by Franz Kafka
The officer realized that his explanation of the apparatus was in danger of being delayed for a long time, so he went over to the traveler, took him by the arm, gestured with his hand to the condemned man, who, now that attention was so clearly focused on him, stood up straight—the soldier also pulled at the chain—and said: “The situation is as follows: I have been appointed as judge here in the penal colony. Despite my youth. For I assisted the former commandant in all criminal matters as well and am also the most familiar with the apparatus. The basic principle according to which I make decisions is: Guilt is always beyond doubt. Other courts cannot bide by this principle, for they consist of many people and also have higher courts above them. That is not the case here, or at least it wasn’t with the former commandant. The new one, however, has already revealed his desire to interfere in my court, but so far I have succeeded at holding him off and I shall continue to succeed.—You wanted to have this case explained; it is as simple as all the others. A captain filed charges this morning that this man, who was assigned to him as his servant and sleeps outside of his door, had been asleep on duty. He is obligated, you see, to get up at the stroke of every hour and salute outside the captain’s door. Certainly not a difficult task, but a necessary one, for he is supposed to stay fresh for security as well as service. Last night, the captain wanted to see if his servant was fulfilling his duty. He opened the door at the stroke of two and found him bent over sleeping. He fetched his riding whip and struck him across the face. Instead of standing up and begging for forgiveness, the man grabbed his master by the legs, shook him and shouted: “Throw the whip away or I’ll eat you.”—Those are the facts of the case. The captain came to me an hour ago, I wrote down his statement, and the sentence directly afterwards. Then I had the man put in chains. It was all very simple. If I had first summoned the man and questioned him, it would only have led to confusion. He would have told lies, and if I had succeeded in refuting these lies, he would have replaced them with new lies, and so on. But as it is, I have got him and will not let him go.—Has everything been explained now? But time is passing, the execution ought to have started by now, and I still haven’t finished my explanation of the apparatus.” He forced the traveler into his seat, stepped up to the apparatus again and began: “As you see, the Harrow corresponds to the human shape; here is the harrow for the torso, here are the harrows for the legs. Only this small needle is intended for the head. Is that clear?” He bent toward the traveler, poised to give the most comprehensive explanations.
The traveler looked at the Harrow with a furrowed brow. The account of the legal procedures had not pleased him. All the same, he had to tell himself that this was a penal colony, that special measures were necessary here, and that military procedures were necessary to the last. Furthermore, he placed some hopes in the new commandant, who apparently, albeit slowly, intended to introduce a new procedure, which this officer’s narrow mind was incapable of absorbing. From this train of thought, the traveler asked: “Will the commandant be attending the execution?” “It’s not certain,” said the officer, embarrassed by the unexpected question, and his friendly expression contorted: “That is exactly why we must hurry. As much as I regret it, I will even have to curtail my explanations. But tomorrow, of course, when the apparatus has been cleaned—its only flaw is that is gets so dirty—I can add more detailed explanations. So for now, only that which is most necessary.—Once the man is lying on the Bed and it has started to vibrate, the Harrow is lowered onto the body. It adjusts itself on its own so that the spikes only just touch the body; once this adjustment is complete, this steel rope tightens at once into a rod. And now the performance begins. The uninformed observer will not notice any external difference in the punishments. The Harrow appears to work uniformly. As it vibrates, it stabs its spikes into the body, which is also vibrating from the Bed. Now in order to allow everyone to observe the sentence being carried out, the Harrow is made out of glass. Fixing the needles into it created several technical difficulties, but after many attempts we succeeded. We spared no effort, as you see. And now everyone can see through the glass how the inscription on the body is carried out. Wouldn’t you like to come closer and have a look at the needles?”
The traveler got up slowly, walked up to the Harrow, and bent over it. “You see,” said the officer, “two kinds of needles in multiple arrangements. Each long one has a short one next to it. Namely, the long one inscribes and the short one sprays water to wash away the blood and keep the inscription clear at all times. The bloody water is then channeled into these small gutters and finally flows into this main gutter, whose drainpipe leads into the pit.” The officer indicated with his finger the precise path that the bloody water had to follow. When, in order to make it as demonstrative as possible, he actually collected it in both hands at the drainpipe’s outlet, the traveler lifted his head and, with his hand feeling the way behind him, moved to return to his seat. He then saw to his horror that the condemned man had also followed the officer’s invitation to inspect the mechanism of the Harrow up close. He had dragged the drowsing soldier forward a little with the chain and also leaned over the glass. One could see that he was also searching with uncertain eyes for that which the two gentlemen had just been observing, but that he could not succeed because he was lacking the explanation. He bent over here and over there. He ran his eyes over the glass again and again. The traveler wanted to force him back, for what he was doing was probably punishable. But the officer held the traveler back with one hand, took a clod of earth from the parapet with the other, and threw it at the soldier. With a start, the soldier looked up, saw what the condemned man had dared to do, dropped his rifle, dug his heels into the ground, jerked the condemned man back in such a way that he fell down at once, and then looked down at him as he writhed and rattled his chains. “Stand him up!” shouted the officer, for he noticed that the traveler was being overly distracted by the condemned man. The traveler even leaned right over the Harrow without concerning himself with it only, wanting to find out what was happening to him. “Handle him with care!” shouted the officer again. He ran around the apparatus, grasped the condemned man himself under the arms, and, although his feet slipped several times, managed to stand him up with the soldier’s help.
“Now I know everything,” said the traveler when the officer returned to him again. “Except for that which is most important,” said the latter, taking the traveler by the arm and pointing upwards: “There, in the Scribe, is the machinery that determines the movements of the Harrow, and this machinery is arranged according to the design that the sentence requires. I still use the drawings of the former commandant. Here they are,”—he drew several pages from the leather folder—“I’m afraid I cannot let you handle them; they are my most precious possessions. Have a seat. I will show them to you from this distance, so you will be able to see them well.” He showed the first page. The traveler would have liked to have said something approving, but he saw only labyrinth-like lines that crossed one another repeatedly and covered the paper so densely that it required some effort to recognize the white spaces in between. “Read it,” said the officer. “I can’t,” said the traveler. “But it’s quite clear,” said the officer. “It is very elaborate,” said the traveler, evading him, “but I can’t decipher it.” “Yes,” said the officer with a laugh and put the folder away again, “it is no handwriting exercise for school children. It takes a long time to read it. Surely you would also be able to understand it in the end. It cannot be a simple script, of course; it is not supposed to kill right away, after all, but within an average interval of twelve hours; the turning point is calculated for the sixth hour. So the actual script must be surrounded by many, many elaborations; the real script encircles the body only in a narrow band; the rest of the body is intended for decoration. Can you now appreciate the work of the Harrow and the entire apparatus?—Just watch!” He sprang onto the ladder, turned a wheel, called down: “Watch out, step aside!” and everything got und
erway. If the wheel had not screeched, it would have been magnificent. The officer shook his fist at the disruptive wheel as though he had been surprised by it, then spread his arms out toward the traveler in apology and climbed down hastily to observe the operation of the apparatus from below. Something that only he had noticed was still not in order; he climbed up again, reached with both hands into the interior of the Scribe, slid down one of the poles instead of using the ladder to get down faster, and in order to be understood among all the noise, he now screamed with extreme tension into the traveler’s ear: “Do you understand the procedure? The Harrow is beginning to write; once it has finished the first layout of the script on the man’s back, the padding rolls and turns the body slowly onto its side to provide the Harrow with more space. In the meantime, the places that have been written raw are laid on the padding, which due to its special treatment stops the bleeding right away and prepares for deeper inscription. As the body is rotated further, these teeth here at the edge of the Harrow then rip the padding from the wounds, sling it in the pit, and the Harrow sets to work again. In this way it inscribes deeper and deeper for the entire twelve hours. For the first six hours the condemned man lives almost as before, only suffering pain. After two hours, the felt is removed, for the man no longer has the strength to scream. Here in this electrically heated bowl at the head end, warm rice porridge is placed, and if he wishes, he can take whatever he can lap up with his tongue. No one misses the chance. I know of none who has, and my experience is great. Only around the sixth hour does he lose his desire to eat. I usually kneel down at this point and observe this phenomenon. The man rarely swallows the last bite, he only turns it around in his mouth and spits it into the pit. I have to duck then, otherwise it will hit me in the face. But how still the man becomes at the sixth hour! Even the stupidest man begins to understand. It starts around the eyes. From here it spreads further. It’s a sight that almost tempts you to lie down beside him under the Harrow. Nothing else happens, the man just begins to decipher the text, he purses his lips as though he is listening. As you have seen, it is not easy to decipher the text with your eyes; but our man deciphers it with his wounds. But it is nevertheless hard work; he needs six hours to accomplish it. But then the Harrow pierces through him entirely and throws him in the pit, where he is slapped down onto the bloody water and the padding. Then the sentence is concluded and we, the soldier and I, bury him.”
The traveler had inclined his ear to the officer and, with his hands in his coat pockets, watched the machine as it worked. The condemned man also watched it, but without understanding. He bent forward a little and was following the vibrating needles when the soldier, at a sign from the officer, cut through his shirt and trousers with a knife from behind so that they fell off of him; he tried to catch his clothes as they fell to cover his nakedness, but the soldier lifted him up and shook the last shreds from him. The officer switched off the machine, and in the silence that then emerged, the condemned man was laid under the Harrow. The chains were removed and the straps were fastened in their place; at first, this appeared to be almost a relief for the condemned man. And now the Harrow sank a bit lower, for he was a thin man. When the needles touched him, a shudder ran through his skin; he stretched his left hand out blindly, while the soldier was busy with his right one; but it was in the direction where the traveler was standing. The officer watched the traveler continuously from the side, as though he were trying to read on his face the impression that the execution, which he had now at least superficially explained, was making on him.
The strap intended for the wrist snapped; the soldier had probably pulled it too tight. The officer was supposed to help; the soldier showed him the torn part of the strap. And the officer went over to him and said with his face turned toward the traveler: “The machine is very complex, so something is bound to snap or break now and again; but one must not let that deter one’s overall assessment. A replacement for the strap, by the way, can be provided right way; I will use a chain; the sensitivity of the vibration will be inhibited, however, for the right arm.” And while he was putting on the chains, he added: “Resources for the machine’s maintenance are now very limited. Under the former commandant, funds that I had free access to were reserved solely for this purpose. There was a depot in which all kinds of replacement parts were stored. I admit, I was almost wasteful with them, I mean previously, not now, as claimed by the new commandant, for whom everything is merely a pretext to combat old institutions. Now he manages the funds himself, and if I send for a new strap, the torn one will be demanded as evidence, the new one won’t arrive for another ten days, and then it will be of poor quality and not much use. But no one is concerned with how I am to operate the machine in the meantime without a strap.”
The traveler pondered: it is always precarious to intervene decisively in the affairs of others. He was neither citizen of the penal colony, nor citizen of the state that it belonged to. If he were to try to condemn or even obstruct the execution, they could tell him: you are a foreigner; be quiet. He would be unable to respond to this and could only add that he did not understand his own behavior in this case, for he was traveling solely with the intention of observing, and in no way of altering foreign legal constitutions. But the present situation was nevertheless very tempting. The injustice of the procedure and the inhumanity of the execution were beyond a doubt. No one could assume any self-interest on the part of the traveler, for the condemned man was a stranger to him, he was not a fellow countryman, and not at all the sort of person to arouse one’s sympathy. The traveler himself had recommendations from high officers, was received here with great courtesy, and his invitation to this execution even seemed to indicate that his assessment was being requested. And this was all the more probable since the commandant, as he had heard all too clearly, was not a proponent of this procedure and almost hostile in his behavior toward the officer.
The traveler then heard a shout of rage from the officer. He had just managed, not without difficulty, to push the felt gag into the condemned man’s mouth, when the man closed his eyes in an uncontrollable fit of nausea and vomited. The officer hastily lifted him up away from the gag and tried to turn his head toward the pit; but it was too late, the vomit was already running down the machine. “It’s all the commandant’s fault!” shouted the officer, senselessly shaking the front brass poles. “The machine is being befouled like a pigsty.” He showed the traveler with shaking hands what had happened. “Did I not spend hours trying to make it clear to the commandant that no food should be given the day before the execution. But the new mild course is of another opinion. Before the man is led away, the commandant’s ladies stuff him full of sweets. His whole life he has subsisted on stinking fish and now he must eat sweets! It would be possible after all, I would not object—but why can’t the new gag be acquired that I have been requesting for the past three months. How can one not be disgusted taking this gag in one’s mouth that has been sucked and bitten on by more than a hundred dying men?”
The condemned man had lowered his head and looked peaceful. The soldier was busy cleaning the machine with the man’s shirt. The officer approached the traveler, who took a step back out of some kind of intuition, but the officer seized his hand and pulled him aside. “I would like to have a word with you in confidence,” he said “I am allowed to, am I not?” “Certainly,” said the traveler and listened with lowered eyes.
“This procedure and this execution that you now have the opportunity to admire no longer have any open supporters in our colony. I am its sole advocate and simultaneously the only advocate of the old commandant’s legacy. I can no longer think of developing the procedure any further; I use up all my strength preserving that which exists. When the old commandant was alive, the colony was full of his followers. I possess part of the old commandant’s persuasiveness, but I entirely lack his power. As a result, his supporters have gone into hiding. They are still numerous, but no one will admit to it. If you go to a teahouse today
, on an execution day that is, and keep your ears open, you will perhaps hear only ambiguous statements. These are all supporters, but under the current commandant and with his current views they are entirely useless to me. And so I ask you: should a life’s work such as this”—he pointed to the machine—“perish due to this commandant and the women who influence him? Can one allow that to happen? Even if one is only visiting our island for a few days as a foreigner? But there is no time to lose. Plans are already being made to undermine my judicial authority; discussions are already taking place in the commandant’s headquarters that I am not being consulted about; even your visit seems to me to be indicative of the entire situation; they are cowardly and send you, a foreigner, ahead.—How different the executions were in earlier times! A day beforehand, the entire valley would already be overflowing with people; they all came just to watch; early in the morning, the commandant would appear with his ladies; fanfares would wake the entire encampment; I would make the announcement that everything was prepared; the company—no high official could be absent—would arrange themselves around the machine. This stack of cane chairs is a pathetic remnant from that time. The machine was freshly cleaned and shining; I used new replacement parts for nearly every execution. Before hundreds of eyes—all spectators stood on their tiptoes all the way to those hills over there—the condemned man was laid under the Harrow by the commandant himself. That which a common soldier is allowed to perform today used to be my duty as presiding judge, and it was an honor. And then the execution began! No dissonance disturbed the machine’s work. Some no longer watched but lay with their eyes closed in the sand; everyone knew: justice is now being done. In the silence, one could only hear the condemned man’s groans, muffled by the gag. Today the machine is no longer able to force a groan out of the condemned man that is too loud for the gag to stifle; but back then, a corrosive liquid dripped from the needles as they wrote that we are no longer allowed to use today. And then the sixth hour arrived! It was impossible to fulfill all the requests to watch up close. The commandant, wise as he was, ordered that children were to be given particular preference; I, however, by virtue of my office, was always allowed to stand by; I often crouched there, two little children in my arms to the left and the right. How we all took in the expression of transfiguration on the martyred face, how we bathed our cheeks in the glow of the justice that was achieved at last and already fading! What times they were, my comrade!” The officer had apparently forgotten who was standing before him; he had embraced the traveler and laid his head upon his shoulder. The traveler was deeply embarrassed; he looked impatiently past the officer. The soldier had finished cleaning and was now pouring rice porridge from a tin into the bowl. No sooner had the condemned man, who seemed to have already recovered entirely, noticed this, than he began to snap at the porridge with his tongue. The soldier kept pushing him away, for the porridge was apparently intended for a later time, but it was certainly also improper for the soldier to dig into the bowl with his filthy hands and eat from it in front of the ravenous man.