by Franz Kafka
“Here’s the key to the building, come whenever you like,” were her last words, and an aimless kiss struck him on the back while he was still on his way out. As he stepped out the door, a light rain was falling; he was about to walk out into the middle of the street on the chance he might still see Leni at the window, when, from a car K. hadn’t noticed waiting in front of the building, his uncle suddenly emerged, grabbed him by the arms, and shoved him against the door of the building, as if to nail him fast to it. “My boy,” he cried, “how could you do it! You’ve damaged your case terribly, when it was starting out so well. You crawl off to hide with a dirty little creature who obviously happens to be the lawyer’s mistress, and stay away for hours. You don’t even look for an excuse, make no effort to cover it up, no, you’re totally open about it, run to her and stay with her. And meanwhile we’re sitting there, the uncle who’s working hard on your behalf, the lawyer who’s to be won over for you, and most important of all the chief clerk of the court, this noteworthy gentleman, who is practically in charge of your case in its present stage. We’re trying to figure out the best way to help you, I have to handle the lawyer carefully, he has to handle the chief clerk the same way, and you have every reason to at least offer me support. Instead you stay away. In the end there’s no way to conceal it; now these are polite, sophisticated men, they don’t say anything, they try to spare me, but in the end even they can’t bring themselves to go on, and since they can’t talk about the case, they fall silent. We sat there for several minutes without saying anything, listening to see if you might be returning at last after all. All in vain. Finally the chief clerk, who has remained much longer than he originally intended to, stands up, takes his leave, obviously sorry for me but unable to help, waits with incredible kindness a bit longer at the door, then leaves. Of course I was happy he was gone, I’d reached the point where I was having trouble even breathing. All this had an even stronger effect on the ailing lawyer; the good man couldn’t even speak as I took my leave. You’ve probably contributed to his total collapse, thus hastening the death of a man you’re dependent upon. And you leave me, your uncle, waiting here in the rain for hours: just feel, I’m soaked clear through.”
LAWYER
MANUFACTURER
PAINTER
On a winter morning—outside, snow was falling in the dull light—K. was sitting in his office, already thoroughly fatigued in spite of the early hour. To shield himself from at least minor staff members, he had given instructions to his assistant not to let any of them in, since he was working on an important project. But instead of working he swung about in his chair, moved a few items around slowly on his desk, and then, without being aware of it, left his arm outstretched on the desktop and remained sitting motionless with bowed head.
The thought of his trial never left him now. He had often considered whether it might not be advisable to prepare a written defense and submit it to the court. In it he would offer a brief overview of his life, and for each event of any particular importance, explain why he had acted as he did, whether in his present judgment this course of action deserved approval or censure, and what reasons he could advance for the one or the other. The advantages of such a written defense over simply leaving things in the hands of his lawyer, who was far from perfect anyway, were obvious. After all, K. had no idea what action his lawyer was taking; in any case it wasn’t much, it had been over a month now since he’d summoned him, nor had any of these earlier consultations given K. the impression the man would be able to do much for him. In the first place, he scarcely asked any questions. And yet there was so much to ask. Questions were the main thing. K. had the feeling he could ask all the necessary questions on his own. His lawyer on the other hand, instead of asking questions, did all the talking, or sat across from him in silence, leaning slightly forward over the desk, probably because of his poor hearing, tugging at a strand in the middle of his beard and looking down at the carpet, perhaps at the very spot where K. had lain with Leni. Now and then he gave K. a few empty admonitions, as if talking to a child. Speeches as useless as they were boring, for which K. had no intention of paying one red cent in the final billing. When the lawyer seemed to feel he had humbled him adequately, he usually began to cheer him up a little again. He would tell him how he had already won or come close to winning many similar trials, trials which, if not quite so difficult in reality as his, appeared even more hopeless on the surface. He had a list of those trials right there in his drawer—with this he tapped some compartment or other in his desk—unfortunately he couldn’t show him the documents, since they were officially secret. Nevertheless the extensive experience he had gained in all these trials would naturally be used to K.’s benefit. He had of course set to work immediately, and the first petition was already nearly finished. It was very important, for the first impression made by the defense often influenced the whole course of the proceedings. Unfortunately, and he felt he must point this out to K., on some occasions initial petitions were not even read by the court. They were simply put in the file with a note that for the time being the hearings and surveillance of the accused were much more important than anything put in writing. If the petitioner pressed the issue, it was added that once all the evidence had been collected, and prior to the verdict, this first petition would be considered as well, together with all other documents of course. Unfortunately that wasn’t true either in most cases; the first petition was generally misplaced or completely lost, and even if it was retained to the very end, the lawyer had only heard this by way of rumor of course, it was scarcely even glanced at. All that was regrettable, but not entirely without justification; K. must not overlook the fact that the proceedings are not public, they can be made public if the court considers it necessary, but the Law does not insist upon it. As a result, the court records, and above all the writ of indictment, are not available to the accused and his defense lawyers, so that in general it’s not known, or not known precisely, what the first petition should be directed against, and for that reason it can only be by chance that it contains something of importance to the case. Truly pertinent and reasoned petitions can only be devised later, when, in the course of the defendant’s interrogations, the individual points of the indictment and its basis emerge more clearly, or may be surmised. Under these conditions the defense is naturally placed in a very unfavorable and difficult position. But that too is intentional. For the defense is not actually countenanced by the Law, but only tolerated, and there is even some controversy as to whether the relevant passages of the Law can truly be construed to include even such tolerance. In the strict sense, therefore, there are no court-recognized lawyers; all those who appear before the court as lawyers are basically shysters. Of course that has an extremely degrading effect upon the entire profession, and the next time K. went to the law court offices, he should take a look at the Lawyers’ Room, that was quite a sight too. He would probably be shocked by the lot gathered there. The narrow, low room to which they were relegated was in itself an indication of the court’s contempt for these people. Light enters the room only through a small hatch so high up that if someone wants to look out, and incidentally get a nose full of smoke and a sooty face from the chimney just outside, he first has to find a colleague who will hoist him up on his back. For over a year now—to give just one more example of the poor conditions—there’s been a hole in the floor of the room, not large enough for a person to fall through, but big enough that one whole leg can sink in. The Lawyers’ Room is in the upper level of the attic, so if someone slips through, his leg hangs down into the lower level, right into the hall where the parties are waiting. It’s no exaggeration when such conditions are described in lawyers’ circles as scandalous. Complaints to the administration don’t have the slightest effect, yet lawyers are strictly forbidden from changing anything in the room at their own expense. But there’s a reason they treat lawyers this way. They want to eliminate the defense as far as possible; everything is to be laid upon the def
endant himself. Basically that’s not a bad position to take, but nothing would be more mistaken than to conclude from it that defendants have no need of lawyers before this court. On the contrary, there is no other court before which there is a greater need. For in general the proceedings are kept secret not only from the public but from the accused as well. Only insofar as possible of course, but to a very large extent it does prove possible. For even the accused has no access to the court records, and it’s very difficult to ascertain during the interrogations which documents are involved, particularly for the defendant, who after all is timid and disconcerted, and distracted by all sorts of cares. This is where the defense enters in. In general defense lawyers are not allowed to be present at the interrogations and so must question the defendant about an interrogation immediately upon its conclusion, if at all possible at the very door of the inquiry room, and deduce from the defendant’s often quite hazy accounts whatever might be of use to the defense. But that’s not what’s most important, since not much can be learned that way, though even here, as elsewhere, a skillful person can learn more than others. Nevertheless, the most important factor is still the lawyer’s personal contacts; they are the most valuable aspect of a defense. Now K. had no doubt already learned from his own experience that the lowest level of the court system is not entirely perfect, that it includes some employees who forget their duty and can be bribed, which in turn produces breaches, so to speak, in the strictly closed system of the court. Now this is where the majority of lawyers push their way in, bribing people and pumping them for information; in fact in earlier days there were even cases of stolen files. There’s no denying a few momentary and even surprisingly positive results can be achieved on the defendant’s behalf by such means, and petty lawyers parade them proudly to lure new customers, but as far as the future progress of the trial is concerned they’re meaningless or worse. Only honest personal contacts are of true value, and with higher officials, by which is meant of course higher officials from the lower ranks. This is the sole means by which the progress of the trial can be influenced, imperceptibly at first, but more and more clearly as it moves along. Only a few lawyers can do that of course, and here K.’s choice had been fortunate indeed. There were only one or two lawyers who might possibly match Dr. Huld’s contacts. Of course these paid no attention to the lot in the Lawyers’ Room and had nothing to do with them. Their ties to the court officials, however, were correspondingly stronger. It wasn’t even always necessary for Dr. Huld to go to court, wait in the outer offices for the chance appearance of examining magistrates, and then, according to their mood, achieve what was generally a merely apparent success, and perhaps not even that. No, as K. had seen himself, officials, and relatively high ones at that, came to him, offered information willingly that was clear or at least easily interpreted, discussed the recent progress of the trial, indeed in some cases even allowed themselves to be convinced, gladly taking on the other’s point of view. Of course one didn’t dare trust them too far with respect to this latter trait; no matter how decisively they state their new intent, which is favorable to the defense, they may well go straight to their office and issue a decision for the next day that conveys the exact opposite, and is perhaps even more severe with respect to the defendant than that which they had at first intended, and which they claimed to have entirely abandoned. Of course there was no way to protect oneself against that, for what was said in private conversation was exactly that, a private conversation with no public consequences, even if the defense had not been otherwise constrained to retain the favor of those gentlemen. On the other hand, of course, it was also true that these gentlemen were not moved simply by humanitarianism, or feelings of personal friendship, to establish contact with the defense, only a competent one naturally, but did so because they were in a certain sense dependent upon them. Here the disadvantage of a court system that was grounded from its very beginnings in secrecy came to the fore. The officials lack contact with the common people; they’re well prepared for the normal, average trial, which rolls along its course almost on its own and needs only a push now and then, but faced with very simple cases or with particularly complex ones, they’re often at a loss; because they’re constantly constricted by the Law both night and day, they have no proper understanding of human relationships, and in such cases they feel that lack keenly. Then they come to the lawyer for advice, and behind them comes an assistant carrying the files, which are otherwise so secret. Many a gentleman one would least expect to find in such a situation might be discovered at this very window, gazing almost hopelessly out into the street, while at his desk the lawyer studies the files to offer his advice. Moreover one could see at such times how uncommonly seriously these gentlemen took their profession, and into what great despair they were thrown when, due to the very nature of the obstacles, they could not overcome them. In other ways too their position is no easy one, nor should one do them the injustice of regarding it as such. The gradations and ranks of the court are infinite, extending beyond the ken even of initiates. The proceedings in the courts of law are generally a mystery to the lower officials as well; therefore they can almost never follow the progress of the cases they are working on throughout their course; the case enters their field of vision, often they know not whence, and continues on, they know not where. The lessons to be learned from the study of the individual stages of a trial, the final verdict and its basis, are lost to these officials. Their involvement is limited to that part of the trial circumscribed for them by the Law, and they generally know less about what follows, and thus about the results of their own efforts, than the defense, which as a rule remains in contact with the accused almost to the very end of the trial. So in this respect too, they can occasionally learn something of value from the defense. Was K. still surprised then, bearing all this in mind, at the irritability of the officials, which sometimes expressed itself—as everyone soon learned—in an insulting manner toward the parties involved? All officials are irritable, even when they appear calm. Of course the petty lawyers suffer in particular from this. For instance the following story is told, and has every appearance of truth. An elderly official, a decent, quiet gentleman, had studied a difficult case, rendered particularly complex due to the lawyer’s petitions, for one entire day and night without a break—these officials are truly the most industrious of people. Now as morning approached, after twenty-four hours of probably not very productive work, he went to the outer door, waited in ambush, and threw every lawyer who tried to enter down the steps. The lawyers gathered on the landing below and discussed what they should do; on the one hand they have no real right to be admitted, so they can hardly start legal proceedings against the official, and as already mentioned, they have to be careful not to arouse the ire of the bureaucracy. On the other hand each day missed at court is a day lost, so it was important to them to get in. Finally they decided to try to wear the old gentleman down. One lawyer at a time would rush up the stairs and, offering the greatest possible passive resistance, allow himself to be thrown back down, where he would then be caught by his colleagues. That lasted for about an hour; then the old gentleman, who was already tired from working all night, grew truly exhausted and went back into his office. At first those below could hardly believe it, so they sent someone up to check behind the door to make sure there was really no one there. Only then did they enter, probably not even daring to grumble. For the lawyers—and even the least important of them has at least a partial overview of the circumstances—are far from wishing to introduce or carry out any sort of improvement in the court system, while—and this is quite characteristic—almost every defendant, even the most simple-minded among them, starts thinking up suggestions for improvement from the moment the trial starts, and in doing so often wastes time and energy that would be better spent in other ways. The only proper approach is to learn to accept existing conditions. Even if it were possible to improve specific details—which, however, is merely an absurd superstition—one woul
d have at best achieved something for future cases, while in the process damaging oneself immeasurably by having attracted the attention of an always vengeful bureaucracy. Just don’t attract attention! Keep calm, no matter how much it seems counter to good sense. Try to realize that this vast judicial organism remains, so to speak, in a state of eternal equilibrium, and that if you change something on your own where you are, you can cut the ground out from under your own feet and fall, while the vast organism easily compensates for the minor disturbance at some other spot—after all, everything is interconnected—and remains unchanged, if not, which is likely, even more resolute, more vigilant, more severe, more malicious. One should leave the task to the lawyers, instead of interfering with them. Reproaches are of little value, particularly when it seems the full import of what has caused them cannot be conveyed, but he must say how much K. had hurt his own affair by his behavior toward the chief clerk of the court. This influential man must almost certainly be crossed off the list of those to whom one might turn on K.’s behalf. He pointedly refused to acknowledge even passing references to K.’s trial. In many ways the officials were like children. They were often so hurt by seemingly minor matters, though K’s behavior, unfortunately, did not fall into that category, that they stopped speaking even with close friends, turning aside when they met them, and opposing them in every possible way. But then, surprisingly and for no apparent reason, they would allow themselves a laugh at some small joke attempted only because the situation seemed so hopeless, and were reconciled once more. It was both difficult and easy to relate to them; there were hardly any guidelines to go by. Sometimes it seemed amazing that an average lifetime sufficed to learn enough to work here with a modicum of success. Of course there are always dark hours, everyone has them, when it seems that one has accomplished nothing, when it seems as if the only trials that turned out well were those that were destined to do so from the very beginning, without any help at all, while all the others were lost in spite of following them so closely, in spite of all the effort, all the small apparent victories that gave such pleasure. Then of course nothing seems certain any longer, and if pressed specifically one does not even dare deny that trials that by nature should have turned out well were thrown off course precisely by the assistance offered. That too is a type of belief in oneself after all, but it is the only sort that remains. Lawyers are particularly susceptible to such attacks—they are of course mere attacks and nothing more—when a trial they have conducted satisfactorily up to a certain point is suddenly taken out of their hands. That’s probably the worst thing that can happen to a lawyer. It’s not the defendant who takes the trial from them, indeed that probably never happens; once a defendant has engaged a particular lawyer, he has to stick with him no matter what. How could he possibly sustain himself alone, once he has enlisted aid? So that doesn’t happen, but it does indeed sometimes happen that the trial takes a direction the lawyer is not permitted to follow. The trial, the defendant, everything is simply withdrawn from the lawyer; in that case the best of connections with the officials are of no use, for they themselves know nothing. The trial has entered a stage where no further assistance can be given, where it is being handled by inaccessible courts of law, where even the defendant is no longer within reach of the lawyer. Then you come home one day to find on your desk all the many petitions you submitted so diligently and with such great hopes in the case; they’ve been returned; since they can’t be transferred to the new stage of the trial, they’re worthless scraps of paper. But that doesn’t mean the trial has been lost, not by any means, or at any rate there is no definitive reason to assume so, one simply knows nothing more about the trial, and won’t learn anything more either. But fortunately such cases are exceptions, and even should K.’s trial turn out to be one of them, it was still far removed from such a stage at the moment. So there was still ample opportunity for the lawyer to take action, and K. could rest assured that those opportunities would be seized. As he had mentioned, the petition had not yet been submitted, but there was no hurry about that, the preliminary discussions with the officials in charge were of much greater importance, and those had already taken place. With varying degrees of success, it must be frankly admitted. It was far better for the time being not to reveal details which might only affect K. unfavorably and make him overly hopeful or all too anxious; suffice it to say that some of them had responded quite favorably and proved quite cooperative, while others had responded less favorably, while by no means refusing their assistance. The results were thus on the whole quite gratifying, although one mustn’t draw too many conclusions from them, since preliminary proceedings always started out that way and only further developments would reveal their true value. At any rate nothing was lost as yet, and if it still proved possible to win over the chief clerk of the court in spite of everything—various steps had already been taken toward that end—then the whole matter, as the surgeons say, was a clean wound and one could await what was to follow with confidence.