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Metamorphosis,
by Franz Kafka, online book
The Spiritual Bookstore Online World Religion Library
Metamorphosis
Franz Kafka
Translated by David Wyllie
Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka, online
book
I
One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found
himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin. He lay on his
armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a little he could see his
brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff sections.
The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off
any moment. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the
rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked.
"What's happened to me?" he thought. It wasn't a dream. His room, a
proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully between
its four familiar walls. A collection of textile samples lay spread out
on the table - Samsa was a travelling salesman - and above it there hung
a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and
housed in a nice, gilded frame. It showed a lady fitted out with a fur
hat and fur boa who sat upright, raising a heavy fur muff that covered
the whole of her lower arm towards the viewer.
Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull weather. Drops
of rain could be heard hitting the pane, which made him feel quite sad.
"How about if I sleep a little bit longer and forget all this nonsense",
he thought, but that was something he was unable to do because he was
used to sleeping on his right, and in his present state couldn't get
into that position. However hard he threw himself onto his right, he
always rolled back to where he was. He must have tried it a hundred
times, shut his eyes so that he wouldn't have to look at the floundering
legs, and only stopped when he began to feel a mild, dull pain there
that he had never felt before.
"Oh, God", he thought, "what a strenuous career it is that I've
chosen! Travelling day in and day out. Doing business like this takes
much more effort than doing your own business at home, and on top of
that there's the curse of travelling, worries about making train
connections, bad and irregular food, contact with different people all
the time so that you can never get to know anyone or become friendly
with them. It can all go to Hell!" He felt a slight itch up on his
belly; pushed himself slowly up on his back towards the headboard so
that he could lift his head better; found where the itch was, and saw
that it was covered with lots of little white spots which he didn't know
what to make of; and when he tried to feel the place with one of his
legs he drew it quickly back because as soon as he touched it he was
overcome by a cold shudder.
He slid back into his former position. "Getting up early all the
time", he thought, "it makes you stupid. You've got to get enough sleep.
Other travelling salesmen live a life of luxury. For instance, whenever
I go back to the guest house during the morning to copy out the
contract, these gentlemen are always still sitting there eating their
breakfasts. I ought to just try that with my boss; I'd get kicked out on
the spot. But who knows, maybe that would be the best thing for me. If I
didn't have my parents to think about I'd have given in my notice a long
time ago, I'd have gone up to the boss and told him just what I think,
tell him everything I would, let him know just what I feel. He'd fall
right off his desk! And it's a funny sort of business to be sitting up
there at your desk, talking down at your subordinates from up there,
especially when you have to go right up close because the boss is hard
of hearing. Well, there's still some hope; once I've got the money
together to pay off my parents' debt to him - another five or six years
I suppose - that's definitely what I'll do. That's when I'll make the
big change. First of all though, I've got to get up, my train leaves at
five." Metamorphosis, by Franz
Kafka, online book
And he looked over at the alarm clock, ticking on the chest of
drawers. "God in Heaven!" he thought. It was half past six and the hands
were quietly moving forwards, it was even later than half past, more
like quarter to seven. Had the alarm clock not rung? He could see from
the bed that it had been set for four o'clock as it should have been; it
certainly must have rung. Yes, but was it possible to quietly sleep
through that furniture-rattling noise? True, he had not slept
peacefully, but probably all the more deeply because of that. What
should he do now? The next train went at seven; if he were to catch that
he would have to rush like mad and the collection of samples was still
not packed, and he did not at all feel particularly fresh and lively.
And even if he did catch the train he would not avoid his boss's anger
as the office assistant would have been there to see the five o'clock
train go, he would have put in his report about Gregor's not being there
a long time ago. The office assistant was the boss's man, spineless, and
with no understanding. What about if he reported sick? But that would be
extremely strained and suspicious as in fifteen years of service Gregor
had never once yet been ill. His boss would certainly come round with
the doctor from the medical insurance company, accuse his parents of
having a lazy son, and accept the doctor's recommendation not to make
any claim as the doctor believed that no-one was ever ill but that many
were workshy. And what's more, would he have been entirely wrong in this
case? Gregor did in fact, apart from excessive sleepiness after sleeping
for so long, feel completely well and even felt much hungrier than
usual.
He was still hurriedly thinking all this through, unable to decide to
get out of the bed, when the clock struck quarter to seven. There was a
cautious knock at the door near his head. "Gregor", somebody called - it
was his mother - "it's quarter to seven. Didn't you want to go
somewhere?" That gentle voice! Gregor was shocked when he heard his own
voice answering, it could hardly be recognised as the voice he had had
before. As if from deep inside him, there was a painful and
uncontrollable squeaking mixed in with it, the words could be made out
at first but then there was a sort of echo which made them unclear,
leaving the hearer unsure whether he had heard properly or not. Gregor
had wanted to give a full answer and explain everything, but in the
circumstances contented himself with saying: "Yes, mother, yes,
thank-you, I'm getting up now." The change in Gregor's voice probably
could not be noticed outside through the wooden door, as his mother was
satisfied with this explanation and shuffled away. But this short
conversation made the other members of the family aware that Gregor,
against their expectations was still at home, and soon his father came
knocking at one of the side doors, gently, but with his fist. "Gregor,
Gregor", he called, "what's wrong?" And after a short while he called
again with a warning deepness in his voice: "Gregor! Gregor!" At the
other side door his sister came plaintively: "Gregor? Aren't you well?
Do you need anything?" Gregor answered to both sides: "I'm ready, now",
making an effort to remove all the strangeness from his voice by
enunciating very carefully and putting long pauses between each,
individual word. His father went back to his breakfast, but his sister
whispered: "Gregor, open the door, I beg of you." Gregor, however, had
no thought of opening the door, and instead congratulated himself for
his cautious habit, acquired from his travelling, of locking all doors
at night even when he was at home.
The first thing he wanted to do was to get up in peace without being
disturbed, to get dressed, and most of all to have his breakfast. Only
then would he consider what to do next, as he was well aware that he
would not bring his thoughts to any sensible conclusions by lying in
bed. He remembered that he had often felt a slight pain in bed, perhaps
caused by lying awkwardly, but that had always turned out to be pure
imagination and he wondered how his imaginings would slowly resolve
themselves today. He did not have the slightest doubt that the change in
his voice was nothing more than the first sign of a serious cold, which
was an occupational hazard for travelling salesmen.
It was a simple matter to throw off the covers; he only had to blow
himself up a little and they fell off by themselves. But it became
difficult after that, especially as he was so exceptionally broad. He
would have used his arms and his hands to push himself up; but instead
of them he only had all those little legs continuously moving in
different directions, and which he was moreover unable to control. If he
wanted to bend one of them, then that was the first one that would
stretch itself out; and if he finally managed to do what he wanted with
that leg, all the others seemed to be set free and would move about
painfully. "This is something that can't be done in bed", Gregor said to
himself, "so don't keep trying to do it".
The first thing he wanted to do was get the lower part of his body
out of the bed, but he had never seen this lower part, and could not
imagine what it looked like; it turned out to be too hard to move; it
went so slowly; and finally, almost in a frenzy, when he carelessly
shoved himself forwards with all the force he could gather, he chose the
wrong direction, hit hard against the lower bedpost, and learned from
the burning pain he felt that the lower part of his body might well, at
present, be the most sensitive.
So then he tried to get the top part of his body out of the bed
first, carefully turning his head to the side. This he managed quite
easily, and despite its breadth and its weight, the bulk of his body
eventually followed slowly in the direction of the head. But when he had
at last got his head out of the bed and into the fresh air it occurred
to him that if he let himself fall it would be a miracle if his head
were not injured, so he became afraid to carry on pushing himself
forward the same way. And he could not knock himself out now at any
price; better to stay in bed than lose consciousness.
It took just as much effort to get back to where he had been earlier,
but when he lay there sighing, and was once more watching his legs as
they struggled against each other even harder than before, if that was
possible, he could think of no way of bringing peace and order to this
chaos. He told himself once more that it was not possible for him to
stay in bed and that the most sensible thing to do would be to get free
of it in whatever way he could at whatever sacrifice. At the same time,
though, he did not forget to remind himself that calm consideration was
much better than rushing to desperate conclusions. At times like this he
would direct his eyes to the window and look out as clearly as he could,
but unfortunately, even the other side of the narrow street was
enveloped in morning fog and the view had little confidence or cheer to
offer him. "Seven o'clock, already", he said to himself when the clock
struck again, "seven o'clock, and there's still a fog like this." And he
lay there quietly a while longer, breathing lightly as if he perhaps
expected the total stillness to bring things back to their real and
natural state. Metamorphosis, by Franz
Kafka, online book
But then he said to himself: "Before it strikes quarter past seven
I'll definitely have to have got properly out of bed. And by then
somebody will have come round from work to ask what's happened to me as
well, as they open up at work before seven o'clock." And so he set
himself to the task of swinging the entire length of his body out of the
bed all at the same time. If he succeeded in falling out of bed in this
way and kept his head raised as he did so he could probably avoid
injuring it. His back seemed to be quite hard, and probably nothing
would happen to it falling onto the carpet. His main concern was for the
loud noise he was bound to make, and which even through all the doors
would probably raise concern if not alarm. But it was something that had
to be risked.
When Gregor was already sticking half way out of the bed - the new
method was more of a game than an effort, all he had to do was rock back
and forth - it occurred to him how simple everything would be if
somebody came to help him. Two strong people - he had his father and the
maid in mind - would have been more than enough; they would only have to
push their arms under the dome of his back, peel him away from the bed,
bend down with the load and then be patient and careful as he swang over
onto the floor, where, hopefully, the little legs would find a use.
Should he really call for help though, even apart from the fact that all
the doors were locked? Despite all the difficulty he was in, he could
not suppress a smile at this thought.
After a while he had already moved so far across that it would have
been hard for him to keep his balance if he rocked too hard. The time
was now ten past seven and he would have to make a final decision very
soon. Then there was a ring at the door of the flat. "That'll be someone
from work", he said to himself, and froze very still, although his
little legs only became all the more lively as they danced around. For a
moment everything remained quiet. "They're not opening the door", Gregor
said to himself, caught in some nonsensical hope. But then of course,
the maid's firm steps went to the door as ever and opened it. Gregor
only needed to hear the visitor's first words of greeting and he knew
who it was - the chief clerk himself. Why did Gregor have to be the only
one condemned to work for a company where they immediately became highly
suspicious at the slightest shortcoming? Were all employees, every one
of them, louts, was there not one of them who was faithful and devoted
who would go so mad with pangs of conscience that he couldn't get out of
bed if he didn't spend at least a couple of hours in the morning on
company business? Was it really not enough to let one of the trainees
make enquiries - assuming enquiries were even necessary - did the chief
clerk have to come himself, and did they have to show the whole,
innocent family that this was so suspicious that only the chief clerk
could be trusted to have the wisdom to investigate it? And more because
these thoughts had made him upset than through any proper decision, he
swang himself with all his force out of the bed. There was a loud thump,
but it wasn't really a loud noise. His fall was softened a little by the
carpet, and Gregor's back was also more elastic than he had thought,
which made the sound muffled and not too noticeable. He had not held his
head carefully enough, though, and hit it as he fell; annoyed and in
pain, he turned it and rubbed it against the carpet.
"Something's fallen down in there", said the chief clerk in the room
on the left. Gregor tried to imagine whether something of the sort that
had happened to him today could ever happen to the chief clerk too; you
had to concede that it was possible. But as if in gruff reply to this
question, the chief clerk's firm footsteps in his highly polished boots
could now be heard in the adjoining room. From the room on his right,
Gregor's sister whispered to him to let him know: "Gregor, the chief
clerk is here." "Yes, I know", said Gregor to himself; but without
daring to raise his voice loud enough for his sister to hear him.
"Gregor", said his father now from the room to his left, "the chief
clerk has come round and wants to know why you didn't leave on the early
train. We don't know what to say to him. And anyway, he wants to speak
to you personally. So please open up this door. I'm sure he'll be good
enough to forgive the untidiness of your room." Then the chief clerk
called "Good morning, Mr. Samsa". "He isn't well", said his mother to
the chief clerk, while his father continued to speak through the door.
"He isn't well, please believe me. Why else would Gregor have missed a
train! The lad only ever thinks about the business. It nearly makes me
cross the way he never goes out in the evenings; he's been in town for a
week now but stayed home every evening. He sits with us in the kitchen
and just reads the paper or studies train timetables. His idea of
relaxation is working with his fretsaw. He's made a little frame, for
instance, it only took him two or three evenings, you'll be amazed how
nice it is; it's hanging up in his room; you'll see it as soon as Gregor
opens the door. Anyway, I'm glad you're here; we wouldn't have been able
to get Gregor to open the door by ourselves; he's so stubborn; and I'm
sure he isn't well, he said this morning that he is, but he isn't."
"I'll be there in a moment", said Gregor slowly and thoughtfully, but
without moving so that he would not miss any word of the conversation.
"Well I can't think of any other way of explaining it, Mrs. Samsa", said
the chief clerk, "I hope it's nothing serious. But on the other hand, I
must say that if we people in commerce ever become slightly unwell then,
fortunately or unfortunately as you like, we simply have to overcome it
because of business considerations." "Can the chief clerk come in to see
you now then?", asked his father impatiently, knocking at the door
again. "No", said Gregor. In the room on his right there followed a
painful silence; in the room on his left his sister began to cry.
So why did his sister not go and join the others? She had probably
only just got up and had not even begun to get dressed. And why was she
crying? Was it because he had not got up, and had not let the chief
clerk in, because he was in danger of losing his job and if that
happened his boss would once more pursue their parents with the same
demands as before? There was no need to worry about things like that
yet. Gregor was still there and had not the slightest intention of
abandoning his family. For the time being he just lay there on the
carpet, and no-one who knew the condition he was in would seriously have
expected him to let the chief clerk in. It was only a minor discourtesy,
and a suitable excuse could easily be found for it later on, it was not
something for which Gregor could be sacked on the spot. And it seemed to
Gregor much more sensible to leave him now in peace instead of
disturbing him with talking at him and crying. But the others didn't
know what was happening, they were worried, that would excuse their
behaviour. Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka,
online book
The chief clerk now raised his voice, "Mr. Samsa", he called to him,
"what is wrong? You barricade yourself in your room, give us no more
than yes or no for an answer, you are causing serious and unnecessary
concern to your parents and you fail - and I mention this just by the
way - you fail to carry out your business duties in a way that is quite
unheard of. I'm speaking here on behalf of your parents and of your
employer, and really must request a clear and immediate explanation. I
am astonished, quite astonished. I thought I knew you as a calm and
sensible person, and now you suddenly seem to be showing off with
peculiar whims. This morning, your employer did suggest a possible
reason for your failure to appear, it's true - it had to do with the
money that was recently entrusted to you - but I came near to giving him
my word of honour that that could not be the right explanation. But now
that I see your incomprehensible stubbornness I no longer feel any wish
whatsoever to intercede on your behalf. And nor is your position all
that secure. I had originally intended to say all this to you in
private, but since you cause me to waste my time here for no good reason
I don't see why your parents should not also learn of it. Your turnover
has been very unsatisfactory of late; I grant you that it's not the time
of year to do especially good business, we recognise that; but there
simply is no time of year to do no business at all, Mr. Samsa, we cannot
allow there to be."
"But Sir", called Gregor, beside himself and forgetting all else in
the excitement, "I'll open up immediately, just a moment. I'm slightly
unwell, an attack of dizziness, I haven't been able to get up. I'm still
in bed now. I'm quite fresh again now, though. I'm just getting out of
bed. Just a moment. Be patient! It's not quite as easy as I'd thought.
I'm quite alright now, though. It's shocking, what can suddenly happen
to a person! I was quite alright last night, my parents know about it,
perhaps better than me, I had a small symptom of it last night already.
They must have noticed it. I don't know why I didn't let you know at
work! But you always think you can get over an illness without staying
at home. Please, don't make my parents suffer! There's no basis for any
of the accusations you're making; nobody's ever said a word to me about
any of these things. Maybe you haven't read the latest contracts I sent
in. I'll set off with the eight o'clock train, as well, these few hours
of rest have given me strength. You don't need to wait, sir; I'll be in
the office soon after you, and please be so good as to tell that to the
boss and recommend me to him!"
And while Gregor gushed out these words, hardly knowing what he was
saying, he made his way over to the chest of drawers - this was easily
done, probably because of the practise he had already had in bed - where
he now tried to get himself upright. He really did want to open the
door, really did want to let them see him and to speak with the chief
clerk; the others were being so insistent, and he was curious to learn
what they would say when they caught sight of him. If they were shocked
then it would no longer be Gregor's responsibility and he could rest.
If, however, they took everything calmly he would still have no reason
to be upset, and if he hurried he really could be at the station for
eight o'clock. The first few times he tried to climb up on the smooth
chest of drawers he just slid down again, but he finally gave himself
one last swing and stood there upright; the lower part of his body was
in serious pain but he no longer gave any attention to it. Now he let
himself fall against the back of a nearby chair and held tightly to the
edges of it with his little legs. By now he had also calmed down, and
kept quiet so that he could listen to what the chief clerk was saying.
"Did you understand a word of all that?" the chief clerk asked his
parents, "surely he's not trying to make fools of us". "Oh, God!" called
his mother, who was already in tears, "he could be seriously ill and
we're making him suffer. Grete! Grete!" she then cried. "Mother?" his
sister called from the other side. They communicated across Gregor's
room. "You'll have to go for the doctor straight away. Gregor is ill.
Quick, get the doctor. Did you hear the way Gregor spoke just now?"
"That was the voice of an animal", said the chief clerk, with a calmness
that was in contrast with his mother's screams. "Anna! Anna!" his father
called into the kitchen through the entrance hall, clapping his hands,
"get a locksmith here, now!" And the two girls, their skirts swishing,
immediately ran out through the hall, wrenching open the front door of
the flat as they went. How had his sister managed to get dressed so
quickly? There was no sound of the door banging shut again; they must
have left it open; people often do in homes where something awful has
happened.
Gregor, in contrast, had become much calmer. So they couldn't
understand his words any more, although they seemed clear enough to him,
clearer than before - perhaps his ears had become used to the sound.
They had realised, though, that there was something wrong with him, and
were ready to help. The first response to his situation had been
confident and wise, and that made him feel better. He felt that he had
been drawn back in among people, and from the doctor and the locksmith
he expected great and surprising achievements - although he did not
really distinguish one from the other. Whatever was said next would be
crucial, so, in order to make his voice as clear as possible, he coughed
a little, but taking care to do this not too loudly as even this might
well sound different from the way that a human coughs and he was no
longer sure he could judge this for himself. Meanwhile, it had become
very quiet in the next room. Perhaps his parents were sat at the table
whispering with the chief clerk, or perhaps they were all pressed
against the door and listening.
Gregor slowly pushed his way over to the door with the chair. Once
there he let go of it and threw himself onto the door, holding himself
upright against it using the adhesive on the tips of his legs. He rested
there a little while to recover from the effort involved and then set
himself to the task of turning the key in the lock with his mouth. He
seemed, unfortunately, to have no proper teeth - how was he, then, to
grasp the key? - but the lack of teeth was, of course, made up for with
a very strong jaw; using the jaw, he really was able to start the key
turning, ignoring the fact that he must have been causing some kind of
damage as a brown fluid came from his mouth, flowed over the key and
dripped onto the floor. "Listen", said the chief clerk in the next room,
"he's turning the key." Gregor was greatly encouraged by this; but they
all should have been calling to him, his father and his mother too:
"Well done, Gregor", they should have cried, "keep at it, keep hold of
the lock!" And with the idea that they were all excitedly following his
efforts, he bit on the key with all his strength, paying no attention to
the pain he was causing himself. As the key turned round he turned
around the lock with it, only holding himself upright with his mouth,
and hung onto the key or pushed it down again with the whole weight of
his body as needed. The clear sound of the lock as it snapped back was
Gregor's sign that he could break his concentration, and as he regained
his breath he said to himself: "So, I didn't need the locksmith after
all". Then he lay his head on the handle of the door to open it
completely. Metamorphosis, by Franz
Kafka, online book
Because he had to open the door in this way, it was already wide open
before he could be seen. He had first to slowly turn himself around one
of the double doors, and he had to do it very carefully if he did not
want to fall flat on his back before entering the room. He was still
occupied with this difficult movement, unable to pay attention to
anything else, when he heard the chief clerk exclaim a loud "Oh!", which
sounded like the soughing of the wind. Now he also saw him - he was the
nearest to the door - his hand pressed against his open mouth and slowly
retreating as if driven by a steady and invisible force. Gregor's
mother, her hair still dishevelled from bed despite the chief clerk's
being there, looked at his father. Then she unfolded her arms, took two
steps forward towards Gregor and sank down onto the floor into her
skirts that spread themselves out around her as her head disappeared
down onto her breast. His father looked hostile, and clenched his fists
as if wanting to knock Gregor back into his room. Then he looked
uncertainly round the living room, covered his eyes with his hands and
wept so that his powerful chest shook.
So Gregor did not go into the room, but leant against the inside of
the other door which was still held bolted in place. In this way only
half of his body could be seen, along with his head above it which he
leant over to one side as he peered out at the others. Meanwhile the day
had become much lighter; part of the endless, grey-black building on the
other side of the street - which was a hospital - could be seen quite
clearly with the austere and regular line of windows piercing its
façade; the rain was still falling, now throwing down large, individual
droplets which hit the ground one at a time. The washing up from
breakfast lay on the table; there was so much of it because, for
Gregor's father, breakfast was the most important meal of the day and he
would stretch it out for several hours as he sat reading a number of
different newspapers. On the wall exactly opposite there was photograph
of Gregor when he was a lieutenant in the army, his sword in his hand
and a carefree smile on his face as he called forth respect for his
uniform and bearing. The door to the entrance hall was open and as the
front door of the flat was also open he could see onto the landing and
the stairs where they began their way down below.
"Now, then", said Gregor, well aware that he was the only one to have
kept calm, "I'll get dressed straight away now, pack up my samples and
set off. Will you please just let me leave? You can see", he said to the
chief clerk, "that I'm not stubborn and like I like to do my job; being
a commercial traveller is arduous but without travelling I couldn't earn
my living. So where are you going, in to the office? Yes? Will you
report everything accurately, then? It's quite possible for someone to
be temporarily unable to work, but that's just the right time to
remember what's been achieved in the past and consider that later on,
once the difficulty has been removed, he will certainly work with all
the more diligence and concentration. You're well aware that I'm
seriously in debt to our employer as well as having to look after my
parents and my sister, so that I'm trapped in a difficult situation, but
I will work my way out of it again. Please don't make things any harder
for me than they are already, and don't take sides against me at the
office. I know that nobody likes the travellers. They think we earn an
enormous wage as well as having a soft time of it. That's just prejudice
but they have no particular reason to think better it. But you, sir, you
have a better overview than the rest of the staff, in fact, if I can say
this in confidence, a better overview than the boss himself - it's very
easy for a businessman like him to make mistakes about his employees and
judge them more harshly than he should. And you're also well aware that
we travellers spend almost the whole year away from the office, so that
we can very easily fall victim to gossip and chance and groundless
complaints, and it's almost impossible to defend yourself from that sort
of thing, we don't usually even hear about them, or if at all it's when
we arrive back home exhausted from a trip, and that's when we feel the
harmful effects of what's been going on without even knowing what caused
them. Please, don't go away, at least first say something to show that
you grant that I'm at least partly right!"
But the chief clerk had turned away as soon as Gregor had started to
speak, and, with protruding lips, only stared back at him over his
trembling shoulders as he left. He did not keep still for a moment while
Gregor was speaking, but moved steadily towards the door without taking
his eyes off him. He moved very gradually, as if there had been some
secret prohibition on leaving the room. It was only when he had reached
the entrance hall that he made a sudden movement, drew his foot from the
living room, and rushed forward in a panic. In the hall, he stretched
his right hand far out towards the stairway as if out there, there were
some supernatural force waiting to save him.
Gregor realised that it was out of the question to let the chief
clerk go away in this mood if his position in the firm was not to be put
into extreme danger. That was something his parents did not understand
very well; over the years, they had become convinced that this job would
provide for Gregor for his entire life, and besides, they had so much to
worry about at present that they had lost sight of any thought for the
future. Gregor, though, did think about the future. The chief clerk had
to be held back, calmed down, convinced and finally won over; the future
of Gregor and his family depended on it! If only his sister were here!
She was clever; she was already in tears while Gregor was still lying
peacefully on his back. And the chief clerk was a lover of women, surely
she could persuade him; she would close the front door in the entrance
hall and talk him out of his shocked state. But his sister was not
there, Gregor would have to do the job himself. And without considering
that he still was not familiar with how well he could move about in his
present state, or that his speech still might not - or probably would
not - be understood, he let go of the door; pushed himself through the
opening; tried to reach the chief clerk on the landing who,
ridiculously, was holding on to the banister with both hands; but Gregor
fell immediately over and, with a little scream as he sought something
to hold onto, landed on his numerous little legs. Hardly had that
happened than, for the first time that day, he began to feel alright
with his body; the little legs had the solid ground under them; to his
pleasure, they did exactly as he told them; they were even making the
effort to carry him where he wanted to go; and he was soon believing
that all his sorrows would soon be finally at an end. He held back the
urge to move but swayed from side to side as he crouched there on the
floor. His mother was not far away in front of him and seemed, at first,
quite engrossed in herself, but then she suddenly jumped up with her
arms outstretched and her fingers spread shouting: "Help, for pity's
sake, Help!" The way she held her head suggested she wanted to see
Gregor better, but the unthinking way she was hurrying backwards showed
that she did not; she had forgotten that the table was behind her with
all the breakfast things on it; when she reached the table she sat
quickly down on it without knowing what she was doing; without even
seeming to notice that the coffee pot had been knocked over and a gush
of coffee was pouring down onto the carpet.
Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka, online
book
"Mother, mother", said Gregor gently, looking up at her. He had
completely forgotten the chief clerk for the moment, but could not help
himself snapping in the air with his jaws at the sight of the flow of
coffee. That set his mother screaming anew, she fled from the table and
into the arms of his father as he rushed towards her. Gregor, though,
had no time to spare for his parents now; the chief clerk had already
reached the stairs; with his chin on the banister, he looked back for
the last time. Gregor made a run for him; he wanted to be sure of
reaching him; the chief clerk must have expected something, as he leapt
down several steps at once and disappeared; his shouts resounding all
around the staircase. The flight of the chief clerk seemed,
unfortunately, to put Gregor's father into a panic as well. Until then
he had been relatively self controlled, but now, instead of running
after the chief clerk himself, or at least not impeding Gregor as he ran
after him, Gregor's father seized the chief clerk's stick in his right
hand (the chief clerk had left it behind on a chair, along with his hat
and overcoat), picked up a large newspaper from the table with his left,
and used them to drive Gregor back into his room, stamping his foot at
him as he went. Gregor's appeals to his father were of no help, his
appeals were simply not understood, however much he humbly turned his
head his father merely stamped his foot all the harder. Across the room,
despite the chilly weather, Gregor's mother had pulled open a window,
leant far out of it and pressed her hands to her face. A strong draught
of air flew in from the street towards the stairway, the curtains flew
up, the newspapers on the table fluttered and some of them were blown
onto the floor. Nothing would stop Gregor's father as he drove him back,
making hissing noises at him like a wild man. Gregor had never had any
practice in moving backwards and was only able to go very slowly. If
Gregor had only been allowed to turn round he would have been back in
his room straight away, but he was afraid that if he took the time to do
that his father would become impatient, and there was the threat of a
lethal blow to his back or head from the stick in his father's hand any
moment. Eventually, though, Gregor realised that he had no choice as he
saw, to his disgust, that he was quite incapable of going backwards in a
straight line; so he began, as quickly as possible and with frequent
anxious glances at his father, to turn himself round. It went very
slowly, but perhaps his father was able to see his good intentions as he
did nothing to hinder him, in fact now and then he used the tip of his
stick to give directions from a distance as to which way to turn. If
only his father would stop that unbearable hissing! It was making Gregor
quite confused. When he had nearly finished turning round, still
listening to that hissing, he made a mistake and turned himself back a
little the way he had just come. He was pleased when he finally had his
head in front of the doorway, but then saw that it was too narrow, and
his body was too broad to get through it without further difficulty. In
his present mood, it obviously did not occur to his father to open the
other of the double doors so that Gregor would have enough space to get
through. He was merely fixed on the idea that Gregor should be got back
into his room as quickly as possible. Nor would he ever have allowed
Gregor the time to get himself upright as preparation for getting
through the doorway. What he did, making more noise than ever, was to
drive Gregor forwards all the harder as if there had been nothing in the
way; it sounded to Gregor as if there was now more than one father
behind him; it was not a pleasant experience, and Gregor pushed himself
into the doorway without regard for what might happen. One side of his
body lifted itself, he lay at an angle in the doorway, one flank scraped
on the white door and was painfully injured, leaving vile brown flecks
on it, soon he was stuck fast and would not have been able to move at
all by himself, the little legs along one side hung quivering in the air
while those on the other side were pressed painfully against the ground.
Then his father gave him a hefty shove from behind which released him
from where he was held and sent him flying, and heavily bleeding, deep
into his room. The door was slammed shut with the stick, then, finally,
all was quiet.
II
It was not until it was getting dark that evening that Gregor awoke
from his deep and coma-like sleep. He would have woken soon afterwards
anyway even if he hadn't been disturbed, as he had had enough sleep and
felt fully rested. But he had the impression that some hurried steps and
the sound of the door leading into the front room being carefully shut
had woken him. The light from the electric street lamps shone palely
here and there onto the ceiling and tops of the furniture, but down
below, where Gregor was, it was dark. He pushed himself over to the
door, feeling his way clumsily with his antennae - of which he was now
beginning to learn the value - in order to see what had been happening
there. The whole of his left side seemed like one, painfully stretched
scar, and he limped badly on his two rows of legs. One of the legs had
been badly injured in the events of that morning - it was nearly a
miracle that only one of them had been - and dragged along lifelessly.
It was only when he had reached the door that he realised what it
actually was that had drawn him over to it; it was the smell of
something to eat. By the door there was a dish filled with sweetened
milk with little pieces of white bread floating in it. He was so pleased
he almost laughed, as he was even hungrier than he had been that
morning, and immediately dipped his head into the milk, nearly covering
his eyes with it. But he soon drew his head back again in
disappointment; not only did the pain in his tender left side make it
difficult to eat the food - he was only able to eat if his whole body
worked together as a snuffling whole - but the milk did not taste at all
nice. Milk like this was normally his favourite drink, and his sister
had certainly left it there for him because of that, but he turned,
almost against his own will, away from the dish and crawled back into
the centre of the room.
Through the crack in the door, Gregor could see that the gas had been
lit in the living room. His father at this time would normally be sat
with his evening paper, reading it out in a loud voice to Gregor's
mother, and sometimes to his sister, but there was now not a sound to be
heard. Gregor's sister would often write and tell him about this
reading, but maybe his father had lost the habit in recent times. It was
so quiet all around too, even though there must have been somebody in
the flat. "What a quiet life it is the family lead", said Gregor to
himself, and, gazing into the darkness, felt a great pride that he was
able to provide a life like that in such a nice home for his sister and
parents. But what now, if all this peace and wealth and comfort should
come to a horrible and frightening end? That was something that Gregor
did not want to think about too much, so he started to move about,
crawling up and down the room.
Once during that long evening, the door on one side of the room was
opened very slightly and hurriedly closed again; later on the door on
the other side did the same; it seemed that someone needed to enter the
room but thought better of it. Gregor went and waited immediately by the
door, resolved either to bring the timorous visitor into the room in
some way or at least to find out who it was; but the door was opened no
more that night and Gregor waited in vain. The previous morning while
the doors were locked everyone had wanted to get in there to him, but
now, now that he had opened up one of the doors and the other had
clearly been unlocked some time during the day, no-one came, and the
keys were in the other sides.
Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka, online book
It was not until late at night that the gaslight in the living room
was put out, and now it was easy to see that parents and sister had
stayed awake all that time, as they all could be distinctly heard as
they went away together on tip-toe. It was clear that no-one would come
into Gregor's room any more until morning; that gave him plenty of time
to think undisturbed about how he would have to re-arrange his life. For
some reason, the tall, empty room where he was forced to remain made him
feel uneasy as he lay there flat on the floor, even though he had been
living in it for five years. Hardly aware of what he was doing other
than a slight feeling of shame, he hurried under the couch. It pressed
down on his back a little, and he was no longer able to lift his head,
but he nonetheless felt immediately at ease and his only regret was that
his body was too broad to get it all underneath.
He spent the whole night there. Some of the time he passed in a light
sleep, although he frequently woke from it in alarm because of his
hunger, and some of the time was spent in worries and vague hopes which,
however, always led to the same conclusion: for the time being he must
remain calm, he must show patience and the greatest consideration so
that his family could bear the unpleasantness that he, in his present
condition, was forced to impose on them.
Gregor soon had the opportunity to test the strength of his
decisions, as early the next morning, almost before the night had ended,
his sister, nearly fully dressed, opened the door from the front room
and looked anxiously in. She did not see him straight away, but when she
did notice him under the couch - he had to be somewhere, for God's sake,
he couldn't have flown away - she was so shocked that she lost control
of herself and slammed the door shut again from outside. But she seemed
to regret her behaviour, as she opened the door again straight away and
came in on tip-toe as if entering the room of someone seriously ill or
even of a stranger. Gregor had pushed his head forward, right to the
edge of the couch, and watched her. Would she notice that he had left
the milk as it was, realise that it was not from any lack of hunger and
bring him in some other food that was more suitable? If she didn't do it
herself he would rather go hungry than draw her attention to it,
although he did feel a terrible urge to rush forward from under the
couch, throw himself at his sister's feet and beg her for something good
to eat. However, his sister noticed the full dish immediately and looked
at it and the few drops of milk splashed around it with some surprise.
She immediately picked it up - using a rag, not her bare hands - and
carried it out. Gregor was extremely curious as to what she would bring
in its place, imagining the wildest possibilities, but he never could
have guessed what his sister, in her goodness, actually did bring. In
order to test his taste, she brought him a whole selection of things,
all spread out on an old newspaper. There were old, half-rotten
vegetables; bones from the evening meal, covered in white sauce that had
gone hard; a few raisins and almonds; some cheese that Gregor had
declared inedible two days before; a dry roll and some bread spread with
butter and salt. As well as all that she had poured some water into the
dish, which had probably been permanently set aside for Gregor's use,
and placed it beside them. Then, out of consideration for Gregor's
feelings, as she knew that he would not eat in front of her, she hurried
out again and even turned the key in the lock so that Gregor would know
he could make things as comfortable for himself as he liked. Gregor's
little legs whirred, at last he could eat. What's more, his injuries
must already have completely healed as he found no difficulty in moving.
This amazed him, as more than a month earlier he had cut his finger
slightly with a knife, he thought of how his finger had still hurt the
day before yesterday. "Am I less sensitive than I used to be, then?", he
thought, and was already sucking greedily at the cheese which had
immediately, almost compellingly, attracted him much more than the other
foods on the newspaper. Quickly one after another, his eyes watering
with pleasure, he consumed the cheese, the vegetables and the sauce; the
fresh foods, on the other hand, he didn't like at all, and even dragged
the things he did want to eat a little way away from them because he
couldn't stand the smell. Long after he had finished eating and lay
lethargic in the same place, his sister slowly turned the key in the
lock as a sign to him that he should withdraw. He was immediately
startled, although he had been half asleep, and he hurried back under
the couch. But he needed great self-control to stay there even for the
short time that his sister was in the room, as eating so much food had
rounded out his body a little and he could hardly breathe in that narrow
space. Half suffocating, he watched with bulging eyes as his sister
unselfconsciously took a broom and swept up the left-overs, mixing them
in with the food he had not even touched at all as if it could not be
used any more. She quickly dropped it all into a bin, closed it with its
wooden lid, and carried everything out. She had hardly turned her back
before Gregor came out again from under the couch and stretched himself.
This was how Gregor received his food each day now, once in the
morning while his parents and the maid were still asleep, and the second
time after everyone had eaten their meal at midday as his parents would
sleep for a little while then as well, and Gregor's sister would send
the maid away on some errand. Gregor's father and mother certainly did
not want him to starve either, but perhaps it would have been more than
they could stand to have any more experience of his feeding than being
told about it, and perhaps his sister wanted to spare them what distress
she could as they were indeed suffering enough.
It was impossible for Gregor to find out what they had told the
doctor and the locksmith that first morning to get them out of the flat.
As nobody could understand him, nobody, not even his sister, thought
that he could understand them, so he had to be content to hear his
sister's sighs and appeals to the saints as she moved about his room. It
was only later, when she had become a little more used to everything -
there was, of course, no question of her ever becoming fully used to the
situation - that Gregor would sometimes catch a friendly comment, or at
least a comment that could be construed as friendly. "He's enjoyed his
dinner today", she might say when he had diligently cleared away all the
food left for him, or if he left most of it, which slowly became more
and more frequent, she would often say, sadly, "now everything's just
been left there again".
Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka, online book
Although Gregor wasn't able to hear any news directly he did listen
to much of what was said in the next rooms, and whenever he heard anyone
speaking he would scurry straight to the appropriate door and press his
whole body against it. There was seldom any conversation, especially at
first, that was not about him in some way, even if only in secret. For
two whole days, all the talk at every mealtime was about what they
should do now; but even between meals they spoke about the same subject
as there were always at least two members of the family at home - nobody
wanted to be at home by themselves and it was out of the question to
leave the flat entirely empty. And on the very first day the maid had
fallen to her knees and begged Gregor's mother to let her go without
delay. It was not very clear how much she knew of what had happened but
she left within a quarter of an hour, tearfully thanking Gregor's mother
for her dismissal as if she had done her an enormous service. She even
swore emphatically not to tell anyone the slightest about what had
happened, even though no-one had asked that of her.
Now Gregor's sister also had to help his mother with the cooking;
although that was not so much bother as no-one ate very much. Gregor
often heard how one of them would unsuccessfully urge another to eat,
and receive no more answer than "no thanks, I've had enough" or
something similar. No-one drank very much either. His sister would
sometimes ask his father whether he would like a beer, hoping for the
chance to go and fetch it herself. When his father then said nothing she
would add, so that he would not feel selfish, that she could send the
housekeeper for it, but then his father would close the matter with a
big, loud "No", and no more would be said.
Even before the first day had come to an end, his father had
explained to Gregor's mother and sister what their finances and
prospects were. Now and then he stood up from the table and took some
receipt or document from the little cash box he had saved from his
business when it had collapsed five years earlier. Gregor heard how he
opened the complicated lock and then closed it again after he had taken
the item he wanted. What he heard his father say was some of the first
good news that Gregor heard since he had first been incarcerated in his
room. He had thought that nothing at all remained from his father's
business, at least he had never told him anything different, and Gregor
had never asked him about it anyway. Their business misfortune had
reduced the family to a state of total despair, and Gregor's only
concern at that time had been to arrange things so that they could all
forget about it as quickly as possible. So then he started working
especially hard, with a fiery vigour that raised him from a junior
salesman to a travelling representative almost overnight, bringing with
it the chance to earn money in quite different ways. Gregor converted
his success at work straight into cash that he could lay on the table at
home for the benefit of his astonished and delighted family. They had
been good times and they had never come again, at least not with the
same splendour, even though Gregor had later earned so much that he was
in a position to bear the costs of the whole family, and did bear them.
They had even got used to it, both Gregor and the family, they took the
money with gratitude and he was glad to provide it, although there was
no longer much warm affection given in return. Gregor only remained
close to his sister now. Unlike him, she was very fond of music and a
gifted and expressive violinist, it was his secret plan to send her to
the conservatory next year even though it would cause great expense that
would have to be made up for in some other way. During Gregor's short
periods in town, conversation with his sister would often turn to the
conservatory but it was only ever mentioned as a lovely dream that could
never be realised. Their parents did not like to hear this innocent
talk, but Gregor thought about it quite hard and decided he would let
them know what he planned with a grand announcement of it on Christmas
day.
That was the sort of totally pointless thing that went through his
mind in his present state, pressed upright against the door and
listening. There were times when he simply became too tired to continue
listening, when his head would fall wearily against the door and he
would pull it up again with a start, as even the slightest noise he
caused would be heard next door and they would all go silent. "What's
that he's doing now", his father would say after a while, clearly having
gone over to the door, and only then would the interrupted conversation
slowly be taken up again.
When explaining things, his father repeated himself several times,
partly because it was a long time since he had been occupied with these
matters himself and partly because Gregor's mother did not understand
everything first time. From these repeated explanations Gregor learned,
to his pleasure, that despite all their misfortunes there was still some
money available from the old days. It was not a lot, but it had not been
touched in the meantime and some interest had accumulated. Besides that,
they had not been using up all the money that Gregor had been bringing
home every month, keeping only a little for himself, so that that, too,
had been accumulating. Behind the door, Gregor nodded with enthusiasm in
his pleasure at this unexpected thrift and caution. He could actually
have used this surplus money to reduce his father's debt to his boss,
and the day when he could have freed himself from that job would have
come much closer, but now it was certainly better the way his father had
done things.
This money, however, was certainly not enough to enable the family to
live off the interest; it was enough to maintain them for, perhaps, one
or two years, no more. That's to say, it was money that should not
really be touched but set aside for emergencies; money to live on had to
be earned. His father was healthy but old, and lacking in self
confidence. During the five years that he had not been working - the
first holiday in a life that had been full of strain and no success - he
had put on a lot of weight and become very slow and clumsy. Would
Gregor's elderly mother now have to go and earn money? She suffered from
asthma and it was a strain for her just to move about the home, every
other day would be spent struggling for breath on the sofa by the open
window. Would his sister have to go and earn money? She was still a
child of seventeen, her life up till then had been very enviable,
consisting of wearing nice clothes, sleeping late, helping out in the
business, joining in with a few modest pleasures and most of all playing
the violin. Whenever they began to talk of the need to earn money,
Gregor would always first let go of the door and then throw himself onto
the cool, leather sofa next to it, as he became quite hot with shame and
regret. Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka,
online book
He would often lie there the whole night through, not sleeping a wink
but scratching at the leather for hours on end. Or he might go to all
the effort of pushing a chair to the window, climbing up onto the sill
and, propped up in the chair, leaning on the window to stare out of it.
He had used to feel a great sense of freedom from doing this, but doing
it now was obviously something more remembered than experienced, as what
he actually saw in this way was becoming less distinct every day, even
things that were quite near; he had used to curse the ever-present view
of the hospital across the street, but now he could not see it at all,
and if he had not known that he lived in Charlottenstrasse, which was a
quiet street despite being in the middle of the city, he could have
thought that he was looking out the window at a barren waste where the
grey sky and the grey earth mingled inseparably. His observant sister
only needed to notice the chair twice before she would always push it
back to its exact position by the window after she had tidied up the
room, and even left the inner pane of the window open from then on.
If Gregor had only been able to speak to his sister and thank her for
all that she had to do for him it would have been easier for him to bear
it; but as it was it caused him pain. His sister, naturally, tried as
far as possible to pretend there was nothing burdensome about it, and
the longer it went on, of course, the better she was able to do so, but
as time went by Gregor was also able to see through it all so much
better. It had even become very unpleasant for him, now, whenever she
entered the room. No sooner had she come in than she would quickly close
the door as a precaution so that no-one would have to suffer the view
into Gregor's room, then she would go straight to the window and pull it
hurriedly open almost as if she were suffocating. Even if it was cold,
she would stay at the window breathing deeply for a little while. She
would alarm Gregor twice a day with this running about and noise making;
he would stay under the couch shivering the whole while, knowing full
well that she would certainly have liked to spare him this ordeal, but
it was impossible for her to be in the same room with him with the
windows closed.
One day, about a month after Gregor's transformation when his sister
no longer had any particular reason to be shocked at his appearance, she
came into the room a little earlier than usual and found him still
staring out the window, motionless, and just where he would be most
horrible. In itself, his sister's not coming into the room would have
been no surprise for Gregor as it would have been difficult for her to
immediately open the window while he was still there, but not only did
she not come in, she went straight back and closed the door behind her,
a stranger would have thought he had threatened her and tried to bite
her. Gregor went straight to hide himself under the couch, of course,
but he had to wait until midday before his sister came back and she
seemed much more uneasy than usual. It made him realise that she still
found his appearance unbearable and would continue to do so, she
probably even had to overcome the urge to flee when she saw the little
bit of him that protruded from under the couch. One day, in order to
spare her even this sight, he spent four hours carrying the bedsheet
over to the couch on his back and arranged it so that he was completely
covered and his sister would not be able to see him even if she bent
down. If she did not think this sheet was necessary then all she had to
do was take it off again, as it was clear enough that it was no pleasure
for Gregor to cut himself off so completely. She left the sheet where it
was. Gregor even thought he glimpsed a look of gratitude one time when
he carefully looked out from under the sheet to see how his sister liked
the new arrangement.
For the first fourteen days, Gregor's parents could not bring
themselves to come into the room to see him. He would often hear them
say how they appreciated all the new work his sister was doing even
though, before, they had seen her as a girl who was somewhat useless and
frequently been annoyed with her. But now the two of them, father and
mother, would often both wait outside the door of Gregor's room while
his sister tidied up in there, and as soon as she went out again she
would have to tell them exactly how everything looked, what Gregor had
eaten, how he had behaved this time and whether, perhaps, any slight
improvement could be seen. His mother also wanted to go in and visit
Gregor relatively soon but his father and sister at first persuaded her
against it. Gregor listened very closely to all this, and approved
fully. Later, though, she had to be held back by force, which made her
call out: "Let me go and see Gregor, he is my unfortunate son! Can't you
understand I have to see him?", and Gregor would think to himself that
maybe it would be better if his mother came in, not every day of course,
but one day a week, perhaps; she could understand everything much better
than his sister who, for all her courage, was still just a child after
all, and really might not have had an adult's appreciation of the
burdensome job she had taken on.
Gregor's wish to see his mother was soon realised. Out of
consideration for his parents, Gregor wanted to avoid being seen at the
window during the day, the few square meters of the floor did not give
him much room to crawl about, it was hard to just lie quietly through
the night, his food soon stopped giving him any pleasure at all, and so,
to entertain himself, he got into the habit of crawling up and down the
walls and ceiling. He was especially fond of hanging from the ceiling;
it was quite different from lying on the floor; he could breathe more
freely; his body had a light swing to it; and up there, relaxed and
almost happy, it might happen that he would surprise even himself by
letting go of the ceiling and landing on the floor with a crash. But
now, of course, he had far better control of his body than before and,
even with a fall as great as that, caused himself no damage. Very soon
his sister noticed Gregor's new way of entertaining himself - he had,
after all, left traces of the adhesive from his feet as he crawled about
- and got it into her head to make it as easy as possible for him by
removing the furniture that got in his way, especially the chest of
drawers and the desk. Now, this was not something that she would be able
to do by herself; she did not dare to ask for help from her father; the
sixteen year old maid had carried on bravely since the cook had left but
she certainly would not have helped in this, she had even asked to be
allowed to keep the kitchen locked at all times and never to have to
open the door unless it was especially important; so his sister had no
choice but to choose some time when Gregor's father was not there and
fetch his mother to help her. As she approached the room, Gregor could
hear his mother express her joy, but once at the door she went silent.
First, of course, his sister came in and looked round to see that
everything in the room was alright; and only then did she let her mother
enter. Gregor had hurriedly pulled the sheet down lower over the couch
and put more folds into it so that everything really looked as if it had
just been thrown down by chance. Gregor also refrained, this time, from
spying out from under the sheet; he gave up the chance to see his mother
until later and was simply glad that she had come. "You can come in, he
can't be seen", said his sister, obviously leading her in by the hand.
The old chest of drawers was too heavy for a pair of feeble women to be
heaving about, but Gregor listened as they pushed it from its place, his
sister always taking on the heaviest part of the work for herself and
ignoring her mother's warnings that she would strain herself. This
lasted a very long time. After labouring at it for fifteen minutes or
more his mother said it would be better to leave the chest where it was,
for one thing it was too heavy for them to get the job finished before
Gregor's father got home and leaving it in the middle of the room it
would be in his way even more, and for another thing it wasn't even sure
that taking the furniture away would really be any help to him. She
thought just the opposite; the sight of the bare walls saddened her
right to her heart; and why wouldn't Gregor feel the same way about it,
he'd been used to this furniture in his room for a long time and it
would make him feel abandoned to be in an empty room like that. Then,
quietly, almost whispering as if wanting Gregor (whose whereabouts she
did not know) to hear not even the tone of her voice, as she was
convinced that he did not understand her words, she added "and by taking
the furniture away, won't it seem like we're showing that we've given up
all hope of improvement and we're abandoning him to cope for himself? I
think it'd be best to leave the room exactly the way it was before so
that when Gregor comes back to us again he'll find everything unchanged
and he'll be able to forget the time in between all the easier".
Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka, online
book
Hearing these words from his mother made Gregor realise that the lack
of any direct human communication, along with the monotonous life led by
the family during these two months, must have made him confused - he
could think of no other way of explaining to himself why he had
seriously wanted his room emptied out. Had he really wanted to transform
his room into a cave, a warm room fitted out with the nice furniture he
had inherited? That would have let him crawl around unimpeded in any
direction, but it would also have let him quickly forget his past when
he had still been human. He had come very close to forgetting, and it
had only been the voice of his mother, unheard for so long, that had
shaken him out of it. Nothing should be removed; everything had to stay;
he could not do without the good influence the furniture had on his
condition; and if the furniture made it difficult for him to crawl about
mindlessly that was not a loss but a great advantage.
His sister, unfortunately, did not agree; she had become used to the
idea, not without reason, that she was Gregor's spokesman to his parents
about the things that concerned him. This meant that his mother's advice
now was sufficient reason for her to insist on removing not only the
chest of drawers and the desk, as she had thought at first, but all the
furniture apart from the all-important couch. It was more than childish
perversity, of course, or the unexpected confidence she had recently
acquired, that made her insist; she had indeed noticed that Gregor
needed a lot of room to crawl about in, whereas the furniture, as far as
anyone could see, was of no use to him at all. Girls of that age,
though, do become enthusiastic about things and feel they must get their
way whenever they can. Perhaps this was what tempted Grete to make
Gregor's situation seem even more shocking than it was so that she could
do even more for him. Grete would probably be the only one who would
dare enter a room dominated by Gregor crawling about the bare walls by
himself.
So she refused to let her mother dissuade her. Gregor's mother
already looked uneasy in his room, she soon stopped speaking and helped
Gregor's sister to get the chest of drawers out with what strength she
had. The chest of drawers was something that Gregor could do without if
he had to, but the writing desk had to stay. Hardly had the two women
pushed the chest of drawers, groaning, out of the room than Gregor poked
his head out from under the couch to see what he could do about it. He
meant to be as careful and considerate as he could, but, unfortunately,
it was his mother who came back first while Grete in the next room had
her arms round the chest, pushing and pulling at it from side to side by
herself without, of course, moving it an inch. His mother was not used
to the sight of Gregor, he might have made her ill, so Gregor hurried
backwards to the far end of the couch. In his startlement, though, he
was not able to prevent the sheet at its front from moving a little. It
was enough to attract his mother's attention. She stood very still,
remained there a moment, and then went back out to Grete.
Gregor kept trying to assure himself that nothing unusual was
happening, it was just a few pieces of furniture being moved after all,
but he soon had to admit that the women going to and fro, their little
calls to each other, the scraping of the furniture on the floor, all
these things made him feel as if he were being assailed from all sides.
With his head and legs pulled in against him and his body pressed to the
floor, he was forced to admit to himself that he could not stand all of
this much longer. They were emptying his room out; taking away
everything that was dear to him; they had already taken out the chest
containing his fretsaw and other tools; now they threatened to remove
the writing desk with its place clearly worn into the floor, the desk
where he had done his homework as a business trainee, at high school,
even while he had been at infant school - he really could not wait any
longer to see whether the two women's intentions were good. He had
nearly forgotten they were there anyway, as they were now too tired to
say anything while they worked and he could only hear their feet as they
stepped heavily on the floor.
So, while the women were leant against the desk in the other room
catching their breath, he sallied out, changed direction four times not
knowing what he should save first before his attention was suddenly
caught by the picture on the wall - which was already denuded of
everything else that had been on it - of the lady dressed in copious
fur. He hurried up onto the picture and pressed himself against its
glass, it held him firmly and felt good on his hot belly. This picture
at least, now totally covered by Gregor, would certainly be taken away
by no-one. He turned his head to face the door into the living room so
that he could watch the women when they came back.
They had not allowed themselves a long rest and came back quite soon;
Grete had put her arm around her mother and was nearly carrying her.
"What shall we take now, then?", said Grete and looked around. Her eyes
met those of Gregor on the wall. Perhaps only because her mother was
there, she remained calm, bent her face to her so that she would not
look round and said, albeit hurriedly and with a tremor in her voice:
"Come on, let's go back in the living room for a while?" Gregor could
see what Grete had in mind, she wanted to take her mother somewhere safe
and then chase him down from the wall. Well, she could certainly try it!
He sat unyielding on his picture. He would rather jump at Grete's face.
But Grete's words had made her mother quite worried, she stepped to
one side, saw the enormous brown patch against the flowers of the
wallpaper, and before she even realised it was Gregor that she saw
screamed: "Oh God, oh God!" Arms outstretched, she fell onto the couch
as if she had given up everything and stayed there immobile. "Gregor!"
shouted his sister, glowering at him and shaking her fist. That was the
first word she had spoken to him directly since his transformation. She
ran into the other room to fetch some kind of smelling salts to bring
her mother out of her faint; Gregor wanted to help too - he could save
his picture later, although he stuck fast to the glass and had to pull
himself off by force; then he, too, ran into the next room as if he
could advise his sister like in the old days; but he had to just stand
behind her doing nothing; she was looking into various bottles, he
startled her when she turned round; a bottle fell to the ground and
broke; a splinter cut Gregor's face, some kind of caustic medicine
splashed all over him; now, without delaying any longer, Grete took hold
of all the bottles she could and ran with them in to her mother; she
slammed the door shut with her foot. So now Gregor was shut out from his
mother, who, because of him, might be near to death; he could not open
the door if he did not want to chase his sister away, and she had to
stay with his mother; there was nothing for him to do but wait; and,
oppressed with anxiety and self-reproach, he began to crawl about, he
crawled over everything, walls, furniture, ceiling, and finally in his
confusion as the whole room began to spin around him he fell down into
the middle of the dinner table.
Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka, online book
He lay there for a while, numb and immobile, all around him it was
quiet, maybe that was a good sign. Then there was someone at the door.
The maid, of course, had locked herself in her kitchen so that Grete
would have to go and answer it. His father had arrived home. "What's
happened?" were his first words; Grete's appearance must have made
everything clear to him. She answered him with subdued voice, and openly
pressed her face into his chest: "Mother's fainted, but she's better
now. Gregor got out." "Just as I expected", said his father, "just as I
always said, but you women wouldn't listen, would you." It was clear to
Gregor that Grete had not said enough and that his father took it to
mean that something bad had happened, that he was responsible for some
act of violence. That meant Gregor would now have to try to calm his
father, as he did not have the time to explain things to him even if
that had been possible. So he fled to the door of his room and pressed
himself against it so that his father, when he came in from the hall,
could see straight away that Gregor had the best intentions and would go
back into his room without delay, that it would not be necessary to
drive him back but that they had only to open the door and he would
disappear.
His father, though, was not in the mood to notice subtleties like
that; "Ah!", he shouted as he came in, sounding as if he were both angry
and glad at the same time. Gregor drew his head back from the door and
lifted it towards his father. He really had not imagined his father the
way he stood there now; of late, with his new habit of crawling about,
he had neglected to pay attention to what was going on the rest of the
flat the way he had done before. He really ought to have expected things
to have changed, but still, still, was that really his father? The same
tired man as used to be laying there entombed in his bed when Gregor
came back from his business trips, who would receive him sitting in the
armchair in his nightgown when he came back in the evenings; who was
hardly even able to stand up but, as a sign of his pleasure, would just
raise his arms and who, on the couple of times a year when they went for
a walk together on a Sunday or public holiday wrapped up tightly in his
overcoat between Gregor and his mother, would always labour his way
forward a little more slowly than them, who were already walking slowly
for his sake; who would place his stick down carefully and, if he wanted
to say something would invariably stop and gather his companions around
him. He was standing up straight enough now; dressed in a smart blue
uniform with gold buttons, the sort worn by the employees at the banking
institute; above the high, stiff collar of the coat his strong
double-chin emerged; under the bushy eyebrows, his piercing, dark eyes
looked out fresh and alert; his normally unkempt white hair was combed
down painfully close to his scalp. He took his cap, with its gold
monogram from, probably, some bank, and threw it in an arc right across
the room onto the sofa, put his hands in his trouser pockets, pushing
back the bottom of his long uniform coat, and, with look of
determination, walked towards Gregor. He probably did not even know
himself what he had in mind, but nonetheless lifted his feet unusually
high. Gregor was amazed at the enormous size of the soles of his boots,
but wasted no time with that - he knew full well, right from the first
day of his new life, that his father thought it necessary to always be
extremely strict with him. And so he ran up to his father, stopped when
his father stopped, scurried forwards again when he moved, even
slightly. In this way they went round the room several times without
anything decisive happening, without even giving the impression of a
chase as everything went so slowly. Gregor remained all this time on the
floor, largely because he feared his father might see it as especially
provoking if he fled onto the wall or ceiling. Whatever he did, Gregor
had to admit that he certainly would not be able to keep up this running
about for long, as for each step his father took he had to carry out
countless movements. He became noticeably short of breath, even in his
earlier life his lungs had not been very reliable. Now, as he lurched
about in his efforts to muster all the strength he could for running he
could hardly keep his eyes open; his thoughts became too slow for him to
think of any other way of saving himself than running; he almost forgot
that the walls were there for him to use although, here, they were
concealed behind carefully carved furniture full of notches and
protrusions - then, right beside him, lightly tossed, something flew
down and rolled in front of him. It was an apple; then another one
immediately flew at him; Gregor froze in shock; there was no longer any
point in running as his father had decided to bombard him. He had filled
his pockets with fruit from the bowl on the sideboard and now, without
even taking the time for careful aim, threw one apple after another.
These little, red apples rolled about on the floor, knocking into each
other as if they had electric motors. An apple thrown without much force
glanced against Gregor's back and slid off without doing any harm.
Another one however, immediately following it, hit squarely and lodged
in his back; Gregor wanted to drag himself away, as if he could remove
the surprising, the incredible pain by changing his position; but he
felt as if nailed to the spot and spread himself out, all his senses in
confusion. The last thing he saw was the door of his room being pulled
open, his sister was screaming, his mother ran out in front of her in
her blouse (as his sister had taken off some of her clothes after she
had fainted to make it easier for her to breathe), she ran to his
father, her skirts unfastened and sliding one after another to the
ground, stumbling over the skirts she pushed herself to his father, her
arms around him, uniting herself with him totally - now Gregor lost his
ability to see anything - her hands behind his father's head begging him
to spare Gregor's life.
III
No-one dared to remove the apple lodged in Gregor's flesh, so it
remained there as a visible reminder of his injury. He had suffered it
there for more than a month, and his condition seemed serious enough to
remind even his father that Gregor, despite his current sad and
revolting form, was a family member who could not be treated as an
enemy. On the contrary, as a family there was a duty to swallow any
revulsion for him and to be patient, just to be patient.
Because of his injuries, Gregor had lost much of his mobility -
probably permanently. He had been reduced to the condition of an ancient
invalid and it took him long, long minutes to crawl across his room -
crawling over the ceiling was out of the question - but this
deterioration in his condition was fully (in his opinion) made up for by
the door to the living room being left open every evening. He got into
the habit of closely watching it for one or two hours before it was
opened and then, lying in the darkness of his room where he could not be
seen from the living room, he could watch the family in the light of the
dinner table and listen to their conversation - with everyone's
permission, in a way, and thus quite differently from before.
Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka, online
book
They no longer held the lively conversations of earlier times, of
course, the ones that Gregor always thought about with longing when he
was tired and getting into the damp bed in some small hotel room. All of
them were usually very quiet nowadays. Soon after dinner, his father
would go to sleep in his chair; his mother and sister would urge each
other to be quiet; his mother, bent deeply under the lamp, would sew
fancy underwear for a fashion shop; his sister, who had taken a sales
job, learned shorthand and French in the evenings so that she might be
able to get a better position later on. Sometimes his father would wake
up and say to Gregor's mother "you're doing so much sewing again
today!", as if he did not know that he had been dozing - and then he
would go back to sleep again while mother and sister would exchange a
tired grin.
With a kind of stubbornness, Gregor's father refused to take his
uniform off even at home; while his nightgown hung unused on its peg
Gregor's father would slumber where he was, fully dressed, as if always
ready to serve and expecting to hear the voice of his superior even
here. The uniform had not been new to start with, but as a result of
this it slowly became even shabbier despite the efforts of Gregor's
mother and sister to look after it. Gregor would often spend the whole
evening looking at all the stains on this coat, with its gold buttons
always kept polished and shiny, while the old man in it would sleep,
highly uncomfortable but peaceful.
As soon as it struck ten, Gregor's mother would speak gently to his
father to wake him and try to persuade him to go to bed, as he couldn't
sleep properly where he was and he really had to get his sleep if he was
to be up at six to get to work. But since he had been in work he had
become more obstinate and would always insist on staying longer at the
table, even though he regularly fell asleep and it was then harder than
ever to persuade him to exchange the chair for his bed. Then, however
much mother and sister would importune him with little reproaches and
warnings he would keep slowly shaking his head for a quarter of an hour
with his eyes closed and refusing to get up. Gregor's mother would tug
at his sleeve, whisper endearments into his ear, Gregor's sister would
leave her work to help her mother, but nothing would have any effect on
him. He would just sink deeper into his chair. Only when the two women
took him under the arms he would abruptly open his eyes, look at them
one after the other and say: "What a life! This is what peace I get in
my old age!" And supported by the two women he would lift himself up
carefully as if he were carrying the greatest load himself, let the
women take him to the door, send them off and carry on by himself while
Gregor's mother would throw down her needle and his sister her pen so
that they could run after his father and continue being of help to him.
Who, in this tired and overworked family, would have had time to give
more attention to Gregor than was absolutely necessary? The household
budget became even smaller; so now the maid was dismissed; an enormous,
thick-boned charwoman with white hair that flapped around her head came
every morning and evening to do the heaviest work; everything else was
looked after by Gregor's mother on top of the large amount of sewing
work she did. Gregor even learned, listening to the evening conversation
about what price they had hoped for, that several items of jewellery
belonging to the family had been sold, even though both mother and
sister had been very fond of wearing them at functions and celebrations.
But the loudest complaint was that although the flat was much too big
for their present circumstances, they could not move out of it, there
was no imaginable way of transferring Gregor to the new address. He
could see quite well, though, that there were more reasons than
consideration for him that made it difficult for them to move, it would
have been quite easy to transport him in any suitable crate with a few
air holes in it; the main thing holding the family back from their
decision to move was much more to do with their total despair, and the
thought that they had been struck with a misfortune unlike anything
experienced by anyone else they knew or were related to. They carried
out absolutely everything that the world expects from poor people,
Gregor's father brought bank employees their breakfast, his mother
sacrificed herself by washing clothes for strangers, his sister ran back
and forth behind her desk at the behest of the customers, but they just
did not have the strength to do any more. And the injury in Gregor's
back began to hurt as much as when it was new. After they had come back
from taking his father to bed Gregor's mother and sister would now leave
their work where it was and sit close together, cheek to cheek; his
mother would point to Gregor's room and say "Close that door, Grete",
and then, when he was in the dark again, they would sit in the next room
and their tears would mingle, or they would simply sit there staring
dry-eyed at the table.
Gregor hardly slept at all, either night or day. Sometimes he would
think of taking over the family's affairs, just like before, the next
time the door was opened; he had long forgotten about his boss and the
chief clerk, but they would appear again in his thoughts, the salesmen
and the apprentices, that stupid teaboy, two or three friends from other
businesses, one of the chambermaids from a provincial hotel, a tender
memory that appeared and disappeared again, a cashier from a hat shop
for whom his attention had been serious but too slow, - all of them
appeared to him, mixed together with strangers and others he had
forgotten, but instead of helping him and his family they were all of
them inaccessible, and he was glad when they disappeared. Other times he
was not at all in the mood to look after his family, he was filled with
simple rage about the lack of attention he was shown, and although he
could think of nothing he would have wanted, he made plans of how he
could get into the pantry where he could take all the things he was
entitled to, even if he was not hungry. Gregor's sister no longer
thought about how she could please him but would hurriedly push some
food or other into his room with her foot before she rushed out to work
in the morning and at midday, and in the evening she would sweep it away
again with the broom, indifferent as to whether it had been eaten or -
more often than not - had been left totally untouched. She still cleared
up the room in the evening, but now she could not have been any quicker
about it. Smears of dirt were left on the walls, here and there were
little balls of dust and filth. At first, Gregor went into one of the
worst of these places when his sister arrived as a reproach to her, but
he could have stayed there for weeks without his sister doing anything
about it; she could see the dirt as well as he could but she had simply
decided to leave him to it. At the same time she became touchy in a way
that was quite new for her and which everyone in the family understood -
cleaning up Gregor's room was for her and her alone. Gregor's mother did
once thoroughly clean his room, and needed to use several bucketfuls of
water to do it - although that much dampness also made Gregor ill and he
lay flat on the couch, bitter and immobile. But his mother was to be
punished still more for what she had done, as hardly had his sister
arrived home in the evening than she noticed the change in Gregor's room
and, highly aggrieved, ran back into the living room where, despite her
mothers raised and imploring hands, she broke into convulsive tears. Her
father, of course, was startled out of his chair and the two parents
looked on astonished and helpless; then they, too, became agitated;
Gregor's father, standing to the right of his mother, accused her of not
leaving the cleaning of Gregor's room to his sister; from her left,
Gregor's sister screamed at her that she was never to clean Gregor's
room again; while his mother tried to draw his father, who was beside
himself with anger, into the bedroom; his sister, quaking with tears,
thumped on the table with her small fists; and Gregor hissed in anger
that no-one had even thought of closing the door to save him the sight
of this and all its noise.
Gregor's sister was exhausted from going out to work, and looking
after Gregor as she had done before was even more work for her, but even
so his mother ought certainly not to have taken her place. Gregor, on
the other hand, ought not to be neglected. Now, though, the charwoman
was here. This elderly widow, with a robust bone structure that made her
able to withstand the hardest of things in her long life, wasn't really
repelled by Gregor. Just by chance one day, rather than any real
curiosity, she opened the door to Gregor's room and found herself face
to face with him. He was taken totally by surprise, no-one was chasing
him but he began to rush to and fro while she just stood there in
amazement with her hands crossed in front of her. From then on she never
failed to open the door slightly every evening and morning and look
briefly in on him. At first she would call to him as she did so with
words that she probably considered friendly, such as "come on then, you
old dung-beetle!", or "look at the old dung-beetle there!" Gregor never
responded to being spoken to in that way, but just remained where he was
without moving as if the door had never even been opened. If only they
had told this charwoman to clean up his room every day instead of
letting her disturb him for no reason whenever she felt like it! One
day, early in the morning while a heavy rain struck the windowpanes,
perhaps indicating that spring was coming, she began to speak to him in
that way once again. Gregor was so resentful of it that he started to
move toward her, he was slow and infirm, but it was like a kind of
attack. Instead of being afraid, the charwoman just lifted up one of the
chairs from near the door and stood there with her mouth open, clearly
intending not to close her mouth until the chair in her hand had been
slammed down into Gregor's back. "Aren't you coming any closer, then?",
she asked when Gregor turned round again, and she calmly put the chair
back in the corner. Metamorphosis, by
Franz Kafka, online book
Gregor had almost entirely stopped eating. Only if he happened to
find himself next to the food that had been prepared for him he might
take some of it into his mouth to play with it, leave it there a few
hours and then, more often than not, spit it out again. At first he
thought it was distress at the state of his room that stopped him
eating, but he had soon got used to the changes made there. They had got
into the habit of putting things into this room that they had no room
for anywhere else, and there were now many such things as one of the
rooms in the flat had been rented out to three gentlemen. These earnest
gentlemen - all three of them had full beards, as Gregor learned peering
through the crack in the door one day - were painfully insistent on
things' being tidy. This meant not only in their own room but, since
they had taken a room in this establishment, in the entire flat and
especially in the kitchen. Unnecessary clutter was something they could
not tolerate, especially if it was dirty. They had moreover brought most
of their own furnishings and equipment with them. For this reason, many
things had become superfluous which, although they could not be sold,
the family did not wish to discard. All these things found their way
into Gregor's room. The dustbins from the kitchen found their way in
there too. The charwoman was always in a hurry, and anything she
couldn't use for the time being she would just chuck in there. He,
fortunately, would usually see no more than the object and the hand that
held it. The woman most likely meant to fetch the things back out again
when she had time and the opportunity, or to throw everything out in one
go, but what actually happened was that they were left where they landed
when they had first been thrown unless Gregor made his way through the
junk and moved it somewhere else. At first he moved it because, with no
other room free where he could crawl about, he was forced to, but later
on he came to enjoy it although moving about in the way left him sad and
tired to death and he would remain immobile for hours afterwards.
The gentlemen who rented the room would sometimes take their evening
meal at home in the living room that was used by everyone, and so the
door to this room was often kept closed in the evening. But Gregor found
it easy to give up having the door open, he had, after all, often failed
to make use of it when it was open and, without the family having
noticed it, lain in his room in its darkest corner. One time, though,
the charwoman left the door to the living room slightly open, and it
remained open when the gentlemen who rented the room came in in the
evening and the light was put on. They sat up at the table where,
formerly, Gregor had taken his meals with his father and mother, they
unfolded the serviettes and picked up their knives and forks. Gregor's
mother immediately appeared in the doorway with a dish of meat and soon
behind her came his sister with a dish piled high with potatoes. The
food was steaming, and filled the room with its smell. The gentlemen
bent over the dishes set in front of them as if they wanted to test the
food before eating it, and the gentleman in the middle, who seemed to
count as an authority for the other two, did indeed cut off a piece of
meat while it was still in its dish, clearly wishing to establish
whether it was sufficiently cooked or whether it should be sent back to
the kitchen. It was to his satisfaction, and Gregor's mother and sister,
who had been looking on anxiously, began to breathe again and smiled.
The family themselves ate in the kitchen. Nonetheless, Gregor's
father came into the living room before he went into the kitchen, bowed
once with his cap in his hand and did his round of the table. The
gentlemen stood as one, and mumbled something into their beards. Then,
once they were alone, they ate in near perfect silence. It seemed
remarkable to Gregor that above all the various noises of eating their
chewing teeth could still be heard, as if they had wanted to Show Gregor
that you need teeth in order to eat and it was not possible to perform
anything with jaws that are toothless however nice they might be. "I'd
like to eat something", said Gregor anxiously, "but not anything like
they're eating. They do feed themselves. And here I am, dying!"
Throughout all this time, Gregor could not remember having heard the
violin being played, but this evening it began to be heard from the
kitchen. The three gentlemen had already finished their meal, the one in
the middle had produced a newspaper, given a page to each of the others,
and now they leant back in their chairs reading them and smoking. When
the violin began playing they became attentive, stood up and went on
tip-toe over to the door of the hallway where they stood pressed against
each other. Someone must have heard them in the kitchen, as Gregor's
father called out: "Is the playing perhaps unpleasant for the gentlemen?
We can stop it straight away." "On the contrary", said the middle
gentleman, "would the young lady not like to come in and play for us
here in the room, where it is, after all, much more cosy and
comfortable?" "Oh yes, we'd love to", called back Gregor's father as if
he had been the violin player himself. The gentlemen stepped back into
the room and waited. Gregor's father soon appeared with the music stand,
his mother with the music and his sister with the violin. She calmly
prepared everything for her to begin playing; his parents, who had never
rented a room out before and therefore showed an exaggerated courtesy
towards the three gentlemen, did not even dare to sit on their own
chairs; his father leant against the door with his right hand pushed in
between two buttons on his uniform coat; his mother, though, was offered
a seat by one of the gentlemen and sat - leaving the chair where the
gentleman happened to have placed it - out of the way in a corner.
His sister began to play; father and mother paid close attention, one
on each side, to the movements of her hands. Drawn in by the playing,
Gregor had dared to come forward a little and already had his head in
the living room. Before, he had taken great pride in how considerate he
was but now it hardly occurred to him that he had become so thoughtless
about the others. What's more, there was now all the more reason to keep
himself hidden as he was covered in the dust that lay everywhere in his
room and flew up at the slightest movement; he carried threads, hairs,
and remains of food about on his back and sides; he was much too
indifferent to everything now to lay on his back and wipe himself on the
carpet like he had used to do several times a day. And despite this
condition, he was not too shy to move forward a little onto the
immaculate floor of the living room.
No-one noticed him, though. The family was totally preoccupied with
the violin playing; at first, the three gentlemen had put their hands in
their pockets and come up far too close behind the music stand to look
at all the notes being played, and they must have disturbed Gregor's
sister, but soon, in contrast with the family, they withdrew back to the
window with their heads sunk and talking to each other at half volume,
and they stayed by the window while Gregor's father observed them
anxiously. It really now seemed very obvious that they had expected to
hear some beautiful or entertaining violin playing but had been
disappointed, that they had had enough of the whole performance and it
was only now out of politeness that they allowed their peace to be
disturbed. It was especially unnerving, the way they all blew the smoke
from their cigarettes upwards from their mouth and noses. Yet Gregor's
sister was playing so beautifully. Her face was leant to one side,
following the lines of music with a careful and melancholy expression.
Gregor crawled a little further forward, keeping his head close to the
ground so that he could meet her eyes if the chance came. Was he an
animal if music could captivate him so? It seemed to him that he was
being shown the way to the unknown nourishment he had been yearning for.
He was determined to make his way forward to his sister and tug at her
skirt to show her she might come into his room with her violin, as
no-one appreciated her playing here as much as he would. He never wanted
to let her out of his room, not while he lived, anyway; his shocking
appearance should, for once, be of some use to him; he wanted to be at
every door of his room at once to hiss and spit at the attackers; his
sister should not be forced to stay with him, though, but stay of her
own free will; she would sit beside him on the couch with her ear bent
down to him while he told her how he had always intended to send her to
the conservatory, how he would have told everyone about it last
Christmas - had Christmas really come and gone already? - if this
misfortune hadn't got in the way, and refuse to let anyone dissuade him
from it. On hearing all this, his sister would break out in tears of
emotion, and Gregor would climb up to her shoulder and kiss her neck,
which, since she had been going out to work, she had kept free without
any necklace or collar. Metamorphosis, by
Franz Kafka, online book
"Mr. Samsa!", shouted the middle gentleman to Gregor's father,
pointing, without wasting any more words, with his forefinger at Gregor
as he slowly moved forward. The violin went silent, the middle of the
three gentlemen first smiled at his two friends, shaking his head, and
then looked back at Gregor. His father seemed to think it more important
to calm the three gentlemen before driving Gregor out, even though they
were not at all upset and seemed to think Gregor was more entertaining
that the violin playing had been. He rushed up to them with his arms
spread out and attempted to drive them back into their room at the same
time as trying to block their view of Gregor with his body. Now they did
become a little annoyed, and it was not clear whether it was his
father's behaviour that annoyed them or the dawning realisation that
they had had a neighbour like Gregor in the next room without knowing
it. They asked Gregor's father for explanations, raised their arms like
he had, tugged excitedly at their beards and moved back towards their
room only very slowly. Meanwhile Gregor's sister had overcome the
despair she had fallen into when her playing was suddenly interrupted.
She had let her hands drop and let violin and bow hang limply for a
while but continued to look at the music as if still playing, but then
she suddenly pulled herself together, lay the instrument on her mother's
lap who still sat laboriously struggling for breath where she was, and
ran into the next room which, under pressure from her father, the three
gentlemen were more quickly moving toward. Under his sister's
experienced hand, the pillows and covers on the beds flew up and were
put into order and she had already finished making the beds and slipped
out again before the three gentlemen had reached the room. Gregor's
father seemed so obsessed with what he was doing that he forgot all the
respect he owed to his tenants. He urged them and pressed them until,
when he was already at the door of the room, the middle of the three
gentlemen shouted like thunder and stamped his foot and thereby brought
Gregor's father to a halt. "I declare here and now", he said, raising
his hand and glancing at Gregor's mother and sister to gain their
attention too, "that with regard to the repugnant conditions that
prevail in this flat and with this family" - here he looked briefly but
decisively at the floor - "I give immediate notice on my room. For the
days that I have been living here I will, of course, pay nothing at all,
on the contrary I will consider whether to proceed with some kind of
action for damages from you, and believe me it would be very easy to set
out the grounds for such an action." He was silent and looked straight
ahead as if waiting for something. And indeed, his two friends joined in
with the words: "And we also give immediate notice." With that, he took
hold of the door handle and slammed the door.
Gregor's father staggered back to his seat, feeling his way with his
hands, and fell into it; it looked as if he was stretching himself out
for his usual evening nap but from the uncontrolled way his head kept
nodding it could be seen that he was not sleeping at all. Throughout all
this, Gregor had lain still where the three gentlemen had first seen
him. His disappointment at the failure of his plan, and perhaps also
because he was weak from hunger, made it impossible for him to move. He
was sure that everyone would turn on him any moment, and he waited. He
was not even startled out of this state when the violin on his mother's
lap fell from her trembling fingers and landed loudly on the floor.
"Father, Mother", said his sister, hitting the table with her hand as
introduction, "we can't carry on like this. Maybe you can't see it, but
I can. I don't want to call this monster my brother, all I can say is:
we have to try and get rid of it. We've done all that's humanly possible
to look after it and be patient, I don't think anyone could accuse us of
doing anything wrong."
"She's absolutely right", said Gregor's father to himself. His
mother, who still had not had time to catch her breath, began to cough
dully, her hand held out in front of her and a deranged expression in
her eyes.
Gregor's sister rushed to his mother and put her hand on her
forehead. Her words seemed to give Gregor's father some more definite
ideas. He sat upright, played with his uniform cap between the plates
left by the three gentlemen after their meal, and occasionally looked
down at Gregor as he lay there immobile.
"We have to try and get rid of it", said Gregor's sister, now
speaking only to her father, as her mother was too occupied with
coughing to listen, "it'll be the death of both of you, I can see it
coming. We can't all work as hard as we have to and then come home to be
tortured like this, we can't endure it. I can't endure it any more." And
she broke out so heavily in tears that they flowed down the face of her
mother, and she wiped them away with mechanical hand movements.
"My child", said her father with sympathy and obvious understanding,
"what are we to do?"
His sister just shrugged her shoulders as a sign of the helplessness
and tears that had taken hold of her, displacing her earlier certainty.
"If he could just understand us", said his father almost as a
question; his sister shook her hand vigorously through her tears as a
sign that of that there was no question.
"If he could just understand us", repeated Gregor's father, closing
his eyes in acceptance of his sister's certainty that that was quite
impossible, "then perhaps we could come to some kind of arrangement with
him. But as it is ..."
"It's got to go", shouted his sister, "that's the only way, Father.
You've got to get rid of the idea that that's Gregor. We've only harmed
ourselves by believing it for so long. How can that be Gregor? If it
were Gregor he would have seen long ago that it's not possible for human
beings to live with an animal like that and he would have gone of his
own free will. We wouldn't have a brother any more, then, but we could
carry on with our lives and remember him with respect. As it is this
animal is persecuting us, it's driven out our tenants, it obviously
wants to take over the whole flat and force us to sleep on the streets.
Father, look, just look", she suddenly screamed, "he's starting again!"
In her alarm, which was totally beyond Gregor's comprehension, his
sister even abandoned his mother as she pushed herself vigorously out of
her chair as if more willing to sacrifice her own mother than stay
anywhere near Gregor. She rushed over to behind her father, who had
become excited merely because she was and stood up half raising his
hands in front of Gregor's sister as if to protect her.
But Gregor had had no intention of frightening anyone, least of all
his sister. All he had done was begin to turn round so that he could go
back into his room, although that was in itself quite startling as his
pain-wracked condition meant that turning round required a great deal of
effort and he was using his head to help himself do it, repeatedly
raising it and striking it against the floor. He stopped and looked
round. They seemed to have realised his good intention and had only been
alarmed briefly. Now they all looked at him in unhappy silence. His
mother lay in her chair with her legs stretched out and pressed against
each other, her eyes nearly closed with exhaustion; his sister sat next
to his father with her arms around his neck.
"Maybe now they'll let me turn round", thought Gregor and went back
to work. He could not help panting loudly with the effort and had
sometimes to stop and take a rest. No-one was making him rush any more,
everything was left up to him. As soon as he had finally finished
turning round he began to move straight ahead. He was amazed at the
great distance that separated him from his room, and could not
understand how he had covered that distance in his weak state a little
while before and almost without noticing it. He concentrated on crawling
as fast as he could and hardly noticed that there was not a word, not
any cry, from his family to distract him. He did not turn his head until
he had reached the doorway. He did not turn it all the way round as he
felt his neck becoming stiff, but it was nonetheless enough to see that
nothing behind him had changed, only his sister had stood up. With his
last glance he saw that his mother had now fallen completely asleep.
He was hardly inside his room before the door was hurriedly shut,
bolted and locked. The sudden noise behind Gregor so startled him that
his little legs collapsed under him. It was his sister who had been in
so much of a rush. She had been standing there waiting and sprung
forward lightly, Gregor had not heard her coming at all, and as she
turned the key in the lock she said loudly to her parents "At last!".
"What now, then?", Gregor asked himself as he looked round in the
darkness. He soon made the discovery that he could no longer move at
all. This was no surprise to him, it seemed rather that being able to
actually move around on those spindly little legs until then was
unnatural. He also felt relatively comfortable. It is true that his
entire body was aching, but the pain seemed to be slowly getting weaker
and weaker and would finally disappear altogether. He could already
hardly feel the decayed apple in his back or the inflamed area around
it, which was entirely covered in white dust. He thought back of his
family with emotion and love. If it was possible, he felt that he must
go away even more strongly than his sister. He remained in this state of
empty and peaceful rumination until he heard the clock tower strike
three in the morning. He watched as it slowly began to get light
everywhere outside the window too. Then, without his willing it, his
head sank down completely, and his last breath flowed weakly from his
nostrils. Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka,
online book
When the cleaner came in early in the morning - they'd often asked
her not to keep slamming the doors but with her strength and in her
hurry she still did, so that everyone in the flat knew when she'd
arrived and from then on it was impossible to sleep in peace - she made
her usual brief look in on Gregor and at first found nothing special.
She thought he was laying there so still on purpose, playing the martyr;
she attributed all possible understanding to him. She happened to be
holding the long broom in her hand, so she tried to tickle Gregor with
it from the doorway. When she had no success with that she tried to make
a nuisance of herself and poked at him a little, and only when she found
she could shove him across the floor with no resistance at all did she
start to pay attention. She soon realised what had really happened,
opened her eyes wide, whistled to herself, but did not waste time to
yank open the bedroom doors and shout loudly into the darkness of the
bedrooms: "Come and 'ave a look at this, it's dead, just lying there,
stone dead!"
Mr. and Mrs. Samsa sat upright there in their marriage bed and had to
make an effort to get over the shock caused by the cleaner before they
could grasp what she was saying. But then, each from his own side, they
hurried out of bed. Mr. Samsa threw the blanket over his shoulders, Mrs.
Samsa just came out in her nightdress; and that is how they went into
Gregor's room. On the way they opened the door to the living room where
Grete had been sleeping since the three gentlemen had moved in; she was
fully dressed as if she had never been asleep, and the paleness of her
face seemed to confirm this. "Dead?", asked Mrs. Samsa, looking at the
charwoman enquiringly, even though she could have checked for herself
and could have known it even without checking. "That's what I said",
replied the cleaner, and to prove it she gave Gregor's body another
shove with the broom, sending it sideways across the floor. Mrs. Samsa
made a movement as if she wanted to hold back the broom, but did not
complete it. "Now then", said Mr. Samsa, "let's give thanks to God for
that". He crossed himself, and the three women followed his example.
Grete, who had not taken her eyes from the corpse, said: "Just look how
thin he was. He didn't eat anything for so long. The food came out again
just the same as when it went in". Gregor's body was indeed completely
dried up and flat, they had not seen it until then, but now he was not
lifted up on his little legs, nor did he do anything to make them look
away.
"Grete, come with us in here for a little while", said Mrs. Samsa
with a pained smile, and Grete followed her parents into the bedroom but
not without looking back at the body. The cleaner shut the door and
opened the window wide. Although it was still early in the morning the
fresh air had something of warmth mixed in with it. It was already the
end of March, after all.
The three gentlemen stepped out of their room and looked round in
amazement for their breakfasts; they had been forgotten about. "Where is
our breakfast?", the middle gentleman asked the cleaner irritably. She
just put her finger on her lips and made a quick and silent sign to the
men that they might like to come into Gregor's room. They did so, and
stood around Gregor's corpse with their hands in the pockets of their
well-worn coats. It was now quite light in the room.
Then the door of the bedroom opened and Mr. Samsa appeared in his
uniform with his wife on one arm and his daughter on the other. All of
them had been crying a little; Grete now and then pressed her face
against her father's arm.
"Leave my home. Now!", said Mr. Samsa, indicating the door and
without letting the women from him. "What do you mean?", asked the
middle of the three gentlemen somewhat disconcerted, and he smiled
sweetly. The other two held their hands behind their backs and
continually rubbed them together in gleeful anticipation of a loud
quarrel which could only end in their favour. "I mean just what I said",
answered Mr. Samsa, and, with his two companions, went in a straight
line towards the man. At first, he stood there still, looking at the
ground as if the contents of his head were rearranging themselves into
new positions. "Alright, we'll go then", he said, and looked up at Mr.
Samsa as if he had been suddenly overcome with humility and wanted
permission again from Mr. Samsa for his decision. Mr. Samsa merely
opened his eyes wide and briefly nodded to him several times. At that,
and without delay, the man actually did take long strides into the front
hallway; his two friends had stopped rubbing their hands some time
before and had been listening to what was being said. Now they jumped
off after their friend as if taken with a sudden fear that Mr. Samsa
might go into the hallway in front of them and break the connection with
their leader. Once there, all three took their hats from the stand, took
their sticks from the holder, bowed without a word and left the
premises. Mr. Samsa and the two women followed them out onto the
landing; but they had had no reason to mistrust the men' intentions and
as they leaned over the landing they saw how the three gentlemen made
slow but steady progress down the many steps. As they turned the corner
on each floor they disappeared and would reappear a few moments later;
the further down they went, the more that the Samsa family lost interest
in them; when a butcher's boy, proud of posture with his tray on his
head, passed them on his way up and came nearer than they were, Mr.
Samsa and the women came away from the landing and went, as if relieved,
back into the flat.
They decided the best way to make use of that day was for relaxation
and to go for a walk; not only had they earned a break from work but
they were in serious need of it. So they sat at the table and wrote
three letters of excusal, Mr. Samsa to his employers, Mrs. Samsa to her
contractor and Grete to her principal. The cleaner came in while they
were writing to tell them she was going, she'd finished her work for
that morning. The three of them at first just nodded without looking up
from what they were writing, and it was only when the cleaner still did
not seem to want to leave that they looked up in irritation. "Well?",
asked Mr. Samsa. The charwoman stood in the doorway with a smile on her
face as if she had some tremendous good news to report, but would only
do it if she was clearly asked to. The almost vertical little ostrich
feather on her hat, which had been source of irritation to Mr. Samsa all
the time she had been working for them, swayed gently in all directions.
"What is it you want then?", asked Mrs. Samsa, whom the cleaner had the
most respect for. "Yes", she answered, and broke into a friendly laugh
that made her unable to speak straight away, "well then, that thing in
there, you needn't worry about how you're going to get rid of it. That's
all been sorted out." Mrs. Samsa and Grete bent down over their letters
as if intent on continuing with what they were writing; Mr. Samsa saw
that the cleaner wanted to start describing everything in detail but,
with outstretched hand, he made it quite clear that she was not to. So,
as she was prevented from telling them all about it, she suddenly
remembered what a hurry she was in and, clearly peeved, called out
"Cheerio then, everyone", turned round sharply and left, slamming the
door terribly as she went. Metamorphosis,
by Franz Kafka, online book
"Tonight she gets sacked", said Mr. Samsa, but he received no reply
from either his wife or his daughter as the charwoman seemed to have
destroyed the peace they had only just gained. They got up and went over
to the window where they remained with their arms around each other. Mr.
Samsa twisted round in his chair to look at them and sat there watching
for a while. Then he called out: "Come here, then. Let's forget about
all that old stuff, shall we. Come and give me a bit of attention". The
two women immediately did as he said, hurrying over to him where they
kissed him and hugged him and then they quickly finished their letters.
After that, the three of them left the flat together, which was
something they had not done for months, and took the tram out to the
open country outside the town. They had the tram, filled with warm
sunshine, all to themselves. Leant back comfortably on their seats, they
discussed their prospects and found that on closer examination they were
not at all bad - until then they had never asked each other about their
work but all three had jobs which were very good and held particularly
good promise for the future. The greatest improvement for the time
being, of course, would be achieved quite easily by moving house; what
they needed now was a flat that was smaller and cheaper than the current
one which had been chosen by Gregor, one that was in a better location
and, most of all, more practical. All the time, Grete was becoming
livelier. With all the worry they had be |
