AptitudeExercise_2019-2020.pdf - HKU Faculty of Architecture

Aptitude Exercise for Admission to the BAAS Program Department of Architecture University of Hong Kong December 20, 2019 (available: 12:01am) - December 23, 2019 (upload deadline: 11:59pm) The Aptitude Exercise allows the applicant to demonstrate her or his interest and capacity for telling an architectural story. The criteria measured by the exercise include: capacity to conceptualize, creativity, curiosity, analytical ability, daring, rigor, intelligence, intuition, openness, perseverance, spatial sensibility, and sociability. The assessment of each candidate is based on a combination of factors including academic scores, personal statement, Aptitude Exercise, and finally the interview (if applicable). The Aptitude Exercise should reflect the student's capacities and interests and should therefore be the work of the applicant alone. ------------------------------- Exercise Problem Architects design by giving form to ideas and processes. This requires a capacity to investigate and describe the world as a means to imagine new possibilities for the spaces of our cities and landscapes For this year’s Aptitude Exercise (AE), we ask you to read and look, make and draw. We ask that you share with us through the medium of a small booklet, your experience of reading and looking, making, and drawing, and your discoveries along the process. First, pick a short story from the below list to read:

“The Metamorphosis,” Franz Kafka, 1915 “The Yellow Wallpaper,” Charlotte Perkins Gilman, 1892 “Fall of the House of Usher,” Edgar Allen Poe, 1839

Then, pick an art work from the below list to look at:

Sketch, Robert Smithson, 1967 North, East, South, West, Michael Heizer, 1967 Messkasten, Rebecca Horn, 1970 House, Rachel Whiteread, 1993 Impenetrable, Mona Hatoum, 2009 18 Cubes, Zhang Ding, 2016

Then we would like you to make two cubes out of materials that are available. We would like you to document the process of reading, looking and making through the book format specified on the following page. How are the experiences of reading and looking, and making related to each other?

What did you choose to read and what kind of spaces came into your mind when you were reading? What do you see? Which art work did you choose to look at? What is it made of? Where is it situated? How has the story you read influenced the way you choose the art work and understand it? Conversely has looking at the art work changed the way you thought about the story you read? How has the reading and looking influenced the two cubes you make? How do you make them? Where do you find your material(s) for it? How big are they? What is similar or different about the two cubes you made? How do they relate to the story you read and the art work you looked at?

You do not need to answer any or all of the questions above. The book format allows you to tell a story, make an argument or create relationships using the 16 pages available to you. The pages together should communicate your discoveries through the process of reading and looking, making and drawing, and your particular capacity to describe and interpret the findings of your process. We encourage you to use a medium or media (pen, pencil, coloured pencil, marker, crayon, computer drawing, water colour, etc.) and work in a format (illustration, painting, collage, photography, diagram, measured drawing, etc.) with which you are comfortable and enjoy. Verbal description should be limited to less than 20 words on each page.

There is no correct or incorrect choice. There are no right or wrong ways of completing the exercise. Applicants are encouraged to interpret and respond to the problem in a personal, creative, precise and rigorous way while adhering to the following guidelines: The submission should be completed on 4, double-sided, A4 pages that, when folded in half, create an A5 booklet. The front and back page of the booklet should include 1) your application number and 2) the date of the submission. See Diagram A for instructions on how to make a booklet. A PDF submission of the booklet layout should be uploaded by 11:59 pm, 23 December 2019, using the uploading tool found on this page. The PDF should be no more than 300MB. Applicants are also asked to mail a hardcopy of their A5 booklet to the Faculty of Architecture. Mailed submissions should be postmarked no later than 11:59pm, 27 December 2019. Applicants selected for an interview will be asked to bring a hardcopy of their submission. Your submission will be discussed at our interviews. ------- Address for mailed submission: Faculty of Architecture 4th Floor Knowles Building The University of Hong Kong Pokfulam Road Hong Kong (Attn: BAAS Programme Officer) Any questions should be addressed to the Faculty of Architecture by e-mail at <[email protected]>. We look forward to learning more about you. Good luck and have fun with the Aptitude Exercise.

FAQ: Q: Should I make my submission by hand and then scan it, or make it on the computer: EITHER IS POSSIBLE. Q. I have received the aptitude Exercise yesterday, I want to know if I can use the drawings and paintings that I had been working on in my current studies? IF YOU THINK THEY OFFER AN EFFECTIVE RESPONSE TO THE EXERCISE, YES. Q. I am an international applicant. Do I need to mail a hardcopy? YES.

SHEET 4

1LF

FRO

NT

OF

SHEE

TBA

CKO

F SH

EET

SHEET 1 SHEET 2 SHEET 3 SHEET4

FOLD LINE A5

RIGHTLEFT

1LF 1RF

1LB 1RB

2LF 2RF

2LB 2RB

3LF 3RF

3LB 3RB

4LF 4RF

4LB 4RB

DIAGRAM A - HOW TO MAKE A BOOKLET

SHEET 3

SHEET 2

1LF1RF

SHEET 1

1LF1RF

2LF2RF

3LF3RF

4LF4RF

FOLD TOGETHER WHEN STACKED

FRONTCOVERAPPLICANT NUMBERAND DATE

PAGE 2 PAGE 3

PAGE 4 PAGE 5

PAGE 6 PAGE 7

PAGE 8 PAGE 9

PAGE 10 PAGE 11

PAGE 12 PAGE 13

PAGE 14

BACK COVERAPPLICANT

NUMBERAND DATE

PAGE 15

PRINT LAYOUT

BOOKLET

BOOK LAYOUT

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Metamorphosis, by Franz KafkaTranslated by David Wyllie.

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

** This is a COPYRIGHTED Project Gutenberg eBook, Details Below **** Please follow the copyright guidelines in this file. **

Title: Metamorphosis

Author: Franz Kafka

Translator: David Wyllie

Release Date: August 16, 2005 [EBook #5200]First posted: May 13, 2002Last updated: May 20, 2012

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK METAMORPHOSIS ***

Copyright (C) 2002 by David Wyllie.

MetamorphosisFranz KafkaTranslated by David Wyllie

IOne morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in hisbed into a horrible vermin. He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a little he couldsee his brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff sections. The bedding was hardlyable to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any moment. His many legs, pitifully thin comparedwith 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 alittle too small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls. A collection of textile samples layspread out on the table - Samsa was a travelling salesman - and above it there hung a picture that hehad recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. It showed a ladyfitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright, raising a heavy fur muff that covered the wholeof her lower arm towards the viewer.

Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka https://www.gutenberg.org/files/5200/5200-h/5200-h.htm

1 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull weather. Drops of rain could be heard hittingthe pane, which made him feel quite sad. "How about if I sleep a little bit longer and forget all thisnonsense", he thought, but that was something he was unable to do because he was used to sleepingon his right, and in his present state couldn't get into that position. However hard he threw himselfonto his right, he always rolled back to where he was. He must have tried it a hundred times, shut hiseyes so that he wouldn't have to look at the floundering legs, and only stopped when he began to feela 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 ofthat 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 becomefriendly with them. It can all go to Hell!" He felt a slight itch up on his belly; pushed himself slowlyup 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; andwhen he tried to feel the place with one of his legs he drew it quickly back because as soon as hetouched 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 youstupid. 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 gentlemenare always still sitting there eating their breakfasts. I ought to just try that with my boss; I'd getkicked out on the spot. But who knows, maybe that would be the best thing for me. If I didn't havemy parents to think about I'd have given in my notice a long time ago, I'd have gone up to the bossand told him just what I think, tell him everything I would, let him know just what I feel. He'd fallright off his desk! And it's a funny sort of business to be sitting up there at your desk, talking down atyour subordinates from up there, especially when you have to go right up close because the boss ishard 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 makethe big change. First of all though, I've got to get up, my train leaves at five."

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 beenset for four o'clock as it should have been; it certainly must have rung. Yes, but was it possible toquietly sleep through that furniture-rattling noise? True, he had not slept peacefully, but probably allthe more deeply because of that. What should he do now? The next train went at seven; if he were tocatch that he would have to rush like mad and the collection of samples was still not packed, and hedid not at all feel particularly fresh and lively. And even if he did catch the train he would not avoidhis boss's anger as the office assistant would have been there to see the five o'clock train go, hewould have put in his report about Gregor's not being there a long time ago. The office assistant wasthe boss's man, spineless, and with no understanding. What about if he reported sick? But that wouldbe 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, accusehis parents of having a lazy son, and accept the doctor's recommendation not to make any claim asthe doctor believed that no-one was ever ill but that many were workshy. And what's more, would hehave been entirely wrong in this case? Gregor did in fact, apart from excessive sleepiness aftersleeping 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 clockstruck quarter to seven. There was a cautious knock at the door near his head. "Gregor", somebodycalled - it was his mother - "it's quarter to seven. Didn't you want to go somewhere?" That gentle


2 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

voice! Gregor was shocked when he heard his own voice answering, it could hardly be recognised asthe voice he had had before. As if from deep inside him, there was a painful and uncontrollablesqueaking mixed in with it, the words could be made out at first but then there was a sort of echowhich made them unclear, leaving the hearer unsure whether he had heard properly or not. Gregorhad wanted to give a full answer and explain everything, but in the circumstances contented himselfwith saying: "Yes, mother, yes, thank-you, I'm getting up now." The change in Gregor's voiceprobably could not be noticed outside through the wooden door, as his mother was satisfied with thisexplanation and shuffled away. But this short conversation made the other members of the familyaware that Gregor, against their expectations was still at home, and soon his father came knocking atone of the side doors, gently, but with his fist. "Gregor, Gregor", he called, "what's wrong?" Andafter a short while he called again with a warning deepness in his voice: "Gregor! Gregor!" At theother 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 strangenessfrom 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 hiscautious 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, andmost of all to have his breakfast. Only then would he consider what to do next, as he was well awarethat he would not bring his thoughts to any sensible conclusions by lying in bed. He remembered thathe had often felt a slight pain in bed, perhaps caused by lying awkwardly, but that had always turnedout to be pure imagination and he wondered how his imaginings would slowly resolve themselvestoday. He did not have the slightest doubt that the change in his voice was nothing more than the firstsign 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 offby themselves. But it became difficult after that, especially as he was so exceptionally broad. Hewould have used his arms and his hands to push himself up; but instead of them he only had all thoselittle 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 hefinally managed to do what he wanted with that leg, all the others seemed to be set free and wouldmove about painfully. "This is something that can't be done in bed", Gregor said to himself, "so don'tkeep 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 neverseen 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 withall the force he could gather, he chose the wrong direction, hit hard against the lower bedpost, andlearned from the burning pain he felt that the lower part of his body might well, at present, be themost sensitive.

So then he tried to get the top part of his body out of the bed first, carefully turning his head to theside. This he managed quite easily, and despite its breadth and its weight, the bulk of his bodyeventually followed slowly in the direction of the head. But when he had at last got his head out ofthe bed and into the fresh air it occurred to him that if he let himself fall it would be a miracle if hishead were not injured, so he became afraid to carry on pushing himself forward the same way. Andhe 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, ifthat was possible, he could think of no way of bringing peace and order to this chaos. He told himself


3 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

once more that it was not possible for him to stay in bed and that the most sensible thing to do wouldbe to get free of it in whatever way he could at whatever sacrifice. At the same time, though, he didnot forget to remind himself that calm consideration was much better than rushing to desperateconclusions. At times like this he would direct his eyes to the window and look out as clearly as hecould, but unfortunately, even the other side of the narrow street was enveloped in morning fog andthe view had little confidence or cheer to offer him. "Seven o'clock, already", he said to himself whenthe clock struck again, "seven o'clock, and there's still a fog like this." And he lay there quietly awhile longer, breathing lightly as if he perhaps expected the total stillness to bring things back totheir real and natural state.

But then he said to himself: "Before it strikes quarter past seven I'll definitely have to have gotproperly out of bed. And by then somebody will have come round from work to ask what's happenedto me as well, as they open up at work before seven o'clock." And so he set himself to the task ofswinging the entire length of his body out of the bed all at the same time. If he succeeded in fallingout of bed in this way and kept his head raised as he did so he could probably avoid injuring it. Hisback seemed to be quite hard, and probably nothing would happen to it falling onto the carpet. Hismain concern was for the loud noise he was bound to make, and which even through all the doorswould 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 gamethan an effort, all he had to do was rock back and forth - it occurred to him how simple everythingwould 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 hisback, peel him away from the bed, bend down with the load and then be patient and careful as heswang over onto the floor, where, hopefully, the little legs would find a use. Should he really call forhelp though, even apart from the fact that all the doors were locked? Despite all the difficulty he wasin, 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 hisbalance if he rocked too hard. The time was now ten past seven and he would have to make a finaldecision very soon. Then there was a ring at the door of the flat. "That'll be someone from work", hesaid to himself, and froze very still, although his little legs only became all the more lively as theydanced around. For a moment everything remained quiet. "They're not opening the door", Gregorsaid to himself, caught in some nonsensical hope. But then of course, the maid's firm steps went tothe door as ever and opened it. Gregor only needed to hear the visitor's first words of greeting and heknew who it was - the chief clerk himself. Why did Gregor have to be the only one condemned towork 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 anddevoted who would go so mad with pangs of conscience that he couldn't get out of bed if he didn'tspend at least a couple of hours in the morning on company business? Was it really not enough to letone of the trainees make enquiries - assuming enquiries were even necessary - did the chief clerkhave to come himself, and did they have to show the whole, innocent family that this was sosuspicious that only the chief clerk could be trusted to have the wisdom to investigate it? And morebecause these thoughts had made him upset than through any proper decision, he swang himself withall his force out of the bed. There was a loud thump, but it wasn't really a loud noise. His fall wassoftened a little by the carpet, and Gregor's back was also more elastic than he had thought, whichmade 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 toimagine whether something of the sort that had happened to him today could ever happen to the chiefclerk too; you had to concede that it was possible. But as if in gruff reply to this question, the chief


4 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

clerk's firm footsteps in his highly polished boots could now be heard in the adjoining room. Fromthe room on his right, Gregor's sister whispered to him to let him know: "Gregor, the chief clerk ishere." "Yes, I know", said Gregor to himself; but without daring to raise his voice loud enough forhis sister to hear him.

"Gregor", said his father now from the room to his left, "the chief clerk has come round and wants toknow why you didn't leave on the early train. We don't know what to say to him. And anyway, hewants to speak to you personally. So please open up this door. I'm sure he'll be good enough toforgive the untidiness of your room." Then the chief clerk called "Good morning, Mr. Samsa". "Heisn'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 everthinks about the business. It nearly makes me cross the way he never goes out in the evenings; he'sbeen in town for a week now but stayed home every evening. He sits with us in the kitchen and justreads the paper or studies train timetables. His idea of relaxation is working with his fretsaw. He'smade a little frame, for instance, it only took him two or three evenings, you'll be amazed how nice itis; it's hanging up in his room; you'll see it as soon as Gregor opens the door. Anyway, I'm gladyou're here; we wouldn't have been able to get Gregor to open the door by ourselves; he's sostubborn; and I'm sure he isn't well, he said this morning that he is, but he isn't." "I'll be there in amoment", said Gregor slowly and thoughtfully, but without moving so that he would not miss anyword of the conversation. "Well I can't think of any other way of explaining it, Mrs. Samsa", said thechief clerk, "I hope it's nothing serious. But on the other hand, I must say that if we people incommerce ever become slightly unwell then, fortunately or unfortunately as you like, we simplyhave to overcome it because of business considerations." "Can the chief clerk come in to see younow then?", asked his father impatiently, knocking at the door again. "No", said Gregor. In the roomon 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 evenbegun to get dressed. And why was she crying? Was it because he had not got up, and had not let thechief clerk in, because he was in danger of losing his job and if that happened his boss would oncemore pursue their parents with the same demands as before? There was no need to worry aboutthings like that yet. Gregor was still there and had not the slightest intention of abandoning hisfamily. For the time being he just lay there on the carpet, and no-one who knew the condition he wasin would seriously have expected him to let the chief clerk in. It was only a minor discourtesy, and asuitable excuse could easily be found for it later on, it was not something for which Gregor could besacked on the spot. And it seemed to Gregor much more sensible to leave him now in peace insteadof 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.

The chief clerk now raised his voice, "Mr. Samsa", he called to him, "what is wrong? You barricadeyourself in your room, give us no more than yes or no for an answer, you are causing serious andunnecessary concern to your parents and you fail - and I mention this just by the way - you fail tocarry out your business duties in a way that is quite unheard of. I'm speaking here on behalf of yourparents and of your employer, and really must request a clear and immediate explanation. I amastonished, quite astonished. I thought I knew you as a calm and sensible person, and now yousuddenly seem to be showing off with peculiar whims. This morning, your employer did suggest apossible reason for your failure to appear, it's true - it had to do with the money that was recentlyentrusted to you - but I came near to giving him my word of honour that that could not be the rightexplanation. But now that I see your incomprehensible stubbornness I no longer feel any wishwhatsoever to intercede on your behalf. And nor is your position all that secure. I had originallyintended to say all this to you in private, but since you cause me to waste my time here for no goodreason I don't see why your parents should not also learn of it. Your turnover has been veryunsatisfactory of late; I grant you that it's not the time of year to do especially good business, we


5 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

recognise that; but there simply is no time of year to do no business at all, Mr. Samsa, we cannotallow there to be."

"But Sir", called Gregor, beside himself and forgetting all else in the excitement, "I'll open upimmediately, 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. Bepatient! It's not quite as easy as I'd thought. I'm quite alright now, though. It's shocking, what cansuddenly happen to a person! I was quite alright last night, my parents know about it, perhaps betterthan me, I had a small symptom of it last night already. They must have noticed it. I don't know whyI didn't let you know at work! But you always think you can get over an illness without staying athome. Please, don't make my parents suffer! There's no basis for any of the accusations you'remaking; nobody's ever said a word to me about any of these things. Maybe you haven't read thelatest contracts I sent in. I'll set off with the eight o'clock train, as well, these few hours of rest havegiven me strength. You don't need to wait, sir; I'll be in the office soon after you, and please be sogood 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 wayover to the chest of drawers - this was easily done, probably because of the practise he had alreadyhad in bed - where he now tried to get himself upright. He really did want to open the door, really didwant to let them see him and to speak with the chief clerk; the others were being so insistent, and hewas curious to learn what they would say when they caught sight of him. If they were shocked then itwould no longer be Gregor's responsibility and he could rest. If, however, they took everythingcalmly he would still have no reason to be upset, and if he hurried he really could be at the station foreight o'clock. The first few times he tried to climb up on the smooth chest of drawers he just sliddown again, but he finally gave himself one last swing and stood there upright; the lower part of hisbody was in serious pain but he no longer gave any attention to it. Now he let himself fall against theback of a nearby chair and held tightly to the edges of it with his little legs. By now he had alsocalmed 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 tomake fools of us". "Oh, God!" called his mother, who was already in tears, "he could be seriously illand we're making him suffer. Grete! Grete!" she then cried. "Mother?" his sister called from the otherside. 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 thevoice of an animal", said the chief clerk, with a calmness that was in contrast with his mother'sscreams. "Anna! Anna!" his father called into the kitchen through the entrance hall, clapping hishands, "get a locksmith here, now!" And the two girls, their skirts swishing, immediately ran outthrough the hall, wrenching open the front door of the flat as they went. How had his sister managedto get dressed so quickly? There was no sound of the door banging shut again; they must have left itopen; 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 tothe sound. They had realised, though, that there was something wrong with him, and were ready tohelp. 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 heexpected great and surprising achievements - although he did not really distinguish one from theother. Whatever was said next would be crucial, so, in order to make his voice as clear as possible, hecoughed a little, but taking care to do this not too loudly as even this might well sound different fromthe 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 withthe chief clerk, or perhaps they were all pressed against the door and listening.


6 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

Gregor slowly pushed his way over to the door with the chair. Once there he let go of it and threwhimself onto the door, holding himself upright against it using the adhesive on the tips of his legs. Herested there a little while to recover from the effort involved and then set himself to the task ofturning the key in the lock with his mouth. He seemed, unfortunately, to have no proper teeth - howwas he, then, to grasp the key? - but the lack of teeth was, of course, made up for with a very strongjaw; using the jaw, he really was able to start the key turning, ignoring the fact that he must havebeen causing some kind of damage as a brown fluid came from his mouth, flowed over the key anddripped onto the floor. "Listen", said the chief clerk in the next room, "he's turning the key." Gregorwas greatly encouraged by this; but they all should have been calling to him, his father and hismother too: "Well done, Gregor", they should have cried, "keep at it, keep hold of the lock!" Andwith 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 thelock with it, only holding himself upright with his mouth, and hung onto the key or pushed it downagain with the whole weight of his body as needed. The clear sound of the lock as it snapped backwas Gregor's sign that he could break his concentration, and as he regained his breath he said tohimself: "So, I didn't need the locksmith after all". Then he lay his head on the handle of the door toopen it completely.

Because he had to open the door in this way, it was already wide open before he could be seen. Hehad first to slowly turn himself around one of the double doors, and he had to do it very carefully ifhe did not want to fall flat on his back before entering the room. He was still occupied with thisdifficult movement, unable to pay attention to anything else, when he heard the chief clerk exclaim aloud "Oh!", which sounded like the soughing of the wind. Now he also saw him - he was the nearestto the door - his hand pressed against his open mouth and slowly retreating as if driven by a steadyand invisible force. Gregor's mother, her hair still dishevelled from bed despite the chief clerk's beingthere, looked at his father. Then she unfolded her arms, took two steps forward towards Gregor andsank down onto the floor into her skirts that spread themselves out around her as her headdisappeared down onto her breast. His father looked hostile, and clenched his fists as if wanting toknock Gregor back into his room. Then he looked uncertainly round the living room, covered hiseyes 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 heldbolted in place. In this way only half of his body could be seen, along with his head above it whichhe 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 - couldbe seen quite clearly with the austere and regular line of windows piercing its façade; the rain wasstill falling, now throwing down large, individual droplets which hit the ground one at a time. Thewashing 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 hesat reading a number of different newspapers. On the wall exactly opposite there was photograph ofGregor when he was a lieutenant in the army, his sword in his hand and a carefree smile on his faceas he called forth respect for his uniform and bearing. The door to the entrance hall was open and asthe front door of the flat was also open he could see onto the landing and the stairs where they begantheir way down below.

"Now, then", said Gregor, well aware that he was the only one to have kept calm, "I'll get dressedstraight 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 I like to do my job; being a commercial travelleris 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 temporarilyunable to work, but that's just the right time to remember what's been achieved in the past andconsider that later on, once the difficulty has been removed, he will certainly work with all the more


7 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

diligence and concentration. You're well aware that I'm seriously in debt to our employer as well ashaving to look after my parents and my sister, so that I'm trapped in a difficult situation, but I willwork my way out of it again. Please don't make things any harder for me than they are already, anddon't take sides against me at the office. I know that nobody likes the travellers. They think we earnan enormous wage as well as having a soft time of it. That's just prejudice but they have no particularreason to think better of 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 abusinessman like him to make mistakes about his employees and judge them more harshly than heshould. And you're also well aware that we travellers spend almost the whole year away from theoffice, so that we can very easily fall victim to gossip and chance and groundless complaints, and it'salmost 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 harmfuleffects of what's been going on without even knowing what caused them. Please, don't go away, atleast 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 momentwhile Gregor was speaking, but moved steadily towards the door without taking his eyes off him. Hemoved very gradually, as if there had been some secret prohibition on leaving the room. It was onlywhen he had reached the entrance hall that he made a sudden movement, drew his foot from theliving room, and rushed forward in a panic. In the hall, he stretched his right hand far out towards thestairway 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 hisposition in the firm was not to be put into extreme danger. That was something his parents did notunderstand very well; over the years, they had become convinced that this job would provide forGregor for his entire life, and besides, they had so much to worry about at present that they had lostsight of any thought for the future. Gregor, though, did think about the future. The chief clerk had tobe held back, calmed down, convinced and finally won over; the future of Gregor and his familydepended on it! If only his sister were here! She was clever; she was already in tears while Gregorwas still lying peacefully on his back. And the chief clerk was a lover of women, surely she couldpersuade him; she would close the front door in the entrance hall and talk him out of his shockedstate. But his sister was not there, Gregor would have to do the job himself. And without consideringthat he still was not familiar with how well he could move about in his present state, or that hisspeech still might not - or probably would not - be understood, he let go of the door; pushed himselfthrough the opening; tried to reach the chief clerk on the landing who, ridiculously, was holding onto the banister with both hands; but Gregor fell immediately over and, with a little scream as hesought 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 groundunder them; to his pleasure, they did exactly as he told them; they were even making the effort tocarry him where he wanted to go; and he was soon believing that all his sorrows would soon befinally at an end. He held back the urge to move but swayed from side to side as he crouched thereon the floor. His mother was not far away in front of him and seemed, at first, quite engrossed inherself, 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 thatthe table was behind her with all the breakfast things on it; when she reached the table she satquickly down on it without knowing what she was doing; without even seeming to notice that thecoffee pot had been knocked over and a gush of coffee was pouring down onto the carpet.

"Mother, mother", said Gregor gently, looking up at her. He had completely forgotten the chief clerkfor the moment, but could not help himself snapping in the air with his jaws at the sight of the flow


8 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

of coffee. That set his mother screaming anew, she fled from the table and into the arms of his fatheras he rushed towards her. Gregor, though, had no time to spare for his parents now; the chief clerkhad already reached the stairs; with his chin on the banister, he looked back for the last time. Gregormade a run for him; he wanted to be sure of reaching him; the chief clerk must have expectedsomething, as he leapt down several steps at once and disappeared; his shouts resounding all aroundthe staircase. The flight of the chief clerk seemed, unfortunately, to put Gregor's father into a panic aswell. Until then he had been relatively self controlled, but now, instead of running after the chiefclerk himself, or at least not impeding Gregor as he ran after him, Gregor's father seized the chiefclerk's stick in his right hand (the chief clerk had left it behind on a chair, along with his hat andovercoat), picked up a large newspaper from the table with his left, and used them to drive Gregorback into his room, stamping his foot at him as he went. Gregor's appeals to his father were of nohelp, his appeals were simply not understood, however much he humbly turned his head his fathermerely stamped his foot all the harder. Across the room, despite the chilly weather, Gregor's motherhad pulled open a window, leant far out of it and pressed her hands to her face. A strong draught ofair flew in from the street towards the stairway, the curtains flew up, the newspapers on the tablefluttered and some of them were blown onto the floor. Nothing would stop Gregor's father as hedrove him back, making hissing noises at him like a wild man. Gregor had never had any practice inmoving backwards and was only able to go very slowly. If Gregor had only been allowed to turnround he would have been back in his room straight away, but he was afraid that if he took the timeto do that his father would become impatient, and there was the threat of a lethal blow to his back orhead from the stick in his father's hand any moment. Eventually, though, Gregor realised that he hadno 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 himselfround. It went very slowly, but perhaps his father was able to see his good intentions as he didnothing to hinder him, in fact now and then he used the tip of his stick to give directions from adistance as to which way to turn. If only his father would stop that unbearable hissing! It was makingGregor quite confused. When he had nearly finished turning round, still listening to that hissing, hemade a mistake and turned himself back a little the way he had just come. He was pleased when hefinally had his head in front of the doorway, but then saw that it was too narrow, and his body wastoo broad to get through it without further difficulty. In his present mood, it obviously did not occurto his father to open the other of the double doors so that Gregor would have enough space to getthrough. He was merely fixed on the idea that Gregor should be got back into his room as quickly aspossible. Nor would he ever have allowed Gregor the time to get himself upright as preparation forgetting through the doorway. What he did, making more noise than ever, was to drive Gregorforwards all the harder as if there had been nothing in the way; it sounded to Gregor as if there wasnow more than one father behind him; it was not a pleasant experience, and Gregor pushed himselfinto the doorway without regard for what might happen. One side of his body lifted itself, he lay atan angle in the doorway, one flank scraped on the white door and was painfully injured, leaving vilebrown 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 pressedpainfully against the ground. Then his father gave him a hefty shove from behind which released himfrom where he was held and sent him flying, and heavily bleeding, deep into his room. The door wasslammed shut with the stick, then, finally, all was quiet.

IIIt was not until it was getting dark that evening that Gregor awoke from his deep and coma-likesleep. He would have woken soon afterwards anyway even if he hadn't been disturbed, as he had hadenough sleep and felt fully rested. But he had the impression that some hurried steps and the soundof the door leading into the front room being carefully shut had woken him. The light from theelectric street lamps shone palely here and there onto the ceiling and tops of the furniture, but down


9 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

below, where Gregor was, it was dark. He pushed himself over to the door, feeling his way clumsilywith his antennae - of which he was now beginning to learn the value - in order to see what had beenhappening there. The whole of his left side seemed like one, painfully stretched scar, and he limpedbadly 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 himover to it; it was the smell of something to eat. By the door there was a dish filled with sweetenedmilk with little pieces of white bread floating in it. He was so pleased he almost laughed, as he waseven hungrier than he had been that morning, and immediately dipped his head into the milk, nearlycovering his eyes with it. But he soon drew his head back again in disappointment; not only did thepain in his tender left side make it difficult to eat the food - he was only able to eat if his whole bodyworked together as a snuffling whole - but the milk did not taste at all nice. Milk like this wasnormally his favourite drink, and his sister had certainly left it there for him because of that, but heturned, 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. Hisfather at this time would normally be sat with his evening paper, reading it out in a loud voice toGregor's mother, and sometimes to his sister, but there was now not a sound to be heard. Gregor'ssister would often write and tell him about this reading, but maybe his father had lost the habit inrecent 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 agreat 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 frighteningend? That was something that Gregor did not want to think about too much, so he started to moveabout, crawling up and down the room.

Once during that long evening, the door on one side of the room was opened very slightly andhurriedly closed again; later on the door on the other side did the same; it seemed that someoneneeded 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 itwas; but the door was opened no more that night and Gregor waited in vain. The previous morningwhile the doors were locked everyone had wanted to get in there to him, but now, now that he hadopened 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.

It was not until late at night that the gaslight in the living room was put out, and now it was easy tosee that his parents and sister had stayed awake all that time, as they all could be distinctly heard asthey went away together on tip-toe. It was clear that no-one would come into Gregor's room anymore until morning; that gave him plenty of time to think undisturbed about how he would have tore-arrange his life. For some reason, the tall, empty room where he was forced to remain made himfeel uneasy as he lay there flat on the floor, even though he had been living in it for five years. Hardlyaware of what he was doing other than a slight feeling of shame, he hurried under the couch. Itpressed down on his back a little, and he was no longer able to lift his head, but he nonetheless feltimmediately 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 frequentlywoke from it in alarm because of his hunger, and some of the time was spent in worries and vaguehopes 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 unpleasantnessthat he, in his present condition, was forced to impose on them.


10 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

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 frontroom and looked anxiously in. She did not see him straight away, but when she did notice him underthe couch - he had to be somewhere, for God's sake, he couldn't have flown away - she was soshocked that she lost control of herself and slammed the door shut again from outside. But sheseemed to regret her behaviour, as she opened the door again straight away and came in on tip-toe asif entering the room of someone seriously ill or even of a stranger. Gregor had pushed his headforward, right to the edge of the couch, and watched her. Would she notice that he had left the milkas it was, realise that it was not from any lack of hunger and bring him in some other food that wasmore 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'sfeet and beg her for something good to eat. However, his sister noticed the full dish immediately andlooked at it and the few drops of milk splashed around it with some surprise. She immediately pickedit up - using a rag, not her bare hands - and carried it out. Gregor was extremely curious as to whatshe would bring in its place, imagining the wildest possibilities, but he never could have guessedwhat his sister, in her goodness, actually did bring. In order to test his taste, she brought him a wholeselection of things, all spread out on an old newspaper. There were old, half-rotten vegetables; bonesfrom the evening meal, covered in white sauce that had gone hard; a few raisins and almonds; somecheese that Gregor had declared inedible two days before; a dry roll and some bread spread withbutter and salt. As well as all that she had poured some water into the dish, which had probably beenpermanently set aside for Gregor's use, and placed it beside them. Then, out of consideration forGregor's feelings, as she knew that he would not eat in front of her, she hurried out again and eventurned the key in the lock so that Gregor would know he could make things as comfortable forhimself as he liked. Gregor's little legs whirred, at last he could eat. What's more, his injuries mustalready have completely healed as he found no difficulty in moving. This amazed him, as more thana month earlier he had cut his finger slightly with a knife, he thought of how his finger had still hurtthe day before yesterday. "Am I less sensitive than I used to be, then?", he thought, and was alreadysucking greedily at the cheese which had immediately, almost compellingly, attracted him muchmore than the other foods on the newspaper. Quickly one after another, his eyes watering withpleasure, 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 thembecause he couldn't stand the smell. Long after he had finished eating and lay lethargic in the sameplace, his sister slowly turned the key in the lock as a sign to him that he should withdraw. He wasimmediately startled, although he had been half asleep, and he hurried back under the couch. But heneeded great self-control to stay there even for the short time that his sister was in the room, aseating so much food had rounded out his body a little and he could hardly breathe in that narrowspace. Half suffocating, he watched with bulging eyes as his sister unselfconsciously took a broomand swept up the left-overs, mixing them in with the food he had not even touched at all as if it couldnot be used any more. She quickly dropped it all into a bin, closed it with its wooden lid, and carriedeverything out. She had hardly turned her back before Gregor came out again from under the couchand stretched himself.

This was how Gregor received his food each day now, once in the morning while his parents and themaid were still asleep, and the second time after everyone had eaten their meal at midday as hisparents would sleep for a little while then as well, and Gregor's sister would send the maid away onsome errand. Gregor's father and mother certainly did not want him to starve either, but perhaps itwould have been more than they could stand to have any more experience of his feeding than beingtold about it, and perhaps his sister wanted to spare them what distress she could as they were indeedsuffering enough.

It was impossible for Gregor to find out what they had told the doctor and the locksmith that firstmorning to get them out of the flat. As nobody could understand him, nobody, not even his sister,


11 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

thought that he could understand them, so he had to be content to hear his sister's sighs and appealsto the saints as she moved about his room. It was only later, when she had become a little more usedto 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 beconstrued as friendly. "He's enjoyed his dinner today", she might say when he had diligently clearedaway 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".

Although Gregor wasn't able to hear any news directly he did listen to much of what was said in thenext rooms, and whenever he heard anyone speaking he would scurry straight to the appropriate doorand press his whole body against it. There was seldom any conversation, especially at first, that wasnot about him in some way, even if only in secret. For two whole days, all the talk at every mealtimewas about what they should do now; but even between meals they spoke about the same subject asthere were always at least two members of the family at home - nobody wanted to be at home bythemselves and it was out of the question to leave the flat entirely empty. And on the very first daythe maid had fallen to her knees and begged Gregor's mother to let her go without delay. It was notvery 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. Sheeven 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 muchbother as no-one ate very much. Gregor often heard how one of them would unsuccessfully urgeanother 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 abeer, hoping for the chance to go and fetch it herself. When his father then said nothing she wouldadd, so that he would not feel selfish, that she could send the housekeeper for it, but then his fatherwould 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 sisterwhat their finances and prospects were. Now and then he stood up from the table and took somereceipt or document from the little cash box he had saved from his business when it had collapsedfive years earlier. Gregor heard how he opened the complicated lock and then closed it again after hehad taken the item he wanted. What he heard his father say was some of the first good news thatGregor heard since he had first been incarcerated in his room. He had thought that nothing at allremained from his father's business, at least he had never told him anything different, and Gregor hadnever asked him about it anyway. Their business misfortune had reduced the family to a state of totaldespair, and Gregor's only concern at that time had been to arrange things so that they could allforget about it as quickly as possible. So then he started working especially hard, with a fiery vigourthat raised him from a junior salesman to a travelling representative almost overnight, bringing withit the chance to earn money in quite different ways. Gregor converted his success at work straightinto 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, eventhough Gregor had later earned so much that he was in a position to bear the costs of the wholefamily, and did bear them. They had even got used to it, both Gregor and the family, they took themoney with gratitude and he was glad to provide it, although there was no longer much warmaffection given in return. Gregor only remained close to his sister now. Unlike him, she was veryfond of music and a gifted and expressive violinist, it was his secret plan to send her to theconservatory next year even though it would cause great expense that would have to be made up forin some other way. During Gregor's short periods in town, conversation with his sister would oftenturn to the conservatory but it was only ever mentioned as a lovely dream that could never berealised. Their parents did not like to hear this innocent talk, but Gregor thought about it quite hard


12 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

and decided he would let them know what he planned with a grand announcement of it on Christmasday.

That was the sort of totally pointless thing that went through his mind in his present state, pressedupright against the door and listening. There were times when he simply became too tired to continuelistening, when his head would fall wearily against the door and he would pull it up again with astart, 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 thedoor, 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 timesince he had been occupied with these matters himself and partly because Gregor's mother did notunderstand everything the first time. From these repeated explanations Gregor learned, to hispleasure, that despite all their misfortunes there was still some money available from the old days. Itwas 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 everymonth, 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 couldactually have used this surplus money to reduce his father's debt to his boss, and the day when hecould have freed himself from that job would have come much closer, but now it was certainly betterthe way his father had done things.

This money, however, was certainly not enough to enable the family to live off the interest; it wasenough to maintain them for, perhaps, one or two years, no more. That's to say, it was money thatshould not really be touched but set aside for emergencies; money to live on had to be earned. Hisfather was healthy but old, and lacking in self confidence. During the five years that he had not beenworking - the first holiday in a life that had been full of strain and no success - he had put on a lot ofweight and become very slow and clumsy. Would Gregor's elderly mother now have to go and earnmoney? She suffered from asthma and it was a strain for her just to move about the home, everyother day would be spent struggling for breath on the sofa by the open window. Would his sister haveto 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 fewmodest pleasures and most of all playing the violin. Whenever they began to talk of the need to earnmoney, Gregor would always first let go of the door and then throw himself onto the cool, leathersofa next to it, as he became quite hot with shame and regret.

He would often lie there the whole night through, not sleeping a wink but scratching at the leather forhours on end. Or he might go to all the effort of pushing a chair to the window, climbing up onto thesill and, propped up in the chair, leaning on the window to stare out of it. He had used to feel a greatsense of freedom from doing this, but doing it now was obviously something more remembered thanexperienced, as what he actually saw in this way was becoming less distinct every day, even thingsthat were quite near; he had used to curse the ever-present view of the hospital across the street, butnow he could not see it at all, and if he had not known that he lived in Charlottenstrasse, which was aquiet street despite being in the middle of the city, he could have thought that he was looking out thewindow at a barren waste where the grey sky and the grey earth mingled inseparably. His observantsister only needed to notice the chair twice before she would always push it back to its exact positionby the window after she had tidied up the room, and even left the inner pane of the window openfrom 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 itwould have been easier for him to bear it; but as it was it caused him pain. His sister, naturally, triedas far as possible to pretend there was nothing burdensome about it, and the longer it went on, of


13 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

course, the better she was able to do so, but as time went by Gregor was also able to see through it allso 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-onewould have to suffer the view into Gregor's room, then she would go straight to the window and pullit hurriedly open almost as if she were suffocating. Even if it was cold, she would stay at the windowbreathing deeply for a little while. She would alarm Gregor twice a day with this running about andnoise making; he would stay under the couch shivering the whole while, knowing full well that shewould certainly have liked to spare him this ordeal, but it was impossible for her to be in the sameroom with him with the windows closed.

One day, about a month after Gregor's transformation when his sister no longer had any particularreason to be shocked at his appearance, she came into the room a little earlier than usual and foundhim still staring out the window, motionless, and just where he would be most horrible. In itself, hissister's not coming into the room would have been no surprise for Gregor as it would have beendifficult for her to immediately open the window while he was still there, but not only did she notcome in, she went straight back and closed the door behind her, a stranger would have thought hehad threatened her and tried to bite her. Gregor went straight to hide himself under the couch, ofcourse, but he had to wait until midday before his sister came back and she seemed much moreuneasy than usual. It made him realise that she still found his appearance unbearable and wouldcontinue to do so, she probably even had to overcome the urge to flee when she saw the little bit ofhim that protruded from under the couch. One day, in order to spare her even this sight, he spent fourhours carrying the bedsheet over to the couch on his back and arranged it so that he was completelycovered and his sister would not be able to see him even if she bent down. If she did not think thissheet was necessary then all she had to do was take it off again, as it was clear enough that it was nopleasure for Gregor to cut himself off so completely. She left the sheet where it was. Gregor eventhought he glimpsed a look of gratitude one time when he carefully looked out from under the sheetto 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 seehim. He would often hear them say how they appreciated all the new work his sister was doing eventhough, before, they had seen her as a girl who was somewhat useless and frequently been annoyedwith her. But now the two of them, father and mother, would often both wait outside the door ofGregor's room while his sister tidied up in there, and as soon as she went out again she would have totell them exactly how everything looked, what Gregor had eaten, how he had behaved this time andwhether, perhaps, any slight improvement could be seen. His mother also wanted to go in and visitGregor relatively soon but his father and sister at first persuaded her against it. Gregor listened veryclosely to all this, and approved fully. Later, though, she had to be held back by force, which madeher call out: "Let me go and see Gregor, he is my unfortunate son! Can't you understand I have to seehim?", and Gregor would think to himself that maybe it would be better if his mother came in, notevery day of course, but one day a week, perhaps; she could understand everything much better thanhis sister who, for all her courage, was still just a child after all, and really might not have had anadult'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, Gregorwanted to avoid being seen at the window during the day, the few square meters of the floor did notgive him much room to crawl about, it was hard to just lie quietly through the night, his food soonstopped giving him any pleasure at all, and so, to entertain himself, he got into the habit of crawlingup and down the walls and ceiling. He was especially fond of hanging from the ceiling; it was quitedifferent from lying on the floor; he could breathe more freely; his body had a light swing to it; andup there, relaxed and almost happy, it might happen that he would surprise even himself by letting goof the ceiling and landing on the floor with a crash. But now, of course, he had far better control ofhis body than before and, even with a fall as great as that, caused himself no damage. Very soon his


14 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

sister noticed Gregor's new way of entertaining himself - he had, after all, left traces of the adhesivefrom his feet as he crawled about - and got it into her head to make it as easy as possible for him byremoving the furniture that got in his way, especially the chest of drawers and the desk. Now, thiswas not something that she would be able to do by herself; she did not dare to ask for help from herfather; the sixteen year old maid had carried on bravely since the cook had left but she certainlywould not have helped in this, she had even asked to be allowed to keep the kitchen locked at alltimes and never to have to open the door unless it was especially important; so his sister had nochoice 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 shewent silent. First, of course, his sister came in and looked round to see that everything in the roomwas alright; and only then did she let her mother enter. Gregor had hurriedly pulled the sheet downlower over the couch and put more folds into it so that everything really looked as if it had just beenthrown down by chance. Gregor also refrained, this time, from spying out from under the sheet; hegave up the chance to see his mother until later and was simply glad that she had come. "You cancome in, he can't be seen", said his sister, obviously leading her in by the hand. The old chest ofdrawers was too heavy for a pair of feeble women to be heaving about, but Gregor listened as theypushed it from its place, his sister always taking on the heaviest part of the work for herself andignoring her mother's warnings that she would strain herself. This lasted a very long time. Afterlabouring at it for fifteen minutes or more his mother said it would be better to leave the chest whereit was, for one thing it was too heavy for them to get the job finished before Gregor's father got homeand leaving it in the middle of the room it would be in his way even more, and for another thing itwasn't even sure that taking the furniture away would really be any help to him. She thought just theopposite; the sight of the bare walls saddened her right to her heart; and why wouldn't Gregor feelthe same way about it, he'd been used to this furniture in his room for a long time and it would makehim feel abandoned to be in an empty room like that. Then, quietly, almost whispering as if wantingGregor (whose whereabouts she did not know) to hear not even the tone of her voice, as she wasconvinced that he did not understand her words, she added "and by taking the furniture away, won't itseem like we're showing that we've given up all hope of improvement and we're abandoning him tocope for himself? I think it'd be best to leave the room exactly the way it was before so that whenGregor comes back to us again he'll find everything unchanged and he'll be able to forget the time inbetween all the easier".

Hearing these words from his mother made Gregor realise that the lack of any direct humancommunication, along with the monotonous life led by the family during these two months, musthave made him confused - he could think of no other way of explaining to himself why he hadseriously wanted his room emptied out. Had he really wanted to transform his room into a cave, awarm room fitted out with the nice furniture he had inherited? That would have let him crawl aroundunimpeded in any direction, but it would also have let him quickly forget his past when he had stillbeen 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 tostay; he could not do without the good influence the furniture had on his condition; and if thefurniture 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 shewas Gregor's spokesman to his parents about the things that concerned him. This meant that hismother's advice now was sufficient reason for her to insist on removing not only the chest of drawersand the desk, as she had thought at first, but all the furniture apart from the all-important couch. Itwas 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


15 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

was so that she could do even more for him. Grete would probably be the only one who would dareenter 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 whatstrength she had. The chest of drawers was something that Gregor could do without if he had to, butthe writing desk had to stay. Hardly had the two women pushed the chest of drawers, groaning, outof 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 whocame back first while Grete in the next room had her arms round the chest, pushing and pulling at itfrom side to side by herself without, of course, moving it an inch. His mother was not used to thesight 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 wasenough to attract his mother's attention. She stood very still, remained there a moment, and then wentback out to Grete.

Gregor kept trying to assure himself that nothing unusual was happening, it was just a few pieces offurniture being moved after all, but he soon had to admit that the women going to and fro, their littlecalls to each other, the scraping of the furniture on the floor, all these things made him feel as if hewere being assailed from all sides. With his head and legs pulled in against him and his body pressedto the floor, he was forced to admit to himself that he could not stand all of this much longer. Theywere emptying his room out; taking away everything that was dear to him; they had already takenout the chest containing his fretsaw and other tools; now they threatened to remove the writing deskwith its place clearly worn into the floor, the desk where he had done his homework as a businesstrainee, at high school, even while he had been at infant school - he really could not wait any longerto see whether the two women's intentions were good. He had nearly forgotten they were thereanyway, as they were now too tired to say anything while they worked and he could only hear theirfeet as they stepped heavily on the floor.

So, while the women were leant against the desk in the other room catching their breath, he salliedout, changed direction four times not knowing what he should save first before his attention wassuddenly caught by the picture on the wall - which was already denuded of everything else that hadbeen on it - of the lady dressed in copious fur. He hurried up onto the picture and pressed himselfagainst its glass, it held him firmly and felt good on his hot belly. This picture at least, now totallycovered by Gregor, would certainly be taken away by no-one. He turned his head to face the doorinto 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 armaround her mother and was nearly carrying her. "What shall we take now, then?", said Grete andlooked around. Her eyes met those of Gregor on the wall. Perhaps only because her mother wasthere, she remained calm, bent her face to her so that she would not look round and said, albeithurriedly 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 thenchase him down from the wall. Well, she could certainly try it! He sat unyielding on his picture. Hewould rather jump at Grete's face.

But Grete's words had made her mother quite worried, she stepped to one side, saw the enormousbrown patch against the flowers of the wallpaper, and before she even realised it was Gregor that shesaw screamed: "Oh God, oh God!" Arms outstretched, she fell onto the couch as if she had given upeverything and stayed there immobile. "Gregor!" shouted his sister, glowering at him and shakingher fist. That was the first word she had spoken to him directly since his transformation. She ran intothe other room to fetch some kind of smelling salts to bring her mother out of her faint; Gregor


16 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

wanted to help too - he could save his picture later, although he stuck fast to the glass and had to pullhimself off by force; then he, too, ran into the next room as if he could advise his sister like in the olddays; but he had to just stand behind her doing nothing; she was looking into various bottles, hestartled 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 tookhold of all the bottles she could and ran with them in to her mother; she slammed the door shut withher 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 hismother; there was nothing for him to do but wait; and, oppressed with anxiety and self-reproach, hebegan to crawl about, he crawled over everything, walls, furniture, ceiling, and finally in hisconfusion as the whole room began to spin around him he fell down into the middle of the dinnertable.

He lay there for a while, numb and immobile, all around him it was quiet, maybe that was a goodsign. Then there was someone at the door. The maid, of course, had locked herself in her kitchen sothat Grete would have to go and answer it. His father had arrived home. "What's happened?" werehis first words; Grete's appearance must have made everything clear to him. She answered him withsubdued 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'tlisten, would you." It was clear to Gregor that Grete had not said enough and that his father took it tomean that something bad had happened, that he was responsible for some act of violence. That meantGregor would now have to try to calm his father, as he did not have the time to explain things to himeven if that had been possible. So he fled to the door of his room and pressed himself against it sothat his father, when he came in from the hall, could see straight away that Gregor had the bestintentions and would go back into his room without delay, that it would not be necessary to drive himback 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 camein, sounding as if he were both angry and glad at the same time. Gregor drew his head back from thedoor and lifted it towards his father. He really had not imagined his father the way he stood therenow; of late, with his new habit of crawling about, he had neglected to pay attention to what wasgoing on the rest of the flat the way he had done before. He really ought to have expected things tohave changed, but still, still, was that really his father? The same tired man as used to be laying thereentombed in his bed when Gregor came back from his business trips, who would receive him sittingin the armchair in his nightgown when he came back in the evenings; who was hardly even able tostand up but, as a sign of his pleasure, would just raise his arms and who, on the couple of times ayear when they went for a walk together on a Sunday or public holiday wrapped up tightly in hisovercoat between Gregor and his mother, would always labour his way forward a little more slowlythan them, who were already walking slowly for his sake; who would place his stick down carefullyand, if he wanted to say something would invariably stop and gather his companions around him. Hewas standing up straight enough now; dressed in a smart blue uniform with gold buttons, the sortworn by the employees at the banking institute; above the high, stiff collar of the coat his strongdouble-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 ontothe 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 hehad in mind, but nonetheless lifted his feet unusually high. Gregor was amazed at the enormous sizeof the soles of his boots, but wasted no time with that - he knew full well, right from the first day ofhis new life, that his father thought it necessary to always be extremely strict with him. And so he ranup to his father, stopped when his father stopped, scurried forwards again when he moved, evenslightly. In this way they went round the room several times without anything decisive happening,


17 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

without even giving the impression of a chase as everything went so slowly. Gregor remained all thistime on the floor, largely because he feared his father might see it as especially provoking if he fledonto the wall or ceiling. Whatever he did, Gregor had to admit that he certainly would not be able tokeep up this running about for long, as for each step his father took he had to carry out countlessmovements. He became noticeably short of breath, even in his earlier life his lungs had not been veryreliable. Now, as he lurched about in his efforts to muster all the strength he could for running hecould hardly keep his eyes open; his thoughts became too slow for him to think of any other way ofsaving 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, rightbeside him, lightly tossed, something flew down and rolled in front of him. It was an apple; thenanother one immediately flew at him; Gregor froze in shock; there was no longer any point inrunning as his father had decided to bombard him. He had filled his pockets with fruit from the bowlon the sideboard and now, without even taking the time for careful aim, threw one apple afteranother. These little, red apples rolled about on the floor, knocking into each other as if they hadelectric motors. An apple thrown without much force glanced against Gregor's back and slid offwithout doing any harm. Another one however, immediately following it, hit squarely and lodged inhis back; Gregor wanted to drag himself away, as if he could remove the surprising, the incrediblepain by changing his position; but he felt as if nailed to the spot and spread himself out, all his sensesin confusion. The last thing he saw was the door of his room being pulled open, his sister wasscreaming, his mother ran out in front of her in her blouse (as his sister had taken off some of herclothes after she had fainted to make it easier for her to breathe), she ran to his father, her skirtsunfastened and sliding one after another to the ground, stumbling over the skirts she pushed herselfto his father, her arms around him, uniting herself with him totally - now Gregor lost his ability tosee anything - her hands behind his father's head begging him to spare Gregor's life.

IIINo-one dared to remove the apple lodged in Gregor's flesh, so it remained there as a visible reminderof his injury. He had suffered it there for more than a month, and his condition seemed seriousenough to remind even his father that Gregor, despite his current sad and revolting form, was afamily member who could not be treated as an enemy. On the contrary, as a family there was a dutyto 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 beenreduced to the condition of an ancient invalid and it took him long, long minutes to crawl across hisroom - crawling over the ceiling was out of the question - but this deterioration in his condition wasfully (in his opinion) made up for by the door to the living room being left open every evening. Hegot into the habit of closely watching it for one or two hours before it was opened and then, lying inthe darkness of his room where he could not be seen from the living room, he could watch the familyin the light of the dinner table and listen to their conversation - with everyone's permission, in a way,and thus quite differently from before.

They no longer held the lively conversations of earlier times, of course, the ones that Gregor alwaysthought about with longing when he was tired and getting into the damp bed in some small hotelroom. All of them were usually very quiet nowadays. Soon after dinner, his father would go to sleepin his chair; his mother and sister would urge each other to be quiet; his mother, bent deeply underthe 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 lateron. Sometimes his father would wake up and say to Gregor's mother "you're doing so much sewingagain today!", as if he did not know that he had been dozing - and then he would go back to sleepagain while mother and sister would exchange a tired grin.


18 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

With a kind of stubbornness, Gregor's father refused to take his uniform off even at home; while hisnightgown hung unused on its peg Gregor's father would slumber where he was, fully dressed, as ifalways ready to serve and expecting to hear the voice of his superior even here. The uniform had notbeen new to start with, but as a result of this it slowly became even shabbier despite the efforts ofGregor's mother and sister to look after it. Gregor would often spend the whole evening looking at allthe stains on this coat, with its gold buttons always kept polished and shiny, while the old man in itwould 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 topersuade him to go to bed, as he couldn't sleep properly where he was and he really had to get hissleep if he was to be up at six to get to work. But since he had been in work he had become moreobstinate and would always insist on staying longer at the table, even though he regularly fell asleepand it was then harder than ever to persuade him to exchange the chair for his bed. Then, howevermuch mother and sister would importune him with little reproaches and warnings he would keepslowly shaking his head for a quarter of an hour with his eyes closed and refusing to get up. Gregor'smother would tug at his sleeve, whisper endearments into his ear, Gregor's sister would leave herwork to help her mother, but nothing would have any effect on him. He would just sink deeper intohis chair. Only when the two women took him under the arms he would abruptly open his eyes, lookat them one after the other and say: "What a life! This is what peace I get in my old age!" Andsupported by the two women he would lift himself up carefully as if he were carrying the greatestload himself, let the women take him to the door, send them off and carry on by himself whileGregor's mother would throw down her needle and his sister her pen so that they could run after hisfather and continue being of help to him.

Who, in this tired and overworked family, would have had time to give more attention to Gregor thanwas absolutely necessary? The household budget became even smaller; so now the maid wasdismissed; an enormous, thick-boned charwoman with white hair that flapped around her head cameevery morning and evening to do the heaviest work; everything else was looked after by Gregor'smother on top of the large amount of sewing work she did. Gregor even learned, listening to theevening conversation about what price they had hoped for, that several items of jewellery belongingto the family had been sold, even though both mother and sister had been very fond of wearing themat functions and celebrations. But the loudest complaint was that although the flat was much too bigfor their present circumstances, they could not move out of it, there was no imaginable way oftransferring Gregor to the new address. He could see quite well, though, that there were more reasonsthan consideration for him that made it difficult for them to move, it would have been quite easy totransport him in any suitable crate with a few air holes in it; the main thing holding the family backfrom their decision to move was much more to do with their total despair, and the thought that theyhad been struck with a misfortune unlike anything experienced by anyone else they knew or wererelated to. They carried out absolutely everything that the world expects from poor people, Gregor'sfather brought bank employees their breakfast, his mother sacrificed herself by washing clothes forstrangers, his sister ran back and forth behind her desk at the behest of the customers, but they justdid not have the strength to do any more. And the injury in Gregor's back began to hurt as much aswhen it was new. After they had come back from taking his father to bed Gregor's mother and sisterwould now leave their work where it was and sit close together, cheek to cheek; his mother wouldpoint 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 staringdry-eyed at the table.

Gregor hardly slept at all, either night or day. Sometimes he would think of taking over the family'saffairs, just like before, the next time the door was opened; he had long forgotten about his boss andthe chief clerk, but they would appear again in his thoughts, the salesmen and the apprentices, thatstupid teaboy, two or three friends from other businesses, one of the chambermaids from a provincial


19 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

hotel, a tender memory that appeared and disappeared again, a cashier from a hat shop for whom hisattention had been serious but too slow, - all of them appeared to him, mixed together with strangersand others he had forgotten, but instead of helping him and his family they were all of theminaccessible, and he was glad when they disappeared. Other times he was not at all in the mood tolook after his family, he was filled with simple rage about the lack of attention he was shown, andalthough he could think of nothing he would have wanted, he made plans of how he could get intothe pantry where he could take all the things he was entitled to, even if he was not hungry. Gregor'ssister no longer thought about how she could please him but would hurriedly push some food orother into his room with her foot before she rushed out to work in the morning and at midday, and inthe evening she would sweep it away again with the broom, indifferent as to whether it had beeneaten or - more often than not - had been left totally untouched. She still cleared up the room in theevening, 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 theseplaces when his sister arrived as a reproach to her, but he could have stayed there for weeks withouthis sister doing anything about it; she could see the dirt as well as he could but she had simplydecided to leave him to it. At the same time she became touchy in a way that was quite new for herand 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 waterto do it - although that much dampness also made Gregor ill and he lay flat on the couch, bitter andimmobile. But his mother was to be punished still more for what she had done, as hardly had hissister arrived home in the evening than she noticed the change in Gregor's room and, highlyaggrieved, ran back into the living room where, despite her mothers raised and imploring hands, shebroke into convulsive tears. Her father, of course, was startled out of his chair and the two parentslooked on astonished and helpless; then they, too, became agitated; Gregor's father, standing to theright of his mother, accused her of not leaving the cleaning of Gregor's room to his sister; from herleft, Gregor's sister screamed at her that she was never to clean Gregor's room again; while hismother 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-onehad 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 donebefore was even more work for her, but even so his mother ought certainly not to have taken herplace. 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 thingsin her long life, wasn't really repelled by Gregor. Just by chance one day, rather than any realcuriosity, she opened the door to Gregor's room and found herself face to face with him. He wastaken totally by surprise, no-one was chasing him but he began to rush to and fro while she just stoodthere in amazement with her hands crossed in front of her. From then on she never failed to open thedoor slightly every evening and morning and look briefly in on him. At first she would call to him asshe 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 thatway, but just remained where he was without moving as if the door had never even been opened. Ifonly they had told this charwoman to clean up his room every day instead of letting her disturb himfor no reason whenever she felt like it! One day, early in the morning while a heavy rain struck thewindowpanes, perhaps indicating that spring was coming, she began to speak to him in that wayonce 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 chairsfrom near the door and stood there with her mouth open, clearly intending not to close her mouthuntil the chair in her hand had been slammed down into Gregor's back. "Aren't you coming anycloser, then?", she asked when Gregor turned round again, and she calmly put the chair back in thecorner.


20 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

Gregor had almost entirely stopped eating. Only if he happened to find himself next to the food thathad been prepared for him he might take some of it into his mouth to play with it, leave it there a fewhours and then, more often than not, spit it out again. At first he thought it was distress at the state ofhis room that stopped him eating, but he had soon got used to the changes made there. They had gotinto the habit of putting things into this room that they had no room for anywhere else, and therewere 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 thecrack in the door one day - were painfully insistent on things' being tidy. This meant not only in theirown room but, since they had taken a room in this establishment, in the entire flat and especially inthe 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 wishto discard. All these things found their way into Gregor's room. The dustbins from the kitchen foundtheir way in there too. The charwoman was always in a hurry, and anything she couldn't use for thetime being she would just chuck in there. He, fortunately, would usually see no more than the objectand the hand that held it. The woman most likely meant to fetch the things back out again when shehad time and the opportunity, or to throw everything out in one go, but what actually happened wasthat they were left where they landed when they had first been thrown unless Gregor made his waythrough the junk and moved it somewhere else. At first he moved it because, with no other room freewhere he could crawl about, he was forced to, but later on he came to enjoy it although moving aboutin that 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 livingroom 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 useof it when it was open and, without the family having noticed it, lain in his room in its darkestcorner. One time, though, the charwoman left the door to the living room slightly open, and itremained open when the gentlemen who rented the room came in in the evening and the light wasput on. They sat up at the table where, formerly, Gregor had taken his meals with his father andmother, they unfolded the serviettes and picked up their knives and forks. Gregor's motherimmediately appeared in the doorway with a dish of meat and soon behind her came his sister with adish piled high with potatoes. The food was steaming, and filled the room with its smell. Thegentlemen 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 indeedcut off a piece of meat while it was still in its dish, clearly wishing to establish whether it wassufficiently cooked or whether it should be sent back to the kitchen. It was to his satisfaction, andGregor'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 roombefore 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 ofeating their chewing teeth could still be heard, as if they had wanted to show Gregor that you needteeth in order to eat and it was not possible to perform anything with jaws that are toothless howevernice they might be. "I'd like to eat something", said Gregor anxiously, "but not anything like they'reeating. They do feed themselves. And here I am, dying!"

Throughout all this time, Gregor could not remember having heard the violin being played, but thisevening 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 theyleant back in their chairs reading them and smoking. When the violin began playing they becameattentive, stood up and went on tip-toe over to the door of the hallway where they stood pressed


21 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

against each other. Someone must have heard them in the kitchen, as Gregor's father called out: "Isthe 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 theroom, where it is, after all, much more cosy and comfortable?" "Oh yes, we'd love to", called backGregor's father as if he had been the violin player himself. The gentlemen stepped back into the roomand waited. Gregor's father soon appeared with the music stand, his mother with the music and hissister with the violin. She calmly prepared everything for her to begin playing; his parents, who hadnever rented a room out before and therefore showed an exaggerated courtesy towards the threegentlemen, did not even dare to sit on their own chairs; his father leant against the door with his righthand pushed in between two buttons on his uniform coat; his mother, though, was offered a seat byone of the gentlemen and sat - leaving the chair where the gentleman happened to have placed it - outof the way in a corner.

His sister began to play; father and mother paid close attention, one on each side, to the movementsof her hands. Drawn in by the playing, Gregor had dared to come forward a little and already had hishead in the living room. Before, he had taken great pride in how considerate he was but now it hardlyoccurred to him that he had become so thoughtless about the others. What's more, there was now allthe more reason to keep himself hidden as he was covered in the dust that lay everywhere in hisroom and flew up at the slightest movement; he carried threads, hairs, and remains of food about onhis back and sides; he was much too indifferent to everything now to lay on his back and wipehimself on the carpet like he had used to do several times a day. And despite this condition, he wasnot 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, thethree gentlemen had put their hands in their pockets and come up far too close behind the musicstand to look at all the notes being played, and they must have disturbed Gregor's sister, but soon, incontrast with the family, they withdrew back to the window with their heads sunk and talking to eachother 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 entertainingviolin playing but had been disappointed, that they had had enough of the whole performance and itwas only now out of politeness that they allowed their peace to be disturbed. It was especiallyunnerving, the way they all blew the smoke from their cigarettes upwards from their mouth andnoses. Yet Gregor's sister was playing so beautifully. Her face was leant to one side, following thelines 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 ananimal if music could captivate him so? It seemed to him that he was being shown the way to theunknown nourishment he had been yearning for. He was determined to make his way forward to hissister and tug at her skirt to show her she might come into his room with her violin, as no-oneappreciated her playing here as much as he would. He never wanted to let her out of his room, notwhile he lived, anyway; his shocking appearance should, for once, be of some use to him; he wantedto be at every door of his room at once to hiss and spit at the attackers; his sister should not be forcedto stay with him, though, but stay of her own free will; she would sit beside him on the couch withher ear bent down to him while he told her how he had always intended to send her to theconservatory, how he would have told everyone about it last Christmas - had Christmas really comeand gone already? - if this misfortune hadn't got in the way, and refuse to let anyone dissuade himfrom it. On hearing all this, his sister would break out in tears of emotion, and Gregor would climbup to her shoulder and kiss her neck, which, since she had been going out to work, she had kept freewithout any necklace or collar.

"Mr. Samsa!", shouted the middle gentleman to Gregor's father, pointing, without wasting any morewords, with his forefinger at Gregor as he slowly moved forward. The violin went silent, the middleof the three gentlemen first smiled at his two friends, shaking his head, and then looked back at


22 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

Gregor. His father seemed to think it more important to calm the three gentlemen before drivingGregor out, even though they were not at all upset and seemed to think Gregor was more entertainingthan the violin playing had been. He rushed up to them with his arms spread out and attempted todrive them back into their room at the same time as trying to block their view of Gregor with hisbody. Now they did become a little annoyed, and it was not clear whether it was his father'sbehaviour that annoyed them or the dawning realisation that they had had a neighbour like Gregor inthe next room without knowing it. They asked Gregor's father for explanations, raised their arms likehe 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 wassuddenly interrupted. She had let her hands drop and let violin and bow hang limply for a while butcontinued to look at the music as if still playing, but then she suddenly pulled herself together, laythe instrument on her mother's lap who still sat laboriously struggling for breath where she was, andran into the next room which, under pressure from her father, the three gentlemen were more quicklymoving toward. Under his sister's experienced hand, the pillows and covers on the beds flew up andwere put into order and she had already finished making the beds and slipped out again before thethree gentlemen had reached the room. Gregor's father seemed so obsessed with what he was doingthat he forgot all the respect he owed to his tenants. He urged them and pressed them until, when hewas already at the door of the room, the middle of the three gentlemen shouted like thunder andstamped 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 withregard to the repugnant conditions that prevail in this flat and with this family" - here he lookedbriefly but decisively at the floor - "I give immediate notice on my room. For the days that I havebeen living here I will, of course, pay nothing at all, on the contrary I will consider whether toproceed with some kind of action for damages from you, and believe me it would be very easy to setout the grounds for such an action." He was silent and looked straight ahead as if waiting forsomething. And indeed, his two friends joined in with the words: "And we also give immediatenotice." 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 asif he was stretching himself out for his usual evening nap but from the uncontrolled way his headkept nodding it could be seen that he was not sleeping at all. Throughout all this, Gregor had lain stillwhere the three gentlemen had first seen him. His disappointment at the failure of his plan, andperhaps also because he was weak from hunger, made it impossible for him to move. He was surethat everyone would turn on him any moment, and he waited. He was not even startled out of thisstate when the violin on his mother's lap fell from her trembling fingers and landed loudly on thefloor.

"Father, Mother", said his sister, hitting the table with her hand as introduction, "we can't carry onlike this. Maybe you can't see it, but I can. I don't want to call this monster my brother, all I can sayis: we have to try and get rid of it. We've done all that's humanly possible to look after it and bepatient, 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 tocatch her breath, began to cough dully, her hand held out in front of her and a deranged expression inher eyes.

Gregor's sister rushed to his mother and put her hand on her forehead. Her words seemed to giveGregor's father some more definite ideas. He sat upright, played with his uniform cap between theplates left by the three gentlemen after their meal, and occasionally looked down at Gregor as he laythere immobile.

"We have to try and get rid of it", said Gregor's sister, now speaking only to her father, as her mother


23 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

was too occupied with coughing to listen, "it'll be the death of both of you, I can see it coming. Wecan't all work as hard as we have to and then come home to be tortured like this, we can't endure it. Ican't endure it any more." And she broke out so heavily in tears that they flowed down the face of hermother, 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 ofher, displacing her earlier certainty.

"If he could just understand us", said his father almost as a question; his sister shook her handvigorously 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 hissister's certainty that that was quite impossible, "then perhaps we could come to some kind ofarrangement 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 thatthat's Gregor. We've only harmed ourselves by believing it for so long. How can that be Gregor? If itwere Gregor he would have seen long ago that it's not possible for human beings to live with ananimal 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 ispersecuting us, it's driven out our tenants, it obviously wants to take over the whole flat and force usto sleep on the streets. Father, look, just look", she suddenly screamed, "he's starting again!" In heralarm, which was totally beyond Gregor's comprehension, his sister even abandoned his mother asshe pushed herself vigorously out of her chair as if more willing to sacrifice her own mother thanstay anywhere near Gregor. She rushed over to behind her father, who had become excited merelybecause 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 wasbegin to turn round so that he could go back into his room, although that was in itself quite startlingas his pain-wracked condition meant that turning round required a great deal of effort and he wasusing his head to help himself do it, repeatedly raising it and striking it against the floor. He stoppedand looked round. They seemed to have realised his good intention and had only been alarmedbriefly. Now they all looked at him in unhappy silence. His mother lay in her chair with her legsstretched out and pressed against each other, her eyes nearly closed with exhaustion; his sister satnext 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 helppanting loudly with the effort and had sometimes to stop and take a rest. No-one was making himrush any more, everything was left up to him. As soon as he had finally finished turning round hebegan 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 andalmost without noticing it. He concentrated on crawling as fast as he could and hardly noticed thatthere was not a word, not any cry, from his family to distract him. He did not turn his head until hehad reached the doorway. He did not turn it all the way round as he felt his neck becoming stiff, butit 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 suddennoise behind Gregor so startled him that his little legs collapsed under him. It was his sister who hadbeen in so much of a rush. She had been standing there waiting and sprung forward lightly, Gregorhad not heard her coming at all, and as she turned the key in the lock she said loudly to her parents


24 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

"At last!".

"What now, then?", Gregor asked himself as he looked round in the darkness. He soon made thediscovery that he could no longer move at all. This was no surprise to him, it seemed rather thatbeing able to actually move around on those spindly little legs until then was unnatural. He also feltrelatively comfortable. It is true that his entire body was aching, but the pain seemed to be slowlygetting weaker and weaker and would finally disappear altogether. He could already hardly feel thedecayed 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 awayeven more strongly than his sister. He remained in this state of empty and peaceful rumination untilhe heard the clock tower strike three in the morning. He watched as it slowly began to get lighteverywhere outside the window too. Then, without his willing it, his head sank down completely,and his last breath flowed weakly from his nostrils.

When the cleaner came in early in the morning - they'd often asked her not to keep slamming thedoors but with her strength and in her hurry she still did, so that everyone in the flat knew when she'darrived and from then on it was impossible to sleep in peace - she made her usual brief look in onGregor 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 thelong broom in her hand, so she tried to tickle Gregor with it from the doorway. When she had nosuccess with that she tried to make a nuisance of herself and poked at him a little, and only when shefound she could shove him across the floor with no resistance at all did she start to pay attention. Shesoon realised what had really happened, opened her eyes wide, whistled to herself, but did not wastetime to yank open the bedroom doors and shout loudly into the darkness of the bedrooms: "Comeand '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 theshock caused by the cleaner before they could grasp what she was saying. But then, each from hisown side, they hurried out of bed. Mr. Samsa threw the blanket over his shoulders, Mrs. Samsa justcame out in her nightdress; and that is how they went into Gregor's room. On the way they openedthe 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 confirmthis. "Dead?", asked Mrs. Samsa, looking at the charwoman enquiringly, even though she could havechecked for herself and could have known it even without checking. "That's what I said", replied thecleaner, and to prove it she gave Gregor's body another shove with the broom, sending it sidewaysacross the floor. Mrs. Samsa made a movement as if she wanted to hold back the broom, but did notcomplete it. "Now then", said Mr. Samsa, "let's give thanks to God for that". He crossed himself, andthe 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 thesame as when it went in". Gregor's body was indeed completely dried up and flat, they had not seenit until then, but now he was not lifted up on his little legs, nor did he do anything to make them lookaway.

"Grete, come with us in here for a little while", said Mrs. Samsa with a pained smile, and Gretefollowed her parents into the bedroom but not without looking back at the body. The cleaner shut thedoor and opened the window wide. Although it was still early in the morning the fresh air hadsomething 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 cleanerirritably. She just put her finger on her lips and made a quick and silent sign to the men that theymight like to come into Gregor's room. They did so, and stood around Gregor's corpse with their


25 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

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 onearm and his daughter on the other. All of them had been crying a little; Grete now and then pressedher face against her father's arm.

"Leave my home. Now!", said Mr. Samsa, indicating the door and without letting the women fromhim. "What do you mean?", asked the middle of the three gentlemen somewhat disconcerted, and hesmiled sweetly. The other two held their hands behind their backs and continually rubbed themtogether in gleeful anticipation of a loud quarrel which could only end in their favour. "I mean justwhat I said", answered Mr. Samsa, and, with his two companions, went in a straight line towards theman. At first, he stood there still, looking at the ground as if the contents of his head wererearranging 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 severaltimes. At that, and without delay, the man actually did take long strides into the front hallway; histwo friends had stopped rubbing their hands some time before and had been listening to what wasbeing said. Now they jumped off after their friend as if taken with a sudden fear that Mr. Samsamight go into the hallway in front of them and break the connection with their leader. Once there, allthree took their hats from the stand, took their sticks from the holder, bowed without a word and leftthe premises. Mr. Samsa and the two women followed them out onto the landing; but they had hadno reason to mistrust the men's intentions and as they leaned over the landing they saw how the threegentlemen made slow but steady progress down the many steps. As they turned the corner on eachfloor they disappeared and would reappear a few moments later; the further down they went, themore that the Samsa family lost interest in them; when a butcher's boy, proud of posture with his trayon his head, passed them on his way up and came nearer than they were, Mr. Samsa and the womencame 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 onlyhad they earned a break from work but they were in serious need of it. So they sat at the table andwrote three letters of excusal, Mr. Samsa to his employers, Mrs. Samsa to her contractor and Grete toher principal. The cleaner came in while they were writing to tell them she was going, she'd finishedher work for that morning. The three of them at first just nodded without looking up from what theywere writing, and it was only when the cleaner still did not seem to want to leave that they looked upin irritation. "Well?", asked Mr. Samsa. The charwoman stood in the doorway with a smile on herface as if she had some tremendous good news to report, but would only do it if she was clearlyasked to. The almost vertical little ostrich feather on her hat, which had been a source of irritation toMr. Samsa all the time she had been working for them, swayed gently in all directions. "What is ityou 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 inthere, 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 outstretchedhand, he made it quite clear that she was not to. So, as she was prevented from telling them all aboutit, 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.

"Tonight she gets sacked", said Mr. Samsa, but he received no reply from either his wife or hisdaughter as the charwoman seemed to have destroyed the peace they had only just gained. They gotup and went over to the window where they remained with their arms around each other. Mr. Samsatwisted 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".


26 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

The two women immediately did as he said, hurrying over to him where they kissed him and huggedhim and then they quickly finished their letters.

After that, the three of them left the flat together, which was something they had not done formonths, and took the tram out to the open country outside the town. They had the tram, filled withwarm sunshine, all to themselves. Leant back comfortably on their seats, they discussed theirprospects and found that on closer examination they were not at all bad - until then they had neverasked each other about their work but all three had jobs which were very good and held particularlygood promise for the future. The greatest improvement for the time being, of course, would beachieved quite easily by moving house; what they needed now was a flat that was smaller andcheaper 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 hadbeen having of late her cheeks had become pale, but, while they were talking, Mr. and Mrs. Samsawere struck, almost simultaneously, with the thought of how their daughter was blossoming into awell built and beautiful young lady. They became quieter. Just from each other's glance and almostwithout knowing it they agreed that it would soon be time to find a good man for her. And, as if inconfirmation of their new dreams and good intentions, as soon as they reached their destination Gretewas the first to get up and stretch out her young body.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Metamorphosis, by Franz KafkaTranslated by David Wyllie.

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK METAMORPHOSIS ***

***** This file should be named 5200-h.htm or 5200-h.zip *****This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.net/5/2/0/5200/

Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editionswill be renamed.

Creating the works from public domain print editions means that noone owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States withoutpermission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply tocopying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works toprotect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. ProjectGutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if youcharge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If youdo not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with therules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purposesuch as creation of derivative works, reports, performances andresearch. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may dopractically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution issubject to the trademark license, especially commercialredistribution.

*** START: FULL LICENSE ***

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSEPLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK


27 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the freedistribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "ProjectGutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full ProjectGutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online athttp://gutenberg.net/license).

Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tmelectronic works

1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tmelectronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree toand accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by allthe terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroyall copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a ProjectGutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by theterms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person orentity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only beused on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people whoagree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a fewthings that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic workseven without complying with the full terms of this agreement. Seeparagraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with ProjectGutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreementand help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronicworks. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of ProjectGutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in thecollection are in the public domain in the United States. If anindividual work is in the public domain in the United States and you arelocated in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you fromcopying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivativeworks based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenbergare removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the ProjectGutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works byfreely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms ofthis agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated withthe work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement bykeeping this work in the same format with its attached full ProjectGutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.This particular work is one of the few copyrighted individual worksincluded with the permission of the copyright holder. Information onthe copyright owner for this particular work and the terms of useimposed by the copyright holder on this work are set forth at thebeginning of this work.

1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also governwhat you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are ina constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, checkthe laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreementbefore downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing orcreating derivative works based on this work or any other ProjectGutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerningthe copyright status of any work in any country outside the UnitedStates.

1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediateaccess to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently


28 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which thephrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "ProjectGutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,copied or distributed:


1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derivedfrom the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it isposted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copiedand distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any feesor charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a workwith the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on thework, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and theProject Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or1.E.9.

1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is postedwith the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distributionmust comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additionalterms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linkedto the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with thepermission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tmLicense terms from this work, or any files containing a part of thiswork or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.

1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute thiselectronic work, or any part of this electronic work, withoutprominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 withactive links or immediate access to the full terms of the ProjectGutenberg-tm License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including anyword processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to ordistribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official versionposted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.net),you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide acopy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy uponrequest, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or otherform. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tmLicense as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm worksunless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providingaccess to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works providedthat

- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and


29 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."

- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm works.

- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work.

- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.

1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tmelectronic work or group of works on different terms than are setforth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing fromboth the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and MichaelHart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact theFoundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerableeffort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofreadpublic domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tmcollection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronicworks, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate orcorrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectualproperty infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, acomputer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read byyour equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Rightof Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the ProjectGutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the ProjectGutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a ProjectGutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim allliability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legalfees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICTLIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSEPROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THETRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BELIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE ORINCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCHDAMAGE.

1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover adefect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you canreceive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending awritten explanation to the person you received the work from. If youreceived the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium withyour written explanation. The person or entity that provided you withthe defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of arefund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entityproviding it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity toreceive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copyis also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without furtheropportunities to fix the problem.


30 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forthin paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHERWARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TOWARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain impliedwarranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates thelaw of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall beinterpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted bythe applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of anyprovision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, thetrademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyoneproviding copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordancewith this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you door cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tmwork, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to anyProject Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.

Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm

Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution ofelectronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computersincluding obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It existsbecause of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations frompeople in all walks of life.

Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with theassistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm'sgoals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection willremain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the ProjectGutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secureand permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundationand how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.

Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary ArchiveFoundation

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of thestate of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the InternalRevenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identificationnumber is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted athttp://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project GutenbergLiterary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extentpermitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.

The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scatteredthroughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, [email protected]. Email contact links and up to date contactinformation can be found at the Foundation's web site and officialpage at http://pglaf.org

For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby Chief Executive and Director


31 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

[email protected]

Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project GutenbergLiterary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission ofincreasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can befreely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widestarray of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exemptstatus with the IRS.

The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulatingcharities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the UnitedStates. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes aconsiderable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep upwith these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locationswhere we have not received written confirmation of compliance. ToSEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for anyparticular state visit http://pglaf.org

While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where wehave not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibitionagainst accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states whoapproach us with offers to donate.

International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot makeany statements concerning tax treatment of donations received fromoutside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donationmethods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of otherways including including checks, online payments and credit carddonations. To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate

Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronicworks.

Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tmconcept of a library of electronic works that could be freely sharedwith anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed ProjectGutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printededitions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarilykeep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:

http://www.gutenberg.net

This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg LiteraryArchive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how tosubscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.


32 of 32 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

Project Gutenberg's The Yellow Wallpaper, by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

Title: The Yellow Wallpaper

Author: Charlotte Perkins Gilman

Release Date: November 25, 2008 [EBook #1952]Last Updated: November 7, 2017

Language: English

Character set encoding: UTF-8

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YELLOW WALLPAPER ***

Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger

THE YELLOWWALLPAPER

By Charlotte Perkins Gilman

It is very seldom that mere ordinary people like John and myself secureancestral halls for the summer.

A colonial mansion, a hereditary estate, I would say a haunted house,and reach the height of romantic felicity—but that would be asking toomuch of fate!

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Yellow Wallpaper, by Charl... http://www.gutenberg.org/files/1952/1952-h/1952-h.htm

1 of 19 9/12/2019, 7:13 PM

Still I will proudly declare that there is something queer about it.Else, why should it be let so cheaply? And why have stood so long

untenanted?John laughs at me, of course, but one expects that in marriage.John is practical in the extreme. He has no patience with faith, an

intense horror of superstition, and he scoffs openly at any talk of things notto be felt and seen and put down in figures.

John is a physician, and perhaps—(I would not say it to a living soul, ofcourse, but this is dead paper and a great relief to my mind)—perhaps thatis one reason I do not get well faster.

You see, he does not believe I am sick!And what can one do?If a physician of high standing, and one’s own husband, assures friends

and relatives that there is really nothing the matter with one but temporarynervous depression—a slight hysterical tendency—what is one to do?

My brother is also a physician, and also of high standing, and he saysthe same thing.

So I take phosphates or phosphites—whichever it is, and tonics, andjourneys, and air, and exercise, and am absolutely forbidden to “work” untilI am well again.

Personally, I disagree with their ideas.Personally, I believe that congenial work, with excitement and change,

would do me good.But what is one to do?I did write for a while in spite of them; but it does exhaust me a good

deal—having to be so sly about it, or else meet with heavy opposition.I sometimes fancy that in my condition if I had less opposition and

more society and stimulus—but John says the very worst thing I can do isto think about my condition, and I confess it always makes me feel bad.

So I will let it alone and talk about the house.The most beautiful place! It is quite alone, standing well back from the

road, quite three miles from the village. It makes me think of English placesthat you read about, for there are hedges and walls and gates that lock, andlots of separate little houses for the gardeners and people.

There is a delicious garden! I never saw such a garden—large andshady, full of box-bordered paths, and lined with long grape-covered arborswith seats under them.

There were greenhouses, too, but they are all broken now.There was some legal trouble, I believe, something about the heirs and

co-heirs; anyhow, the place has been empty for years.That spoils my ghostliness, I am afraid; but I don’t care—there is

something strange about the house—I can feel it.I even said so to John one moonlight evening, but he said what I felt

was a draught, and shut the window.I get unreasonably angry with John sometimes. I’m sure I never used to

be so sensitive. I think it is due to this nervous condition.But John says if I feel so I shall neglect proper self-control; so I take

pains to control myself,—before him, at least,—and that makes me verytired.


2 of 19 9/12/2019, 7:13 PM

I don’t like our room a bit. I wanted one downstairs that opened on thepiazza and had roses all over the window, and such pretty old-fashionedchintz hangings! but John would not hear of it.

He said there was only one window and not room for two beds, and nonear room for him if he took another.

He is very careful and loving, and hardly lets me stir without specialdirection.

I have a schedule prescription for each hour in the day; he takes all carefrom me, and so I feel basely ungrateful not to value it more.

He said we came here solely on my account, that I was to have perfectrest and all the air I could get. “Your exercise depends on your strength, mydear,” said he, “and your food somewhat on your appetite; but air you canabsorb all the time.” So we took the nursery, at the top of the house.

It is a big, airy room, the whole floor nearly, with windows that look allways, and air and sunshine galore. It was nursery first and then playgroundand gymnasium, I should judge; for the windows are barred for littlechildren, and there are rings and things in the walls.

The paint and paper look as if a boys’ school had used it. It is strippedoff—the paper—in great patches all around the head of my bed, about asfar as I can reach, and in a great place on the other side of the room lowdown. I never saw a worse paper in my life.

One of those sprawling flamboyant patterns committing every artisticsin.

It is dull enough to confuse the eye in following, pronounced enough toconstantly irritate, and provoke study, and when you follow the lame,uncertain curves for a little distance they suddenly commit suicide—plungeoff at outrageous angles, destroy themselves in unheard-of contradictions.

The color is repellant, almost revolting; a smouldering, unclean yellow,strangely faded by the slow-turning sunlight.

It is a dull yet lurid orange in some places, a sickly sulphur tint inothers.

No wonder the children hated it! I should hate it myself if I had to livein this room long.

There comes John, and I must put this away,—he hates to have me writea word.

We have been here two weeks, and I haven’t felt like writing before,since that first day.

I am sitting by the window now, up in this atrocious nursery, and thereis nothing to hinder my writing as much as I please, save lack of strength.

John is away all day, and even some nights when his cases are serious.I am glad my case is not serious!But these nervous troubles are dreadfully depressing.John does not know how much I really suffer. He knows there is no

reason to suffer, and that satisfies him.Of course it is only nervousness. It does weigh on me so not to do my

duty in any way!


3 of 19 9/12/2019, 7:13 PM

I meant to be such a help to John, such a real rest and comfort, and hereI am a comparative burden already!

Nobody would believe what an effort it is to do what little I am able—to dress and entertain, and order things.

It is fortunate Mary is so good with the baby. Such a dear baby!And yet I cannot be with him, it makes me so nervous.I suppose John never was nervous in his life. He laughs at me so about

this wallpaper!At first he meant to repaper the room, but afterwards he said that I was

letting it get the better of me, and that nothing was worse for a nervouspatient than to give way to such fancies.

He said that after the wallpaper was changed it would be the heavybedstead, and then the barred windows, and then that gate at the head of thestairs, and so on.

“You know the place is doing you good,” he said, “and really, dear, Idon’t care to renovate the house just for a three months’ rental.”

“Then do let us go downstairs,” I said, “there are such pretty roomsthere.”

Then he took me in his arms and called me a blessed little goose, andsaid he would go down cellar if I wished, and have it whitewashed into thebargain.

But he is right enough about the beds and windows and things.It is as airy and comfortable a room as any one need wish, and, of

course, I would not be so silly as to make him uncomfortable just for awhim.

I’m really getting quite fond of the big room, all but that horrid paper.Out of one window I can see the garden, those mysterious deep-shaded

arbors, the riotous old-fashioned flowers, and bushes and gnarly trees.Out of another I get a lovely view of the bay and a little private wharf

belonging to the estate. There is a beautiful shaded lane that runs downthere from the house. I always fancy I see people walking in thesenumerous paths and arbors, but John has cautioned me not to give way tofancy in the least. He says that with my imaginative power and habit ofstory-making a nervous weakness like mine is sure to lead to all manner ofexcited fancies, and that I ought to use my will and good sense to check thetendency. So I try.

I think sometimes that if I were only well enough to write a little itwould relieve the press of ideas and rest me.

But I find I get pretty tired when I try.It is so discouraging not to have any advice and companionship about

my work. When I get really well John says we will ask Cousin Henry andJulia down for a long visit; but he says he would as soon put fire-works inmy pillow-case as to let me have those stimulating people about now.

I wish I could get well faster.But I must not think about that. This paper looks to me as if it knew

what a vicious influence it had!There is a recurrent spot where the pattern lolls like a broken neck and

two bulbous eyes stare at you upside-down.I get positively angry with the impertinence of it and the


4 of 19 9/12/2019, 7:13 PM

everlastingness. Up and down and sideways they crawl, and those absurd,unblinking eyes are everywhere. There is one place where two breadthsdidn’t match, and the eyes go all up and down the line, one a little higherthan the other.

I never saw so much expression in an inanimate thing before, and we allknow how much expression they have! I used to lie awake as a child andget more entertainment and terror out of blank walls and plain furniturethan most children could find in a toy-store.

I remember what a kindly wink the knobs of our big old bureau used tohave, and there was one chair that always seemed like a strong friend.

I used to feel that if any of the other things looked too fierce I couldalways hop into that chair and be safe.

The furniture in this room is no worse than inharmonious, however, forwe had to bring it all from downstairs. I suppose when this was used as aplayroom they had to take the nursery things out, and no wonder! I neversaw such ravages as the children have made here.

The wallpaper, as I said before, is torn off in spots, and it sticketh closerthan a brother—they must have had perseverance as well as hatred.

Then the floor is scratched and gouged and splintered, the plaster itselfis dug out here and there, and this great heavy bed, which is all we found inthe room, looks as if it had been through the wars.

But I don’t mind it a bit—only the paper.There comes John’s sister. Such a dear girl as she is, and so careful of

me! I must not let her find me writing.She is a perfect, and enthusiastic housekeeper, and hopes for no better

profession. I verily believe she thinks it is the writing which made me sick!But I can write when she is out, and see her a long way off from these

windows.There is one that commands the road, a lovely, shaded, winding road,

and one that just looks off over the country. A lovely country, too, full ofgreat elms and velvet meadows.

This wallpaper has a kind of sub-pattern in a different shade, aparticularly irritating one, for you can only see it in certain lights, and notclearly then.

But in the places where it isn’t faded, and where the sun is just so, I cansee a strange, provoking, formless sort of figure, that seems to sulk aboutbehind that silly and conspicuous front design.

There’s sister on the stairs!

Well, the Fourth of July is over! The people are gone and I am tired out.John thought it might do me good to see a little company, so we just hadmother and Nellie and the children down for a week.

Of course I didn’t do a thing. Jennie sees to everything now.But it tired me all the same.John says if I don’t pick up faster he shall send me to Weir Mitchell in

the fall.But I don’t want to go there at all. I had a friend who was in his hands


5 of 19 9/12/2019, 7:13 PM

once, and she says he is just like John and my brother, only more so!Besides, it is such an undertaking to go so far.I don’t feel as if it was worth while to turn my hand over for anything,

and I’m getting dreadfully fretful and querulous.I cry at nothing, and cry most of the time.Of course I don’t when John is here, or anybody else, but when I am

alone.And I am alone a good deal just now. John is kept in town very often by

serious cases, and Jennie is good and lets me alone when I want her to.So I walk a little in the garden or down that lovely lane, sit on the porch

under the roses, and lie down up here a good deal.I’m getting really fond of the room in spite of the wallpaper. Perhaps

because of the wallpaper.It dwells in my mind so!I lie here on this great immovable bed—it is nailed down, I believe—

and follow that pattern about by the hour. It is as good as gymnastics, Iassure you. I start, we’ll say, at the bottom, down in the corner over therewhere it has not been touched, and I determine for the thousandth time thatI will follow that pointless pattern to some sort of a conclusion.

I know a little of the principle of design, and I know this thing was notarranged on any laws of radiation, or alternation, or repetition, or symmetry,or anything else that I ever heard of.

It is repeated, of course, by the breadths, but not otherwise.Looked at in one way each breadth stands alone, the bloated curves and

flourishes—a kind of “debased Romanesque” with delirium tremens—gowaddling up and down in isolated columns of fatuity.

But, on the other hand, they connect diagonally, and the sprawlingoutlines run off in great slanting waves of optic horror, like a lot ofwallowing seaweeds in full chase.

The whole thing goes horizontally, too, at least it seems so, and Iexhaust myself in trying to distinguish the order of its going in thatdirection.

They have used a horizontal breadth for a frieze, and that addswonderfully to the confusion.

There is one end of the room where it is almost intact, and there, whenthe cross-lights fade and the low sun shines directly upon it, I can almostfancy radiation after all,—the interminable grotesques seem to form arounda common centre and rush off in headlong plunges of equal distraction.

It makes me tired to follow it. I will take a nap, I guess.

I don’t know why I should write this.I don’t want to.I don’t feel able.And I know John would think it absurd. But I must say what I feel and

think in some way—it is such a relief!But the effort is getting to be greater than the relief.


6 of 19 9/12/2019, 7:13 PM

Half the time now I am awfully lazy, and lie down ever so much.John says I musn’t lose my strength, and has me take cod-liver oil and

lots of tonics and things, to say nothing of ale and wine and rare meat.Dear John! He loves me very dearly, and hates to have me sick. I tried

to have a real earnest reasonable talk with him the other day, and tell himhow I wish he would let me go and make a visit to Cousin Henry and Julia.

But he said I wasn’t able to go, nor able to stand it after I got there; andI did not make out a very good case for myself, for I was crying before Ihad finished.

It is getting to be a great effort for me to think straight. Just this nervousweakness, I suppose.

And dear John gathered me up in his arms, and just carried me upstairsand laid me on the bed, and sat by me and read to me till it tired my head.

He said I was his darling and his comfort and all he had, and that I musttake care of myself for his sake, and keep well.

He says no one but myself can help me out of it, that I must use my willand self-control and not let any silly fancies run away with me.

There’s one comfort, the baby is well and happy, and does not have tooccupy this nursery with the horrid wallpaper.

If we had not used it that blessed child would have! What a fortunateescape! Why, I wouldn’t have a child of mine, an impressionable littlething, live in such a room for worlds.

I never thought of it before, but it is lucky that John kept me here afterall. I can stand it so much easier than a baby, you see.

Of course I never mention it to them any more,—I am too wise,—but Ikeep watch of it all the same.

There are things in that paper that nobody knows but me, or ever will.Behind that outside pattern the dim shapes get clearer every day.It is always the same shape, only very numerous.And it is like a woman stooping down and creeping about behind that

pattern. I don’t like it a bit. I wonder—I begin to think—I wish John wouldtake me away from here!

It is so hard to talk with John about my case, because he is so wise, andbecause he loves me so.

But I tried it last night.It was moonlight. The moon shines in all around, just as the sun does.I hate to see it sometimes, it creeps so slowly, and always comes in by

one window or another.John was asleep and I hated to waken him, so I kept still and watched

the moonlight on that undulating wallpaper till I felt creepy.The faint figure behind seemed to shake the pattern, just as if she

wanted to get out.I got up softly and went to feel and see if the paper did move, and when

I came back John was awake.“What is it, little girl?” he said. “Don’t go walking about like that—


7 of 19 9/12/2019, 7:13 PM

you’ll get cold.”I though it was a good time to talk, so I told him that I really was not

gaining here, and that I wished he would take me away.“Why darling!” said he, “our lease will be up in three weeks, and I can’t

see how to leave before.“The repairs are not done at home, and I cannot possibly leave town just

now. Of course if you were in any danger I could and would, but you reallyare better, dear, whether you can see it or not. I am a doctor, dear, and Iknow. You are gaining flesh and color, your appetite is better. I feel reallymuch easier about you.”

“I don’t weigh a bit more,” said I, “nor as much; and my appetite maybe better in the evening, when you are here, but it is worse in the morningwhen you are away.”

“Bless her little heart!” said he with a big hug; “she shall be as sick asshe pleases! But now let’s improve the shining hours by going to sleep, andtalk about it in the morning!”

“And you won’t go away?” I asked gloomily.“Why, how can I, dear? It is only three weeks more and then we will

take a nice little trip of a few days while Jennie is getting the house ready.Really, dear, you are better!”

“Better in body perhaps”—I began, and stopped short, for he sat upstraight and looked at me with such a stern, reproachful look that I couldnot say another word.

“My darling,” said he, “I beg of you, for my sake and for our child’ssake, as well as for your own, that you will never for one instant let thatidea enter your mind! There is nothing so dangerous, so fascinating, to atemperament like yours. It is a false and foolish fancy. Can you not trust meas a physician when I tell you so?”

So of course I said no more on that score, and we went to sleep beforelong. He thought I was asleep first, but I wasn’t,—I lay there for hourstrying to decide whether that front pattern and the back pattern really didmove together or separately.

On a pattern like this, by daylight, there is a lack of sequence, adefiance of law, that is a constant irritant to a normal mind.

The color is hideous enough, and unreliable enough, and infuriatingenough, but the pattern is torturing.

You think you have mastered it, but just as you get well under way infollowing, it turns a back somersault and there you are. It slaps you in theface, knocks you down, and tramples upon you. It is like a bad dream.

The outside pattern is a florid arabesque, reminding one of a fungus. Ifyou can imagine a toadstool in joints, an interminable string of toadstools,budding and sprouting in endless convolutions,—why, that is somethinglike it.

That is, sometimes!There is one marked peculiarity about this paper, a thing nobody seems

to notice but myself, and that is that it changes as the light changes.When the sun shoots in through the east window—I always watch for

that first long, straight ray—it changes so quickly that I never can quitebelieve it.

That is why I watch it always.


8 of 19 9/12/2019, 7:13 PM

By moonlight—the moon shines in all night when there is a moon—Iwouldn’t know it was the same paper.

At night in any kind of light, in twilight, candlelight, lamplight, andworst of all by moonlight, it becomes bars! The outside pattern I mean, andthe woman behind it is as plain as can be.

I didn’t realize for a long time what the thing was that showedbehind,—that dim sub-pattern,—but now I am quite sure it is a woman.

By daylight she is subdued, quiet. I fancy it is the pattern that keeps herso still. It is so puzzling. It keeps me quiet by the hour.

I lie down ever so much now. John says it is good for me, and to sleepall I can.

Indeed, he started the habit by making me lie down for an hour aftereach meal.

It is a very bad habit, I am convinced, for, you see, I don’t sleep.And that cultivates deceit, for I don’t tell them I’m awake,—oh, no!The fact is, I am getting a little afraid of John.He seems very queer sometimes, and even Jennie has an inexplicable

look.It strikes me occasionally, just as a scientific hypothesis, that perhaps it

is the paper!I have watched John when he did not know I was looking, and come

into the room suddenly on the most innocent excuses, and I’ve caught himseveral times looking at the paper! And Jennie too. I caught Jennie with herhand on it once.

She didn’t know I was in the room, and when I asked her in a quiet, avery quiet voice, with the most restrained manner possible, what she wasdoing with the paper she turned around as if she had been caught stealing,and looked quite angry—asked me why I should frighten her so!

Then she said that the paper stained everything it touched, that she hadfound yellow smooches on all my clothes and John’s, and she wished wewould be more careful!

Did not that sound innocent? But I know she was studying that pattern,and I am determined that nobody shall find it out but myself!

Life is very much more exciting now than it used to be. You see I havesomething more to expect, to look forward to, to watch. I really do eatbetter, and am more quiet than I was.

John is so pleased to see me improve! He laughed a little the other day,and said I seemed to be flourishing in spite of my wallpaper.

I turned it off with a laugh. I had no intention of telling him it wasbecause of the wallpaper—he would make fun of me. He might even wantto take me away.

I don’t want to leave now until I have found it out. There is a weekmore, and I think that will be enough.


9 of 19 9/12/2019, 7:13 PM

I’m feeling ever so much better! I don’t sleep much at night, for it is sointeresting to watch developments; but I sleep a good deal in the daytime.

In the daytime it is tiresome and perplexing.There are always new shoots on the fungus, and new shades of yellow

all over it. I cannot keep count of them, though I have tried conscientiously.It is the strangest yellow, that wallpaper! It makes me think of all the

yellow things I ever saw—not beautiful ones like buttercups, but old foul,bad yellow things.

But there is something else about that paper—the smell! I noticed it themoment we came into the room, but with so much air and sun it was notbad. Now we have had a week of fog and rain, and whether the windowsare open or not, the smell is here.

It creeps all over the house.I find it hovering in the dining-room, skulking in the parlor, hiding in

the hall, lying in wait for me on the stairs.It gets into my hair.Even when I go to ride, if I turn my head suddenly and surprise it—

there is that smell!Such a peculiar odor, too! I have spent hours in trying to analyze it, to

find what it smelled like.It is not bad—at first, and very gentle, but quite the subtlest, most

enduring odor I ever met.In this damp weather it is awful. I wake up in the night and find it

hanging over me.It used to disturb me at first. I thought seriously of burning the house—

to reach the smell.But now I am used to it. The only thing I can think of that it is like is

the color of the paper! A yellow smell.There is a very funny mark on this wall, low down, near the mopboard.

A streak that runs round the room. It goes behind every piece of furniture,except the bed, a long, straight, even smooch, as if it had been rubbed overand over.

I wonder how it was done and who did it, and what they did it for.Round and round and round—round and round and round—it makes medizzy!

I really have discovered something at last.Through watching so much at night, when it changes so, I have finally

found out.The front pattern does move—and no wonder! The woman behind

shakes it!Sometimes I think there are a great many women behind, and

sometimes only one, and she crawls around fast, and her crawling shakes itall over.

Then in the very bright spots she keeps still, and in the very shady spots


10 of 19 9/12/2019, 7:13 PM

she just takes hold of the bars and shakes them hard.And she is all the time trying to climb through. But nobody could climb

through that pattern—it strangles so; I think that is why it has so manyheads.

They get through, and then the pattern strangles them off and turns themupside-down, and makes their eyes white!

If those heads were covered or taken off it would not be half so bad.

I think that woman gets out in the daytime!And I’ll tell you why—privately—I’ve seen her!I can see her out of every one of my windows!It is the same woman, I know, for she is always creeping, and most

women do not creep by daylight.I see her on that long shaded lane, creeping up and down. I see her in

those dark grape arbors, creeping all around the garden.I see her on that long road under the trees, creeping along, and when a

carriage comes she hides under the blackberry vines.I don’t blame her a bit. It must be very humiliating to be caught

creeping by daylight!I always lock the door when I creep by daylight. I can’t do it at night,

for I know John would suspect something at once.And John is so queer now, that I don’t want to irritate him. I wish he

would take another room! Besides, I don’t want anybody to get that womanout at night but myself.

I often wonder if I could see her out of all the windows at once.But, turn as fast as I can, I can only see out of one at one time.And though I always see her she may be able to creep faster than I can

turn!I have watched her sometimes away off in the open country, creeping as

fast as a cloud shadow in a high wind.

If only that top pattern could be gotten off from the under one! I meanto try it, little by little.

I have found out another funny thing, but I shan’t tell it this time! Itdoes not do to trust people too much.

There are only two more days to get this paper off, and I believe John isbeginning to notice. I don’t like the look in his eyes.

And I heard him ask Jennie a lot of professional questions about me.She had a very good report to give.

She said I slept a good deal in the daytime.John knows I don’t sleep very well at night, for all I’m so quiet!He asked me all sorts of questions, too, and pretended to be very loving

and kind.


11 of 19 9/12/2019, 7:13 PM

As if I couldn’t see through him!Still, I don’t wonder he acts so, sleeping under this paper for three

months.It only interests me, but I feel sure John and Jennie are secretly affected

by it.

Hurrah! This is the last day, but it is enough. John is to stay in townover night, and won’t be out until this evening.

Jennie wanted to sleep with me—the sly thing! but I told her I shouldundoubtedly rest better for a night all alone.

That was clever, for really I wasn’t alone a bit! As soon as it wasmoonlight, and that poor thing began to crawl and shake the pattern, I gotup and ran to help her.

I pulled and she shook, I shook and she pulled, and before morning wehad peeled off yards of that paper.

A strip about as high as my head and half around the room.And then when the sun came and that awful pattern began to laugh at

me I declared I would finish it to-day!We go away to-morrow, and they are moving all my furniture down

again to leave things as they were before.Jennie looked at the wall in amazement, but I told her merrily that I did

it out of pure spite at the vicious thing.She laughed and said she wouldn’t mind doing it herself, but I must not

get tired.How she betrayed herself that time!But I am here, and no person touches this paper but me—not alive!She tried to get me out of the room—it was too patent! But I said it was

so quiet and empty and clean now that I believed I would lie down againand sleep all I could; and not to wake me even for dinner—I would callwhen I woke.

So now she is gone, and the servants are gone, and the things are gone,and there is nothing left but that great bedstead nailed down, with thecanvas mattress we found on it.

We shall sleep downstairs to-night, and take the boat home to-morrow.I quite enjoy the room, now it is bare again.How those children did tear about here!This bedstead is fairly gnawed!But I must get to work.I have locked the door and thrown the key down into the front path.I don’t want to go out, and I don’t want to have anybody come in, till

John comes.I want to astonish him.I’ve got a rope up here that even Jennie did not find. If that woman does

get out, and tries to get away, I can tie her!But I forgot I could not reach far without anything to stand on!


12 of 19 9/12/2019, 7:13 PM

This bed will not move!I tried to lift and push it until I was lame, and then I got so angry I bit

off a little piece at one corner—but it hurt my teeth.Then I peeled off all the paper I could reach standing on the floor. It

sticks horribly and the pattern just enjoys it! All those strangled heads andbulbous eyes and waddling fungus growths just shriek with derision!

I am getting angry enough to do something desperate. To jump out ofthe window would be admirable exercise, but the bars are too strong evento try.

Besides I wouldn’t do it. Of course not. I know well enough that a steplike that is improper and might be misconstrued.

I don’t like to look out of the windows even—there are so many ofthose creeping women, and they creep so fast.

I wonder if they all come out of that wallpaper as I did?But I am securely fastened now by my well-hidden rope—you don’t get

me out in the road there!I suppose I shall have to get back behind the pattern when it comes

night, and that is hard!It is so pleasant to be out in this great room and creep around as I

please!I don’t want to go outside. I won’t, even if Jennie asks me to.For outside you have to creep on the ground, and everything is green

instead of yellow.But here I can creep smoothly on the floor, and my shoulder just fits in

that long smooch around the wall, so I cannot lose my way.Why, there’s John at the door!It is no use, young man, you can’t open it!How he does call and pound!Now he’s crying for an axe.It would be a shame to break down that beautiful door!“John dear!” said I in the gentlest voice, “the key is down by the front

steps, under a plantain leaf!”That silenced him for a few moments.Then he said—very quietly indeed, “Open the door, my darling!”“I can’t,” said I. “The key is down by the front door under a plantain

leaf!”And then I said it again, several times, very gently and slowly, and said

it so often that he had to go and see, and he got it, of course, and came in.He stopped short by the door.

“What is the matter?” he cried. “For God’s sake, what are you doing!”I kept on creeping just the same, but I looked at him over my shoulder.“I’ve got out at last,” said I, “in spite of you and Jane! And I’ve pulled

off most of the paper, so you can’t put me back!”Now why should that man have fainted? But he did, and right across my

path by the wall, so that I had to creep over him every time!


13 of 19 9/12/2019, 7:13 PM

End of Project Gutenberg's The Yellow Wallpaper, by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YELLOW WALLPAPER ***

***** This file should be named 1952-h.htm or 1952-h.zip *****This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/5/1952/

Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer, and David Widger


Creating the works from public domain print editions means that noone owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States withoutpermission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply tocopying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works toprotect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. ProjectGutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if youcharge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If youdo not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with therules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purposesuch as creation of derivative works, reports, performances andresearch. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may dopractically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution issubject to the trademark license, especially commercialredistribution.



To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the freedistribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "ProjectGutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full ProjectGutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online athttp://gutenberg.org/license).



1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only beused on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people whoagree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a fewthings that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works


14 of 19 9/12/2019, 7:13 PM

even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. Seeparagraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with ProjectGutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreementand help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronicworks. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of ProjectGutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in thecollection are in the public domain in the United States. If anindividual work is in the public domain in the United States and you arelocated in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you fromcopying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivativeworks based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenbergare removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the ProjectGutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works byfreely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms ofthis agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated withthe work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement bykeeping this work in the same format with its attached full ProjectGutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.



1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediateaccess to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominentlywhenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which thephrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "ProjectGutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,copied or distributed:

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org




1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute thiselectronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without


15 of 19 9/12/2019, 7:13 PM

prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 withactive links or immediate access to the full terms of the ProjectGutenberg-tm License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including anyword processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to ordistribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official versionposted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide acopy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy uponrequest, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or otherform. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tmLicense as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.



- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."





1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerableeffort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofreadpublic domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tmcollection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronicworks, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate orcorrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectualproperty infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a


16 of 19 9/12/2019, 7:13 PM

computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read byyour equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Rightof Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the ProjectGutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the ProjectGutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a ProjectGutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim allliability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legalfees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICTLIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSEPROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THETRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BELIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE ORINCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCHDAMAGE.


1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forthin paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHERWARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TOWARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.





Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with theassistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm'sgoals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection willremain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the ProjectGutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secureand permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation


17 of 19 9/12/2019, 7:13 PM

and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.


The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of thestate of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the InternalRevenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identificationnumber is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted athttp://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project GutenbergLiterary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extentpermitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.


For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby Chief Executive and Director [email protected]






Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donationmethods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of otherways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate


Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tmconcept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared


18 of 19 9/12/2019, 7:13 PM

with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed ProjectGutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printededitions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarilykeep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.


http://www.gutenberg.org



19 of 19 9/12/2019, 7:13 PM

Project Gutenberg's The Fall of the House of Usher, by Edgar Allan Poe


Title: The Fall of the House of Usher

Author: Edgar Allan Poe

Posting Date: December 15, 2010 [EBook #932]Release Date: June, 1997

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER ***

Produced by Levent Kurnaz and Jose Menendez

THE FALL OFTHE HOUSE OF USHER

BY

EDGAR ALLAN POE

Son cœur est un luth suspendu;Sitôt qu’on le touche il résonne.

De Béranger.

DURING the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when theclouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback,through a singularly dreary tract of country, and at length found myself, as the shades of

The Project Gutenberg eBook The Fall of the House of Usher, b... http://www.gutenberg.org/files/932/932-h/932-h.htm

1 of 18 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher. I know not how itwas—but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom pervadedmy spirit. I say insufferable; for the feeling was unrelieved by any of that half-pleasurable,because poetic, sentiment, with which the mind usually receives even the sternest naturalimages of the desolate or terrible. I looked upon the scene before me—upon the merehouse, and the simple landscape features of the domain—upon the bleak walls—upon thevacant eye-like windows—upon a few rank sedges—and upon a few white trunks ofdecayed trees—with an utter depression of soul which I can compare to no earthlysensation more properly than to the after-dream of the reveller upon opium—the bitterlapse into every-day life—the hideous dropping off of the veil. There was an iciness, asinking, a sickening of the heart—an unredeemed dreariness of thought which no goadingof the imagination could torture into aught of the sublime. What was it—I paused tothink—what was it that so unnerved me in the contemplation of the House of Usher? Itwas a mystery all insoluble; nor could I grapple with the shadowy fancies that crowdedupon me as I pondered. I was forced to fall back upon the unsatisfactory conclusion, thatwhile, beyond doubt, there are combinations of very simple natural objects which have thepower of thus affecting us, still the analysis of this power lies among considerationsbeyond our depth. It was possible, I reflected, that a mere different arrangement of theparticulars of the scene, of the details of the picture, would be sufficient to modify, orperhaps to annihilate its capacity for sorrowful impression; and, acting upon this idea, Ireined my horse to the precipitous brink of a black and lurid tarn that lay in unruffled lustreby the dwelling, and gazed down—but with a shudder even more thrilling than before—upon the remodelled and inverted images of the gray sedge, and the ghastly tree-stems, andthe vacant and eye-like windows.

Nevertheless, in this mansion of gloom I now proposed to myself a sojourn of someweeks. Its proprietor, Roderick Usher, had been one of my boon companions in boyhood;but many years had elapsed since our last meeting. A letter, however, had lately reachedme in a distant part of the country—a letter from him—which, in its wildly importunatenature, had admitted of no other than a personal reply. The MS. gave evidence of nervousagitation. The writer spoke of acute bodily illness—of a mental disorder which oppressedhim—and of an earnest desire to see me, as his best and indeed his only personal friend,with a view of attempting, by the cheerfulness of my society, some alleviation of hismalady. It was the manner in which all this, and much more, was said—it was the apparentheart that went with his request—which allowed me no room for hesitation; and Iaccordingly obeyed forthwith what I still considered a very singular summons.

Although, as boys, we had been even intimate associates, yet I really knew little ofmy friend. His reserve had been always excessive and habitual. I was aware, however, thathis very ancient family had been noted, time out of mind, for a peculiar sensibility oftemperament, displaying itself, through long ages, in many works of exalted art, andmanifested, of late, in repeated deeds of munificent yet unobtrusive charity, as well as in apassionate devotion to the intricacies, perhaps even more than to the orthodox and easilyrecognizable beauties, of musical science. I had learned, too, the very remarkable fact, thatthe stem of the Usher race, all time-honored as it was, had put forth, at no period, anyenduring branch; in other words, that the entire family lay in the direct line of descent, andhad always, with very trifling and very temporary variation, so lain. It was this deficiency, Iconsidered, while running over in thought the perfect keeping of the character of thepremises with the accredited character of the people, and while speculating upon thepossible influence which the one, in the long lapse of centuries, might have exercised uponthe other—it was this deficiency, perhaps, of collateral issue, and the consequentundeviating transmission, from sire to son, of the patrimony with the name, which had, atlength, so identified the two as to merge the original title of the estate in the quaint and


2 of 18 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

equivocal appellation of the “House of Usher”—an appellation which seemed to include,in the minds of the peasantry who used it, both the family and the family mansion.

I have said that the sole effect of my somewhat childish experiment—that of lookingdown within the tarn—had been to deepen the first singular impression. There can be nodoubt that the consciousness of the rapid increase of my superstition—for why should I notso term it?—served mainly to accelerate the increase itself. Such, I have long known, is theparadoxical law of all sentiments having terror as a basis. And it might have been for thisreason only, that, when I again uplifted my eyes to the house itself, from its image in thepool, there grew in my mind a strange fancy—a fancy so ridiculous, indeed, that I butmention it to show the vivid force of the sensations which oppressed me. I had so workedupon my imagination as really to believe that about the whole mansion and domain therehung an atmosphere peculiar to themselves and their immediate vicinity—an atmospherewhich had no affinity with the air of heaven, but which had reeked up from the decayedtrees, and the gray wall, and the silent tarn—a pestilent and mystic vapor, dull, sluggish,faintly discernible, and leaden-hued.

Shaking off from my spirit what must have been a dream, I scanned more narrowlythe real aspect of the building. Its principal feature seemed to be that of an excessiveantiquity. The discoloration of ages had been great. Minute fungi overspread the wholeexterior, hanging in a fine tangled web-work from the eaves. Yet all this was apart fromany extraordinary dilapidation. No portion of the masonry had fallen; and there appearedto be a wild inconsistency between its still perfect adaptation of parts, and the crumblingcondition of the individual stones. In this there was much that reminded me of the specioustotality of old wood-work which has rotted for long years in some neglected vault, with nodisturbance from the breath of the external air. Beyond this indication of extensive decay,however, the fabric gave little token of instability. Perhaps the eye of a scrutinizingobserver might have discovered a barely perceptible fissure, which, extending from theroof of the building in front, made its way down the wall in a zigzag direction, until itbecame lost in the sullen waters of the tarn.

Noticing these things, I rode over a short causeway to the house. A servant in waitingtook my horse, and I entered the Gothic archway of the hall. A valet, of stealthy step,thence conducted me, in silence, through many dark and intricate passages in my progressto the studio of his master. Much that I encountered on the way contributed, I know nothow, to heighten the vague sentiments of which I have already spoken. While the objectsaround me—while the carvings of the ceilings, the sombre tapestries of the walls, theebony blackness of the floors, and the phantasmagoric armorial trophies which rattled as Istrode, were but matters to which, or to such as which, I had been accustomed from myinfancy—while I hesitated not to acknowledge how familiar was all this—I still wonderedto find how unfamiliar were the fancies which ordinary images were stirring up. On one ofthe staircases, I met the physician of the family. His countenance, I thought, wore amingled expression of low cunning and perplexity. He accosted me with trepidation andpassed on. The valet now threw open a door and ushered me into the presence of hismaster.

The room in which I found myself was very large and lofty. The windows were long,narrow, and pointed, and at so vast a distance from the black oaken floor as to be altogetherinaccessible from within. Feeble gleams of encrimsoned light made their way through thetrellised panes, and served to render sufficiently distinct the more prominent objectsaround; the eye, however, struggled in vain to reach the remoter angles of the chamber, orthe recesses of the vaulted and fretted ceiling. Dark draperies hung upon the walls. Thegeneral furniture was profuse, comfortless, antique, and tattered. Many books and musicalinstruments lay scattered about, but failed to give any vitality to the scene. I felt that Ibreathed an atmosphere of sorrow. An air of stern, deep, and irredeemable gloom hung


3 of 18 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

over and pervaded all.Upon my entrance, Usher rose from a sofa on which he had been lying at full length,

and greeted me with a vivacious warmth which had much in it, I at first thought, of anoverdone cordiality—of the constrained effort of the ennuyé man of the world. A glance,however, at his countenance convinced me of his perfect sincerity. We sat down; and forsome moments, while he spoke not, I gazed upon him with a feeling half of pity, half ofawe. Surely, man had never before so terribly altered, in so brief a period, as had RoderickUsher! It was with difficulty that I could bring myself to admit the identity of the manbeing before me with the companion of my early boyhood. Yet the character of his facehad been at all times remarkable. A cadaverousness of complexion; an eye large, liquid,and luminous beyond comparison; lips somewhat thin and very pallid, but of asurpassingly beautiful curve; a nose of a delicate Hebrew model, but with a breadth ofnostril unusual in similar formations; a finely moulded chin, speaking, in its want ofprominence, of a want of moral energy; hair of a more than web-like softness and tenuity;—these features, with an inordinate expansion above the regions of the temple, made upaltogether a countenance not easily to be forgotten. And now in the mere exaggeration ofthe prevailing character of these features, and of the expression they were wont to convey,lay so much of change that I doubted to whom I spoke. The now ghastly pallor of the skin,and the now miraculous lustre of the eye, above all things startled and even awed me. Thesilken hair, too, had been suffered to grow all unheeded, and as, in its wild gossamertexture, it floated rather than fell about the face, I could not, even with effort, connect itsArabesque expression with any idea of simple humanity.

In the manner of my friend I was at once struck with an incoherence—aninconsistency; and I soon found this to arise from a series of feeble and futile struggles toovercome an habitual trepidancy—an excessive nervous agitation. For something of thisnature I had indeed been prepared, no less by his letter, than by reminiscences of certainboyish traits, and by conclusions deduced from his peculiar physical conformation andtemperament. His action was alternately vivacious and sullen. His voice varied rapidlyfrom a tremulous indecision (when the animal spirits seemed utterly in abeyance) to thatspecies of energetic concision—that abrupt, weighty, unhurried, and hollow-soundingenunciation—that leaden, self-balanced and perfectly modulated guttural utterance, whichmay be observed in the lost drunkard, or the irreclaimable eater of opium, during theperiods of his most intense excitement.

It was thus that he spoke of the object of my visit, of his earnest desire to see me, andof the solace he expected me to afford him. He entered, at some length, into what heconceived to be the nature of his malady. It was, he said, a constitutional and a family evil,and one for which he despaired to find a remedy—a mere nervous affection, heimmediately added, which would undoubtedly soon pass off. It displayed itself in a host ofunnatural sensations. Some of these, as he detailed them, interested and bewildered me;although, perhaps, the terms and the general manner of the narration had their weight. Hesuffered much from a morbid acuteness of the senses; the most insipid food was aloneendurable; he could wear only garments of certain texture; the odors of all flowers wereoppressive; his eyes were tortured by even a faint light; and there were but peculiarsounds, and these from stringed instruments, which did not inspire him with horror.

To an anomalous species of terror I found him a bounden slave. “I shall perish,” saidhe, “I must perish in this deplorable folly. Thus, thus, and not otherwise, shall I be lost. Idread the events of the future, not in themselves, but in their results. I shudder at thethought of any, even the most trivial, incident, which may operate upon this intolerableagitation of soul. I have, indeed, no abhorrence of danger, except in its absolute effect—interror. In this unnerved, in this pitiable, condition I feel that the period will sooner or laterarrive when I must abandon life and reason together, in some struggle with the grim


4 of 18 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

phantasm, FEAR.”I learned, moreover, at intervals, and through broken and equivocal hints, another

singular feature of his mental condition. He was enchained by certain superstitiousimpressions in regard to the dwelling which he tenanted, and whence, for many years, hehad never ventured forth—in regard to an influence whose supposititious force wasconveyed in terms too shadowy here to be re-stated—an influence which somepeculiarities in the mere form and substance of his family mansion had, by dint of longsufferance, he said, obtained over his spirit—an effect which the physique of the gray wallsand turrets, and of the dim tarn into which they all looked down, had, at length, broughtabout upon the morale of his existence.

He admitted, however, although with hesitation, that much of the peculiar gloomwhich thus afflicted him could be traced to a more natural and far more palpable origin—tothe severe and long-continued illness—indeed to the evidently approaching dissolution—of a tenderly beloved sister, his sole companion for long years, his last and only relative onearth. “Her decease,” he said, with a bitterness which I can never forget, “would leave him(him the hopeless and the frail) the last of the ancient race of the Ushers.” While he spoke,the lady Madeline (for so was she called) passed slowly through a remote portion of theapartment, and, without having noticed my presence, disappeared. I regarded her with anutter astonishment not unmingled with dread; and yet I found it impossible to account forsuch feelings. A sensation of stupor oppressed me as my eyes followed her retreatingsteps. When a door, at length, closed upon her, my glance sought instinctively and eagerlythe countenance of the brother; but he had buried his face in his hands, and I could onlyperceive that a far more than ordinary wanness had overspread the emaciated fingersthrough which trickled many passionate tears.

The disease of the lady Madeline had long baffled the skill of her physicians. Asettled apathy, a gradual wasting away of the person, and frequent although transientaffections of a partially cataleptical character were the unusual diagnosis. Hitherto she hadsteadily borne up against the pressure of her malady, and had not betaken herself finally tobed; but on the closing in of the evening of my arrival at the house, she succumbed (as herbrother told me at night with inexpressible agitation) to the prostrating power of thedestroyer; and I learned that the glimpse I had obtained of her person would thus probablybe the last I should obtain—that the lady, at least while living, would be seen by me nomore.

For several days ensuing, her name was unmentioned by either Usher or myself; andduring this period I was busied in earnest endeavors to alleviate the melancholy of myfriend. We painted and read together, or I listened, as if in a dream, to the wildimprovisations of his speaking guitar. And thus, as a closer and still closer intimacyadmitted me more unreservedly into the recesses of his spirit, the more bitterly did Iperceive the futility of all attempt at cheering a mind from which darkness, as if aninherent positive quality, poured forth upon all objects of the moral and physical universein one unceasing radiation of gloom.

I shall ever bear about me a memory of the many solemn hours I thus spent alonewith the master of the House of Usher. Yet I should fail in any attempt to convey an idea ofthe exact character of the studies, or of the occupations, in which he involved me, or ledme the way. An excited and highly distempered ideality threw a sulphureous lustre overall. His long improvised dirges will ring forever in my ears. Among other things, I holdpainfully in mind a certain singular perversion and amplification of the wild air of the lastwaltz of Von Weber. From the paintings over which his elaborate fancy brooded, andwhich grew, touch by touch, into vagueness at which I shuddered the more thrillingly,because I shuddered knowing not why—from these paintings (vivid as their images noware before me) I would in vain endeavor to educe more than a small portion which should


5 of 18 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

lie within the compass of merely written words. By the utter simplicity, by the nakednessof his designs, he arrested and overawed attention. If ever mortal painted an idea, thatmortal was Roderick Usher. For me at least, in the circumstances then surrounding me,there arose out of the pure abstractions which the hypochondriac contrived to throw uponhis canvas, an intensity of intolerable awe, no shadow of which felt I ever yet in thecontemplation of the certainly glowing yet too concrete reveries of Fuseli.

One of the phantasmagoric conceptions of my friend, partaking not so rigidly of thespirit of abstraction, may be shadowed forth, although feebly, in words. A small picturepresented the interior of an immensely long and rectangular vault or tunnel, with lowwalls, smooth, white, and without interruption or device. Certain accessory points of thedesign served well to convey the idea that this excavation lay at an exceeding depth belowthe surface of the earth. No outlet was observed in any portion of its vast extent, and notorch or other artificial source of light was discernible; yet a flood of intense rays rolledthroughout, and bathed the whole in a ghastly and inappropriate splendor.

I have just spoken of that morbid condition of the auditory nerve which rendered allmusic intolerable to the sufferer, with the exception of certain effects of stringedinstruments. It was, perhaps, the narrow limits to which he thus confined himself upon theguitar which gave birth, in great measure, to the fantastic character of the performances.But the fervid facility of his impromptus could not be so accounted for. They must havebeen, and were, in the notes, as well as in the words of his wild fantasias (for he notunfrequently accompanied himself with rhymed verbal improvisations), the result of thatintense mental collectedness and concentration to which I have previously alluded asobservable only in particular moments of the highest artificial excitement. The words ofone of these rhapsodies I have easily remembered. I was, perhaps, the more forciblyimpressed with it as he gave it, because, in the under or mystic current of its meaning, Ifancied that I perceived, and for the first time, a full consciousness on the part of Usher ofthe tottering of his lofty reason upon her throne. The verses, which were entitled “TheHaunted Palace,” ran very nearly, if not accurately, thus:—

I.

In the greenest of our valleys, By good angels tenanted,Once a fair and stately palace— Radiant palace—reared its head.In the monarch Thought’s dominion— It stood there!Never seraph spread a pinion Over fabric half so fair.

II.

Banners yellow, glorious, golden, On its roof did float and flow;(This—all this—was in the olden Time long ago);And every gentle air that dallied, In that sweet day,Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, A winged odor went away.


6 of 18 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

III.

Wanderers in that happy valley Through two luminous windows sawSpirits moving musically To a lute’s well-tunèd law;Round about a throne, where sitting (Porphyrogene!)In state his glory well befitting, The ruler of the realm was seen.

IV.

And all with pearl and ruby glowing Was the fair palace door,Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing And sparkling evermore,A troop of Echoes whose sweet duty Was but to sing,In voices of surpassing beauty, The wit and wisdom of their king.

V.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch’s high estate;(Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow Shall dawn upon him, desolate!)And, round about his home, the glory That blushed and bloomedIs but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed.

VI.

And travellers now within that valley, Through the red-litten windows seeVast forms that move fantastically To a discordant melody;While, like a rapid ghastly river, Through the pale door,A hideous throng rush out forever, And laugh—but smile no more.

I well remember that suggestions arising from this ballad, led us into a train ofthought wherein there became manifest an opinion of Usher’s which I mention not somuch on account of its novelty (for other men* have thought thus), as on account of the


7 of 18 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

pertinacity with which he maintained it. This opinion, in its general form, was that of thesentience of all vegetable things. But, in his disordered fancy, the idea had assumed a moredaring character, and trespassed, under certain conditions, upon the kingdom ofinorganization. I lack words to express the full extent, or the earnest abandon of hispersuasion. The belief, however, was connected (as I have previously hinted) with the graystones of the home of his forefathers. The conditions of the sentience had been here, heimagined, fulfilled in the method of collocation of these stones—in the order of theirarrangement, as well as in that of the many fungi which overspread them, and of thedecayed trees which stood around—above all, in the long undisturbed endurance of thisarrangement, and in its reduplication in the still waters of the tarn. Its evidence—theevidence of the sentience—was to be seen, he said, (and I here started as he spoke), in thegradual yet certain condensation of an atmosphere of their own about the waters and thewalls. The result was discoverable, he added, in that silent yet importunate and terribleinfluence which for centuries had moulded the destinies of his family, and which made himwhat I now saw him—what he was. Such opinions need no comment, and I will makenone.

Our books—the books which, for years, had formed no small portion of the mentalexistence of the invalid—were, as might be supposed, in strict keeping with this characterof phantasm. We pored together over such works as the “Ververt et Chartreuse” of Gresset;the “Belphegor” of Machiavelli; the “Heaven and Hell” of Swedenborg; the “SubterraneanVoyage of Nicholas Klimm” by Holberg; the “Chiromancy” of Robert Flud, of JeanD’Indaginé, and of De la Chambre; the “Journey into the Blue Distance” of Tieck; and the“City of the Sun” of Campanella. One favorite volume was a small octavo edition of the“Directorium Inquisitorium,” by the Dominican Eymeric de Gironne; and there werepassages in Pomponius Mela, about the old African Satyrs and Œgipans, over which Usherwould sit dreaming for hours. His chief delight, however, was found in the perusal of anexceedingly rare and curious book in quarto Gothic—the manual of a forgotten church—the Vigiliæ Mortuorum Secundum Chorum Ecclesiæ Maguntinæ.

I could not help thinking of the wild ritual of this work, and of its probable influenceupon the hypochondriac, when, one evening, having informed me abruptly that the ladyMadeline was no more, he stated his intention of preserving her corpse for a fortnight(previously to its final interment), in one of the numerous vaults within the main walls ofthe building. The worldly reason, however, assigned for this singular proceeding, was onewhich I did not feel at liberty to dispute. The brother had been led to his resolution (so hetold me) by consideration of the unusual character of the malady of the deceased, ofcertain obtrusive and eager inquiries on the part of her medical men, and of the remote andexposed situation of the burial-ground of the family. I will not deny that when I called tomind the sinister countenance of the person whom I met upon the staircase, on the day ofmy arrival at the house, I had no desire to oppose what I regarded as at best but a harmless,and by no means an unnatural, precaution.

At the request of Usher, I personally aided him in the arrangements for the temporaryentombment. The body having been encoffined, we two alone bore it to its rest. The vaultin which we placed it (and which had been so long unopened that our torches, halfsmothered in its oppressive atmosphere, gave us little opportunity for investigation) wassmall, damp, and entirely without means of admission for light; lying, at great depth,immediately beneath that portion of the building in which was my own sleeping apartment.It had been used, apparently, in remote feudal times, for the worst purposes of a donjon-keep, and, in later days, as a place of deposit for powder, or some other highly combustiblesubstance, as a portion of its floor, and the whole interior of a long archway through whichwe reached it, were carefully sheathed with copper. The door, of massive iron, had been,also, similarly protected. Its immense weight caused an unusually sharp, grating sound, as


8 of 18 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

it moved upon its hinges.Having deposited our mournful burden upon tressels within this region of horror, we

partially turned aside the yet unscrewed lid of the coffin, and looked upon the face of thetenant. A striking similitude between the brother and sister now first arrested my attention;and Usher, divining, perhaps, my thoughts, murmured out some few words from which Ilearned that the deceased and himself had been twins, and that sympathies of a scarcelyintelligible nature had always existed between them. Our glances, however, rested not longupon the dead—for we could not regard her unawed. The disease which had thusentombed the lady in the maturity of youth, had left, as usual in all maladies of a strictlycataleptical character, the mockery of a faint blush upon the bosom and the face, and thatsuspiciously lingering smile upon the lip which is so terrible in death. We replaced andscrewed down the lid, and, having secured the door of iron, made our way, with toil, intothe scarcely less gloomy apartments of the upper portion of the house.

And now, some days of bitter grief having elapsed, an observable change came overthe features of the mental disorder of my friend. His ordinary manner had vanished. Hisordinary occupations were neglected or forgotten. He roamed from chamber to chamberwith hurried, unequal, and objectless step. The pallor of his countenance had assumed, ifpossible, a more ghastly hue—but the luminousness of his eye had utterly gone out. Theonce occasional huskiness of his tone was heard no more; and a tremulous quaver, as if ofextreme terror, habitually characterized his utterance. There were times, indeed, when Ithought his unceasingly agitated mind was laboring with some oppressive secret, todivulge which he struggled for the necessary courage. At times, again, I was obliged toresolve all into the mere inexplicable vagaries of madness, for I beheld him gazing uponvacancy for long hours, in an attitude of the profoundest attention, as if listening to someimaginary sound. It was no wonder that his condition terrified—that it infected me. I feltcreeping upon me, by slow yet certain degrees, the wild influences of his own fantastic yetimpressive superstitions.

It was, especially, upon retiring to bed late in the night of the seventh or eighth dayafter the placing of the lady Madeline within the donjon, that I experienced the full powerof such feelings. Sleep came not near my couch—while the hours waned and waned away.I struggled to reason off the nervousness which had dominion over me. I endeavored tobelieve that much, if not all of what I felt, was due to the bewildering influence of thegloomy furniture of the room—of the dark and tattered draperies, which, tortured intomotion by the breath of a rising tempest, swayed fitfully to and fro upon the walls, andrustled uneasily about the decorations of the bed. But my efforts were fruitless. Anirrepressible tremor gradually pervaded my frame; and, at length, there sat upon my veryheart an incubus of utterly causeless alarm. Shaking this off with a gasp and a struggle, Iuplifted myself upon the pillows, and, peering earnestly within the intense darkness of thechamber, hearkened—I know not why, except that an instinctive spirit prompted me—tocertain low and indefinite sounds which came, through the pauses of the storm, at longintervals, I knew not whence. Overpowered by an intense sentiment of horror,unaccountable yet unendurable, I threw on my clothes with haste (for I felt that I shouldsleep no more during the night), and endeavored to arouse myself from the pitiablecondition into which I had fallen, by pacing rapidly to and fro through the apartment.

I had taken but few turns in this manner, when a light step on an adjoining staircasearrested my attention. I presently recognized it as that of Usher. In an instant afterward herapped, with a gentle touch, at my door, and entered, bearing a lamp. His countenance was,as usual, cadaverously wan—but, moreover, there was a species of mad hilarity in hiseyes—an evidently restrained hysteria in his whole demeanor. His air appalled me—butanything was preferable to the solitude which I had so long endured, and I even welcomedhis presence as a relief.


9 of 18 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

“And you have not seen it?” he said abruptly, after having stared about him for somemoments in silence—“you have not then seen it?—but, stay! you shall.” Thus speaking,and having carefully shaded his lamp, he hurried to one of the casements, and threw itfreely open to the storm.

The impetuous fury of the entering gust nearly lifted us from our feet. It was, indeed,a tempestuous yet sternly beautiful night, and one wildly singular in its terror and itsbeauty. A whirlwind had apparently collected its force in our vicinity; for there werefrequent and violent alterations in the direction of the wind; and the exceeding density ofthe clouds (which hung so low as to press upon the turrets of the house) did not preventour perceiving the life-like velocity with which they flew careering from all points againsteach other, without passing away into the distance. I say that even their exceeding densitydid not prevent our perceiving this—yet we had no glimpse of the moon or stars, nor wasthere any flashing forth of the lightning. But the under surfaces of the huge masses ofagitated vapor, as well as all terrestrial objects immediately around us, were glowing in theunnatural light of a faintly luminous and distinctly visible gaseous exhalation which hungabout and enshrouded the mansion.

“You must not—you shall not behold this!” said I, shuddering, to Usher, as I led him,with a gentle violence, from the window to a seat. “These appearances, which bewilderyou, are merely electrical phenomena not uncommon—or it may be that they have theirghastly origin in the rank miasma of the tarn. Let us close this casement;—the air ischilling and dangerous to your frame. Here is one of your favorite romances. I will read,and you shall listen:—and so we will pass away this terrible night together.”

The antique volume which I had taken up was the “Mad Trist” of Sir LauncelotCanning; but I had called it a favorite of Usher’s more in sad jest than in earnest; for, intruth, there is little in its uncouth and unimaginative prolixity which could have hadinterest for the lofty and spiritual ideality of my friend. It was, however, the only bookimmediately at hand; and I indulged a vague hope that the excitement which now agitatedthe hypochondriac, might find relief (for the history of mental disorder is full of similaranomalies) even in the extremeness of the folly which I should read. Could I have judged,indeed, by the wild overstrained air of vivacity with which he hearkened, or apparentlyhearkened, to the words of the tale, I might well have congratulated myself upon thesuccess of my design.

I had arrived at that well-known portion of the story where Ethelred, the hero of theTrist, having sought in vain for peaceable admission into the dwelling of the hermit,proceeds to make good an entrance by force. Here, it will be remembered, the words of thenarrative run thus:

“And Ethelred, who was by nature of a doughty heart, and who was now mightywithal, on account of the powerfulness of the wine which he had drunken, waited nolonger to hold parley with the hermit, who, in sooth, was of an obstinate and malicefulturn, but, feeling the rain upon his shoulders, and fearing the rising of the tempest, upliftedhis mace outright, and, with blows, made quickly room in the plankings of the door for hisgauntleted hand; and now pulling therewith sturdily, he so cracked, and ripped, and tore allasunder, that the noise of the dry and hollow-sounding wood alarumed and reverberatedthroughout the forest.”

At the termination of this sentence I started and, for a moment, paused; for it appearedto me (although I at once concluded that my excited fancy had deceived me)—it appearedto me that, from some very remote portion of the mansion, there came, indistinctly to myears, what might have been, in its exact similarity of character, the echo (but a stifled anddull one certainly) of the very cracking and ripping sound which Sir Launcelot had soparticularly described. It was, beyond doubt, the coincidence alone which had arrested myattention; for, amid the rattling of the sashes of the casements, and the ordinary


10 of 18 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

commingled noises of the still increasing storm, the sound, in itself, had nothing, surely,which should have interested or disturbed me. I continued the story:

“But the good champion Ethelred, now entering within the door, was sore enragedand amazed to perceive no signal of the maliceful hermit; but, in the stead thereof, adragon of a scaly and prodigious demeanor, and of a fiery tongue, which sat in guardbefore a palace of gold, with a floor of silver; and upon the wall there hung a shield ofshining brass with this legend enwritten—

Who entereth herein, a conqueror hath bin;Who slayeth the dragon, the shield he shall win.

And Ethelred uplifted his mace, and struck upon the head of the dragon, which fell beforehim, and gave up his pesty breath, with a shriek so horrid and harsh, and withal sopiercing, that Ethelred had fain to close his ears with his hands against the dreadful noiseof it, the like whereof was never before heard.”

Here again I paused abruptly, and now with a feeling of wild amazement—for therecould be no doubt whatever that, in this instance, I did actually hear (although from whatdirection it proceeded I found it impossible to say) a low and apparently distant, but harsh,protracted, and most unusual screaming or grating sound—the exact counterpart of whatmy fancy had already conjured up for the dragon’s unnatural shriek as described by theromancer.

Oppressed, as I certainly was, upon the occurrence of this second and mostextraordinary coincidence, by a thousand conflicting sensations, in which wonder andextreme terror were predominant, I still retained sufficient presence of mind to avoidexciting, by any observation, the sensitive nervousness of my companion. I was by nomeans certain that he had noticed the sounds in question; although, assuredly, a strangealteration had, during the last few minutes, taken place in his demeanor. From a positionfronting my own, he had gradually brought round his chair, so as to sit with his face to thedoor of the chamber; and thus I could but partially perceive his features, although I sawthat his lips trembled as if he were murmuring inaudibly. His head had dropped upon hisbreast—yet I knew that he was not asleep, from the wide and rigid opening of the eye as Icaught a glance of it in profile. The motion of his body, too, was at variance with thisidea—for he rocked from side to side with a gentle yet constant and uniform sway. Havingrapidly taken notice of all this, I resumed the narrative of Sir Launcelot, which thusproceeded:

“And now, the champion, having escaped from the terrible fury of the dragon,bethinking himself of the brazen shield, and of the breaking up of the enchantment whichwas upon it, removed the carcass from out of the way before him, and approachedvalorously over the silver pavement of the castle to where the shield was upon the wall;which in sooth tarried not for his full coming, but fell down at his feet upon the silver floor,with a mighty great and terrible ringing sound.”

No sooner had these syllables passed my lips, than—as if a shield of brass hadindeed, at the moment, fallen heavily upon a floor of silver—I became aware of a distinct,hollow, metallic, and clangorous, yet apparently muffled, reverberation. Completelyunnerved, I leaped to my feet; but the measured rocking movement of Usher wasundisturbed. I rushed to the chair in which he sat. His eyes were bent fixedly before him,and throughout his whole countenance there reigned a stony rigidity. But, as I placed myhand upon his shoulder, there came a strong shudder over his whole person; a sickly smilequivered about his lips; and I saw that he spoke in a low, hurried, and gibbering murmur,as if unconscious of my presence. Bending closely over him, I at length drank in thehideous import of his words.

“Not hear it?—yes, I hear it, and have heard it. Long—long—long—many minutes,


11 of 18 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

many hours, many days, have I heard it—yet I dared not—oh, pity me, miserable wretchthat I am!—I dared not—I dared not speak! We have put her living in the tomb! Said I notthat my senses were acute? I now tell you that I heard her first feeble movements in thehollow coffin. I heard them—many, many days ago—yet I dared not—I dared not speak!And now—to-night—Ethelred—ha! ha!—the breaking of the hermit’s door, and the death-cry of the dragon, and the clangor of the shield!—say, rather, the rending of her coffin, andthe grating of the iron hinges of her prison, and her struggles within the coppered archwayof the vault! Oh! whither shall I fly? Will she not be here anon? Is she not hurrying toupbraid me for my haste? Have I not heard her footstep on the stair? Do I not distinguishthat heavy and horrible beating of her heart? Madman!”—here he sprang furiously to hisfeet, and shrieked out his syllables, as if in the effort he were giving up hissoul—“Madman! I tell you that she now stands without the door!”

As if in the superhuman energy of his utterance there had been found the potency of aspell, the huge antique panels to which the speaker pointed threw slowly back, upon theinstant, their ponderous and ebony jaws. It was the work of the rushing gust—but thenwithout those doors there did stand the lofty and enshrouded figure of the lady Madeline ofUsher. There was blood upon her white robes, and the evidence of some bitter struggleupon every portion of her emaciated frame. For a moment she remained trembling andreeling to and fro upon the threshold—then, with a low moaning cry, fell heavily inwardupon the person of her brother, and in her violent and now final death-agonies, bore him tothe floor a corpse, and a victim to the terrors he had anticipated.

From that chamber, and from that mansion, I fled aghast. The storm was still abroadin all its wrath as I found myself crossing the old causeway. Suddenly there shot along thepath a wild light, and I turned to see whence a gleam so unusual could have issued; for thevast house and its shadows were alone behind me. The radiance was that of the full,setting, and blood-red moon which now shone vividly through that once barely-discerniblefissure of which I have before spoken as extending from the roof of the building, in azigzag direction, to the base. While I gazed, this fissure rapidly widened—there came afierce breath of the whirlwind—the entire orb of the satellite burst at once upon my sight—my brain reeled as I saw the mighty walls rushing asunder—there was a long tumultuousshouting sound like the voice of a thousand waters—and the deep and dank tarn at my feetclosed sullenly and silently over the fragments of the “House of Usher.”

* Watson, Dr. Percival, Spallanzani, and especially the Bishop of Landaff.—See“Chemical Essays,” vol. v.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Fall of the House of Usher, by Edgar Allan Poe

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER ***

***** This file should be named 932-h.htm or 932-h.zip *****This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/9/3/932/

Produced by Levent Kurnaz and Jose Menendez


Creating the works from public domain print editions means that noone owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation


12 of 18 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States withoutpermission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply tocopying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works toprotect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. ProjectGutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if youcharge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If youdo not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with therules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purposesuch as creation of derivative works, reports, performances andresearch. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may dopractically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution issubject to the trademark license, especially commercialredistribution.



To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the freedistribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "ProjectGutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full ProjectGutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online athttp://gutenberg.net/license).



1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only beused on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people whoagree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a fewthings that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic workseven without complying with the full terms of this agreement. Seeparagraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with ProjectGutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreementand help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronicworks. See paragraph 1.E below.

1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of ProjectGutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in thecollection are in the public domain in the United States. If anindividual work is in the public domain in the United States and you arelocated in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you fromcopying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivativeworks based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenbergare removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the ProjectGutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works byfreely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms ofthis agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated withthe work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by


13 of 18 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

keeping this work in the same format with its attached full ProjectGutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.



1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediateaccess to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominentlywhenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which thephrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "ProjectGutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,copied or distributed:





1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute thiselectronic work, or any part of this electronic work, withoutprominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 withactive links or immediate access to the full terms of the ProjectGutenberg-tm License.

1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including anyword processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to ordistribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official versionposted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.net),you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide acopy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy uponrequest, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or otherform. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tmLicense as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.


14 of 18 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM



- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."





1.F.

1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerableeffort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofreadpublic domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tmcollection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronicworks, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate orcorrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectualproperty infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, acomputer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read byyour equipment.

1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Rightof Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the ProjectGutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the ProjectGutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a ProjectGutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim allliability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legalfees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICTLIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSEPROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THETRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE


15 of 18 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE ORINCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCHDAMAGE.


1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forthin paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHERWARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TOWARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.





Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with theassistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm'sgoals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection willremain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the ProjectGutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secureand permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundationand how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.


The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of thestate of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal


16 of 18 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identificationnumber is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted athttp://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project GutenbergLiterary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extentpermitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.


For additional contact information: Dr. Gregory B. Newby Chief Executive and Director [email protected]






Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donationmethods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of otherways including including checks, online payments and credit carddonations. To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate


Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tmconcept of a library of electronic works that could be freely sharedwith anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed ProjectGutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printededitions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily


17 of 18 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.


http://www.gutenberg.net



18 of 18 9/12/2019, 7:14 PM

Sketch, Robert Smithson, 1967

North, East, South, West, Michael Heizer, 1967

Messkasten, Rebecca Horn, 1970

House, Rachel Whiteread, 1993

Impenetrable, Mona Hatoum, 2009

Spinning Cube, ZHANG Ding, 2016

AptitudeExercise_2019-2020.pdf - HKU Faculty of Architecture

Documents

Transcript of AptitudeExercise_2019-2020.pdf - HKU Faculty of Architecture