flesh, until you are entirely consumed."

And the man, as one might expect, was thrown into confusion and overturned, anxiously awaiting the appointed time and receiving in his mind, in advance, all its distress. When the three days had passed, the king's birthday arrived, on which everyone throughout the land held festival, and above all those attached to the palace.

So while those in office were feasting and the household staff were making merry as at a public banquet, he remembered the eunuchs in the prison and ordered them brought, and having observed what came of the interpretation of the dreams he set his seal upon it, commanding that the one be impaled after his head was cut off, and that to the other the office he had formerly administered be restored.

But once restored, the chief cupbearer forgot the one who had foretold his restoration and had lightened each of the misfortunes that had befallen him -- perhaps because every ungrateful person is forgetful of benefactors, but perhaps also because God, in his providence, willed that the young man's good fortune should come about not through a human being but through himself.

For after two years had passed, the good and evil things destined to befall the land were foretold to the king through a dream in twin visions signifying the same thing, for the sake of a more certain conviction.

For it seemed that seven cows came up out of the river, fat and very well-fleshed and beautiful to see, and grazed beside the banks; after them, an equal number of others, somehow fleshless and shriveled to skeletons and utterly repulsive, came up and grazed alongside the first; then suddenly the worse cows devoured the better ones, and their bellies gained nothing at all — not even the slightest bit — in bulk from having gorged themselves, but were left just as thin, or even thinner.

Rising up again and falling back asleep, he was struck by another vision: he thought seven ears of wheat grew up from a single stalk, exactly equal in size, and, growing and flourishing, rose to a very sturdy height; then seven other ears, thin and weak, sprouted up nearby, and these, running upon the fine-eared stalk, swallowed it up.

Having seen this vision, he spent the rest of the night sleepless — for his anxieties kept goading and wounding him — and at daybreak he summoned the sages and related the vision to them.

Since no one was able to track down the truth by likely conjecture, the chief cupbearer came forward and said: 'Master, there is hope of finding the man you seek. When you were angry with me and the chief baker, you ordered us led away to the prison, where there was a Hebrew, servant of the chief cook, to whom both he and I related the dreams that had appeared to us; and he interpreted them so aptly and so accurately that everything he foretold for each of us came to pass — for him, the punishment he suffered, and for me, the finding of your favor and goodwill.'

On hearing this the king ordered them to hurry and summon the young man. So they cut his hair — for it had grown thick and long, both head and beard, during his confinement — and gave him bright clothing in place of filthy rags, and after grooming him in other ways they brought him in before the king.

The king, judging from his appearance that he was a free man of noble birth — for certain marks appear on the bodies of those we see that are not visible to everyone, but only to those whose mind's eye sees keenly — said: 'My soul divines that the dreams will not remain wholly overshadowed in obscurity; for this young man shows a sign of wisdom, and he will uncover the truth, and, like light dispelling darkness, will scatter through his knowledge the ignorance of the sages we have here.'

And he related the dreams. And the man, in no way overawed by the dignity of the speaker, as though he were king and the king were not, spoke with candor mixed with respect, and said: 'Whatever God is about to do in the land, he has already announced to you beforehand. But do not suppose that the two visions are two separate dreams; it is one dream, its doubling not superfluous but meant, for greater certainty, to confirm belief.'

For the seven fat cows and the well-grown, flourishing seven ears of grain signify seven years of abundance and prosperity, and the seven other years of famine are signified by the seven lean and repulsive cows that came up afterward, and by the withered and blighted seven ears of grain.

So there will come first a seven-year period bringing great and abundant fruitfulness, the river flooding the fields every year, and the plains yielding a harvest such as never before; and after this there will come, in turn, another seven-year period, the opposite of the first, bringing harsh want and scarcity of necessities, the river neither rising nor the earth growing rich, so that the former abundance will be forgotten, and whatever remnant of the old prosperity there was will be consumed. Such, then, is the meaning of the interpretation.

But the divine whispers within me and speaks aloud, suggesting remedies fitting for what is, in effect, a sickness; and the heaviest sickness of cities and lands is famine, against which a weakening must be contrived, lest, growing to its full strength, it devour the inhabitants.

How, then, will it be weakened? Of the produce of the seven years of plenty, the surplus left over after feeding the people sufficiently — it will perhaps be a fifth part — must be stored up in city and villages, not transporting the harvests from afar, but keeping them, in whatever district they are grown, for the relief of those who live there;

and the grain should be gathered in with its very sheaves, neither threshed nor winnowed at all, for four reasons: first, so that, kept under cover, it may remain uncorrupted for a longer time; second, so that each year, when threshed and winnowed, it may serve as a reminder of the abundance — for the imitation of true goods was bound to produce a second pleasure;

third, so that it may not even be reduced to a reckoning, the amount of grain in ear and sheaf remaining unclear and beyond written account, lest the minds of the local people despair as they calculate the sum being consumed, but rather, keeping up their spirits through the better nourishment of grain — for hope above all sustains — they may lighten the heavy sickness of want; and fourth, so that fodder may be stored up for the cattle as well, from the chaff and husks separated out in the cleaning of the grain.

And a man must be appointed overseer of these things who is exceedingly prudent and intelligent and approved in every respect, one able to carry out what has been prescribed without provoking hatred or friction, giving the people no sense at all of the coming famine; for it is a hard thing for souls already worn down by toil to collapse into despair.

And if anyone asks the reason, he will say that just as in peacetime one must provide beforehand for the preparations needed in war, so in times of plenty one must provide for what comes with want; for wars and famines, and in general the seasons of misfortune, are unforeseeable, and one must of necessity be prepared to meet them, rather than seek the remedy only once they have arrived, when it is of no use.'

When the king heard both the interpretation of the dreams — aimed so aptly and accurately at the truth — and the advice, which seemed most beneficial in providing for an unknown future, he ordered those present to draw nearer, so that no one else might overhear, and said: 'Shall we find, men, such a man as this, who has a divine spirit within him?'

When they all joined in approving and praising this, he looked at the one standing near him and said: 'The man you urge me to seek is near; the prudent and intelligent man you bid me look for, according to your own account, is not far off — you yourself happen to be he; for it does not seem to me that you could say these things without God. Come, then, and take charge of the oversight of my household and the governance of all Egypt.'

And no one will accuse me of rashness, as though I acted out of self-love, that incurable passion; for great natures are not proven by long stretches of time — the very weight of their power compels immediate recognition — and affairs of state do not tolerate delay and procrastination, when the times press for the necessary preparations.

Then he made him successor to the kingship — or rather, to speak the truth, king, keeping for himself only the name of the office while yielding to him the actual conduct of rule in practice, and doing everything else that concerned the young man's honor,

the honor of the young man. So he gave him a royal seal and sacred robes and a golden chain for his neck, and, having set him in the second chariot, ordered him to be driven around the city, a herald going ahead and proclaiming his appointment to those who did not know of it.

And he renamed him, addressing him in the local tongue by a name recalling his skill in dream-interpretation, and betrothed to him in marriage the most illustrious woman in Egypt, the daughter of the priest of Heliopolis. This happened when he was already about thirty years old.

Such are the endings that await the pious: even if they fall, they do not fall utterly, but rise up again and stand firm and secure, so as never again to be tripped up.

For who would have expected that the same man, in a single day, would pass from slave to master, from prisoner to the most honored of all; that the underling of the prison-keeper would become deputy of the king, and would dwell in the palace instead of the prison, carried to the highest place of honor instead of the lowest depths of disgrace? Yet this has happened, and will happen many times again, whenever it seems good to God;

only let some spark of true goodness smolder in the soul, which, when fanned, must at some point inevitably burst into flame.

Since it is now proposed, after the literal exposition, to examine the more figurative sense as well, we must say what is fitting about that too. Perhaps some of the more frivolous will laugh when they hear this; but I will say without holding back that the true statesman is, in every respect, an interpreter of dreams — not one of the buffoons, nor of those who babble and play the sophist for hire and make the interpretation of nighttime visions a matter of profit, but one accustomed to give a precise account of the great dream, common to all and shared by the whole people, belonging not only to those asleep but also to those awake.

This dream, to put it with complete honesty, is the life of human beings. For just as in the visions we see during sleep we look but do not see, hear but do not hear, taste or touch without either tasting or touching, speak without speaking, walk without walking, and seem to make use of all our other movements and postures while making use of none of them at all -- our minds being empty, picturing to themselves and forming images of things that are not, as though they were real, with nothing genuine underlying them -- so too the impressions of us who are awake resemble dreams: they come, they go, they appear, they vanish; before they can be firmly grasped, they have already flown away.

Let each of us examine himself, and he will know the proof of this from his own experience, without needing any arguments of mine -- especially anyone who has already reached an advanced age. This man was once an infant, and after that a child, then a boy, then a youth, then a young man again, then a man, and finally an old man.

But where are all those former selves now? Did not the infant slip away within the child, the child within the boy just past childhood, the boy within the youth, the youth within the young man, the young man within the man, and the man within the old man -- and does not death follow upon old age?

Perhaps, indeed, perhaps each of the ages, yielding its dominance to the one that follows, dies before it, nature quietly teaching us not to fear the death that comes at the end of all things, since we have borne the earlier deaths so easily -- the death of the boy who became a youth, of the youth who became a young man, of the young man who became

a man -- none of whom any longer exists once old age has set in. And all the other things that concern the body, are they not dreams as well? Is not beauty a thing of a day, withering before it has even flowered? Is not health unstable, beset by the illnesses that lie in wait for it? Is not strength easily overtaken by disease from countless causes? And the precision of the senses -- is it not, far from being fixed, overturned by the onset of even a slight discharge?

And who does not know the obscurity of external things? In a single day great fortunes have often drained away. Countless people, having carried off the first prizes among the highest honors, have changed places with the neglected and the obscure, falling into disgrace. The greatest kingships of kings have been overthrown in a brief turn of fortune.

Dionysius of Corinth vouches for what I say -- he who was tyrant of Sicily, but on being cast out of his rule fled to Corinth, and this great ruler became a schoolmaster.

Croesus, king of Lydia, joins him as a witness -- the richest of kings, who, hoping to destroy the empire of the Persians, not only lost his own besides, but was also taken captive and came close to being burned alive.

Witnesses to these dreams are not only individual men but also cities, nations, and lands -- Greece, the barbarian world, the mainland peoples, the islanders, Europe, Asia, west and east. For nothing anywhere has remained utterly the same; everything, throughout everything, has undergone reversals and changes.

Egypt once held dominion over many nations, but now it is enslaved. The Macedonians flourished for a time to such a degree that they fastened the mastery of the whole inhabited world upon themselves, but now they pay the yearly tribute imposed by their masters to the tax collectors.

Where now is the house of the Ptolemies, and the splendor of each successive king that blazed out to the ends of land and sea? Where are the freedoms of the self-governing nations and cities? And where, in turn, are the servitudes of subject peoples? Did not the Persians once rule over Parthia, while now, because of the reversals of human affairs and their moves up and down and shifts back and forth like pieces on a game board, the Parthians rule over the Persians?

Some people fashion for themselves long and unending prosperities, yet these very beginnings are the sources of great evils; and hastening toward what they think will be an inheritance of good things, they find terrible misfortunes instead, while others, expecting the opposite -- misfortune -- meet with good things.

Athletes who pride themselves greatly on their powers, their strength, and the good condition of their bodies, and who expect an undoubted victory, have often been disqualified from the contest without even being tested, or have entered the contest and been defeated, while others who despaired of winning even second prize have taken up the first of the prizes and worn the victor's crown.

Some who put out to sea in summer -- for that is the season for safe sailing -- have been shipwrecked, while others who expected to be capsized in winter have been carried safely through to harbor without danger. Some merchants strain after gains they consider certain, unaware of the losses lying in wait for them, while others, reckoning that they would suffer harm, have instead enjoyed great profits.

So uncertain are our fortunes in either direction, and human affairs, as if on a scale, are weighed down or lightened by unequal weights; a terrible obscurity and thick darkness is poured over events. As in deep sleep we wander unable to grasp anything with precision of reasoning, nor to lay hold of anything firmly and securely, for our experience resembles shadows and phantoms.

And just as in processions the first participants pass by, escaping our sight, and in mountain torrents the moving current outruns our grasp by the swiftness of its flow, so too the affairs of life, being carried along and passing by, present the appearance of standing still, yet do not remain even for an instant, but are forever swept away.

And those who are awake, insofar as concerns the instability of what they grasp, differ in no way from those who are asleep, yet in deceiving themselves they think themselves capable of seeing the natures of things with unerring reasoning -- though each of the senses is an obstacle to knowledge, being bribed by sights, sounds, the qualities of flavors, and the peculiarities of odors, toward which it inclines and is dragged along, not allowing the whole soul to stand upright and to proceed without stumbling, as though along a highway; instead it produces the high made low and the great made small and everything akin to inequality and irregularity, and it forces the mind to reel

and induces great dizziness. Since life, then, is so full of confusion, disorder, and obscurity, the statesman must come forward like a kind of sage in the art of dream-interpretation, distinguishing the daylight dreams and phantoms of those who only seem to be awake, by likely conjectures and reasonable probabilities, teaching about each thing that this is noble, that shameful; this good, that bad; this just, the opposite unjust; and so with the rest -- the prudent, the courageous, the pious, the holy, the advantageous, the beneficial, and again the unprofitable, the irrational, the ignoble, the impious, the unholy, the disadvantageous, the harmful, the self-loving.

And besides these, he must teach: this belongs to another, do not desire it; this is your own, use it without misusing it; you have more than enough, share it -- for the beauty of wealth lies not in money bags but in the relief of those in need; you possess little, do not envy those who have more, for no one would pity a envious poor man; you enjoy a good reputation and have been honored, do not grow arrogant; you are humbled by fortune, but do not let your spirit collapse; everything is proceeding according to your mind, be on guard against change; you stumble often, hope for good things -- for the turns of human affairs run toward their opposites.

For the moon and the sun and the whole heaven possess clear and manifest brightness, since everything within it remains alike and is measured by the standards of truth itself, in harmonious order and the finest concords, whereas earthly things are full of much disorder and confusion, discordant and unattuned -- so that one might most properly say that deep darkness has taken hold of these earthly things, while those heavenly things move within the most far-shining light, or rather are themselves the purest and cleanest light.

If, then, one should wish to look within into the nature of things, he will find that heaven is an eternal day, having no share in night or in any shadow, since it is illumined all through by unquenchable and undefiled radiance without interruption.

And by as much as those of us who are awake differ from those who are asleep, by that much do the heavenly things differ from the earthly things in the whole cosmos: the heavenly things enjoy an unsleeping wakefulness because of their unerring, unstumbling activities that succeed in everything, while the earthly things are held fast by sleep, and even if they rouse themselves briefly, they are again dragged down and fall back asleep, because they are unable to look straight ahead with the soul, but wander and stumble; for they are darkened by false opinions, under whose influence they are compelled to dream, and, lagging behind the realities,

are unable to grasp anything firmly and securely. Symbolically, then, he is said to mount to the second of the royal chariots, for the following reason: the statesman carries off the second prize after the king; for he is neither a private citizen nor a king, but stands on the border between the two -- superior to the private citizen, yet inferior to the king in the exercise of unrestricted authority, since he makes use of the people as his king, on whose behalf he has chosen to do everything with pure and utterly guileless loyalty.

He is borne aloft as if upon a chariot's seat, lifted on high by both affairs and crowds, and especially whenever each matter, small and great, proceeds according to his mind, with nothing blowing against him or standing in opposition, but as in fair sailing, with all things being safely piloted by God. And the ring that the king gives is the clearest proof of the trust which the king's people have placed in the statesman, and which the statesman has placed in the ruling people.

And the golden circlet about his neck seems to signify at once glory and punishment. For as long as the affairs of his statesmanship prosper for him, he is proud and dignified, being honored by the crowds; but whenever a misfortune occurs -- not one arising from deliberate choice, for that would be culpable, but one due to chance, which is pardonable -- he is nonetheless dragged down and humbled by that same ornament about his neck, as though his master were all but saying to him: "This circlet about your neck I gave you both as an adornment when my affairs prosper, and as a noose when they fail."

I heard, however, from those who study these matters more allegorically, another account of this kind: they said that the king of Egypt was our mind, the ruler of the bodily territory belonging to each of us, who like a king holds the power.

This mind, once it becomes a lover of the body, labors over three things held in the greatest regard—food, delicacies, and drink—and for this reason employs three so-called overseers of these: a chief baker, a chief cupbearer, and a chief cook. One presides over eating, another over drinking, and the third is appointed over the seasonings that go with the delicacies themselves.

All of these are eunuchs, since the lover of pleasure is barren of the most necessary things: self-control, modesty, self-mastery, justice, virtue entire. For nothing is so hostile to anything else as pleasure is to virtue, on account of which most people take no account of the one thing they alone ought to be concerned about, indulging their unrestrained desires and yielding to whatever these command.

The chief cook, then, is neither led away to prison nor falls into any disgrace, because seasonings are not among the strictly necessary things—they are not pleasures themselves but only easily-quenched kindlings of pleasure. But of the two who labor over the wretched belly, the chief baker and the chief cupbearer, since eating and drinking are the most essential of life's necessities, when these are properly attended to those in charge naturally receive praise, but when neglected they are held worthy of anger and punishment.

There is a difference too in the punishments, because the need is different: food is most necessary, wine not nearly so useful—indeed people live without strong drink, using spring water as their only drink.

For this reason there comes reconciliation and settlement with the chief cupbearer, as one who erred in the lesser matter, but the case against the chief baker is irreconcilable and unappeasable, receiving anger that reaches even to death, as one who wronged in the greatest matter; for death follows upon scarcity of food. This is why the one who sinned in this matter fittingly dies by hanging, suffering an evil like the one he inflicted—for he too had, as it were, hanged and stretched out on a rack the man made to hunger by famine.

So much for this man. As for the one appointed viceroy of the king, who took charge and oversight of Egypt, he went out to make himself known to all the people of the country, and as he passed through the districts called nomes, city by city, he stirred in all who saw him an immense longing for himself—not only through the benefits he provided to each, but also through the ineffable and extraordinary graces that attended his appearance and all his other dealings with them.

When, according to the interpretation of the dreams, the seven years of abundance began first, he gathered a fifth of the produce every year, through the governors and the others who served him for the public needs, and amassed so vast a multitude of sheaves as no one before could remember ever having occurred; the clearest proof of this is that it could not even be counted, though countless men whose task it was labored with officious diligence to number it.

When the seven years had passed, in which the plain yielded abundant harvest, the famine began, and as it advanced and grew, Egypt could not contain it; for spreading out and ever seizing the cities and lands in succession, it reached at last to the very ends, both east and west, and overtook the whole inhabited world in a circle.

It is said, indeed, that no common disease of such magnitude ever struck before—like the one the sons of physicians call "herpes": for this too, visiting every part, spreads the contagion of ulcerated flesh wholly through the whole body, step by step, in the manner of fire.

So people chose from each place their most reputable men as grain-buyers and sent them to Egypt; for already the foresight of the young man, who had stored up abundant food against the time of want, was being reported everywhere.

He first ordered all the granaries to be opened, supposing that he would make those who saw them more cheerful, and would in a sense nourish their souls even before their bodies with good hopes; then, through those he had entrusted with the task, he sold the grain rations to those who had the means to buy, always aiming at the future and seeing what was to come more precisely than what was present.

Meanwhile the father too, since necessities were already growing scarce, not knowing of his son's good fortune, sent ten of his sons to buy grain, keeping at home the youngest, who was the full brother of the king's viceroy.

And they, on coming to Egypt, approached their brother as a stranger, and astonished at the dignity surrounding him, bowed down to him according to ancient custom—his dreams already receiving their confirmation.

But he, on seeing those who had sold him, recognized them all at once, while being recognized by none of them at all, since God did not yet wish the truth to come to light, for certain necessary reasons which it was then better to keep quiet—but rather he had either changed the appearance of the one entrusted with the land into a more majestic form, or had diverted the accurate perceptions of the minds of those who saw him.

Then—did he not, like a young man and successor to so great a rule, having assumed the office ranking first after the king, on whom east and west looked, exalted by the prime of his age and the greatness of his authority, having opportunity for vengeance—bear a grudge? No; rather, mastering the passion and storing it within his own soul with great forethought, he feigned estrangement, both in his looks and his voice and everything else, playing the part of one displeased, and said, "You have nothing peaceable in mind, you men, but some enemy of the king has sent you as spies, to whom, having agreed to render evil services, you thought you would go undetected—but nothing done in ambush escapes notice, even if it is shrouded in deep darkness."

When they tried to defend themselves and explained that they were being accused of things that had never happened—that they had not come from enemies, nor were they themselves at odds with the local people, nor would they ever submit to such a service, for they were peaceable by nature and had learned almost from earliest childhood to honor stability, under a most holy and God-beloved father, who, having twelve sons, kept at home the youngest, not yet of age for travel, while the ten of us present here were before his eyes, and the remaining one had disappeared—when he heard this, as though it concerned himself dead at the hands of those who had sold him, what must his soul have felt?

For even if the passion that came over him then did not burst into speech, still, smoldering and rekindled by these words, his insides were altogether ablaze; yet with a deep composure he said to them, "If you really have come here not to spy out the land, then as proof of my trust, stay here yourselves a short while, and let your youngest brother come, summoned by letter.

But if you are in haste to leave for your father's sake, fearing perhaps your long separation from him, let all the rest of you depart, but let one remain as a hostage until you return with the youngest; the penalty against those who disobey shall be set at the highest—death."

Having uttered such threats, and looking at them askance, and giving every outward proof of heavy anger, he withdrew. But they, filled with anxious thought and dejection, reproached themselves for their plot against their brother, saying, "That crime is the cause of our present troubles, the overseeing justice of human affairs already contriving something against us; for having rested quietly a short while, it rises again, displaying its own implacable and inexorable nature toward those who deserve punishment. And how are we not deserving?

We, merciless as we were, disregarded our brother when he begged and implored, though he had done no wrong, but had only, out of family affection, reported to us as to familiars the visions he had in his sleep—because of which we, most savage and wildest of all, in our displeasure did unholy things—for one must not lie.

Therefore we expect to suffer these things, and worse still, we who alone, of almost all mankind, called well-born on account of the surpassing virtues of our fathers and grandfathers and ancestors, have disgraced our lineage, having been eager to acquire a notorious reproach."

But the eldest of the brothers, who at the beginning too, when they were plotting together, had opposed the scheme, said, "Now that the deed is done, regrets are useless. I urged you, I entreated you, weighing how great the wickedness was, not to indulge your anger; but when you ought to have agreed with me, you yielded instead to your own rash counsels.

Therefore we now reap the wages of our willfulness and impiety; the plot devised against him is being sought out, and the one who seeks it is no man,

but God, or reason, or divine law." These things the brother who had been sold heard them murmuring quietly among themselves, with an interpreter standing between; and overcome by emotion, and about to weep, he turned away so as not to be discovered, and having poured out hot, unceasing tears, and finding some relief, he wiped his face, turned back, and ordered the second eldest of the brothers to be bound before the eyes of them all—the one corresponding to himself in order (for the second among several corresponds to the second-to-last, just as the first corresponds to the last)—

"but rather God, or reason, or divine law." The brother who had been sold heard these words as the men spoke quietly among themselves, with an interpreter standing between them. Overcome by feeling, and about to weep, he turned away so as not to be discovered, and poured out hot tears one after another; and when he had found a little relief, he wiped his face and turned back, and ordered that the second-oldest of his brothers be bound before the eyes of all the others -- the one who matched his own position. For among several brothers, the second from the end corresponds to the first, just as the last corresponds to the first.

Perhaps too it was because this brother seemed to have contributed the greatest share of the wrongdoing, all but marshaling the others and inciting them to hostility. For if he had joined the eldest brother, who was counseling kindly and humane action, then -- being younger than him but older than the rest -- the wrong might well have been checked, since the two of highest rank and honor would have been of one mind and one purpose about a matter which, on its own weight, carried great influence.

But as it was, he abandoned the gentler and better course and deserted to the savage and harsh one, and once set up as its leader, he so emboldened his partners in the crime that they carried the reprehensible contest through without flinching. For these reasons he alone, of all of them, seemed to me the one who deserved to be bound.

Meanwhile the others were already preparing for the journey home, since the steward of the country had ordered the grain-sellers to fill all the brothers' sacks as though for strangers, and secretly to place the money they had received at the mouths of the sacks, without telling those to whom they gave it back, and further to add a third thing besides -- provisions sufficient for the road, set apart so that the grain they were bringing back might be delivered undiminished.

As they journeyed, naturally pitying the brother left in bonds, and no less downcast about their father, wondering whether he would again hear of a disaster diminishing and cutting away at his blessing of many children with each new road -- and saying, "but he will not even believe he has been imprisoned; he will suppose the chains are merely a pretext for his death, since those once struck tend to stumble against the same thing again" -- evening overtook them, and after unloading the burdens from the pack animals they set some down to lighten them, but they themselves took on heavier cares in their souls. For it is the way of the mind, in the body's times of rest, to seize upon more vivid images of what one does not wish to see, and to be crushed and weighed down all the more grievously.

One of them, untying a single sack, saw beside its mouth a purse full of silver, and counting it out, found that the very price he had paid for the grain had been given back to him; and struck with astonishment he reported it to his brothers.

But they, suspecting not a kindness but a trap, lost heart, and wishing to search through all the sacks, yet fearing pursuit, they set out and pressed on as fast as they could, running almost without pausing to breathe, and cut short a journey of many days.

Then, one after another, they embraced their father, not without tears, kissing him as he clung to and poured himself out upon each one in turn -- though his soul was already divining something unwelcome. For he noticed those who came forward to greet him, and he found fault with the son who was missing for lagging behind, and he kept looking toward the doorway, eager to see the full number of his children.

But when no one else came in from outside, they saw him thrown into alarm at what he did not wish to believe, and they said: "Father, uncertainty is more painful than knowledge. For the one who learns has found a path to safety, but doubtful ignorance is the cause of a hard road and helplessness. So hear a story that is very painful, but necessary to tell."

"The brother who was sent with us to buy grain and has not returned is alive -- for we must first free you of the greater fear, that he is as good as dead -- and living, he remains in Egypt with the steward of the country, who, whether from some slander or from a suspicion of his own, brought against us the charge that we were spies.

"When we defended ourselves as the moment allowed, telling him about you, our father, and about the brothers left behind -- one dead, and the other staying with you, whom we said we had left at home because he was still young on account of his age -- stripping bare and laying open everything about our kinship so as to remove suspicion, we accomplished nothing. Rather, he said the only proof of a truthful account would be for the youngest boy to come to him, and that this was why he had detained the second brother, as security and pledge for him."

"This demand is the most painful of all, but the moment, more than the one who commands, is what imposes it -- and we must of necessity obey it for the sake of provisions, since only compliance will supply them to those pressed by famine."

But he, groaning most heavily, said: "Which shall I mourn first? The last-remaining son, who did not draw the last place but the first in the ranking of misfortunes? Or the second son, who took the second prize among evils, chains before death? Or the youngest, who will set out on the most dreaded of journeys, if indeed he goes, having learned no caution from his brothers' misfortunes? As for me, torn apart limb from limb and part from part -- for children are parts of their parents -- I am in danger of ending up utterly childless, I who until just now was accounted a father rich and blessed in sons."

But the eldest said: "I give you my two sons as hostages, the only ones I have fathered. Kill them if I do not bring back safe the brother entrusted to me, who, once he comes to Egypt, will secure two very great things for us: first, clear proof that we are not spies or enemies, and second, the power to recover our brother from his bonds."

The father was greatly distressed and said he was not unaware that, of the two sons born of the same mother, one was already dead, and the other, left bereft and alone, would dread the road, and would die in effect from fear even while still living, remembering those terrible things that had happened to befall the first. While he was saying this, they put forward the boldest of them, one naturally suited to command and skilled in speech -- he was fourth in age from the firstborn -- and persuaded him to convey to their father what they had all agreed upon.

It seemed best, since necessities were running low -- for the grain brought back before had already given out -- and since need was pressing and gaining the upper hand, that they should go to buy more; but that they would not go if the youngest stayed behind, since the steward of the country had forbidden them to appear without him. So, reasoning like a wise man, he said to them:

"It is better to give up one son to an uncertain and doubtful future than to face the acknowledged destruction of so many, which every household will suffer once pressed by want, an incurable disease." He said to them:

"But if the demands of necessity are stronger than my own will, I must yield; for perhaps -- perhaps -- nature is arranging something better, which she does not yet think fit to reveal to our minds."

"Take the youngest, then, as you have resolved, and go -- but not in the same manner as before. Formerly, silver alone was needed to buy grain, when you were unknown men who had suffered nothing irreparable; but now gifts are needed as well, for three reasons: to win the favor of the governor and grain-master, by whom you say you are recognized; to recover our brother from his bonds all the more quickly by paying a large ransom for him; and to heal, as far as possible, the suspicion of spying."

"Take, then, of all that our land produces, and carry it to the man as a kind of first-fruits, along with double the silver -- both what was returned to you before, which was perhaps returned through someone's oversight, and another sum sufficient to buy the grain."

"Carry with you also our prayers, which we offer to God our savior, that you may find favor with the people of that land while you sojourn there as strangers, and return safely, restoring to your father the precious deposits entrusted to you -- your sons: the one left behind before in bonds, and the youngest one, whom you are now taking with you, still inexperienced in affairs." So they set out and pressed on toward Egypt.

Then, a few days later, the steward of the country saw them arrive and was greatly pleased, and ordered the man in charge of his household to prepare a lavish meal and to bring the men in to share salt and table with him.

When they were brought in, not understanding why, they were thrown into alarm, and in their confusion supposed they were about to be falsely charged with theft, as though they had made off with the price of the grain, which they had earlier found in their sacks. So they approached the steward of the household and began defending themselves against a charge no one had dared to bring, trying to heal their own guilty conscience, and at the same time bringing out and displaying the silver to give it back.

But he, with kind and humane words, put them more at ease, saying: "No one is so impious as to malign the graces of God -- may he be gracious to you! For he has rained treasures down into your sacks, giving you freely not only food but wealth as well."

Comforted by this, they set out in order the gifts they had brought from home, and offered them when the master of the household arrived. When he asked how they were faring, and whether their father was still alive -- the one they had spoken of before -- they answered nothing about themselves, but concerning their father, that he was alive

and well. Having invoked a blessing on him and called him most dear to God, he looked around for his brother born of the same mother; and when he saw him, unable to restrain himself and now overcome by feeling, before he could be discovered he turned away and, running off on the pretext of some urgent matter -- for it was not the moment to blurt out the truth -- he wept in some inner chamber of the house.

he let the flood of tears pour out. Then, having washed his face, he mastered his grief by reasoning, and came forward and gave a feast for the strangers, first restoring the one who had been held as a hostage in place of the youngest. Others among the eminent Egyptians also joined the banquet.

The seating was arranged for each according to their own ancestral customs, since he considered it a serious matter to disregard time-honored laws, especially at a banquet, where the pleasures ought to outweigh the discomforts.

Next, when he ordered them to be seated in order of age -- people at that time not yet using reclining couches at their banquets -- the brothers marveled that Egyptians should be zealous for the same customs as the Hebrews, mindful of proper order and skilled at distinguishing the honors due to elder and younger.

Perhaps, they said, in earlier times the country had been rather uninstructed in matters of diet, but this man, once set over public affairs, had brought good order not only to the great matters through which the successes of peace and war are naturally achieved, but also to what seem the more trivial things, most of which belong to amusements; for banquets seek out cheerfulness, and have little patience for a companion who is too solemn and severe.

While they quietly strung together praises of this kind, tables not especially lavish were brought in, since their host, because of the famine, did not think it right to indulge in luxury amid the misfortunes of others. And they, being men of exact judgment, took this too into their praises, saying that he had turned away from vulgar ostentation, a thing that provokes envy, and that in this way he preserved both the bearing of one who shares the suffering of the needy and the bearing of a generous host, placing himself on the border between the two and escaping the blame that attaches to each.

So the preparations, being suited to the occasion, gave no grounds for reproach; and what they lacked in abundance was made up for by continual marks of goodwill -- toasts, wishes, and words of encouragement meant to restore the spirit -- things more pleasant to free people of cultivated character than all the elaborate arrangements of food and drink which lovers of feasting and lovers of dinners, men of shallow mind, parade for display, though such things are worth no serious attention.

The next day, at dawn, he sent for the steward of his household and ordered him to fill the men's sacks with grain, and again to place the payment in purses at the mouths of the sacks, and in the sack of the youngest to place also the finest of the silver cups, the one he himself was accustomed to drink from.

He carried out his instructions eagerly, taking no one as witness; and the brothers, knowing nothing of what had been done in secret, set out on their journey, rejoicing in all the good things that had come to them beyond their hopes.

For this is what they had expected: that they would face a false charge over the money that had been returned to them, as though they had stolen it; that they would not get back the brother held as hostage; and that they might, in addition, lose the youngest as well, forcibly detained by the very man who had been so eager to have him brought.

But what actually happened surpassed even their most favorable hopes: beyond escaping false accusation, they had shared in table and salt, which have been discovered by human beings as tokens of genuine friendship; they had recovered their brother unharmed, without anyone having interceded or pleaded on his behalf; they had brought the youngest back to their father safe, having escaped the suspicion of being spies, and were bringing home an abundant supply of food, and could reckon good things for the future as well. For, they said, if their provisions should run short again, they would no longer travel in fear as before, but with joy, as to a governor of the country who was now their own rather than a stranger --

-- that they would journey to. But while they were in this frame of mind and turning over such thoughts in their souls, a sudden and unexpected disturbance overtook them. For the steward of the household, acting under orders and bringing with him no small number of servants, came running after them, waving his hands and signaling them to stop.

Straining forward, out of breath, he said, 'You have sealed your former guilt upon yourselves once again. Repaying good with evil, you have turned back to the same path of wrongdoing; having secretly taken back the price of the grain, you have gone on to do something still worse -- for wickedness, once it meets with impunity, only grows bolder.'

'You have stolen the finest and most precious cup of my master, the one from which he drank your health -- you, so very grateful, so very peaceable, you who do not even know the word "spy," you who brought back double the money to repay what was owed before -- a trap, it seems, and a bait set for the hunting and seizing of still more. But wickedness does not prosper forever; forever scheming to escape notice, it is at last caught out.'

As he strung these words together, they were struck speechless, grief and fear -- the most grievous of afflictions -- having fallen upon them all at once, so that they could not even open their mouths; for the onset of unexpected misfortunes brings speechlessness even upon those most skilled in speech.

Yet, though overcome, they would not remain silent, for fear of seeming to be caught by their own guilty conscience, and said, 'How shall we defend ourselves, and before whom? For you, the accuser, are about to be the judge as well, though you ought rather, from your own experience of us, to speak in our defense even against the accusations of others. Did we not bring back, unbidden and though no one had detected it, the money found earlier in our sacks, meaning to repay it? And have we now undergone such a change of character as to repay our host with damages and theft? No -- this has not happened, nor would it ever enter our minds.'

'Whichever of our brothers is found in possession of the cup, let him die; for we ourselves would judge this wrongdoing, if it has truly happened, worthy of death, for many reasons: first, because greed and the desire for what belongs to another are utterly lawless; second, because to attempt to harm one's benefactor is the height of impiety; third, because for those who pride themselves greatly on noble birth to dare, by shameful deeds, to tear down the dignity of their ancestors is the most disgraceful reproach of all. If any of us is guilty of all these things, having done deeds worthy of a thousand deaths, let him die.'

And as they spoke, they took down the loads from their pack animals and urged the steward to search with every care. He, knowing well that it lay in the sack of the youngest, since he himself had secretly placed it there, played his part cunningly: beginning with the eldest, he examined each sack in turn following the order of their ages, as each man brought his sack forward and displayed it, until he came to the last, in whose sack the sought-for object was indeed found -- so that, seeing it all together, they cried out and tore their garments and wept and groaned aloud, mourning in advance for their brother while he was still alive, and no less for themselves and for their father, who had foretold the misfortunes that would befall this son, on account of which he had refused, though they wished it, to let his brother travel with them.

Downcast and in utter confusion, they turned back along the same road to the city, thunderstruck at what had happened, believing the whole affair to be some plot rather than their brother's greed for money. Then, brought before the governor of the country, they displayed a brotherly devotion springing from genuine feeling.

For falling all together at his knees, as though every one of them were guilty of the theft -- a thing it is not even right to say of them -- they wept in streams, they begged, they gave themselves up, they promised voluntary slavery, they addressed him as master, and, leaving out no name applied to household slaves, they called themselves outcasts, home-bred servants, men bought with silver.

But he, testing them still further, said to them with the gravest manner: 'Far be it from me to do such a thing, as to carry off so many for the fault of one. For what reason would justify calling to share in the punishment those who did not share in the wrongdoing? Let that one alone be punished, since he alone committed the act.'

'I understand, in fact, that before you reached the city you yourselves decreed death for whoever should be found guilty; but I, weighing everything by fairness and a gentler measure, lighten the penalty, appointing slavery instead of'

'death.' While they bore the threat with distress and shrank down under the false charge they faced, the fourth in order of age -- a man bold yet reverent, courageous, and practiced in a frankness of speech free from shamelessness -- came forward and said, 'I beg you, master, do not indulge your anger, nor, because you hold the rank second only to the king, condemn us in advance before we have made our defense.'

'When you asked us, on your former visit, about our brother and our father, we answered you. Our father is an old man, aged not so much by the passage of time as by one misfortune after another, under whose discipline, like an athlete, he has continued in labors and hardships scarcely endurable. Our brother is quite young, extraordinarily beloved by our father, since he was born late in his life and, of the two sons born of the same mother, he alone remains, the elder having died a violent death.'

'When you ordered us to bring our brother here, and threatened that unless he came we would not be permitted to come into your presence again, we departed downcast, and, scarcely able to bear it, returned home and reported to our father what you had said.'

'At first he refused, being greatly afraid for the boy; but when our provisions ran short, and none of us dared come to buy grain without the youngest, because of your threats, he was at last persuaded to send him with us, blaming us a thousand times over for having admitted that we had another brother, and lamenting a thousand times over the prospect of being parted from him; for he is still a child, inexperienced in affairs, not only those of a foreign land, but even those of his own city.'

How then could we return to our father in this state of mind? With what eyes could we bear to look at him without this boy? He will meet the most pitiable end the moment he hears that the boy has not come back; and then everyone who bears us ill will and delights in such misfortunes will call us murderers of a man, killers of our own father.

The greater part of the accusation will fall on me. For I made many promises to my father, undertaking to bring back a deposit I was receiving, one I would restore whenever it was demanded of me. But how could I restore it, unless you yourself become gracious? I beg you to take pity on the old man and to consider the miseries with which he will be afflicted if he fails to recover the one he entrusted to me against his better judgment.

But as for you, exact whatever penalty you think fitting for the wrongs you believe you have suffered. I will give myself up willingly. Enroll me as a slave from this very day; I will gladly endure the lot of the newly bought, if only you will consent to let the boy go.

And it is not I myself who will receive the favor, if indeed you grant it, but the one who is absent, relieved of his cares, the father of all of us who are suppliants here. For we are suppliants who have taken refuge at your most gracious right hand, of which may we never fail.

Let pity, then, enter into you for an old man who has toiled through the contests of virtue at every stage of his life. He turned the cities of Syria to receive and honor him, even though he practiced customs and laws quite foreign to them and far removed from their own, not estranged in any small measure from the ways of the country. But the nobility of his life, and the harmony and agreement between his deeds and his words and between his words and his deeds, prevailed, so that even those unfavorably disposed toward him on account of his ancestral customs were won over.

Such is the favor you are about to bestow, one than which no one could receive a greater; for what gift could be greater to a father than to recover a son given up for lost?"

All this, and what had gone before, were tests, by which the governor of the land was observing their disposition toward their brother by the same mother; for he feared they might harbor some natural estrangement toward him, as sometimes happens with sons of a stepmother toward the household of another wife held in equal honor.

For this reason he had accused them as spies and inquired about their family, using this as a pretext to learn whether his brother was still alive, and had not been destroyed through some plot; and he detained one of them, letting the others depart on their undertaking to bring back the youngest, whom he longed above all to see and by whose presence he wished to be freed from the harsh and heaviest grief he felt on his account.

And when he had arrived and he beheld his brother, relieved a little of his anxiety, he invited him to be his guest and, feasting him, entertained his brother by the same mother with more lavish preparations, watching each of the others closely and judging from their faces whether any envy lurked hidden within them.

And when he saw them rejoicing and warming with pleasure at the honor shown the youngest, having already noted from two proofs that no hidden hostility smoldered, he devised a third: he laid on the youngest the charge of having stolen the cup that seemed to be missing. For this was bound to become the clearest test of each one's mind and of his attachment to the brother now falsely accused.

From all this he was now persuaded that no faction or plot was being raised against the household of his mother, and he drew the reasonable conclusion also about what had happened to himself: that he had suffered these things not so much through the plotting of his brothers as through the providence of God, who looks far ahead and sees the future no less than the present.

Then he moved toward reconciliation and agreement, overcome by affection for his own family; and so that he might cast no reproach upon his brothers for what they had done, he thought it right that none of the Egyptians should be present at the first disclosure.

Instead, having ordered the whole retinue to withdraw, he suddenly let loose a fountain of tears, and signaling with his right hand for them to come nearer, so that not even by chance could anyone else overhear, he said to them: "A matter that has lain in shadow and seemed hidden for a long time, I am now about to uncover; alone, to you alone, I unveil it: the brother whom you sold into Egypt, that man whom you now see standing before you, I am he."

And when they were struck with astonishment beyond all hope and thrown into confusion, and had, as if by some violent force, cast their eyes down to the ground and stood fixed, speechless and open-mouthed, he said, "Do not be downcast; I grant an amnesty for everything done against me, you need no other advocate.

Of my own accord and by my own free judgment I have come willingly to a reconciliation, taking as my two counselors reverence for our father, to whom I attribute the greatest part of this favor, and natural love of humanity, which I show toward all, but especially toward those of my own blood.

And I consider that not you but God has been the cause of what has happened, since he willed that I should become the servant and minister of his own graces and gifts, which in the times of greatest need he saw fit to grant to the human race.

You can take clear proof of this from what you see: I have been entrusted with the whole of Egypt, and I hold the first place of honor with the king, and though I am young he, though older, honors me as a father; and I am attended not only by the people of this land but by very many other nations besides, both those subject to Egypt and those independent of it. For everyone has need of one who presides, because of the scarcity.

Silver and gold, and, more necessary than these, food, are stored up in my keeping alone, to be distributed and portioned out for the necessary needs of each who is in want, so that nothing is left over for luxury, and nothing is lacking for the fulfillment of need.

But I have not gone through all this out of vanity or self-importance, but so that you might perceive that no man of such stature was destined to become responsible for one who had been a slave and afterward a prisoner—for indeed I was once bound, falsely accused—but rather that he who transformed the utmost misfortunes and misadventures into the highest and first successes was God, to whom all things are possible.

Since this is my thinking, be no longer anxious; put your distress out of the way and change over to cheerful good spirits. And it would be well to hasten to our father and be the first to bring him the good news of my having been found; for rumors outrun everything, everywhere."

And they, taking up his praises one after another in unbroken succession, sang his praises with unbridled mouths, each dwelling on some different point: one on his freedom from resentment, another on his love of family, another on his understanding, and all together on his piety in referring to God the outcome of his successes, and no longer resenting the unwelcome beginnings and first difficulties of what had not turned out according to his own will, and his surpassing, modest endurance.

He who, amid so many changes of fortune, neither, while a slave, spoke any evil against his brothers as men who had sold him, nor, when led away to prison in despondency, blurted out any of the secret matters, nor, remaining there a long time, stripped bare, as prisoners are wont to do, the reckoning of his own misfortunes;

but as though he knew nothing of what had happened to him—not even when he interpreted the dreams for the eunuchs or for the king, though he had a fitting occasion to disclose it, did he utter a word about his own noble birth; nor when he was appointed viceroy of the king and took over the charge and oversight of the whole of Egypt, so that he should not seem to be one of the neglected and obscure, but in truth well-born, by nature not a slave, but one who had endured irreparable plots and misfortunes at the hands of those from whom he least deserved them.

Beyond this, great praise was also poured out for his fairness and tact; for knowing the arrogance and lack of education of other rulers, they marveled at his lack of ostentation and freedom from theatrical display, and at how, though he might, on seeing them the first time, have had them put to death, or at the very least, since they were starving, have refused to supply them with food, besides not punishing them, he gave them provisions as a free gift, as though they deserved gratitude, and ordered that their money be returned to them.

So thoroughly, indeed, was the matter of the plot and the sale kept unknown and hidden, that the leading men of Egypt rejoiced together, as though the brothers of their governor had only now for the first time arrived, and invited them to be their guests, and hastened to bring the good news to the king, and everything everywhere was filled with joy no less than if...

The plain yielded abundantly, and the famine turned to plenty. And when the king learned that Joseph had a father, and that his family was numerous, he urged him to move his whole household, promising that he had granted to those who came the richest region of Egypt. So he gave the brothers wagons and carriages and a great number of pack animals loaded with provisions, and an ample retinue of attendants, so that they might bring their father back in safety.

When they arrived and told their unbelievable story about their brother, more wonderful than they had ever hoped, Jacob would not quite believe it; for however trustworthy the tellers, the sheer enormity of the thing would not easily allow him to assent.

But the old man, seeing the abundant provisions and supplies furnished for such an occasion, all in keeping with the good fortune reported to him, praised God, because the part of his household that seemed to have been lost he had restored in full.

But his joy at once gave birth to fear in his soul, over the prospect of leaving his ancestral ways behind; for he knew that youth is by nature prone to slip, and that a foreign land grants a kind of license to sin, especially since Egypt is blind concerning the true God, on account of its habit of fashioning gods out of things generated and mortal, and because, besides, attacks of wealth and reputation are laid upon feeble minds; and he feared that his son, left behind with none of the disciplined guardians of his father's house to accompany him, alone and bereft of good teachers, would be ready to be changed by foreign ways.

Seeing him disposed in this way — he to whom alone it is possible to see the invisible soul — God took pity on him, and appearing to him in a dream by night said, "Have no fear about your journey to Egypt; I myself will guide the way, making the journey safe and pleasant; and I will restore to you, too, the son you have longed for, who once was thought dead after so many years, and now is revealed not only alive but ruler of so great a land." Filled with good hope, rejoicing at the break of day, he hastened on.

And when the son heard — for scouts and messengers had reported the whole journey to him — that his father was not far from the borders, he went quickly to meet him; and meeting at the place called Heroönpolis, they fell upon each other, resting their heads on one another's shoulders, and drenching their garments with tears, they took their fill, insatiably, of long embraces, and when at last they could stop, they pressed on together as far as the royal residence.

And the king, seeing him, and struck with awe at the dignity of his appearance, received him with all reverence and honor, as though he were not another's father but his own; and after the customary and also extraordinary tokens of friendship, he gave him a portion of land that was fertile and very productive; and learning that Joseph's sons were herdsmen, possessed of great wealth in livestock, he set them in charge of his own flocks and herds, entrusting to them his goat-herds and cattle-herds and sheep-flocks and countless other droves.

And the young man made use of such an excess of faithfulness that, although the times and circumstances offered him the greatest possible occasions for enriching himself, and though he could, in a short while, have become the wealthiest man of his generation, he admired the truly genuine wealth above the counterfeit, and the seeing wealth above the blind, and so he deposited in the king's treasuries all the silver and gold that he had gathered from the sale of the grain, appropriating not a single drachma for himself, but content with the gifts alone which the king, in exchange, bestowed on him.

And as though Egypt and, along with it, the other lands and peoples oppressed by famine were one single household, this man administered them beyond all telling, distributing the food fittingly, and looking not only to present advantage but also to future benefit.

When, at any rate, the seventh year of the scarcity had come — for by now there was hope of abundance and plenty — he summoned the farmers and gave them barley and wheat for seed, taking care that no one should misappropriate what he received but should deposit it in the fields, having chosen inspectors and overseers by merit, who would watch over the sowing.

After the famine, a long time later, when their father had died, the brothers were struck with suspicion, and fearing they might suffer something harsh in reprisal for the old wrong, came to him and begged earnestly, bringing with them their wives and children.

But he, with tears, said: "The occasion is enough to produce suspicion in those who have done unbearable things and are convicted by nothing so much as by their own conscience; for the death of our father has renewed the old fear you had before our reconciliation, as though I had granted the amnesty only for our father's sake, so as not to grieve him.

But I do not change my character with the passing of time, nor, having professed to be at peace, will I ever do what breaks the peace; for I was not merely biding my time in reserve for vengeance, but I was granting you, for all time, release from punishment, assigning it partly, I must be honest, to honor for our father, and partly to the goodwill that was owed to you.

And if I did all these kind and humane things for our father's sake, I will keep them even now that our father is dead; for in my judgment no good man has died, but he will live forever, ageless, in an immortal nature, his soul no longer bound by the constraints of the body.

But why should we remember only our begotten father? We have the Unbegotten, the Imperishable, the Eternal, "who oversees all things and hears all things," even those done in silence, who ever sees even what is hidden in the recesses of the mind — him I call to witness my conscience, that our reconciliation is without deceit.

For I — and do not marvel at my words — belong to God (Gen. 50:19), who transformed your evil designs into an abundance of good things. So have no fear, and you will share in more useful things for the future than you enjoyed while our father was still living."

Having encouraged his brothers with such words, he confirmed his promises still more by his deeds, omitting nothing that concerned their care. After the famine, when the inhabitants of the land were already rejoicing in its abundance and prosperity, he was honored by all, who repaid him in return for the good he had done them in the years of misfortune.

And the report of it, spreading, filled the neighboring cities with his renown. He lived a hundred and ten years and died in a good old age, having reached the very summit of beauty, wisdom, and eloquence.

To his bodily beauty, the passion that drove a woman mad for him bears witness; to his understanding, the evenness that, amid the countless irregularities of his life, produced harmony out of what was discordant and concord out of what was in itself unconcordant; to the power of his words, both his interpretation of dreams and the eloquence of his conversation and the persuasiveness that attended it, on account of which none of those under his rule obeyed him more from necessity than from willingness.

Of these years, he spent seventeen, up to adolescence, in his father's house; thirteen amid unwanted misfortunes — plotted against, sold, enslaved, falsely accused, bound in prison; and the remaining eighty in rule and every kind of prosperity, as overseer of famine and plenty and best steward of both, most capable of managing affairs fittingly for either season.

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