Author: Franz Kafka
Date: 0101-01-01 00:00:00+00:00
Description: Download classic literature as completely free eBooks from Planet eBook.

The Metamorphosis

By Franz Kafka (1915)

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This text is a translation from the German by Ian Johnston,

Malaspina University-Col ege Nanaimo, BC. It has been
prepared for students in the Liberal Studies and English
departments. This document is in the public domain,
released, January 1999

The Metamorphosis

I

One morning, as Gregor Samsa was waking up from
anxious dreams, he discovered that in bed he had been
changed into a monstrous verminous bug. He lay on his ar-
mour-hard back and saw, as he lifted his head up a little, his
brown, arched abdomen divided up into rigid bow-like sec-
tions. From this height the blanket, just about ready to slide
off completely, could hardly stay in place. His numerous
legs, pitifully thin in comparison to the rest of his circum-
ference, flickered helplessly before his eyes.

‘What’s happened to me,’ he thought. It was no dream.

His room, a proper room for a human being, only some-
what too small, lay quietly between the four well-known
walls. Above the table, on which an unpacked collection of
sample cloth goods was spread out (Samsa was a traveling
salesman) hung the picture which he had cut out of an il-
lustrated magazine a little while ago and set in a pretty gilt
frame. It was a picture of a woman with a fur hat and a fur
boa. She sat erect there, lifting up in the direction of the
viewer a solid fur muff into which her entire forearm dis-
appeared.

Gregor’s glance then turned to the window. The dreary
weather (the rain drops were falling audibly down on the
metal window ledge) made him quite melancholy. ‘Why
don’t I keep sleeping for a little while longer and forget all

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this foolishness,’ he thought. But this was entirely impracti-
cal, for he was used to sleeping on his right side, and in his
present state he couldn’t get himself into this position. No
matter how hard he threw himself onto his right side, he
always rolled again onto his back. He must have tried it a
hundred times, closing his eyes, so that he would not have
to see the wriggling legs, and gave up only when he began
to feel a light, dull pain in his side which he had never felt
before.

‘O God,’ he thought, ‘what a demanding job I’ve chosen!

Day in, day out on the road. The stresses of trade are much
greater than the work going on at head office, and, in addi-
tion to that, I have to deal with the problems of traveling,
the worries about train connections, irregular bad food,
temporary and constantly changing human relationships
which never come from the heart. To hell with it all!’ He felt
a slight itching on the top of his abdomen. He slowly pushed
himself on his back closer to the bed post so that he could
lift his head more easily, found the itchy part, which was
entirely covered with small white spots (he did not know
what to make of them), and wanted to feel the place with a
leg. But he retracted it immediately, for the contact felt like
a cold shower all over him.

He slid back again into his earlier position. ‘This getting
up early,’ he thought, ‘makes a man quite idiotic. A man
must have his sleep. Other traveling salesmen live like ha-
rem women. For instance, when I come back to the inn
during the course of the morning to write up the necessary
orders, these gentlemen are just sitting down to breakfast.

The Metamorphosis

If I were to try that with my boss, I’d be thrown out on the
spot. Still, who knows whether that mightn’t be really good
for me. If I didn’t hold back for my parents’ sake, I would’ve
quit ages ago. I would’ve gone to the boss and told him just
what I think from the bottom of my heart. He would’ve fall-
en right off his desk! How weird it is to sit up at the desk and
talk down to the employee from way up there. The boss has
trouble hearing, so the employee has to step up quite close
to him. Anyway, I haven’t completely given up that hope
yet. Once I’ve got together the money to pay off the parents’

debt to him—that should take another five or six years—I’ll
do it for sure. Then I’ll make the big break. In any case, right
now I have to get up. My train leaves at five o’clock.’

And he looked over at the alarm clock ticking away by
the chest of drawers. ‘Good God,’ he thought. It was half
past six, and the hands were going quietly on. It was past
the half hour, already nearly quarter to. Could the alarm
have failed to ring? One saw from the bed that it was prop-
erly set for four o’clock. Certainly it had rung. Yes, but was it
possible to sleep through this noise that made the furniture
shake? Now, it’s true he’d not slept quietly, but evident-
ly he’d slept all the more deeply. Still, what should he do
now? The next train left at seven o’clock. To catch that one,
he would have to go in a mad rush. The sample collection
wasn’t packed up yet, and he really didn’t feel particular-
ly fresh and active. And even if he caught the train, there
was no avoiding a blow up with the boss, because the firm’s
errand boy would’ve waited for the five o’clock train and re-
ported the news of his absence long ago. He was the boss’s

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minion, without backbone or intelligence. Well then, what
if he reported in sick? But that would be extremely em-
barrassing and suspicious, because during his five years’

service Gregor hadn’t been sick even once. The boss would
certainly come with the doctor from the health insurance
company and would reproach his parents for their lazy son
and cut short all objections with the insurance doctor’s
comments; for him everyone was completely healthy but re-
ally lazy about work. And besides, would the doctor in this
case be totally wrong? Apart from a really excessive drowsi-
ness after the long sleep, Gregor in fact felt quite well and
even had a really strong appetite.

As he was thinking all this over in the greatest haste,
without being able to make the decision to get out of bed

(the alarm clock was indicating exactly quarter to seven)

there was a cautious knock on the door by the head of the
bed.‘Gregor,’ a voice called (it was his mother!) ‘it’s quar-
ter to seven. Don’t you want to be on your way?’ The soft
voice! Gregor was startled when he heard his voice answer-
ing. It was clearly and unmistakably his earlier voice, but
in it was intermingled, as if from below, an irrepressibly
painful squeaking which left the words positively distinct
only in the first moment and distorted them in the rever-
beration, so that one didn’t know if one had heard correctly.

Gregor wanted to answer in detail and explain everything,
but in these circumstances he confined himself to saying,

‘Yes, yes, thank you mother. I’m getting up right away.’ Be-
cause of the wooden door the change in Gregor’s voice was

The Metamorphosis
not really noticeable outside, so his mother calmed down
with this explanation and shuffled off. However, as a result
of the short conversation the other family members be-
came aware of the fact that Gregor was unexpectedly still
at home, and already his father was knocking on one side
door, weakly but with his fist. ‘Gregor, Gregor,’ he called
out, ‘what’s going on?’ And after a short while he urged him
on again in a deeper voice. ‘Gregor!’ Gregor!’ At the other
side door, however, his sister knocked lightly. ‘Gregor? Are
you all right? Do you need anything?’ Gregor directed an-
swers in both directions, ‘I’ll be ready right away.’ He made
an effort with the most careful articulation and by inserting
long pauses between the individual words to remove every-
thing remarkable from his voice. His father turned back to
his breakfast. However, the sister whispered, ‘Gregor, open
the door, I beg you.’ Gregor had no intention of opening the
door, but congratulated himself on his precaution, acquired
from traveling, of locking all doors during the night, even
at home.

First he wanted to stand up quietly and undisturbed,
get dressed, above all have breakfast, and only then con-
sider further action, for (he noticed this clearly) by thinking
things over in bed he would not reach a reasonable conclu-
sion. He remembered that he had already often felt a light
pain or other in bed, perhaps the result of an awkward ly-
ing position, which later turned out to be purely imaginary
when he stood up, and he was eager to see how his present
fantasies would gradually dissipate. That the change in his
voice was nothing other than the onset of a real chill, an

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occupational illness of commercial travelers, of that he had
not the slightest doubt.

It was very easy to throw aside the blanket. He needed
only to push himself up a little, and it fell by itself. But to
continue was difficult, particularly because he was so un-
usually wide. He needed arms and hands to push himself
upright. Instead of these, however, he had only many small
limbs which were incessantly moving with very different
motions and which, in addition, he was unable to control.

If he wanted to bend one of them, then it was the first to ex-
tend itself, and if he finally succeeded doing with this limb
what he wanted, in the meantime all the others, as if left
free, moved around in an excessively painful agitation. ‘But

I must not stay in bed uselessly,’ said Gregor to himself.

At first he wanted to get of the bed with the lower part
of his body, but this lower part (which he incidentally had
not yet looked at and which he also couldn’t picture clearly)

proved itself too difficult to move. The attempt went so slow-
ly. When, having become almost frantic, he finally hurled
himself forward with all his force and without thinking, he
chose his direction incorrectly, and he hit the lower bedpost
hard. The violent pain he felt revealed to him that the lower
part of his body was at the moment probably the most sen-
sitive.

Thus, he tried to get his upper body out of the bed first
and turned his head carefully toward the edge of the bed.

He managed to do this easily, and in spite of its width and
weight his body mass at last slowly followed the turning of
his head. But as he finally raised his head outside the bed in

The Metamorphosis
the open air, he became anxious about moving forward any
further in this manner, for if he allowed himself eventually
to fall by this process, it would take a miracle to prevent his
head from getting injured. And at all costs he must not lose
consciousness right now. He preferred to remain in bed.

However, after a similar effort, while he lay there again
sighing as before and once again saw his small limbs fight-
ing one another, if anything worse than before, and didn’t
see any chance of imposing quiet and order on this arbitrary
movement, he told himself again that he couldn’t possibly
remain in bed and that it might be the most reasonable
thing to sacrifice everything if there was even the slight-
est hope of getting himself out of bed in the process. At the
same moment, however, he didn’t forget to remind himself
from time to time of the fact that calm (indeed the calmest)

reflection might be better than the most confused deci-
sions. At such moments, he directed his gaze as precisely as
he could toward the window, but unfortunately there was
little confident cheer to be had from a glance at the morn-
ing mist, which concealed even the other side of the narrow
street. ‘It’s already seven o’clock’ he told himself at the latest
striking of the alarm clock, ‘already seven o’clock and still
such a fog.’ And for a little while longer he lay quietly with
weak breathing, as if perhaps waiting for normal and natu-
ral conditions to re-emerge out of the complete stillness.

But then he said to himself, ‘Before it strikes a quarter
past seven, whatever happens I must be completely out of
bed. Besides, by then someone from the office will arrive to
inquire about me, because the office will open before sev-

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en o’clock.’ And he made an effort then to rock his entire
body length out of the bed with a uniform motion. If he let
himself fall out of the bed in this way, his head, which in
the course of the fall he intended to lift up sharply, would
probably remain uninjured. His back seemed to be hard;
nothing would really happen to that as a result of the fall.

His greatest reservation was a worry about the loud noise
which the fall must create and which presumably would
arouse, if not fright, then at least concern on the other side
of all the doors. However, it had to be tried.

As Gregor was in the process of lifting himself half out
of bed (the new method was more of a game than an effort;
he needed only to rock with a constant rhythm) it struck
him how easy all this would be if someone were to come to
his aid. Two strong people (he thought of his father and the
servant girl) would have been quite sufficient. They would
have only had to push their arms under his arched back to
get him out of the bed, to bend down with their load, and
then merely to exercise patience and care that he complet-
ed the flip onto the floor, where his diminutive legs would
then, he hoped, acquire a purpose. Now, quite apart from
the fact that the doors were locked, should he really call out
for help? In spite of all his distress, he was unable to sup-
press a smile at this idea.

He had already got to the point where, with a stronger
rocking, he maintained his equilibrium with difficulty, and
very soon he would finally have to decide, for in five minutes
it would be a quarter past seven. Then there was a ring at the
door of the apartment. ‘That’s someone from the office’ he

10

The Metamorphosis
told himself, and he almost froze while his small limbs only
danced around all the faster. For one moment everything
remained still. ‘They aren’t opening,’ Gregor said to him-
self, caught up in some absurd hope. But of course then, as
usual, the servant girl with her firm tread went to the door
and opened it. Gregor needed to hear only the visitor’s first
word of greeting to recognize immediately who it was, the
manager himself. Why was Gregor the only one condemned
to work in a firm where at the slightest lapse someone im-
mediately attracted the greatest suspicion? Were all the
employees then collectively, one and all, scoundrels? Was
there then among them no truly devoted person who, if he
failed to use just a couple of hours in the morning for office
work, would become abnormal from pangs of conscience
and really be in no state to get out of bed? Was it really not
enough to let an apprentice make inquiries, if such ques-
tioning was even necessary? Must the manager himself
come, and in the process must it be demonstrated to the en-
tire innocent family that the investigation of this suspicious
circumstance could only be entrusted to the intelligence
of the manager? And more as a consequence of the excited
state in which this idea put Gregor than as a result of an
actual decision, he swung himself with all his might out of
the bed. There was a loud thud, but not a real crash. The fall
was absorbed somewhat by the carpet and, in addition, his
back was more elastic than Gregor had thought. For that
reason the dull noise was not quite so conspicuous. But he
had not held his head up with sufficient care and had hit it.

He turned his head, irritated and in pain, and rubbed it on

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11
the carpet.

‘Something has fallen in there,’ said the manager in the
next room on the left. Gregor tried to imagine to himself
whether anything similar to what was happening to him to-
day could have also happened at some point to the manager.

At least one had to concede the possibility of such a thing.

However, as if to give a rough answer to this question, the
manager now took a few determined steps in the next room,
with a squeak of his polished boots. From the neighbour-
ing room on the right the sister was whispering to inform

Gregor: ‘Gregor, the manager is here.’ ‘I know,’ said Gregor
to himself. But he did not dare make his voice loud enough
so that his sister could hear.

‘Gregor,’ his father now said from the neighbouring
room on the left, ‘Mr. Manager has come and is asking why
you have not left on the early train. We don’t know what we
should tell him. Besides, he also wants to speak to you per-
sonally. So please open the door. He will good enough to
forgive the mess in your room.’

In the middle of all this, the manager called out in a
friendly way, ‘Good morning, Mr. Samsa.’ ‘He is not well,’

said his mother to the manager, while his father was still
talking at the door, ‘He is not well, believe me, Mr. Manager.

Otherwise how would Gregor miss a train! The young man
has nothing in his head except business. I’m almost angry
that he never goes out at night. Right now he’s been in the
city eight days, but he’s been at home every evening. He sits
there with us at the table and reads the newspaper quietly
or studies his travel schedules. It’s a quite a diversion for

1

The Metamorphosis
him if he busies himself with fretwork. For instance, he cut
out a small frame over the course of two or three evenings.

You’d be amazed how pretty it is. It’s hanging right inside
the room. You’ll see it immediately, as soon as Gregor opens
the door. Anyway, I’m happy that you’re here, Mr. Manager.

By ourselves, we would never have made Gregor open the
door. He’s so stubborn, and he’s certainly not well, although
he denied that this morning.’

‘I’m coming right away,’ said Gregor slowly and delib-
erately and didn’t move, so as not to lose one word of the
conversation. ‘My dear lady, I cannot explain it to myself
in any other way,’ said the manager; ‘I hope it is nothing se-
rious. On the other hand, I must also say that we business
people, luckily or unluckily, however one looks at it, very
often simply have to overcome a slight indisposition for
business reasons.’ ‘So can Mr. Manager come in to see you
now’ asked his father impatiently and knocked once again
on the door. ‘No,’ said Gregor. In the neighbouring room on
the left a painful stillness descended. In the neighbouring
room on the right the sister began to sob.

Why didn’t his sister go to the others? She’d probably
just gotten up out of bed now and hadn’t even started to get
dressed yet. Then why was she crying? Because he wasn’t
getting up and wasn’t letting the manager in; because he
was in danger of losing his position, and because then his
boss would badger his parents once again with the old de-
mands? Those were probably unnecessary worries right
now. Gregor was still here and wasn’t thinking at all about
abandoning his family. At the moment he was lying right

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1
there on the carpet, and no one who knew about his condi-
tion would’ve seriously demanded that he let the manager
in. But Gregor wouldn’t be casually dismissed right way be-
cause of this small discourtesy, for which he would find an
easy and suitable excuse later on. It seemed to Gregor that
it might be far more reasonable to leave him in peace at the
moment, instead of disturbing him with crying and conver-
sation. But it was the very uncertainty which distressed the
others and excused their behaviour.

‘Mr. Samsa,’ the manager was now shouting, his voice
raised, ‘what’s the matter? You are barricading yourself in
your room, answer with only a yes and a no, are making
serious and unnecessary troubles for your parents, and ne-
glecting (I mention this only incidentally) your commercial
duties in a truly unheard of manner. I am speaking here in
the name of your parents and your employer, and I am re-
questing you in all seriousness for an immediate and clear
explanation. I am amazed. I am amazed. I thought I knew
you as a calm, reasonable person, and now you appear sud-
denly to want to start parading around in weird moods. The

Chief indicated to me earlier this very day a possible expla-
nation for your neglect—it concerned the collection of cash
entrusted to you a short while ago—but in truth I almost
gave him my word of honour that this explanation could
not be correct. However, now I see here your unimaginable
pig headedness, and I am totally losing any desire to speak
up for you in the slightest. And your position is not at all the
most secure. Originally I intended to mention all this to you
privately, but since you are letting me waste my time here

1

The Metamorphosis
uselessly, I don’t know why the matter shouldn’t come to the
attention of your parents. Your productivity has also been
very unsatisfactory recently. Of course, it’s not the time of
year to conduct exceptional business, we recognize that, but
a time of year for conducting no business, there is no such
thing at all, Mr. Samsa, and such a thing must never be.’

‘But Mr. Manager,’ called Gregor, beside himself and in
his agitation forgetting everything else, ‘I’m opening the
door immediately, this very moment. A slight indisposition,
a dizzy spell, has prevented me from getting up. I’m still
lying in bed right now. But now I’m quite refreshed once
again. I’m in the midst of getting out of bed. Just have pa-
tience for a short moment! Things are not going so well as

I thought. But things are all right. How suddenly this can
overcome someone! Just yesterday evening everything was
fine with me. My parents certainly know that. Actually just
yesterday evening I had a small premonition. People must
have seen that in me. Why have I not reported that to the
office! But people always think that they’ll get over sickness
without having to stay at home. Mr. Manager! Take it easy
on my parents! There is really no basis for the criticisms
which you are now making against me, and really nobody
has said a word to me about that. Perhaps you have not read
the latest orders which I shipped. Besides, now I’m setting
out on my trip on the eight o’clock train; the few hours’ rest
have made me stronger. Mr. Manager, do not stay. I will be
at the office in person right away. Please have the goodness
to say that and to convey my respects to the Chief.’

While Gregor was quickly blurting all this out, hard-

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1
ly aware of what he was saying, he had moved close to the
chest of drawers without effort, probably as a result of the
practice he had already had in bed, and now he was trying
to raise himself up on it. Actually, he wanted to open the
door; he really wanted to let himself be seen by and to speak
with the manager. He was keen to witness what the others
now asking after him would say at the sight of him. If they
were startled, then Gregor had no more responsibility and
could be calm. But if they accepted everything quietly, then
he would have no reason to get excited and, if he got a move
on, could really be at the station around eight o’clock.

At first he slid down a few times from the smooth chest of
drawers. But at last he gave himself a final swing and stood
upright there. He was no longer at all aware of the pains in
his lower body, no matter how they might still sting. Now
he let himself fall against the back of a nearby chair, on the
edge of which he braced himself with his thin limbs. By do-
ing this he gained control over himself and kept quiet, for
he could now hear the manager.

‘Did you understood a single word?’ the manager asked
the parents, ‘Is he playing the fool with us?’ ‘For God’s sake,’

cried the mother already in tears, ‘perhaps he’s very ill and
we’re upsetting him. Grete! Grete!’ she yelled at that point.

‘Mother?’ called the sister from the other side. They were
making themselves understood through Gregor’s room.

‘You must go to the doctor right away. Gregor is sick. Hurry
to the doctor. Have you heard Gregor speak yet?’ ‘That was
an animal’s voice,’ said the manager, remarkably quietly in
comparison to the mother’s cries.

1

The Metamorphosis

‘Anna! Anna!’ yelled the father through the hall into the
kitchen, clapping his hands, ‘fetch a locksmith right away!’

The two young women were already running through the
hall with swishing skirts (how had his sister dressed herself
so quickly?) and yanked open the doors of the apartment.

One couldn’t hear the doors closing at all. They probably
had left them open, as is customary in an apartment in
which a huge misfortune has taken place.

However, Gregor had become much calmer. All right,
people did not understand his words any more, although
they seemed clear enough to him, clearer than previously,
perhaps because his ears had gotten used to them. But at
least people now thought that things were not all right with
him and were prepared to help him. The confidence and as-
surance with which the first arrangements had been carried
out made him feel good. He felt himself included once again
in the circle of humanity and was expecting from both the
doctor and the locksmith, without differentiating between
them with any real precision, splendid and surprising re-
sults. In order to get as clear a voice as possible for the critical
conversation which was imminent, he coughed a little, and
certainly took the trouble to do this in a really subdued way,
since it was possible that even this noise sounded like some-
thing different from a human cough. He no longer trusted
himself to decide any more. Meanwhile in the next room it
had become really quiet. Perhaps his parents were sitting
with the manager at the table and were whispering; perhaps
they were all leaning against the door and listening.

Gregor pushed himself slowly towards the door, with the

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1
help of the easy chair, let go of it there, threw himself against
the door, held himself upright against it (the balls of his tiny
limbs had a little sticky stuff on them), and rested there mo-
mentarily from his exertion. Then he made an effort to turn
the key in the lock with his mouth. Unfortunately it seemed
that he had no real teeth. How then was he to grab hold
of the key? But to make up for that his jaws were naturally
very strong; with their help he managed to get the key really
moving, and he did not notice that he was obviously inflict-
ing some damage on himself, for a brown fluid came out of
his mouth, flowed over the key, and dripped onto the floor.

‘Just listen for a moment,’ said the manager in the next
room, ‘he’s turning the key.’ For Gregor that was a great
encouragement. But they all should’ve called out to him,
including his father and mother, ‘Come on, Gregor,’ they
should’ve shouted, ‘keep going, keep working on the lock.’

Imagining that all his efforts were being followed with sus-
pense, he bit down frantically on the key with all the force
he could muster. As the key turned more, he danced around
the lock. Now he was holding himself upright only with his
mouth, and he had to hang onto the key or then press it
down again with the whole weight of his body, as necessary.

The quite distinct click of the lock as it finally snapped re-
ally woke Gregor up. Breathing heavily he said to himself,

‘So I didn’t need the locksmith,’ and he set his head against
the door handle to open the door completely.

Because he had to open the door in this way, it was already
open very wide without him yet being really visible. He first
had to turn himself slowly around the edge of the door, very

1

The Metamorphosis
carefully, of course, if he did not want to fall awkwardly on
his back right at the entrance into the room. He was still
preoccupied with this difficult movement and had no time
to pay attention to anything else, when he heard the manag-
er exclaim a loud ‘Oh!’ (it sounded like the wind whistling),
and now he saw him, nearest to the door, pressing his hand
against his open mouth and moving slowly back, as if an
invisible constant force was pushing him away. His mother

(in spite of the presence of the manager she was standing
here with her hair sticking up on end, still a mess from the
night) with her hands clasped was looking at his father; she
then went two steps towards Gregor and collapsed right in
the middle of her skirts spreading out all around her, her
face sunk on her breast, completely concealed. His father
clenched his fist with a hostile expression, as if he wished
to push Gregor back into his room, then looked uncertainly
around the living room, covered his eyes with his hands,
and cried so that his mighty breast shook.

At this point Gregor did not take one step into the room,
but leaned his body from the inside against the firmly bolt-
ed wing of the door, so that only half his body was visible,
as well as his head, titled sideways, with which he peeped
over at the others. Meanwhile it had become much brighter.

Standing out clearly from the other side of the street was
a part of the endless gray-black house situated opposite (it
was a hospital) with its severe regular windows breaking
up the facade. The rain was still coming down, but only in
large individual drops visibly and firmly thrown down one
by one onto the ground. The breakfast dishes were standing

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1
piled around on the table, because for his father breakfast
was the most important meal time in the day, which he pro-
longed for hours by reading various newspapers. Directly
across on the opposite wall hung a photograph of Gregor
from the time of his military service; it was a picture of him
as a lieutenant, as he, smiling and worry free, with his hand
on his sword, demanded respect for his bearing and uni-
form. The door to the hall was ajar, and since the door to the
apartment was also open, one saw out into the landing of
the apartment and the start of the staircase going down.

‘Now,’ said Gregor, well aware that he was the only one
who had kept his composure. ‘I’ll get dressed right away,
pack up the collection of samples, and set off. You’ll allow
me to set out on my way, will you not? You see, Mr. Manag-
er, I am not pig-headed, and I am happy to work. Traveling
is exhausting, but I couldn’t live without it. Where are you
going, Mr. Manager? To the office? Really? Will you report
everything truthfully? A person can be incapable of work
momentarily, but that is precisely the best time to remem-
ber the earlier achievements and to consider that later, after
the obstacles have been shoved aside, the person will work
all the more keenly and intensely. I am really so indebted to

Mr. Chief—you know that perfectly well. On the other hand,

I am concerned about my parents and my sister. I’m in a fix,
but I’ll work myself out of it again. Don’t make things more
difficult for me than they already are. Speak up on my behalf
in the office! People don’t like traveling salesmen. I know
that. People think they earn pots of money and thus lead a
fine life. People don’t even have any special reason to think

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The Metamorphosis
through this judgment more clearly. But you, Mr. Manag-
er, you have a better perspective on the interconnections
than the other people, even, I tell you in total confidence, a
better perspective than Mr. Chairman himself, who in his
capacity as the employer may let his judgment make casual
mistakes at the expense of an employee. You also know well
enough that the traveling salesman who is outside the of-
fice almost the entire year can become so easily a victim
of gossip, coincidences, and groundless complaints, against
which it’s impossible for him to defend himself, since for the
most part he doesn’t hear about them at all and only then
when he’s exhausted after finishing a trip, and gets to feel in
his own body at home the nasty consequences, which can’t
be thoroughly explored back to their origins. Mr. Manager,
don’t leave without speaking a word telling me that you’ll at
least concede that I’m a little in the right!’

But at Gregor’s first words the manager had already turned
away, and now he looked back at Gregor over his twitching
shoulders with pursed lips. During Gregor’s speech he was
not still for a moment, but was moving away towards the
door, without taking his eyes off Gregor, but really gradu-
ally, as if there was a secret ban on leaving the room. He was
already in the hall, and after the sudden movement with
which he finally pulled his foot out of the living room, one
could have believed that he had just burned the sole of his
foot. In the hall, however, he stretched out his right hand
away from his body towards the staircase, as if some truly
supernatural relief was waiting for him there.

Gregor realized that he must not under any circum-

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1
stances allow the manager to go away in this frame of mind,
especially if his position in the firm was not to be placed
in the greatest danger. His parents did not understand all
this very well. Over the long years, they had developed the
conviction that Gregor was set up for life in his firm and,
in addition, they had so much to do nowadays with their
present troubles that all foresight was foreign to them. But

Gregor had this foresight. The manager must be held back,
calmed down, convinced, and finally won over. The future
of Gregor and his family really depended on it! If only the
sister had been there! She was clever. She had already cried
while Gregor was still lying quietly on his back. And the
manager, this friend of the ladies, would certainly let him-
self be guided by her. She would have closed the door to
the apartment and talked him out of his fright in the hall.

But the sister was not even there. Gregor must deal with it
himself.

Without thinking that as yet he didn’t know anything
about his present ability to move and without thinking
that his speech possibly (indeed probably) had once again
not been understood, he left the wing of the door, pushed
himself through the opening, and wanted to go over to the
manager, who was already holding tight onto the handrail
with both hands on the landing in a ridiculous way. But as
he looked for something to hold onto, with a small scream

Gregor immediately fell down onto his numerous little legs.

Scarcely had this happened, when he felt for the first time
that morning a general physical well being. The small limbs
had firm floor under them; they obeyed perfectly, as he

The Metamorphosis
noticed to his joy, and strove to carry him forward in the
direction he wanted. Right away he believed that the final
amelioration of all his suffering was immediately at hand.

But at the very moment when he lay on the floor rocking in
a restrained manner quite close and directly across from his
mother (apparently totally sunk into herself) she suddenly
sprang right up with her arms spread far apart and her fin-
gers extended and cried out, ‘Help, for God’s sake, help!’ She
held her head bowed down, as if she wanted to view Gregor
better, but ran senselessly back, contradicting that gesture,
forgetting that behind her stood the table with all the dishes
on it. When she reached the table, she sat down heavily on
it, as if absent-mindedly, and did not appear to notice at all
that next to her coffee was pouring out onto the carpet in a
full stream from the large overturned container.

‘Mother, mother,’ said Gregor quietly, and looked over
towards her. The manager momentarily had disappeared
completely from his mind; by contrast, at the sight of the
flowing coffee he couldn’t stop himself snapping his jaws
in the air a few times . At that his mother screamed all over
again, hurried from the table, and collapsed into the arms of
his father, who was rushing towards her. But Gregor had no
time right now for his parents: the manager was already on
the staircase. His chin level with the banister, the manager
looked back for the last time. Gregor took an initial move-
ment to catch up to him if possible. But the manager must
have suspected something, because he made a leap down
over a few stairs and disappeared, still shouting ‘Huh!’ The
sound echoed throughout the entire stairwell.

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Now, unfortunately this flight of the manager also
seemed completely to bewilder his father, who earlier had
been relatively calm, for instead of running after the manag-
er himself or at least not hindering Gregor from his pursuit,
with his right hand he grabbed hold of the manager’s cane,
which he had left behind with his hat and overcoat on a
chair. With his left hand, his father picked up a large news-
paper from the table and, stamping his feet on the floor, he
set out to drive Gregor back into his room by waving the
cane and the newspaper. No request of Gregor’s was of any
use; no request would even be understood. No matter how
willing he was to turn his head respectfully, his father just
stomped all the harder with his feet.

Across the room from him his mother had pulled open
a window, in spite of the cool weather, and leaning out with
her hands on her cheeks, she pushed her face far outside
the window. Between the alley and the stair well a strong
draught came up, the curtains on the window flew around,
the newspapers on the table swished, and individual sheets
fluttered down over the floor. The father relentlessly pressed
forward pushing out sibilants, like a wild man. Now, Gregor
had no practice at all in going backwards; it was really going
very slowly. If Gregor only had been allowed to turn himself
around, he would have been in his room right away, but he
was afraid to make his father impatient by the time-consum-
ing process of turning around, and each moment he faced
the threat of a mortal blow on his back or his head from the
cane in his father’s hand. Finally Gregor had no other op-
tion, for he noticed with horror that he did not understand

The Metamorphosis
yet how to maintain his direction going backwards. And so
he began, amid constantly anxious sideways glances in his
father’s direction, to turn himself around as quickly as pos-
sible (although in truth this was only very slowly). Perhaps
his father noticed his good intentions, for he did not disrupt

Gregor in this motion, but with the tip of the cane from a
distance he even directed here and there Gregor’s rotating
movement.

If only there hadn’t been his father’s unbearable hissing!

Because of that Gregor totally lost his head. He was already
almost totally turned around, when, always with this hiss-
ing in his ear, he just made a mistake and turned himself
back a little. But when he finally was successful in getting
his head in front of the door opening, it became clear that
his body was too wide to go through any further. Natu-
rally his father, in his present mental state, had no idea of
opening the other wing of the door a bit to create a suitable
passage for Gregor to get through. His single fixed thought
was that Gregor must get into his room as quickly as possi-
ble. He would never have allowed the elaborate preparations
that Gregor required to orient himself and thus perhaps
get through the door. On the contrary, as if there were no
obstacle and with a peculiar noise, he now drove Gregor for-
wards. Behind Gregor the sound was at this point no longer
like the voice of only a single father. Now it was really no
longer a joke, and Gregor forced himself, come what might,
into the door. One side of his body was lifted up. He lay at an
angle in the door opening. His one flank was sore with the
scraping. On the white door ugly blotches were left. Soon

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he was stuck fast and would have not been able to move any
more on his own. The tiny legs on one side hung twitch-
ing in the air above, the ones on the other side were pushed
painfully into the floor. Then his father gave him one really
strong liberating push from behind, and he scurried, bleed-
ing severely, far into the interior of his room. The door was
slammed shut with the cane, and finally it was quiet.

The Metamorphosis

II

Gregor first woke up from his heavy swoon-like sleep
in the evening twilight. He would certainly have wo-
ken up soon afterwards without any disturbance, for he felt
himself sufficiently rested and wide awake, although it ap-
peared to him as if a hurried step and a cautious closing of
the door to the hall had aroused him. The shine of the elec-
tric streetlights lay pale here and there on the ceiling and on
the higher parts of the furniture, but underneath around

Gregor it was dark. He pushed himself slowly toward the
door, still groping awkwardly with his feelers, which he
now learned to value for the first time, to check what was
happening there. His left side seemed one single long un-
pleasantly stretched scar, and he really had to hobble on his
two rows of legs. In addition, one small leg had been seri-
ously wounded in the course of the morning incident (it was
almost a miracle that only one had been hurt) and dragged
lifelessly behind.

By the door he first noticed what had really lured him
there: it was the smell of something to eat. For there stood a
bowl filled with sweetened milk, in which swam tiny piec-
es of white bread. He almost laughed with joy, for he now
had a much greater hunger than in the morning, and he im-
mediately dipped his head almost up to and over his eyes
down into the milk. But he soon drew it back again in dis-

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appointment, not just because it was difficult for him to eat
on account of his delicate left side (he could eat only if his
entire panting body worked in a coordinated way), but also
because the milk, which otherwise was his favorite drink
and which his sister had certainly placed there for that rea-
son, did not appeal to him at all. He turned away from the
bowl almost with aversion and crept back into the middle
of the room.

In the living room, as Gregor saw through the crack in
the door, the gas was lit, but where on other occasions at this
time of day the father was accustomed to read the afternoon
newspaper in a loud voice to his mother and sometimes also
to his sister, at the moment not a sound was audible. Now,
perhaps this reading aloud, about which his sister always
spoken and written to him, had recently fallen out of their
general routine. But it was so still all around, in spite of the
fact that the apartment was certainly not empty. ‘What a
quiet life the family leads’, said Gregor to himself and, as he
stared fixedly out in front of him into the darkness, he felt
a great pride that he had been able to provide such a life in
a beautiful apartment like this for his parents and his sister.

But how would things go if now all tranquillity, all prosper-
ity, all contentment should come to a horrible end? In order
not to lose himself in such thoughts, Gregor preferred to set
himself moving and crawled up and down in his room.

Once during the long evening one side door and then the
other door was opened just a tiny crack and quickly closed
again. Someone presumably needed to come in but had then
thought better of it. Gregor immediately took up a position

The Metamorphosis
by the living room door, determined to bring in the hesitant
visitor somehow or other or at least to find out who it might
be. But now the door was not opened any more, and Gregor
waited in vain. Earlier, when the door had been barred, they
had all wanted to come in to him; now, when he had opened
one door and when the others had obviously been opened
during the day, no one came any more, and the keys were
stuck in the locks on the outside.

The light in the living room was turned off only late at
night, and now it was easy to establish that his parents and
his sister had stayed awake all this time, for one could hear
clearly as all three moved away on tiptoe. Now it was cer-
tain that no one would come into Gregor any more until
the morning. Thus, he had a long time to think undisturbed
about how he should reorganize his life from scratch. But
the high, open room, in which he was compelled to lie flat
on the floor, made him anxious, without his being able to
figure out the reason, for he had lived in the room for five
years. With a half unconscious turn and not without a slight
shame he scurried under the couch, where, in spite of the
fact that his back was a little cramped and he could no lon-
ger lift up his head, he felt very comfortable and was sorry
only that his body was too wide to fit completely under it.

There he remained the entire night, which he spent partly
in a state of semi-sleep, out of which his hunger constantly
woke him with a start, but partly in a state of worry and
murky hopes, which all led to the conclusion that for the
time being he would have to keep calm and with patience
and the greatest consideration for his family tolerate the

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troubles which in his present condition he was now forced
to cause them.

Already early in the morning (it was still almost night)

Gregor had an opportunity to test the power of the deci-
sions he had just made, for his sister, almost fully dressed,
opened the door from the hall into his room and looked ea-
gerly inside. She did not find him immediately, but when she
noticed him under the couch (God, he had to be somewhere
or other; for he could hardly fly away) she got such a shock
that, without being able to control herself, she slammed the
door shut once again from the outside. However, as if she
was sorry for her behaviour, she immediately opened the
door again and walked in on her tiptoes, as if she was in
the presence of a serious invalid or a total stranger. Gregor
had pushed his head forward just to the edge of the couch
and was observing her. Would she really notice that he had
left the milk standing, not indeed from any lack of hunger,
and would she bring in something else to eat more suitable
for him? If she did not do it on her own, he would sooner
starve to death than call her attention to the fact, although
he had a really powerful urge to move beyond the couch,
throw himself at his sister’s feet, and beg her for something
or other good to eat. But his sister noticed right away with
astonishment that the bowl was still full, with only a little
milk spilled around it. She picked it up immediately (al-
though not with her bare hands but with a rag), and took
it out of the room. Gregor was extremely curious what she
would bring as a substitute, and he pictured to himself dif-
ferent ideas about that. But he never could have guessed

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The Metamorphosis
what his sister out of the goodness of her heart in fact did.

She brought him, to test his taste, an entire selection, all
spread out on an old newspaper. There were old half-rot-
ten vegetables, bones from the evening meal, covered with
a white sauce which had almost solidified, some raisins
and almonds, cheese, which Gregor had declared inedible
two days earlier, a slice of dry bread, a slice of salted bread
smeared with butter. In addition to all this, she put down a
bowl (probably designated once and for all as Gregor’s) into
which she had poured some water. And out of her delicacy
of feeling, since she knew that Gregor would not eat in front
of her, she went away very quickly and even turned the key
in the lock, so that Gregor could now observe that he could
make himself as comfortable as he wished. Gregor’s small
limbs buzzed as the time for eating had come. His wounds
must, in any case, have already healed completely. He felt
no handicap on that score. He was astonished at that and
thought about it, how more than a month ago he had cut his
finger slightly with a knife and how this wound had hurt
enough even the day before yesterday.

‘Am I now going to be less sensitive,’ he thought, already
sucking greedily on the cheese, which had strongly attract-
ed him right away, more than all the other foods. Quickly
and with his eyes watering with satisfaction, he ate one after
the other the cheese, the vegetables, and the sauce; the fresh
food, by contrast, didn’t taste good to him. He couldn’t bear
the smell and even carried the things he wanted to eat a
little distance away. By the time his sister slowly turned the
key as a sign that he should withdraw, he was long finished

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1
and now lay lazily in the same spot. The noise immediately
startled him, in spite of the fact that he was already almost
asleep, and he scurried back again under the couch. But it
cost him great self-control to remain under the couch, even
for the short time his sister was in the room, because his
body had filled out somewhat on account of the rich meal
and in the narrow space there he could scarcely breathe.

In the midst of minor attacks of asphyxiation, he looked
at her with somewhat protruding eyes, as his unsuspect-
ing sister swept up with a broom, not just the remnants, but
even the foods which Gregor had not touched at all, as if
these were also now useless, and as she dumped everything
quickly into a bucket, which she closed with a wooden lid,
and then carried all of it out of the room. She had hardly
turned around before Gregor had already dragged himself
out from the couch, stretched out, and let his body expand.

In this way Gregor got his food every day, once in the
morning, when his parents and the servant girl were still
asleep, and a second time after the common noon meal, for
his parents were, as before, asleep then for a little while, and
the servant girl was sent off by his sister on some errand
or other. Certainly they would not have wanted Gregor to
starve to death, but perhaps they could not have endured
finding out what he ate other than by hearsay. Perhaps his
sister wanted to spare them what was possibly only a small
grief, for they were really suffering quite enough already.

What sorts of excuses people had used on that first
morning to get the doctor and the locksmith out of the
house Gregor was completely unable to ascertain. Since he

The Metamorphosis
was not comprehensible, no one, not even his sister, thought
that he might be able to understand others, and thus, when
his sister was in her room, he had to be content with listen-
ing now and then to her sighs and invocations to the saints.

Only later, when she had grown somewhat accustomed to
everything (naturally there could never be any talk of her
growing completely accustomed to it) Gregor sometimes
caught a comment which was intended to be friendly or
could be interpreted as such. ‘Well, today it tasted good to
him,’ she said, if Gregor had really cleaned up what he had
to eat; whereas, in the reverse situation, which gradually
repeated itself more and more frequently, she used to say
sadly, ‘Now everything has stopped again.’

But while Gregor could get no new information direct-
ly, he did hear a good deal from the room next door, and
as soon as he heard voices, he scurried right away to the
relevant door and pressed his entire body against it. In
the early days especially, there was no conversation which
was not concerned with him in some way or other, even if
only in secret. For two days at all meal times discussions
on that subject could be heard on how people should now
behave; but they also talked about the same subject in the
times between meals, for there were always at least two
family members at home, since no one really wanted to re-
main in the house alone and people could not under any
circumstances leave the apartment completely empty. In
addition, on the very first day the servant girl (it was not
completely clear what and how much she knew about what
had happened) on her knees had begged his mother to let

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her go immediately, and when she said good bye about fif-
teen minutes later, she thanked them for the dismissal with
tears in her eyes, as if she was receiving the greatest favour
which people had shown her there, and, without anyone de-
manding it from her, she swore a fearful oath not to betray
anyone, not even the slightest bit.

Now his sister had to team up with his mother to do the
cooking, although that didn’t create much trouble because
people were eating almost nothing. Again and again Gregor
listened as one of them vainly invited another one to eat and
received no answer other than ‘Thank you. I have enough’

or something like that. And perhaps they had stopped hav-
ing anything to drink, too. His sister often asked his father
whether he wanted to have a beer and gladly offered to fetch
it herself, and when his father was silent, she said, in order
to remove any reservations he might have, that she could
send the caretaker’s wife to get it. But then his father finally
said a resounding ‘No,’ and nothing more would be spoken
about it.

Already during the first day his father laid out all the
financial circumstances and prospects to his mother and
to his sister as well. From time to time he stood up from
the table and pulled out of the small lockbox salvaged from
his business, which had collapsed five years previously,
some document or other or some notebook. The sound was
audible as he opened up the complicated lock and, after re-
moving what he was looking for, locked it up again. These
explanations by his father were, in part, the first enjoyable
thing that Gregor had the chance to listen to since his im-

The Metamorphosis
prisonment. He had thought that nothing at all was left over
for his father from that business; at least his father had told
him nothing to the contradict that view, and Gregor in any
case hadn’t asked him about it. At the time Gregor’s only
concern had been to devote everything he had in order to
allow his family to forget as quickly as possible the busi-
ness misfortune which had brought them all into a state of
complete hopelessness. And so at that point he’d started
to work with a special intensity and from an assistant had
become, almost overnight, a traveling salesman, who natu-
rally had entirely different possibilities for earning money
and whose successes at work at once were converted into
the form of cash commissions, which could be set out on
the table at home in front of his astonished and delighted
family. Those had been beautiful days, and they had never
come back afterwards, at least not with the same splendour,
in spite of the fact that Gregor later earned so much money
that he was in a position to bear the expenses of the entire
family, expenses which he, in fact, did bear. They had be-
come quite accustomed to it, both the family and Gregor
as well. They took the money with thanks, and he happily
surrendered it, but the special warmth was no longer pres-
ent. Only the sister had remained still close to Gregor, and
it was his secret plan to send her (in contrast to Gregor she
loved music very much and knew how to play the violin
charmingly) next year to the conservatory, regardless of the
great expense which that must necessitate and which would
be made up in other ways. Now and then during Gregor’s
short stays in the city the conservatory was mentioned in

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conversations with his sister, but always only as a beauti-
ful dream, whose realization was unimaginable, and their
parents never listened to these innocent expectations with
pleasure. But Gregor thought about them with scrupulous
consideration and intended to explain the matter ceremoni-
ously on Christmas Eve.

In his present situation, such futile ideas went through
his head, while he pushed himself right up against the
door and listened. Sometimes in his general exhaustion
he couldn’t listen any more and let his head bang listlessly
against the door, but he immediately pulled himself togeth-
er, for even the small sound which he made by this motion
was heard near by and silenced everyone. ‘ There he goes on
again,’ said his father after a while, clearly turning towards
the door, and only then would the interrupted conversation
gradually be resumed again.

Gregor found out clearly enough (for his father tended
to repeat himself often in his explanations, partly because
he had not personally concerned himself with these mat-
ters for a long time now, and partly also because his mother
did not understand everything right away the first time)

that, in spite all bad luck, a fortune, although a very small
one, was available from the old times, which the interest

(which had not been touched) had in the intervening time
gradually allowed to increase a little. Furthermore, in ad-
dition to this, the money which Gregor had brought home
every month (he had kept only a few florins for himself)

had not been completely spent and had grown into a small
capital amount. Gregor, behind his door, nodded eagerly,

The Metamorphosis
rejoicing over this unanticipated foresight and frugality.

True, with this excess money, he could have paid off more
of his father’s debt to his employer and the day on which he
could be rid of this position would have been a lot closer,
but now things were doubtless better the way his father had
arranged them.

At the moment, however, this money was nowhere near
sufficient to permit the family to live on the interest pay-
ments. Perhaps it would be enough to maintain the family
for one or at most two years, that’s all. Thus it came only to
an amount which one should not really take out and which
must be set aside for an emergency. But the money to live
on must be earned. Now, his father was a healthy man, al-
though he was old, who had not worked at all for five years
now and thus could not be counted on for very much. He
had in these five years, the first holidays of his trouble-filled
but unsuccessful life, put on a good deal of fat and thus had
become really heavy. And should his old mother now may-
be work for money, a woman who suffered from asthma,
for whom wandering through the apartment even now was
a great strain and who spent every second day on the sofa
by the open window labouring for breath? Should his sis-
ter earn money, a girl who was still a seventeen-year-old
child, whose earlier life style had been so very delightful
that it had consisted of dressing herself nicely, sleeping in
late, helping around the house, taking part in a few mod-
est enjoyments and, above all, playing the violin? When
it came to talking about this need to earn money, at first

Gregor went away from the door and threw himself on the

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cool leather sofa beside the door, for he was quite hot from
shame and sorrow.

Often he lay there all night long. He didn’t sleep a mo-
ment and just scratched on the leather for hours at a time.

He undertook the very difficult task of shoving a chair over
to the window. Then he crept up on the window sill and,
braced in the chair, leaned against the window to look out,
obviously with some memory or other of the satisfaction
which that used to bring him in earlier times. Actually from
day to day he perceived things with less and less clarity, even
those a short distance away: the hospital across the street,
the all too frequent sight of which he had previously cursed,
was not visible at all any more, and if he had not been pre-
cisely aware that he lived in the quiet but completely urban

Charlotte Street, he could have believed that from his win-
dow he was peering out at a featureless wasteland, in which
the gray heaven and the gray earth had merged and were
indistinguishable. His attentive sister must have observed
a couple of times that the chair stood by the window; then,
after cleaning up the room, each time she pushed the chair
back right against the window and from now on she even
left the inner casement open.

If Gregor had only been able to speak to his sister and
thank her for everything that she had to do for him, he
would have tolerated her service more easily. As it was he
suffered under it. The sister admittedly sought to cover up
the awkwardness of everything as much as possible, and,
as time went by, she naturally got more successful at it. But
with the passing of time Gregor also came to understand

The Metamorphosis
everything more precisely. Even her entrance was terrible
for him. As soon as she entered, she ran straight to the win-
dow, without taking the time to shut the door (in spite of
the fact that she was otherwise very considerate in sparing
anyone the sight of Gregor’s room), and yanked the window
open with eager hands, as if she was almost suffocating, and
remained for a while by the window breathing deeply, even
when it was still so cold. With this running and noise she
frightened Gregor twice every day. The entire time he trem-
bled under the couch, and yet he knew very well that she
would certainly have spared him gladly if it had only been
possible to remain with the window closed in a room where

Gregor lived.

On one occasion (about one month had already gone by
since Gregor’s transformation, and there was now no partic-
ular reason any more for his sister to be startled at Gregor’s
appearance) she came a little earlier than usual and came
upon Gregor as he was still looking out the window, im-
mobile and well positioned to frighten someone. It would
not have come as a surprise to Gregor if she had not come
in, since his position was preventing her from opening the
window immediately. But she not only did not step inside;
she even retreated and shut the door. A stranger really could
have concluded from this that Gregor had been lying in wait
for her and wanted to bite her. Of course, Gregor imme-
diately concealed himself under the couch, but he had to
wait until the noon meal before his sister returned, and she
seemed much less calm than usual. From this he realized
that his appearance was still constantly intolerable to her

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and must remain intolerable in future, and that she real-
ly had to exert a lot of self-control not to run away from a
glimpse of only the small part of his body which stuck out
from under the couch. In order to spare her even this sight,
one day he dragged the sheet on his back onto the couch

(this task took him four hours) and arranged it in such a
way that he was now completely concealed and his sister,
even if she bent down, could not see him. If this sheet was
not necessary as far as she was concerned, then she could
remove it, for it was clear enough that Gregor could not de-
rive any pleasure from isolating himself away so completely.

But she left the sheet just as it was, and Gregor believed he
even caught a look of gratitude when on one occasion he
carefully lifted up the sheet a little with his head to check as
his sister took stock of the new arrangement.

In the first two weeks his parents could not bring
themselves to visit him, and he often heard how they ful-
ly acknowledged his sister’s present work; whereas, earlier
they had often got annoyed at his sister because she had
seemed to them a somewhat useless young woman. Howev-
er, now both his father and his mother often waited in front
of Gregor’s door while his sister cleaned up inside, and as
soon as she came out she had to explain in detail how things
looked in the room, what Gregor had eaten, how he had be-
haved this time, and whether perhaps a slight improvement
was perceptible. In any event, his mother comparatively
soon wanted to visit Gregor, but his father and his sister re-
strained her, at first with reasons which Gregor listened to
very attentively and which he completely endorsed. Later,

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The Metamorphosis
however, they had to hold her back forcefully, and when
she then cried ‘Let me go to Gregor. He’s my unlucky son!

Don’t you understand that I have to go to him?’ Gregor then
thought that perhaps it would be a good thing if his mother
came in, not every day, of course, but maybe once a week.

She understood everything much better than his sister, who
in spite of all her courage was still a child and, in the last
analysis, had perhaps undertaken such a difficult task only
out of childish recklessness.

Gregor’s wish to see his mother was soon realized. While
during the day Gregor, out of consideration for his parents,
did not want to show himself by the window, he couldn’t
crawl around very much on the few square metres of the
floor. He found it difficult to bear lying quietly during the
night, and soon eating no longer gave him the slightest
pleasure. So for diversion he acquired the habit of crawl-
ing back and forth across the walls and ceiling. He was
especially fond of hanging from the ceiling. The experience
was quite different from lying on the floor. It was easier to
breathe, a slight vibration went through his body, and in the
midst of the almost happy amusement which Gregor found
up there, it could happen that, to his own surprise, he let go
and hit the floor. However, now he naturally controlled his
body quite differently, and he did not injure himself in such
a great fall. His sister noticed immediately the new amuse-
ment which Gregor had found for himself (for as he crept
around he left behind here and there traces of his sticky
stuff), and so she got the idea of making Gregor’s creeping
around as easy as possible and thus of removing the furni-

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1
ture which got in the way, especially the chest of drawers
and the writing desk.

But she was in no position to do this by herself. She did
not dare to ask her father to help, and the servant girl would
certainly not have assisted her, for although this girl, about
sixteen years old, had courageously remained since the
dismissal of the previous cook, she had begged for the priv-
ilege of being allowed to stay permanently confined to the
kitchen and of having to open the door only in answer to a
special summons. Thus, his sister had no other choice but
to involve his mother while his father was absent. His moth-
er approached Gregor’s room with cries of excited joy, but
she fell silent at the door. Of course, his sister first checked
whether everything in the room was in order. Only then
did she let his mother walk in. In great haste Gregor had
drawn the sheet down even further and wrinkled it more.

The whole thing really looked just like a coverlet thrown
carelessly over the couch. On this occasion, Gregor held
back from spying out from under the sheet. Thus, he re-
frained from looking at his mother this time and was just
happy that she had come. ‘Come on; he is not visible,’ said
his sister, and evidently led his mother by the hand. Now

Gregor listened as these two weak women shifted the still
heavy old chest of drawers from its position, and as his sis-
ter constantly took on herself the greatest part of the work,
without listening to the warnings of his mother who was
afraid that she would strain herself. The work lasted a long
time. After about a quarter of an hour had already gone by
his mother said that it would be better if they left the chest

The Metamorphosis
of drawers where it was, because, in the first place, it was too
heavy: they would not be finished before his father’s arrival,
and with the chest of drawers in the middle of the room it
would block all Gregor’s pathways, but, in the second place,
it might not be certain that Gregor would be pleased with
the removal of the furniture. To her the reverse seemed to
be true; the sight of the empty walls pierced her right to the
heart, and why should Gregor not feel the same, since he
had been accustomed to the room furnishings for a long
time and in an empty room would thus feel himself aban-
doned.

‘And is it not the case,’ his mother concluded very qui-
etly, almost whispering as if she wished to prevent Gregor,
whose exact location she really didn’t know, from hearing
even the sound of her voice (for she was convinced that he
did not understand her words), ‘and isn’t it a fact that by
removing the furniture we’re showing that we’re giving up
all hope of an improvement and are leaving him to his own
resources without any consideration? I think it would be
best if we tried to keep the room exactly in the condition in
which it was before, so that, when Gregor returns to us, he
finds everything unchanged and can forget the intervening
time all the more easily.’

As he heard his mother’s words Gregor realized that the
lack of all immediate human contact, together with the mo-
notonous life surrounded by the family over the course of
these two months must have confused his understanding,
because otherwise he couldn’t explain to himself that he
in all seriousness could’ve been so keen to have his room

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emptied. Was he really eager to let the warm room, com-
fortably furnished with pieces he had inherited, be turned
into a cavern in which he would, of course, then be able to
crawl about in all directions without disturbance, but at the
same time with a quick and complete forgetting of his hu-
man past as well? Was he then at this point already on the
verge of forgetting and was it only the voice of his mother,
which he had not heard for along time, that had aroused
him? Nothing was to be removed; everything must remain.

In his condition he couldn’t function without the beneficial
influences of his furniture. And if the furniture prevented
him from carrying out his senseless crawling about all over
the place, then there was no harm in that, but rather a great
benefit.

But his sister unfortunately thought otherwise. She had
grown accustomed, certainly not without justification, so
far as the discussion of matters concerning Gregor was
concerned, to act as an special expert with respect to their
parents, and so now the mother’s advice was for his sister
sufficient reason to insist on the removal, not only of the
chest of drawers and the writing desk, which were the only
items she had thought about at first, but also of all the fur-
niture, with the exception of the indispensable couch. Of
course, it was not only childish defiance and her recent very
unexpected and hard won self-confidence which led her to
this demand. She had also actually observed that Gregor
needed a great deal of room to creep about; the furniture,
on the other hand, as far as one could see, was not of the
slightest use.

The Metamorphosis

But perhaps the enthusiastic sensibility of young women
of her age also played a role. This feeling sought release at
every opportunity, and with it Grete now felt tempted to
want to make Gregor’s situation even more terrifying, so
that then she would be able to do even more for him than
now. For surely no one except Grete would ever trust them-
selves to enter a room in which Gregor ruled the empty
walls all by himself. And so she did not let herself be dis-
suaded from her decision by her mother, who in this room
seemed uncertain of herself in her sheer agitation and soon
kept quiet, helping his sister with all her energy to get the
chest of drawers out of the room. Now, Gregor could still
do without the chest of drawers if need be, but the writing
desk really had to stay. And scarcely had the women left the
room with the chest of drawers, groaning as they pushed
it, when Gregor stuck his head out from under the sofa to
take a look how he could intervene cautiously and with as
much consideration as possible. But unfortunately it was his
mother who came back into the room first, while Grete had
her arms wrapped around the chest of drawers in the next
room and was rocking it back and forth by herself, without
moving it from its position. His mother was not used to the
sight of Gregor; he could have made her ill, and so, fright-
ened, Gregor scurried backwards right to the other end of
the sofa, but he could no longer prevent the sheet from mov-
ing forward a little. That was enough to catch his mother’s
attention. She came to a halt, stood still for a moment, and
then went back to Grete.

Although Gregor kept repeating to himself over and

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over that really nothing unusual was going on, that only
a few pieces of furniture were being rearranged, he soon
had to admit to himself that the movements of the wom-
en to and fro, their quiet conversations, the scratching of
the furniture on the floor affected him like a great swollen
commotion on all sides, and, so firmly was he pulling in his
head and legs and pressing his body into the floor, he had
to tell himself unequivocally that he wouldn’t be able to en-
dure all this much longer. They were cleaning out his room,
taking away from him everything he cherished; they had
already dragged out the chest of drawers in which the fret
saw and other tools were kept, and they were now loosening
the writing desk which was fixed tight to the floor, the desk
on which he, as a business student, a school student, in-
deed even as an elementary school student, had written out
his assignments. At that moment he really didn’t have any
more time to check the good intentions of the two women,
whose existence he had in any case almost forgotten, be-
cause in their exhaustion they were working really silently,
and the heavy stumbling of their feet was the only sound to
be heard.

And so he scuttled out (the women were just propping
themselves up on the writing desk in the next room in or-
der to take a breather) changing the direction of his path
four times. He really didn’t know what he should rescue
first. Then he saw hanging conspicuously on the wall, which
was otherwise already empty, the picture of the woman
dressed in nothing but fur. He quickly scurried up over it
and pressed himself against the glass that held it in place

The Metamorphosis
and which made his hot abdomen feel good. At least this
picture, which Gregor at the moment completely concealed,
surely no one would now take away. He twisted his head to-
wards the door of the living room to observe the women as
they came back in.

They had not allowed themselves very much rest and
were coming back right away. Grete had placed her arm
around her mother and held her tightly. ‘So what shall we
take now?’ said Grete and looked around her. Then her
glance crossed with Gregor’s from the wall. She kept her
composure only because her mother was there. She bent her
face towards her mother in order to prevent her from look-
ing around, and said, although in a trembling voice and too
quickly, ‘Come, wouldn’t it be better to go back to the living
room for just another moment?’ Grete’s purpose was clear
to Gregor: she wanted to bring his mother to a safe place
and then chase him down from the wall. Well, let her just
attempt that! He squatted on his picture and did not hand it
over. He would sooner spring into Grete’s face.

But Grete’s words had immediately made the moth-
er very uneasy. She walked to the side, caught sight of the
enormous brown splotch on the flowered wallpaper, and,
before she became truly aware that what she was looking
at was Gregor, screamed out in a high pitched raw voice

‘Oh God, oh God’ and fell with outstretched arms, as if she
was surrendering everything, down onto the couch and lay
there motionless. ‘Gregor, you …,’ cried out his sister with
a raised fist and an urgent glare. Since his transformation
those were the first words which she had directed right at

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him. She ran into the room next door to bring some spir-
its or other with which she could revive her mother from
her fainting spell. Gregor wanted to help as well (there was
time enough to save the picture), but he was stuck fast on
the glass and had to tear himself loose forcefully. Then he
also scurried into the next room, as if he could give his sis-
ter some advice, as in earlier times, but then he had to stand
there idly behind her, while she rummaged about among
various small bottles. Still, she was frightened when she
turned around. A bottle fell onto the floor and shattered.

A splinter of glass wounded Gregor in the face, some cor-
rosive medicine or other dripped over him. Now, without
lingering any longer, Grete took as many small bottles as
she could hold and ran with them into her mother. She
slammed the door shut with her foot. Gregor was now shut
off from his mother, who was perhaps near death, thanks
to him. He could not open the door, and he did not want to
chase away his sister who had to remain with her mother. At
this point he had nothing to do but wait, and overwhelmed
with self-reproach and worry, he began to creep and crawl
over everything: walls, furniture, and ceiling,. Finally, in
his despair, as the entire room started to spin around him,
he fell onto the middle of the large table.

A short time elapsed. Gregor lay there limply. All around
was still. Perhaps that was a good sign. Then there was ring
at the door. The servant girl was naturally shut up in her
kitchen, and Grete must therefore go to open the door. The
father had arrived. ‘What’s happened,’ were his first words.

Grete’s appearance had told him everything. Grete replied

The Metamorphosis
with a dull voice; evidently she was pressing her face into
her father’s chest: ‘Mother fainted, but she’s getting better
now. Gregor has broken loose.’ ‘Yes, I have expected that,’

said his father, ‘I always told you that, but you women don’t
want to listen.’

It was clear to Gregor that his father had badly mis-
understood Grete’s short message and was assuming that

Gregor had committed some violent crime or other. Thus,

Gregor now had to find his father to calm him down, for he
had neither the time nor the opportunity to clarify things
for him. And so he rushed away to the door of his room and
pushed himself against it, so that his father could see right
away as he entered from the hall that Gregor fully intended
to return at once to his room, that it was not necessary to
drive him back, but that one only needed to open the door
and he would disappear immediately.

But his father was not in the mood to observe such nice-
ties. ‘Ah,’ he yelled as soon as he entered, with a tone as if he
were all at once angry and pleased. Gregor pulled his head
back from the door and raised it in the direction of his fa-
ther. He had not really pictured his father as he now stood
there. Of course, what with his new style of creeping all
around, he had in the past while neglected to pay attention
to what was going on in the rest of the apartment, as he had
done before, and really should have grasped the fact that
he would encounter different conditions. Nevertheless, nev-
ertheless, was that still his father? Was that the same man
who had lain exhausted and buried in bed in earlier days
when Gregor was setting out on a business trip, who had re-

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ceived him on the evenings of his return in a sleeping gown
and arm chair, totally incapable of standing up, who had
only lifted his arm as a sign of happiness, and who in their
rare strolls together a few Sundays a year and on the impor-
tant holidays made his way slowly forwards between Gregor
and his mother (who themselves moved slowly), always a
bit more slowly than them, bundled up in his old coat, all
the time setting down his walking stick carefully, and who,
when he had wanted to say something, almost always stood
still and gathered his entourage around him?

But now he was standing up really straight, dressed in a
tight fitting blue uniform with gold buttons, like the ones
servants wear in a banking company. Above the high stiff
collar of his jacket his firm double chin stuck out promi-
nently, beneath his bushy eyebrows the glance of his black
eyes was freshly penetrating and alert, his otherwise di-
sheveled white hair was combed down into a carefully exact
shining part. He threw his cap, on which a gold monogram

(apparently the symbol of the bank) was affixed, in an arc
across the entire room onto the sofa and moved, throwing
back the edge of the long coat of his uniform, with his hands
in his trouser pockets and a grim face, right up to Gregor.

He really didn’t know what he had in mind, but he raised
his foot uncommonly high anyway, and Gregor was aston-
ished at the gigantic size of his sole of his boot. However,
he did not linger on that point. For he knew from the first
day of his new life that as far as he was concerned his father
considered the greatest force the only appropriate response.

And so he scurried away from his father, stopped when his

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The Metamorphosis
father remained standing, and scampered forward again
when his father merely stirred. In this way they made their
way around the room repeatedly, without anything decisive
taking place; indeed because of the slow pace it didn’t look
like a chase. Gregor remained on the floor for the time be-
ing, especially as he was afraid that his father could take a
flight up onto the wall or the ceiling as an act of real mal-
ice. At any event Gregor had to tell himself that he couldn’t
keep up this running around for a long time, because when-
ever his father took a single step, he had to go through an
enormous number of movements. Already he was starting
to suffer from a shortage of breath, just as in his earlier days
his lungs had been quite unreliable. As he now staggered
around in this way in order to gather all his energies for
running, hardly keeping his eyes open, in his listlessness he
had no notion at all of any escape other than by running and
had almost already forgotten that the walls were available
to him, although they were obstructed by carefully carved
furniture full of sharp points and spikes—at that moment
something or other thrown casually flew down close by and
rolled in front of him. It was an apple; immediately a second
one flew after it. Gregor stood still in fright. Further flight
was useless, for his father had decided to bombard him.

From the fruit bowl on the sideboard his father had filled
his pockets, and now, without for the moment taking ac-
curate aim, was throwing apple after apple. These small
red apples rolled as if electrified around on the floor and
collided with each other. A weakly thrown apple grazed

Gregor’s back but skidded off harmlessly. However anoth-

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1
er thrown immediately after that one drove into Gregor’s
back really hard. Gregor wanted to drag himself off, as if
the unexpected and incredible pain would go away if he
changed his position. But he felt as if he was nailed in place
and lay stretched out completely confused in all his sens-
es. Only with his final glance did he notice how the door
of his room was pulled open and how, right in front of his
sister (who was yelling), his mother ran out in her under-
garments, for his sister had undressed her in order to give
her some freedom to breathe in her fainting spell, and how
his mother then ran up to his father, on the way her tied up
skirts one after the other slipped toward the floor, and how,
tripping over her skirts, she hurled herself onto his father
and, throwing her arms around him, in complete union
with him—but at this moment Gregor’s powers of sight gave
way—as her hands reached to the back of his father’s head
and she begged him to spare Gregor’s life.

The Metamorphosis

III

Gregor’s serious wound, from which he suffered for over
a month (since no one ventured to remove the apple, it
remained in his flesh as a visible reminder), seemed by it-
self to have reminded the father that, in spite of his present
unhappy and hateful appearance, Gregor was a member of
the family, something one should not treat as an enemy, and
that it was, on the contrary, a requirement of family duty to
suppress one’s aversion and to endure—nothing else, just
endure. And if through his wound Gregor had now appar-
ently lost for good his ability to move and for the time being
needed many many minutes to crawl across this room, like
an aged invalid (so far as creeping up high was concerned,
that was unimaginable), nevertheless for this worsening of
his condition, in his opinion, he did get completely satisfac-
tory compensation, because every day towards evening the
door to the living room, which he was in the habit of keep-
ing a sharp eye on even one or two hours beforehand, was
opened, so that he, lying down in the darkness of his room,
invisible from the living room, could see the entire family
at the illuminated table and listen to their conversation, to
a certain extent with their common permission, a situation
quite different from what happened before.

Of course, it was no longer the animated social inter-
action of former times, about which Gregor in small hotel

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rooms had always thought about with a certain longing,
when, tired out, he had to throw himself in the damp bed-
clothes. For the most part what went on now was very quiet.

After the evening meal the father fell asleep quickly in his
arm chair; the mother and sister talked guardedly to each
other in the stillness. Bent far over, the mother sewed fine
undergarments for a fashion shop. The sister, who had taken
on a job as a salesgirl, in the evening studied stenography
and French, so as perhaps later to obtain a better position.

Sometimes the father woke up and, as if he was quite ig-
norant that he had been asleep, said to the mother ‘How
long you have been sewing today!’ and went right back to
sleep, while the mother and the sister smiled tiredly to each
other.

With a sort of stubbornness the father refused to take
off his servant’s uniform even at home, and while his sleep-
ing gown hung unused on the coat hook, the father dozed
completely dressed in his place, as if he was always ready for
his responsibility and even here was waiting for the voice of
his superior. As result, in spite of all the care of the mother
and sister, his uniform, which even at the start was not new,
grew dirty, and Gregor looked, often for the entire evening,
at this clothing, with stains all over it and with its gold but-
tons always polished, in which the old man, although very
uncomfortable, slept peacefully nonetheless.

As soon as the clock struck ten, the mother tried encour-
aging the father gently to wake up and then persuading him
to go to bed, on the ground that he couldn’t get a proper
sleep here and the father, who had to report for service at six

The Metamorphosis
o’clock, really needed a good sleep. But in his stubbornness,
which had gripped him since he had become a servant, he
insisted always on staying even longer by the table, although
he regularly fell asleep and then could only be prevailed
upon with the greatest difficulty to trade his chair for the
bed. No matter how much the mother and sister might at
that point work on him with small admonitions, for a quar-
ter of an hour he would remain shaking his head slowly, his
eyes closed, without standing up. The mother would pull
him by the sleeve and speak flattering words into his ear;
the sister would leave her work to help her mother, but that
would not have the desired effect on the father. He would
settle himself even more deeply in his arm chair. Only when
the two women grabbed him under the armpits would he
throw his eyes open, look back and forth at the mother and
sister, and habitually say ‘This is a life. This is the peace and
quiet of my old age.’ And propped up by both women, he
would heave himself up, elaborately, as if for him it was the
greatest travail, allow himself to be led to the door by the
women, wave them away there, and proceed on his own
from there, while the mother quickly threw down her sew-
ing implements and the sister her pen in order to run after
the father and help him some more.

In this overworked and exhausted family who had time
to worry any longer about Gregor more than was absolutely
necessary? The household was constantly getting small-
er. The servant girl was now let go. A huge bony cleaning
woman with white hair flapping all over her head came in
the morning and the evening to do the heaviest work. The

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mother took care of everything else in addition to her con-
siderable sewing work. It even happened that various pieces
of family jewelry, which previously the mother and sister
had been overjoyed to wear on social and festive occasions,
were sold, as Gregor found out in the evening from the
general discussion of the prices they had fetched. But the
greatest complaint was always that they could not leave this
apartment, which was too big for their present means, since
it was impossible to imagine how Gregor might be moved.

But Gregor fully recognized that it was not just consider-
ation for him which was preventing a move (for he could
have been transported easily in a suitable box with a few
air holes); the main thing holding the family back from
a change in living quarters was far more their complete
hopelessness and the idea that they had been struck by a
misfortune like no one else in their entire circle of relatives
and acquaintances.

What the world demands of poor people they now car-
ried out to an extreme degree. The father bought breakfast
to the petty officials at the bank, the mother sacrificed her-
self for the undergarments of strangers, the sister behind
her desk was at the beck and call of customers, but the fam-
ily’s energies did not extend any further. And the wound
in his back began to pain Gregor all over again, when now
mother and sister, after they had escorted the father to bed,
came back, let their work lie, moved close together, and sat
cheek to cheek and when his mother would now say, point-
ing to Gregor’s room, ‘Close the door, Grete,’ and when

Gregor was again in the darkness, while close by the women

The Metamorphosis
mingled their tears or, quite dry eyed, stared at the table.

Gregor spent his nights and days with hardly any sleep.

Sometimes he thought that the next time the door opened
he would take over the family arrangements just as he had
earlier. In his imagination appeared again, after a long time,
his employer and supervisor and the apprentices, the exces-
sively gormless custodian, two or three friends from other
businesses, a chambermaid from a hotel in the provinces, a
loving fleeting memory, a female cashier from a hat shop,
whom he had seriously, but too slowly courted—they all ap-
peared mixed in with strangers or people he had already
forgotten, but instead of helping him and his family, they
were all unapproachable, and he was happy to see them dis-
appear.

But then he was in no mood to worry about his fami-
ly. He was filled with sheer anger over the wretched care
he was getting, even though he couldn’t imagine anything
for which he might have an appetite. Still, he made plans
about how he could take from the larder what he at all ac-
count deserved, even if he wasn’t hungry. Without thinking
any more about how one might be able to give Gregor spe-
cial pleasure, the sister now kicked some food or other very
quickly into his room in the morning and at noon, before
she ran off to her shop, and in the evening, quite indiffer-
ent about whether the food had perhaps only been tasted or,
what happened most frequently, remained entirely undis-
turbed, she whisked it out with one sweep of her broom. The
task of cleaning his room, which she now always carried out
in the evening, could not be done any more quickly. Streaks

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of dirt ran along the walls; here and there lay tangles of dust
and garbage. At first, when his sister arrived, Gregor posi-
tioned himself in a particularly filthy corner in order with
this posture to make something of a protest. But he could
have well stayed there for weeks without his sister’s chang-
ing her ways. Indeed, she perceived the dirt as much as he
did, but she had decided just to let it stay.

In this business, with a touchiness which was quite new
to her and which had generally taken over the entire fam-
ily, she kept watch to see that the cleaning of Gregor’s room
remained reserved for her. Once his mother had undertak-
en a major cleaning of Gregor’s room, which she had only
completed successfully after using a few buckets of water.

But the extensive dampness made Gregor sick and he lay
supine, embittered and immobile on the couch. However,
the mother’s punishment was not delayed for long. For in
the evening the sister had hardly observed the change in

Gregor’s room before she ran into the living room might-
ily offended and, in spite of her mother’s hand lifted high in
entreaty, broke out in a fit of crying. Her parents (the father
had, of course, woken up with a start in his arm chair) at
first looked at her astonished and helpless; until they start-
ed to get agitated. Turning to his right, the father heaped
reproaches on the mother that she was not to take over the
cleaning of Gregor’s room from the sister and, turning to
his left, he shouted at the sister that she would no longer
be allowed to clean Gregor’s room ever again, while the
mother tried to pull the father, beside himself in his excite-
ment, into the bed room; the sister, shaken by her crying fit,

The Metamorphosis
pounded on the table with her tiny fists, and Gregor hissed
at all this, angry that no one thought about shutting the
door and sparing him the sight of this commotion.

But even when the sister, exhausted from her daily work,
had grown tired of caring for Gregor as she had before,
even then the mother did not have to come at all on her be-
half. And Gregor did not have to be neglected. For now the
cleaning woman was there. This old widow, who in her long
life must have managed to survive the worst with the help
of her bony frame, had no real horror of Gregor. Without
being in the least curious, she had once by chance opened

Gregor’s door. At the sight of Gregor, who, totally surprised,
began to scamper here and there, although no one was
chasing him, she remained standing with her hands folded
across her stomach staring at him. Since then she did not
fail to open the door furtively a little every morning and
evening to look in on Gregor. At first, she also called him to
her with words which she presumably thought were friend-
ly, like ‘Come here for a bit, old dung beetle!’ or ‘Hey, look
at the old dung beetle!’ Addressed in such a manner, Gregor
answered nothing, but remained motionless in his place,
as if the door had not been opened at all. If only, instead
of allowing this cleaning woman to disturb him uselessly
whenever she felt like it, they had instead given her orders
to clean up his room every day! One day in the early morn-
ing (a hard downpour, perhaps already a sign of the coming
spring, struck the window panes) when the cleaning woman
started up once again with her usual conversation, Gregor
was so bitter that he turned towards her, as if for an attack,

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although slowly and weakly. But instead of being afraid of
him, the cleaning woman merely lifted up a chair standing
close by the door and, as she stood there with her mouth
wide open, her intention was clear: she would close her
mouth only when the chair in her hand had been thrown
down on Gregor’s back. ‘This goes no further, all right?’

she asked, as Gregor turned himself around again, and she
placed the chair calmly back in the corner.

Gregor ate hardly anything any more. Only when he
chanced to move past the food which had been prepared
did he, as a game, take a bit into his mouth, hold it there for
hours, and generally spit it out again. At first he thought it
might be his sadness over the condition of his room which
kept him from eating, but he very soon became reconciled
to the alterations in his room. People had grown accus-
tomed to put into storage in his room things which they
couldn’t put anywhere else, and at this point there were
many such things, now that they had rented one room of
the apartment to three lodgers. These solemn gentlemen (all
three had full beards, as Gregor once found out through a
crack in the door) were meticulously intent on tidiness, not
only in their own room but (since they had now rented a
room here) in the entire household, and particularly in the
kitchen. They simply did not tolerate any useless or shoddy
stuff. Moreover, for the most part they had brought with
them their own pieces of furniture. Thus, many items had
become superfluous, and these were not really things one
could sell or things people wanted to throw out. All these
items ended up in Gregor’s room, even the box of ashes and

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The Metamorphosis
the garbage pail from the kitchen. The cleaning woman,
always in a hurry, simply flung anything that was mo-
mentarily useless into Gregor’s room. Fortunately Gregor
generally saw only the relevant object and the hand which
held it. The cleaning woman perhaps was intending, when
time and opportunity allowed, to take the stuff out again or
to throw everything out all at once, but in fact the things re-
mained lying there, wherever they had ended up at the first
throw, unless Gregor squirmed his way through the accu-
mulation of junk and moved it. At first he was forced to do
this because otherwise there was no room for him to creep
around, but later he did it with a with a growing pleasure,
although after such movements, tired to death and feeling
wretched, he didn’t budge for hours.

Because the lodgers sometimes also took their evening
meal at home in the common living room, the door to the
living room stayed shut on many evenings. But Gregor had
no trouble at all going without the open door. Already on
many evenings when it was open he had not availed himself
of it, but, without the family noticing, was stretched out in
the darkest corner of his room. However, once the cleaning
woman had left the door to the living room slightly ajar, and
it remained open even when the lodgers came in in the eve-
ning and the lights were put on. They sat down at the head
of the table, where in earlier days the mother, the father, and

Gregor had eaten, unfolded their serviettes, and picked up
their knives and forks. The mother immediately appeared
in the door with a dish of meat and right behind her the sis-
ter with a dish piled high with potatoes. The food gave off a

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1
lot of steam. The gentlemen lodgers bent over the plate set
before them, as if they wanted to check it before eating, and
in fact the one who sat in the middle (for the other two he
seemed to serve as the authority) cut off a piece of meat still
on the plate obviously to establish whether it was sufficient-
ly tender and whether or not something should be shipped
back to the kitchen. He was satisfied, and mother and sister,
who had looked on in suspense, began to breathe easily and
to smile.

The family itself ate in the kitchen. In spite of that, be-
fore the father went into the kitchen, he came into the room
and with a single bow, cap in hand, made a tour of the table.

The lodgers rose up collectively and murmured something
in their beards. Then, when they were alone, they ate almost
in complete silence. It seemed odd to Gregor that out of all
the many different sorts of sounds of eating, what was al-
ways audible was their chewing teeth, as if by that Gregor
should be shown that people needed their teeth to eat and
that nothing could be done even with the most handsome
toothless jawbone. ‘I really do have an appetite,’ Gregor said
to himself sorrowfully, ‘but not for these things. How these
lodgers stuff themselves, and I am dying.’

On this very evening (Gregor didn’t remember hear-
ing the violin all through this period) it sounded from the
kitchen. The lodgers had already ended their night meal, the
middle one had pulled out a newspaper and had given each
of the other two a page, and they were now leaning back,
reading and smoking. When the violin started playing, they
became attentive, got up, and went on tiptoe to the hall door,

The Metamorphosis
at which they remained standing pressed up against one
another. They must have been audible from the kitchen, be-
cause the father called out ‘Perhaps the gentlemen don’t like
the playing? It can be stopped at once.’ ‘On the contrary,’

stated the lodger in the middle, ‘might the young woman
not come into us and play in the room here where it is re-
ally much more comfortable and cheerful?’ ‘Oh, thank you,’

cried out the father, as if he were the one playing the violin.

The men stepped back into the room and waited. Soon the
father came with the music stand, the mother with the sheet
music, and the sister with the violin. The sister calmly pre-
pared everything for the recital. The parents, who had never
previously rented a room and therefore exaggerated their
politeness to the lodgers, dared not sit on their own chairs.

The father leaned against the door, his right hand stuck be-
tween two buttons of his buttoned up uniform. The mother,
however, accepted a chair offered by one lodger. Since she
left the chair sit where the gentleman had chanced to put it,
she sat to one side in a corner.

The sister began to play. The father and mother, followed
attentively, one on each side, the movements of her hands.

Attracted by the playing, Gregor had ventured to advance
a little further forward and his head was already in the liv-
ing room. He scarcely wondered about the fact that recently
he had had so little consideration for the others; earlier this
consideration had been something he was proud of. And for
that very reason he would’ve had at this moment more rea-
son to hide away, because as a result of the dust which lay
all over his room and flew around with the slightest move-

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ment, he was totally covered in dirt. On his back and his
sides he carted around with him dust, threads, hair, and
remnants of food. His indifference to everything was much
too great for him to lie on his back and scour himself on the
carpet, as he often had done earlier during the day. In spite
of his condition he had no timidity about inching forward a
bit on the spotless floor of the living room.

In any case, no one paid him any attention. The fam-
ily was all caught up in the violin playing. The lodgers, by
contrast, who for the moment had placed themselves, their
hands in their trouser pockets, behind the music stand
much too close to the sister, so that they could all see the
sheet music, something that must certainly bother the sis-
ter, soon drew back to the window conversing in low voices
with bowed heads, where they then remained, worriedly
observed by the father. It now seemed really clear that, hav-
ing assumed they were to hear a beautiful or entertaining
violin recital, they were disappointed, and were allowing
their peace and quiet to be disturbed only out of politeness.

The way in which they all blew the smoke from their cigars
out of their noses and mouths in particular led one to con-
clude that they were very irritated. And yet his sister was
playing so beautifully. Her face was turned to the side, her
gaze followed the score intently and sadly. Gregor crept for-
ward still a little further and kept his head close against the
floor in order to be able to catch her gaze if possible. Was he
an animal that music so seized him? For him it was as if the
way to the unknown nourishment he craved was revealing
itself to him. He was determined to press forward right to

The Metamorphosis
his sister, to tug at her dress and to indicate to her in this
way that she might still come with her violin into his room,
because here no one valued the recital as he wanted to value
it. He did not wish to let her go from his room any more,
at least not as long as he lived. His frightening appearance
would for the first time become useful for him. He want-
ed to be at all the doors of his room simultaneously and
snarl back at the attackers. However, his sister should not
be compelled but would remain with him voluntarily; she
would sit next to him on the sofa, bend down her ear to him,
and he would then confide in her that he firmly intended
to send her to the conservatory and that, if his misfortune
had not arrived in the interim, he would have declared all
this last Christmas (had Christmas really already come and
gone?), and would have brooked no argument. After this
explanation his sister would break out in tears of emotion,
and Gregor would lift himself up to her armpit and kiss her
throat, which she, from the time she started going to work,
had left exposed without a band or a collar.

‘Mr. Samsa,’ called out the middle lodger to the father,
and pointed his index finger, without uttering a further
word, at Gregor as he was moving slowly forward. The vio-
lin fell silent. The middle lodger smiled, first shaking his
head once at his friends, and then looked down at Gregor
once more. Rather than driving Gregor back again, the fa-
ther seemed to consider it of prime importance to calm
down the lodgers, although they were not at all upset and

Gregor seemed to entertain them more than the violin re-
cital. The father hurried over to them and with outstretched

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arms tried to push them into their own room and simulta-
neously to block their view of Gregor with his own body.

At this point they became really somewhat irritated, al-
though one no longer knew whether that was because of the
father’s behaviour or because of knowledge they had just ac-
quired that they had had, without knowing it, a neighbour
like Gregor. They demanded explanations from his father,
raised their arms to make their points, tugged agitatedly
at their beards, and moved back towards their room quite
slowly. In the meantime, the isolation which had suddenly
fallen upon his sister after the sudden breaking off of the
recital had overwhelmed her. She had held onto the violin
and bow in her limp hands for a little while and had contin-
ued to look at the sheet music as if she was still playing. All
at once she pulled herself together, placed the instrument
in her mother’s lap (the mother was still sitting in her chair
having trouble breathing and with her lungs labouring) and
had run into the next room, which the lodgers, pressured
by the father, were already approaching more rapidly. One
could observe how under the sister’s practiced hands the
sheets and pillows on the beds were thrown on high and
arranged. Even before the lodgers had reached the room,
she was finished fixing the beds and was slipping out. The
father seemed so gripped once again with his stubbornness
that he forgot about the respect which he always owed to
his renters. He pressed on and on, until at the door of the
room the middle gentleman stamped loudly with his foot
and thus brought the father to a standstill. ‘I hereby de-
clare,’ the middle lodger said, raising his hand and casting

The Metamorphosis
his glance both on the mother and the sister, ‘that consider-
ing the disgraceful conditions prevailing in this apartment
and family,’ with this he spat decisively on the floor, ‘I im-
mediately cancel my room. I will, of course, pay nothing
at all for the days which I have lived here; on the contrary

I shall think about whether or not I will initiate some sort
of action against you, something which—believe me— will
be very easy to establish.’ He fell silent and looked directly
in front of him, as if he was waiting for something. In fact,
his two friends immediately joined in with their opinions,

‘We also give immediate notice.’ At that he seized the door
handle, banged the door shut, and locked it.

The father groped his way tottering to his chair and let
himself fall in it. It looked as if he was stretching out for his
usual evening snooze, but the heavy nodding of his head

(which looked as if it was without support) showed that he
was not sleeping at all. Gregor had lain motionless the entire
time in the spot where the lodgers had caught him. Disap-
pointment with the collapse of his plan and perhaps also
his weakness brought on his severe hunger made it impos-
sible for him to move. He was certainly afraid that a general
disaster would break over him at any moment, and he wait-
ed. He was not even startled when the violin fell from the
mother’s lap, out from under her trembling fingers, and
gave off a reverberating tone.

‘My dear parents,’ said the sister banging her hand on
the table by way of an introduction, ‘things cannot go on
any longer in this way. Maybe if you don’t understand that,
well, I do. I will not utter my brother’s name in front of this

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monster, and thus I say only that we must try to get rid of
it. We have tried what is humanly possible to take care of it
and to be patient. I believe that no one can criticize us in the
slightest.’ ‘She is right in a thousand ways,’ said the father
to himself. The mother, who was still incapable of breath-
ing properly, began to cough numbly with her hand held up
over her mouth and a manic expression in her eyes.

The sister hurried over to her mother and held her fore-
head. The sister’s words seemed to have led the father to
certain reflections. He sat upright, played with his uniform
hat among the plates, which still lay on the table from the
lodgers’ evening meal, and looked now and then at the mo-
tionless Gregor.

‘We must try to get rid of it,’ the sister now said decisively
to the father, for the mother, in her coughing fit, wasn’t lis-
tening to anything, ‘it is killing you both. I see it coming.

When people have to work as hard as we all do, they can-
not also tolerate this endless torment at home. I just can’t
go on any more.’ And she broke out into such a crying fit
that her tears flowed out down onto her mother’s face. She
wiped them off her mother with mechanical motions of her
hands.

‘Child,’ said the father sympathetically and with obvious
appreciation, ‘then what should we do?’

The sister only shrugged her shoulders as a sign of the
perplexity which, in contrast to her previous confidence,
had come over her while she was crying.

‘If only he understood us,’ said the father in a semi-ques-
tioning tone. The sister, in the midst of her sobbing, shook

The Metamorphosis
her hand energetically as a sign that there was no point
thinking of that.

‘If he only understood us,’ repeated the father and by
shutting his eyes he absorbed the sister’s conviction of the
impossibility of this point, ‘then perhaps some compromise
would be possible with him. But as it is …’

‘It must be gotten rid of,’ cried the sister; ‘That is the only
way, father. You must try to get rid of the idea that this is

Gregor. The fact that we have believed for so long, that is
truly our real misfortune. But how can it be Gregor? If it
were Gregor, he would have long ago realized that a com-
munal life among human beings is not possible with such
an animal and would have gone away voluntarily. Then we
would not have a brother, but we could go on living and
honour his memory. But this animal plagues us. It drives
away the lodgers, will obviously take over the entire apart-
ment, and leave us to spend the night in the alley. Just look,
father,’ she suddenly cried out, ‘he’s already starting up
again.’ With a fright which was totally incomprehensible to

Gregor, the sister even left the mother, pushed herself away
from her chair, as if she would sooner sacrifice her mother
than remain in Gregor’s vicinity, and rushed behind her fa-
ther who, excited merely by her behaviour, also stood up
and half raised his arms in front of the sister as though to
protect her.

But Gregor did not have any notion of wishing to cre-
ate problems for anyone and certainly not for his sister. He
had just started to turn himself around in order to creep
back into his room, quite a startling sight, since, as a result

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of his suffering condition, he had to guide himself through
the difficulty of turning around with his head, in this pro-
cess lifting and banging it against the floor several times.

He paused and looked around. His good intentions seem
to have been recognized. The fright had only lasted for a
moment. Now they looked at him in silence and sorrow.

His mother lay in her chair, with her legs stretched out and
pressed together; her eyes were almost shut from weariness.

The father and sister sat next to one another. The sister had
set her hands around the father’s neck.

‘ Now perhaps I can actually turn myself around,’

thought Gregor and began the task again. He couldn’t stop
puffing at the effort and had to rest now and then.

Besides no on was urging him on. It was all left to him
on his own. When he had completed turning around, he
immediately began to wander straight back. He was aston-
ished at the great distance which separated him from his
room and did not understand in the least how in his weak-
ness he had covered the same distance a short time before,
almost without noticing it. Constantly intent only on creep-
ing along quickly, he hardly paid any attention to the fact
that no word or cry from his family interrupted him.

Only when he was already in the door did he turn his
head, not completely, because he felt his neck growing
stiff. At any rate he still saw that behind him nothing had
changed. Only the sister was standing up. His last glimpse
brushed over the mother who was now completely asleep.

Hardly was he inside his room when the door was pushed
shut very quickly, bolted fast, and barred. Gregor was star-

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The Metamorphosis
tled by the sudden commotion behind him, so much so that
his little limbs bent double under him. It was his sister who
had been in such a hurry. She had stood up right away, had
waited, and had then sprung forward nimbly. Gregor had
not heard anything of her approach. She cried out ‘Finally!’

to her parents, as she turned the key in the lock.

‘What now?’ Gregor asked himself and looked around
him in the darkness. He soon made the discovery that he
could no longer move at all. He was not surprised at that.

On the contrary, it struck him as unnatural that he had re-
ally been able up to this point to move around with these
thin little legs. Besides he felt relatively content. True, he
had pains throughout his entire body, but it seemed to him
that they were gradually becoming weaker and weaker and
would finally go away completely. The rotten apple in his
back and the inflamed surrounding area, entirely covered
with white dust, he hardly noticed. He remembered his
family with deep feeling and love. In this business, his own
thought that he had to disappear was, if possible, even more
decisive than his sister’s. He remained in this state of empty
and peaceful reflection until the tower clock struck three
o’clock in the morning. From the window he witnessed the
beginning of the general dawning outside. Then without
willing it, his head sank all the way down, and from his nos-
trils flowed out weakly out his last breath.

Early in the morning the cleaning woman came. In her
sheer energy and haste she banged all the doors (in pre-
cisely the way people had already asked her to avoid), so
much so that once she arrived a quiet sleep was no longer

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1
possible anywhere in the entire apartment. In her custom-
arily brief visit to Gregor she at first found nothing special.

She thought he lay so immobile there intending to play the
offended party. She gave him credit for as complete an un-
derstanding as possible. Because she happened to hold the
long broom in her hand, she tried to tickle Gregor with it
from the door. When that was quite unsuccessful, she be-
came irritated and poked Gregor a little, and only when she
had shoved him from his place without any resistance did
she become attentive. When she quickly realized the true
state of affairs, her eyes grew large, she whistled to herself,
but didn’t restrain herself for long. She pulled open the door
of the bedroom and yelled in a loud voice into the darkness,

‘Come and look. It’s kicked the bucket. It’s lying there, to-
tally snuffed!’

The Samsa married couple sat upright in their marriage
bed and had to get over their fright at the cleaning woman
before they managed to grasp her message. But then Mr.

and Mrs. Samsa climbed very quickly out of bed, one on
either side. Mr. Samsa threw the bedspread over his shoul-
ders, Mrs. Samsa came out only in her night-shirt, and like
this they stepped into Gregor’s room. Meanwhile the door
of the living room (in which Grete had slept since the lodg-
ers had arrived on the scene) had also opened. She was fully
clothed, as if she had not slept at all; her white face also
seem to indicate that. ‘Dead?’ said Mrs. Samsa and looked
questioningly at the cleaning woman, although she could
check everything on her own and even understand without
a check. ‘I should say so,’ said the cleaning woman and, by

The Metamorphosis
way of proof, poked Gregor’s body with the broom a con-
siderable distance more to the side. Mrs. Samsa made a
movement as if she wished to restrain the broom, but didn’t
do it. ‘Well,’ said Mr. Samsa, ‘now we can give thanks to

God.’ He crossed himself, and the three women followed
his example.

Grete, who did not take her eyes off the corpse, said,

‘Look how thin he was. He had eaten nothing for such a
long time. The meals which came in here came out again
exactly the same.’ In fact, Gregor’s body was completely flat
and dry. That was apparent really for the first time, now that
he was no longer raised on his small limbs and, moreover,
now that nothing else distracted one’s gaze.

‘Grete, come into us for a moment,’ said Mrs. Samsa with
a melancholy smile, and Grete went, not without looking
back at the corpse, behind her parents into the bed room.

The cleaning woman shut the door and opened the window
wide. In spite of the early morning, the fresh air was partly
tinged with warmth. It was already the end of March.

The three lodgers stepped out of their room and looked
around for their breakfast, astonished that they had been
forgotten. ‘Where is the breakfast?’ asked the middle one of
the gentlemen grumpily to the cleaning woman. However,
she laid her finger to her lips and then quickly and silently
indicated to the lodgers that they could come into Gregor’s
room. So they came and stood around Gregor’s corpse, their
hands in the pockets of their somewhat worn jackets, in the
room, which was already quite bright.

Then the door of the bed room opened, and Mr. Samsa

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appeared in his uniform, with his wife on one arm and his
daughter on the other. All were a little tear stained. Now
and then Grete pressed her face onto her father’s arm.

‘Get out of my apartment immediately,’ said Mr. Samsa
and pulled open the door, without letting go of the women.

‘What do you mean?’ said the middle lodger, somewhat dis-
mayed and with a sugary smile. The two others kept their
hands behind them and constantly rubbed them against
each other, as if in joyful anticipation of a great squabble
which must end up in their favour. ‘I mean exactly what I
say,’ replied Mr. Samsa and went directly with his two fe-
male companions up to the lodger. The latter at first stood
there motionless and looked at the floor, as if matters were
arranging themselves in a new way in his head. ‘All right,
then we’ll go,’ he said and looked up at Mr. Samsa as if,
suddenly overcome by humility, he was asking fresh per-
mission for this decision. Mr. Samsa merely nodded to him
repeatedly with his eyes open wide.

Following that, the lodger actually went immediately
with long strides into the hall. His two friends had already
been listening for a while with their hands quite still, and
now they hopped smartly after him, as if afraid that Mr.

Samsa could step into the hall ahead of them and disturb
their reunion with their leader. In the hall all three of them
took their hats from the coat rack, pulled their canes from
the cane holder, bowed silently, and left the apartment. In
what turned out to be an entirely groundless mistrust, Mr.

Samsa stepped with the two women out onto the landing,
leaned against the railing, and looked down as the three

The Metamorphosis
lodgers slowly but steadily made their way down the long
staircase, disappeared on each floor in a certain turn of the
stairwell and in a few seconds came out again. The deep-
er they proceeded, the more the Samsa family lost interest
in them, and when a butcher with a tray on his head come
to meet them and then with a proud bearing ascended the
stairs high above them, Mr. Samsa., together with the wom-
en, left the banister, and they all returned, as if relieved,
back into their apartment.

They decided to pass that day resting and going for a
stroll. Not only had they earned this break from work, but
there was no question that they really needed it. And so they
sat down at the table and wrote three letters of apology: Mr.

Samsa to his supervisor, Mrs. Samsa to her client, and Grete
to her proprietor. During the writing the cleaning woman
came in to say that she was going off, for her morning work
was finished. The three people writing at first merely nod-
ded, without glancing up. Only when the cleaning woman
was still unwilling to depart, did they look up angrily. ‘Well?’

asked Mr. Samsa. The cleaning woman stood smiling in the
doorway, as if she had a great stroke of luck to report to the
family but would only do it if she was asked directly. The
almost upright small ostrich feather in her hat, which had
irritated Mr. Samsa during her entire service, swayed light-
ly in all directions. ‘All right then, what do you really want?’

asked Mrs. Samsa, whom the cleaning lady still usually re-
spected. ‘Well,’ answered the cleaning woman (smiling so
happily she couldn’t go on speaking right away), ‘about how
that rubbish from the next room should be thrown out, you

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mustn’t worry about it. It’s all taken care of.’ Mrs. Samsa
and Grete bent down to their letters, as though they wanted
to go on writing; Mr. Samsa, who noticed that the cleaning
woman wanted to start describing everything in detail, de-
cisively prevented her with an outstretched hand. But since
she was not allowed to explain, she remembered the great
hurry she was in, and called out, clearly insulted, ‘Ta ta,
everyone,’ turned around furiously and left the apartment
with a fearful slamming of the door.

‘This evening she’ll be let go,’ said Mr. Samsa, but he got
no answer from either his wife or from his daughter, be-
cause the cleaning woman seemed to have upset once again
the tranquillity they had just attained. They got up, went to
the window and remained there, with their arms about each
other. Mr. Samsa turned around in his chair in their direc-
tion and observed them quietly for a while. Then he called
out, ‘All right, come here then. Let’s finally get rid of old
things. And have a little consideration for me.’ The women
attended to him at once. They rushed to him, caressed him,
and quickly ended their letters.

Then all three left the apartment together, something
they had not done for months now, and took the electric
tram into the open air outside the city. The car in which they
were sitting by themselves was totally engulfed by the warm
sun. They talked to each other, leaning back comfortably
in their seats, about future prospects, and they discovered
that on closer observation these were not at all bad, for all
three had employment, about which they had not really
questioned each other at all, which was extremely favorable

The Metamorphosis
and with especially promising prospects. The greatest im-
provement in their situation at this moment, of course, had
to come from a change of dwelling. Now they wanted to
rent an apartment smaller and cheaper but better situated
and generally more practical than the present one, which

Gregor had found. While they amused themselves in this
way, it struck Mr. and Mrs. Samsa almost at the same mo-
ment how their daughter, who was getting more animated
all the time, had blossomed recently, in spite of all the trou-
bles which had made her cheeks pale, into a beautiful and
voluptuous young woman. Growing more silent and almost
unconsciously understanding each other in their glances,
they thought that the time was now at hand to seek out a
good honest man for her. And it was something of a con-
firmation of their new dreams and good intentions when at
the end of their journey the daughter first lifted herself up
and stretched her young body.

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Document Outline

- The Metamorphosis

- I
- II
- III

- How to share this eBook

- Free eBooks at Planet eBook

Table of Contents

- The Metamorphosis
- I
- II
- III