“IT’S A MACHINE like no other,” said the officer to the explorer, as he surveyed the machine with a somewhat admiring look, although he was so familiar with it. The explorer seemed to have accepted merely out of courtesy when the governor had invited him to attend the execution of a soldier condemned to death for disobeying and insulting his superior. Even in the penal colony there was no particularly great interest in this execution. At any rate, here in the deep, sandy little valley enclosed on all sides by bare slopes, the only people present, apart from the officer and the explorer, were the condemned man, a dull-witted, wide-mouthed fellow with ungroomed hair and face, and a soldier, who held the heavy chain that gathered together all the small chains with which the condemned man was fettered at his wrists, ankles and neck, and which were also connected to one another by intermediate chains. Anyway, the condemned man had a look of such doglike devotion that you might picture him being allowed to run around at liberty on the slopes and returning at the beginning of the execution if you just whistled for him.
The explorer had little taste for the machine and walked back and forth behind the condemned man with an almost visible lack of concern, while the officer saw to the final preparations, now crawling under the machine, which was sunk deep into the ground, now climbing a ladder to inspect the upper sections. Those were tasks that could really have been left to a mechanic, but the officer performed them with great enthusiasm, either because he was a special devotee of this machine or because, for some other reasons, the work couldn’t be entrusted to anyone else. “All ready now,” he finally called, and climbed down the ladder. He was unusually exhausted, breathed with his mouth wide open, and had two delicate lady’s handkerchiefs crammed behind the collar of his uniform. “These uniforms are surely too heavy for the tropics,” said the explorer, instead of inquiring about the machine, as the officer had expected. “Of course,” said the officer, washing the oil and grease off his hands in a bucket that stood ready there, “but they represent our homeland; we don’t want to be cut off from our country.—But now you see this machine,” he added without a pause, drying his hands on a cloth and simultaneously pointing to the machine. “Up to this point some hand operations were still necessary; from this point on, however, the machine does all the work by itself.” The explorer nodded and followed the officer. The latter, attempting to insure himself against all incidents, said: “Naturally, disorders occur; true, I hope none will happen today, but they still have to be reckoned with. You see, the machine needs to keep going for twelve hours uninterruptedly. But if disorders do occur, they will be very minor and will be cleared away at once.”
“Won’t you have a seat?” he finally asked, pulling a cane-bottomed chair out from a stack of them and offering it to the explorer, who couldn’t refuse. He was now sitting on the rim of a pit, into which he cast a fleeting glance. It wasn’t very deep. On one side of the pit the excavated earth was heaped up into a mound, on the other side stood the machine. “I don’t know,” said the officer, “whether the governor has already explained the machine to you.” The explorer made a vague sign with his hand; the officer asked for nothing better, for now he could explain the machine himself. “This machine,” he said, grasping a cranking rod, on which he supported himself, “is an invention of our previous governor. I participated in the very first experiments and took part in all the other developments until it was perfected. Of course, the credit for the invention is due to him alone. Have you heard about our previous governor? No? Well, I’m not claiming too much when I say that the organization of the entire penal colony is his creation. We, his friends, already knew at the time of his death that his plan for the colony was so perfectly worked out that his successor, even if he had a thousand new schemes in mind, wouldn’t be able to change the old arrangements for many years, at least. And our prediction came true; the new governor had to acknowledge it. Too bad you never met the previous governor!—But,” the officer interrupted himself, “I’m babbling, and his machine is here before us. It consists, as you see, of three parts. In the course of time each of these parts has acquired a somewhat popular nickname. The lowest one is called the bed, the highest one is called the sketcher and this central, freely hanging part is called the harrow.” “The harrow?” the explorer asked. He hadn’t been listening too attentively, the sunlight had lodged itself all too strongly in the shadeless valley, it was hard to gather one’s thoughts. And so he considered the officer all the more admirable, seeing him in his tight parade jacket, laden with epaulets and covered with braid, expounding his subject with such enthusiasm and, what’s more, still busying himself at a screw here and there, while speaking, screwdriver in hand. The soldier seemed to be of the same frame of mind as the explorer. He had wrapped the condemned man’s chain around both wrists, and was leaning on his rifle with one hand; his head was sunk on his chest and he was totally unconcerned. The explorer wasn’t surprised at this, because the officer was speaking French, and surely neither the soldier nor the condemned man understood French. Which made it all the more curious that the condemned man was nevertheless making an effort to follow the officer’s explanation. With a kind of sleepy persistence he always directed his gaze to the spot the officer was pointing out at the moment, and when the latter was now interrupted by a question from the explorer, he, too, as well as the officer, looked at the explorer.
“Yes, the harrow,” said the officer, “the name fits. The needles are arranged in harrow fashion, and the whole thing is manipulated like a harrow, although it remains in one place only, and works much more artistically. Anyway, you’ll understand it right away. The condemned man is laid here on the bed.—I’m going to describe the machine first, you see, and only after that will I have the procedure itself carried out. Then you’ll be better able to follow it. Besides, one cogwheel in the sketcher is worn too smooth, and squeaks a lot when in operation; when that’s going on, it’s barely possible to understand one another; unfortunately, spare parts are very hard to procure here.—So then, here is the bed, as I was saying. It’s completely covered by a layer of absorbent cotton; you’ll soon learn the purpose of that. The condemned man is placed stomach down on this cotton, naked, naturally; here are straps for his hands, here for his feet, here for his neck, to buckle him in tight. Here at the head end of the bed, where, as I said, the man’s face lies at first, there is this little felt projection, which can easily be adjusted so that it pops right into the man’s mouth. Its purpose is to keep him from screaming and chewing up his tongue. Naturally, the man is forced to put the felt in his mouth or else his neck would be broken by the neck strap.” “This is absorbent cotton?” the explorer asked, bending forward. “Yes, of course,” said the officer with a smile, “feel it yourself.” He took the explorer’s hand and ran it over the bed. “It’s a specially prepared absorbent cotton, that’s why it’s so hard to recognize; as I continue talking, I’ll get to its purpose.” The explorer was now a little more interested in the machine; shading his eyes from the sun with his hand, he looked up at the top of the machine. It was a large construction. The bed and the sketcher were of the same size and looked like two dark trunks for clothing. The sketcher was installed about six feet above the bed; the two were connected at the corners by four brass rods, which were practically darting rays in the sunlight. Between the trunks the harrow hung freely on a steel ribbon.
The officer had scarcely noticed the explorer’s earlier indifference, but he was fully aware of the interest he was now beginning to feel, so he ceased his exposition in order to give the explorer time to observe unmolestedly. The condemned man mimicked the explorer; since he couldn’t raise his hand to his brow, he blinked upward with unshaded eyes.
“Well, then, the man lies there,” said the explorer, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs.
“Yes,” said the officer, pushing his cap back a bit and drawing his hand over his hot face. “Now listen! The bed and the sketcher each has its own electric battery; the bed needs it for itself, the sketcher needs it for the harrow. As soon as the man is strapped in tight, the bed is set in motion. It vibrates in tiny, very rapid jerks sideways and up and down at the same time. You may have seen similar machines in sanatoriums, but in our bed all the movements are precisely calculated; you see, they have to be scrupulously synchronized with the movements of the harrow. It is this harrow, however, that actually carries out the sentence.”
“What is the sentence?” the explorer asked. “You don’t know that, either?” said the officer in amazement, biting his lips: “Forgive me if my explanations may appear haphazard; I ask your pardon most humbly. You see, in the past the governor used to give the explanations; but the new governor has exempted himself from the honor of this duty; but that even such a distinguished visitor”—the explorer attempted to forestall this praise with a gesture of both hands, but the officer insisted on the expression—“that he doesn’t apprise even such a distinguished visitor of the form of our sentence, is another innovation that—” He had an oath on his lips, but controlled himself and merely said: “I wasn’t notified of that, it’s no fault of mine. Anyway, I am the one best capable of explaining our types of sentence, because I carry here”—he tapped his breast pocket—“the designs drawn by the previous governor bearing on the matter.”
“Designs by the governor himself?” asked the explorer. “Was he a combination of everything, then? Was he a soldier, judge, engineer, chemist and designer?”
“Yes, indeed,” said the officer, nodding, his gaze fixed and meditative. Then he looked at his hands searchingly; he didn’t consider them clean enough to touch the drawings, so he went over to the bucket and washed them again. Then he pulled out a little leather wallet, saying: “Our sentence isn’t severe. The regulation that the condemned man has broken is written on his body with the harrow. This condemned man, for example”—the officer pointed to the man—“will have ‘Honor your superior!’ written on his body.”
The explorer glanced fleetingly at the man; when the officer had pointed to him, he had been standing with lowered head, seeming to concentrate all his powers of hearing in order to find out something. But the movements of his lips, which bulged as he compressed them, clearly showed he couldn’t understand a thing. The explorer had wanted to ask this and that, but now, looking at the man, he merely asked: “Does he know his sentence?” “No,” said the officer, and wanted to continue his exposition at once, but the explorer interrupted him: “He doesn’t know his own sentence?” “No,” the officer said again, then stopped short for a moment, as if desiring the explorer to offer some substantial reason for his question, and then said: “It would be pointless to inform him of it. After all, he’ll learn it on his body.” The explorer was now ready to remain silent, when he felt the condemned man turn his eyes toward him; he seemed to be asking whether he could approve of the procedure that had been described. And so the explorer, who had already leaned back, bent forward again and asked another question: “But he does at least know, doesn’t he, that he has been condemned?” “Not that, either,” said the officer, and smiled at the explorer, as if he were still expecting a few more peculiar utterances from him. “No,” said the explorer, rubbing his forehead, “and so even now the man still doesn’t know how his defense was received?” “He had no opportunity to defend himself,” said the officer, looking off to the side, as if he were talking to himself and didn’t wish to embarrass the explorer by telling him what was so obvious to himself. “But he must have had an opportunity to defend himself,” said the explorer, rising from his chair.
The officer realized he was running the risk of being delayed for a long time in the explanation of the machine; so he went over to the explorer, locked his arm in his, pointed to the condemned man, who, now that their attention was so clearly directed toward him, straightened up smartly—the soldier also pulled the chain taut—and said: “The matter is as follows. Here in the penal colony I serve as a judge. Despite my youth. Because in all penal matters I stood side by side with the previous governor, and I also know the machine best. The principle behind my decisions is: Guilt is always beyond doubt. Other courts can’t adhere to this principle, because they consist of several judges and have even higher courts over them. That isn’t the case here, or at least it wasn’t under the previous governor. To be sure, the new one has already shown a desire to meddle with my court, but so far I’ve managed to fend him off, and I’ll continue to manage it.—You wanted an explanation of this case; it’s just as simple as all of them. This morning a captain reported that this man, who’s assigned to him as an orderly and sleeps in front of his door, slept through his tour of duty. You see, he is obliged to get up every hour on the hour and salute in front of the captain’s door. Certainly not an onerous duty, but a necessary one, since he has to stay alert as both a guard and a servant. Last night the captain wanted to verify whether his orderly was doing his duty. At the stroke of two he opened his door and found him curled up asleep. He went for his riding whip and struck him on the face. Now, instead of standing up and asking for forgiveness, the man grasped his master by the legs, shook him and shouted: ‘Hey, throw away that whip or I’ll gobble you up.’ Those are the facts of the matter. An hour ago the captain came to me, I wrote down his declaration and followed it up with the sentence. Then I had the man put in chains. All that was very simple. If I had first summoned the man and interrogated him, that would only have led to confusion. He would have lied; if I had succeeded in disproving those lies, he would have replaced them with new lies, and so on. But, as it is, I’ve got him and I won’t let go of him again.—Does that now explain everything? But time is passing, the execution ought to begin by now, and I’m not finished yet with the explanation of the machine.” He urged the explorer to sit down again, stepped up to the machine once more, and began: “As you see, the shape of the harrow corresponds to the human form; here is the harrow for the upper part of the body, here are the harrows for the legs. For the head there is only this small spike. Is that clear to you?” He leaned over to the explorer in a friendly way, ready to give the most comprehensive explanations.
The explorer looked at the harrow with furrowed brow. The information about the judicial procedure had left him unsatisfied. All the same, he had to tell himself that this was, after all, a penal colony, that special regulations were required here, and that a military code had to be followed, even to extreme limits. But, in addition, he placed some hope in the new governor, who obviously, if only slowly, intended to introduce a new procedure that couldn’t penetrate this officer’s thick head. Pursuing this train of thought, the explorer asked: “Will the governor attend the execution?” “It’s uncertain,” said the officer, touched on a sore spot by the blunt question, and his friendly expression clouded over: “For that very reason we must make haste. In fact, as sorry as that makes me, I must shorten my explanations. But tomorrow, when the machine has been cleaned again—its getting so very dirty is its only shortcoming—I could fill in the smaller details. And so, for now, only the most essential facts.—When the man is lying on the bed and the bed begins to vibrate, the harrow lowers itself onto the body. It adjusts itself in such a manner that it just barely touches the body with its sharp points; once this adjustment is completed, this steel cable immediately stiffens into a rod. And now the machine goes into play. An uninitiated person notices no outward difference in the punishments. The harrow seems to work in a uniform way. Quivering, it jabs its points into the body, which is already shaken by the bed. Now, to allow everybody to inspect the execution of the sentence, the harrow was made of glass. Several technical difficulties had to be overcome to embed the needles in it firmly, but we succeeded after a number of experiments. We literally spared no effort. And now everyone can watch through the glass and see how the inscription on the body is done. Won’t you step closer and take a look at the needles?”
The explorer got up slowly, went over and bent over the harrow. “Here,” said the officer, “you see two types of needles in a complex arrangement. Each long one has a short one next to it. You see, the long ones do the writing and the short ones squirt water to wash away the blood and to keep the lettering clear at all times. The bloody water is then channeled here into small grooves and finally runs off into this main groove, whose drainpipe leads into the pit.” With one finger the officer indicated the precise route the bloody water had to take. When, in order to give the most graphic demonstration, he made the actual motion of catching it in his two hands at the outlet of the drainpipe, the explorer raised his head and, groping backwards with his hand, attempted to regain his chair. Then he saw, to his horror, that, like him, the condemned man had accepted the officer’s invitation to take a close look at the structure of the harrow. He had tugged the drowsy soldier forward a little by the chain and had also stooped over the glass. He could be seen searching with unsure eyes for what the two gentlemen had just been observing, but not succeeding for lack of the explanation. He bent over this way and that way. Again and again he ran his eyes over the glass. The explorer wanted to drive him back, because he was probably committing a punishable offense. But the officer restrained the explorer firmly with one hand, and with the other took a clod of earth from the mound and threw it at the soldier. The latter raised his eyes with a start, saw what the condemned man had dared to do, dropped his rifle, dug his heels into the ground, tore the condemned man back so hard that he fell right over, and then looked down at the writhing man, who was making his chains rattle. “Pick him up!” shouted the officer, because he noticed that the explorer’s attention was being distracted far too much by the condemned man. The explorer even leaned forward all the way across the harrow, not caring about it at all, concerned only to discover what was happening to the condemned man. “Handle him carefully!” shouted the officer again. He ran around the machine, seized the condemned man under the arms himself and, with the aid of the soldier, raised him to his feet, although the man’s feet slid out from under him several times.
“By now I know everything,” said the explorer when the officer came back to him. “Except for the most important thing of all,” the latter said, grasping the explorer’s arm and pointing upward: “Up there in the sketcher are the cogwheels that regulate the motion of the harrow, and those wheels are pre-set in accordance with the pattern called for by the sentence. I am still using the previous governor’s designs. Here they are”—he drew a few sheets out of the leather wallet—“but unfortunately I cannot hand them to you; they’re the most precious things I possess. Sit down, I’ll show them to you from this distance, then you’ll be able to see them all clearly.” He showed the first sheet. The explorer would gladly have made some appreciative remark, but all he saw was mazelike lines in complicated crisscrosses, covering the paper so completely that it was hard to see the white spaces between them. “Read it,” said the officer. “I can’t,” said the explorer. “But it’s legible,” said the officer. “It’s very artistic,” said the explorer evasively, “but I can’t decipher it.” “Yes,” said the officer, laughed and pocketed the wallet again, “it isn’t model calligraphy for schoolboys. One has to study it a long time. Even you would surely recognize it finally. Naturally, it can’t be any simple script; you see, it is not supposed to kill at once, but only after a period of twelve hours on the average; the turning point is calculated to occur during the sixth hour. And so there must be many, many ornaments surrounding the actual letters; the real message encircles the body only within a narrow band; the rest of the body is set aside for the decorations. Are you now able to appreciate the work of the harrow and of the whole machine?—Look!” He leaped onto the ladder, turned a wheel and called down: “Careful, step to one side!” and everything went into action. If the cogwheel hadn’t been squeaking, it would have been magnificent. As if the officer were surprised by that disturbing wheel, he threatened it with his fist, then, excusing himself, extended his arms toward the explorer and climbed down hastily in order to observe the operation of the machine from below. There was still something out of order which only he noticed; he climbed up again, thrust both hands into the sketcher, then, to get down more quickly, slid down one of the rods instead of using the ladder, and now, to make himself heard over the noise, shouted with extreme tension into the explorer’s ear. “Do you understand the process? The harrow begins to write; when it is finished with the first draft of the lettering on the man’s back, the layer of absorbent cotton rolls and turns the body slowly onto its side to give the harrow additional space. Meanwhile the areas that are pierced by the writing press against the cotton, which, thanks to its special preparation, stops the bleeding at once and clears the way for the lettering to sink in further. The prongs here at the edge of the harrow then rip the cotton from the wounds as the body continues to turn, fling it into the pit, and the harrow can go on working. In this way it writes more and more deeply for the twelve hours. For the first six hours the condemned man lives almost as he previously did, but suffering pain. After two hours the felt is removed, because the man has no more strength to scream. In this electrically heated bowl at the head end we place hot boiled rice and milk, from which the man, if he feels like it, can take whatever he can get hold of with his tongue. None of them passes up the opportunity. I know of none, and my experience is extensive. Only around the sixth hour does he lose his pleasure in eating. Then I generally kneel down here and observe this phenomenon. The man seldom swallows the last mouthful, he just turns it around in his mouth and spits it out into the pit. Then I have to duck or he’ll hit me in the face with it. But then, how quiet the man becomes around the sixth hour! Even the dumbest one starts to understand. It begins around the eyes. From there it spreads out. A sight that could tempt someone to lie down alongside the man under the harrow. Nothing further happens, the man merely begins to decipher the writing; he purses his lips as if listening to something. As you’ve seen, it isn’t easy to decipher the script with your eyes; but our man deciphers it with his wounds. True, it takes a lot of effort; he needs six hours to complete it. But then the harrow skewers him completely and throws him into the pit, where he splashes down into the bloody water and the cotton. Then the execution is over, and we, the soldier and I, bury him.”
The explorer had inclined his ear toward the officer and, his hands in his jacket pockets, was watching the machine run. The condemned man was watching it, too, but without understanding. He was stooping a little and following the moving needles, when the soldier, at a sign from the officer, cut through his shirt and trousers in the back with a knife, so that they fell off the condemned man; he wanted to make a grab for the falling garments, in order to hide his nakedness, but the soldier lifted him up in the air and shook the last scraps off him. The officer turned off the machine, and in the silence that ensued the condemned man was placed under the harrow. His chains were removed and replaced by the fastened straps; at the first movement this seemed to be almost a relief for the condemned man. And now the harrow lowered itself a little more, because he was a thin man. When the points touched him, a shudder ran over his skin; while the soldier was busy with his right hand, he stretched out the left, without knowing in what direction; but it was toward the spot where the explorer was standing. The officer uninterruptedly watched the explorer from the side, as if trying to read in his face the impression being made by the execution, which he had now explained to him at least superficially.
The strap intended for the wrist tore; probably the soldier had drawn it up too tightly. The officer was to help, the soldier showed him the torn-off piece of strap. And the officer did go over to him, saying: “The machine is composed of many, many parts; from time to time something has to rip or break; but that shouldn’t falsify one’s total judgment. Besides, an immediate substitute is available for the strap; I shall use a chain; of course, for the right arm the delicacy of the vibrations will be impaired.” And, while he attached the chains, he added: “The means for maintaining the machine are now quite limited. Under the previous governor there was a fund, readily accessible to me, set aside for just that purpose. There was a supply depot here in which all conceivable spare parts were stored. I confess, I was almost wasteful with it, I mean in the past, not now, as the new governor claims; for him everything serves as a mere pretext for combating the old arrangements. Now he has the machine fund under his own management, and, if I send for a new strap, the torn one is requested as evidence, the new one doesn’t come for ten days, and then is of poorer quality and isn’t worth much. But how I am supposed to run the machine in the meantime without a strap—nobody cares about that.”
The explorer thought it over: It’s always a ticklish thing to interfere in someone else’s affairs in some decisive way. He was neither a citizen of the penal colony nor a citizen of the country it belonged to. If he wished to condemn the execution or even prevent it, they could say to him: “You’re a foreigner, keep quiet.” He would have no reply to that, but would only be able to add that in this case he didn’t even understand his own motives, since he was traveling purely with the intention of seeing things, and by no means that of altering other people’s legal codes, or the like. But matters here were truly very tempting. The injustice of the proceedings and the inhumanity of the execution couldn’t be denied. No one could assume that the explorer was doing anything self-serving, because the condemned man was unknown to him, not a compatriot and in no way a person who elicited sympathy. The explorer himself had letters of recommendation from high official sources, he had been welcomed here with great courtesy, and the fact that he had been invited to this execution even seemed to indicate that his opinion of this court was desired. Moreover, this was all the more likely since the governor, as he had now heard more than explicitly, was not partial to these proceedings and was almost hostile to the officer.
At that point the explorer heard the officer shout with rage. He had just shoved the felt gag into the condemned man’s mouth, not without difficulty, when the condemned man shut his eyes with an uncontrollable urge to vomit, and vomited. Hastily the officer pulled him up and away from the gag, trying to turn his head toward the pit; but it was too late, the filth was already running down the machine. “All the governor’s fault!” yelled the officer, beside himself, shaking the brass rods in front, “my machine is getting befouled like a stable.” With trembling hands he showed the explorer what had happened. “Haven’t I tried for hours on end to get it across to the governor that no more food is to be given a day before the execution? But the new, lenient school of thought is of a different opinion. The governor’s ladies stuff the man’s mouth with sweets before he’s led away. All his life he’s lived on stinking fish and now he’s got to eat sweets! But it would still be possible, I’d have no objection, if they only supplied me with a new piece of felt, which I’ve been requesting for three months now. How can anyone put this felt in his mouth without being disgusted, after more than a hundred men have sucked on it and bitten it while they were dying?”
The condemned man had put his head down and looked peaceful, the soldier was busy cleaning the machine with the condemned man’s shirt. The officer walked over to the explorer, who with some sort of foreboding took a step backwards, but the officer took him by the hand and drew him to one side. “I want to say a few words to you in confidence,” he said; “that is, if I may?” “Of course,” said the explorer, and then listened with lowered eyes.
“This procedure and execution, which you now have the opportunity to admire, are no longer openly supported by any one in our colony at the present time. I am their only spokesman, and at the same time the only spokesman for the old governor’s legacy. I can no longer contemplate a further extension of the procedure; I consume all my strength to retain what still exists. While the old governor was alive, the colony was full of his followers; I have some of the old governor’s power of persuasion, but I lack his authority entirely; as a consequence, his followers have gone underground; there are still a lot of them, but none of them will admit it. If today—that is, on an execution day—you go into the teahouse and keep your ears open, you will perhaps hear nothing but ambiguous utterances. They are all loyal followers, but under the present governor, with his present views, I can’t use them at all. And now I ask you. Is it right that, on account of this governor and his women, who influence him, a life’s work like this”—he pointed to the machine—“should be wrecked? Is that to be allowed? Even if someone is a foreigner and only staying on our island for a few days? But there’s no time to be lost, preparations are under way to combat my jurisdiction; meetings are already being held in the governor’s office in which I am not asked to participate; even your visit today seems to me to be characteristic of the whole situation; they’re cowardly and send you, a foreigner, out in advance.—How different the execution was in the old times! A day before the punishment was meted out, the whole valley was already crammed with people; they all came only to watch; early in the morning the governor would arrive with his ladies; fanfares roused the whole encampment; I reported that all was in readiness; the guests—no high official was allowed to be absent—grouped themselves around the machine; this stack of cane-bottomed chairs is a pathetic survival from those days. The machine was freshly polished and gleaming; for almost every execution I put in new spare parts. In front of hundreds of eyes—all the spectators stood on their toes all the way up to the heights there—the condemned man was placed under the harrow by the governor himself. What a private soldier is allowed to do today, was then my task, the chief judge’s, and was an honor for me. And now the execution began! No false note disturbed the operation of the machine. At this point many people were no longer watching, but were lying on the sand with closed eyes; everybody knew: Now justice will be done. In the silence all that could be heard was the condemned man’s sighing, muffled by the felt. Today the machine no longer manages to squeeze a sigh out of the condemned man that’s loud enough not to be stifled by the felt; but in those days the writing needles exuded a corrosive fluid that isn’t allowed to be used any more. Well, and then the sixth hour arrived! It was impossible to comply with everyone’s request to watch from up close. The governor in his wisdom ordered that the children should be considered first and foremost; of course, thanks to my station, I was always allowed to stay right there; often I would squat down, holding two small children in my arms, right and left. How we all captured the transfigured expression on the tortured face, how we held our cheeks in the glow of this finally achieved and already perishing justice! What times those were, my friend!” The officer had obviously forgotten who was in front of him; he had embraced the explorer and had laid his head on his shoulder. The explorer felt extremely awkward, and impatiently looked past the officer. The soldier had finished his cleaning and had just poured boiled rice into the bowl from a jar. The condemned man, who seemed to have recovered completely by this time, had scarcely noticed this when he began snatching at the rice with his tongue. The soldier kept pushing him away again, because the rice was meant for a later time, but surely the soldier also was acting improperly when he dug into the rice with his dirty hands and ate some before the eyes of the covetous condemned man.
The officer quickly regained control of himself. “Please don’t think I wanted to play on your sympathy,” he said, “I know it’s impossible to make anyone understand those times today. Anyway, the machine is still working and speaks for itself. It speaks for itself even when left alone in this valley. And at the end the corpse still falls into the pit with that incomprehensibly gentle sweep, even if hundreds of people are no longer clustered around the pit like flies, as in the past. Then we had to install a strong railing around the pit; it was torn down long ago.”
The explorer wanted to move his face out of the officer’s gaze, and looked around aimlessly. The officer thought he was contemplating the barrenness of the valley; and so he took his hands, stepped around him to make their eyes meet, and asked: “Do you observe the disgrace?”
But the explorer remained silent. For a while the officer let him alone; with legs planted far apart, his hands on his hips, he stood quietly looking at the ground. Then he smiled at the explorer encouragingly and said: “I was near you yesterday when the governor invited you. I heard the invitation. I know the governor. I immediately understood his purpose in inviting you. Even though his authority may be great enough for him to take steps against me, he still doesn’t dare to, but instead he wishes to expose me to your opinion, that of a highly esteemed foreign visitor. He worked it out carefully; this is your second day on the island, you didn’t know the old governor and his philosophy, you are prejudiced by European points of view, perhaps you are an opponent on principle of any kind of capital punishment, and of this kind of execution by machine in particular; furthermore, you observe that the execution is performed without the participation of the public, in a dismal atmosphere, on a machine that is already somewhat damaged— now, taking all this together, thinks the governor, wouldn’t it be quite possible for you to consider my procedure incorrect? And if you consider it incorrect (I’m still stating the governor’s train of thought), you won’t keep silent about it, because you must surely trust your tried-and-true convictions. Of course, you’ve seen and learned to respect many peculiar customs of many nations, and so probably you won’t come out against the procedure as openly as you might do at home. But the governor doesn’t need that much. A hasty word, merely a careless word, is enough. It doesn’t have to be rooted in your convictions, if only it apparently suits his purposes. I’m sure he’s going to question you as shrewdly as possible. And his ladies will sit around in a circle, pricking up their ears; you’ll say something like ‘In our country the judicial procedure is different’ or ‘In our country the defendant is interrogated before the sentence’ or ‘In our country there are punishments other than capital punishment’ or ‘In our country torture was used only in the Middle Ages.’ Those are all remarks that are just as correct as they seem self-evident to you, innocent remarks that do not impugn my procedure. But how will the governor take them? I can see him, the good governor, immediately pushing his chair aside and dashing onto the balcony, I can see his ladies pouring after him, I can now hear his voice—his ladies call it a voice of thunder—as he says: ‘A great Occidental explorer, sent to investigate judicial procedure all over the world, has just said that our old traditional procedure is inhumane. After this judgment by such a personality, it is naturally impossible for me to tolerate this procedure any longer. As of this date, therefore, I decree—and so on.’ You will want to intervene, you didn’t say what he is proclaiming, you didn’t call my procedure inhumane; on the contrary, in accordance with your profoundest insight, you consider it the most humane and the most fitting for human society, you also admire this machinery—but it’s too late; you can’t get onto the balcony, which is already full of ladies; you want to call attention to yourself; you want to shout; but a lady’s hand shuts your mouth—and I and the achievement of the old governor are lost.”
The explorer had to suppress a smile; the task he had considered so hard was thus so easy. He said evasively: “You overestimate my influence; the governor read my letter of recommendation, he knows I’m not an expert on judicial procedure. If I were to express an opinion, it would be the opinion of a private person, no more significant than anyone else’s opinion, and at any rate much more insignificant than the opinion of the governor, who, if I’m not misinformed, has very wide-ranging powers in this penal colony. If his opinion of this procedure is as unshakable as you believe, then I’m afraid the end of this procedure has come anyway, without the need of my modest cooperation.”
Did the officer understand by this time? No, he still didn’t understand. He shook his head vigorously, cast a brief glance back at the condemned man and the soldier, who winced and left the rice alone; then he stepped up close to the explorer, looking not at his face but at a random area of his jacket, and said, more softly than before: “You don’t know the governor; to some extent—please forgive the expression— you’re an innocent in comparison with him and all of us; believe me, your influence cannot be rated highly enough. In fact, I was overjoyed when I heard that you were to attend the execution alone. That order of the governor’s was directed against me, but now I’m turning it around in my favor. Undistracted by false insinuations and contemptuous glances—which couldn’t have been avoided if more people had participated in the execution—you have listened to my explanations, you have seen the machine and you are now about to view the execution. Certainly your opinion has been formed; if some small uncertainties still persist, the sight of the execution will remove them. And now I request of you: help me in my dealings with the governor!”
The explorer wouldn’t let him continue. “How could I?” he exclaimed, “it’s altogether impossible. I can’t help you any more than I can harm you.”
“Yes, you can,” said the officer. With some alarm the explorer saw that the officer was clenching his fists. “Yes, you can,” the officer repeated even more urgently. “I have a plan that can’t fail. You think your influence isn’t enough. I know that it is enough. But even granting that you’re right, isn’t it still necessary to try everything, even measures that are inadequate, in order to preserve this procedure? So listen to my plan. To carry it out, it’s necessary above all for you to conceal your opinion of the procedure as much as possible in the colony today. If you ’re not actually asked, you must by no means make a statement; but if you do make statements, they must be brief and vague; people should notice that it’s hard for you to talk about it, that you’re bitter, that, in case you were to speak openly, you would actually break out into curses. I’m not asking you to lie; not a bit; you should merely make brief replies, such as ‘Yes, I saw the execution’ or ‘Yes, I heard all the explanations.’ Only that, nothing more. Of course, there’s enough reason for the resentment that people must see in you, even if it’s not in the way the governor thinks. Naturally, he will misunderstand it completely and interpret it in his own fashion. That’s the basis of my plan. Tomorrow in the government building, under his chairmanship, a big meeting of all the top administration officials will take place. Naturally, the governor has managed to turn such meetings into a show. A gallery has been built that’s always full of spectators. I am compelled to take part in the deliberations, but I tremble with repugnance. Now, in any case, you will surely be invited to the meeting; if you behave today in accordance with my plan, the invitation will become an urgent request. But if, for some inconceivable reason, you’re not invited after all, you will have to ask for an invitation; there’s no doubt you’ll get it then. So then, tomorrow you are sitting with the ladies in the governor’s box. He looks upward again and again to make sure you’re there. After various indifferent, ridiculous items on the agenda that are just sops for the audience—generally, harbor construction, always harbor construction!—the legal procedure comes up for discussion, too. If it isn’t mentioned, or isn’t mentioned soon enough, by the governor, I’ll make sure that it gets mentioned. I’ll stand up and make my report on today’s execution. A very brief speech, nothing but the report. True, a report of that nature isn’t customary, but I’ll make it. The governor thanks me, as always, with a friendly smile, and then he isn’t able to restrain himself, he seizes the favorable opportunity. ‘Just now,’ he’ll say, or words to that effect, ‘the report of the execution has been made. I would merely like to add to this report the fact that the great explorer whose visit, which honors our colony so immensely, you all know about, was present at that very execution. Our meeting today is also made more significant by his presence. Now, shall we not ask this great explorer for his opinion of this old, traditional style of execution and of the proceedings that lead up to it?’ Everyone naturally applauds to indicate approval and general consent, I loudest of all. The governor bows to you and says: ‘Then, in the name of all assembled here, I pose the question.’ And now you walk up to the railing. Place your hands where everyone can see them, or else the ladies will take hold of them and play with your fingers.—And now finally comes your speech. I don’t know how I’ll bear the suspense of the hours till then. In your talk you mustn’t keep within any bounds; shout out the truth; lean over the railing; roar, yes, roar your opinion, your unalterable opinion, at the governor. But perhaps you don’t want to, it doesn’t suit your nature, perhaps in your country behavior in such situations is different; that’s all right, too, even that is perfectly satisfactory; don’t stand up at all, say only a few words, whisper them, so that only the officials right below you can hear; that’s enough; you yourself don’t need to speak about the lack of attendance at the execution, the squeaking cogwheel, the torn strap, the disgusting felt gag; no, I’ll pick up on all the rest, and, trust me, if my speech doesn’t actually drive him out of the room, at least it will bring him to his knees, so he’ll have to avow: ‘Old governor, I bow down before you.’—That’s my plan; are you willing to help me carry it out? But of course you’re willing; what’s more, you must.” And the officer grasped the explorer by both arms and looked him in the face, breathing heavily. He had shouted the last few sentences so loud that even the soldier and the condemned man had had their attention aroused; even though they couldn’t understand any of it, still they stopped eating and looked over at the explorer as they chewed.
The answer he had to give was unequivocal for the explorer from the very outset; he had experienced too much in his life for him to possibly waver now; he was basically honest and he was fearless. Nevertheless he now hesitated for the space of a moment at the sight of the soldier and the condemned man. But finally he said as he had to: “No.” The officer blinked his eyes several times, but didn’t avert his gaze from him. “Do you want an explanation?” the explorer asked. The officer nodded in silence. “I’m an opponent of this procedure,” the explorer now said; “even before you took me into your confidence—naturally, under no circumstances will I abuse that confidence—I had already considered whether I had any right to take steps against this procedure, and whether my intervention could have even a small chance of succeeding. It was clear to me whom I should turn to first if I wanted to do this: to the governor, of course. You made that even clearer to me, but you didn’t plant the seeds of my decision; on the contrary, I sincerely respect your honest conviction, even if it can’t lead me astray.”
The officer remained silent, turned toward the machine, grasped one of the brass rods and then, bending backwards a little, looked up at the sketcher as if to check whether everything was in order. The soldier and the condemned man seemed to have become friends; difficult as it was to accomplish, being strapped in as tightly as he was, the condemned man made signs to the soldier; the soldier leaned over toward him; the condemned man whispered something to him, and the soldier nodded.
The explorer walked after the officer and said: “You still don’t know what I intend to do. Yes, I’ll give the governor my views about the procedure, but personally, not at an open meeting; furthermore, I won’t be staying here long enough to be drawn into any meeting; by tomorrow morning I’ll be sailing away or at least boarding the ship.” It didn’t look as if the officer had been listening. “So the procedure didn’t win you over,” he said to himself, and smiled, the way an old man smiles at a child’s silliness while pursuing his own real thoughts behind the smile.
“Well, then, it’s time,” he finally said, and suddenly looked at the explorer with bright eyes that communicated some invitation, some summons to participate.
“Time for what?” asked the explorer uneasily, but received no reply. “You’re free,” the officer said to the condemned man in the man’s language. At first the man didn’t believe it. “Well, you’re free,” said the officer. For the first time the condemned man’s face showed real signs of life. Was it true? Was it only a caprice of the officer that might be only temporary? Had the foreign explorer won him a pardon? What was it? Those were the questions visible in his face. But not for long. Whatever the case might be, he wanted to be really free if he could, and he began to squirm, to the extent that the harrow would permit him to.
“You’ll rip the straps on me,” shouted the officer; “lie still! We’re opening them now.” And, along with the soldier, to whom he signaled, he set to work. The condemned man laughed quietly and wordlessly to himself; now he would turn his face to the officer on his left, now to the soldier on his right, nor did he forget the explorer.
“Pull him out,” the officer ordered the soldier. To do this, some precautions had to be taken because of the harrow. As a result of his impatience the condemned man already had a few small scratches on his back. But, from this point on, the officer hardly gave him another thought. He walked up to the explorer, drew out the little leather wallet again, leafed through it, finally found the sheet he was looking for and showed it to the explorer. “Read it,” he said. “I can’t,” said the explorer, “I’ve already told you I can’t read these sheets.” “But look at the sheet closely,” said the officer, and stepped right next to the explorer to read along with him. When even that didn’t help, he moved his little finger over the paper—but high above it, as if the sheet was in no case to be touched—in order to make it easier for the explorer to read. The explorer also made an effort, so that he could at least be obliging to the officer in this matter, but it was impossible. Now the officer began to spell out the inscription, and then he read it once more straight through. “It says ‘Be just!’” he said, “now surely you can read it.” The explorer bent so low over the paper that the officer moved it further away, fearing he might touch it; now the explorer said no more, but it was obvious that he still hadn’t been able to read it. “It says ‘Be just!’” the officer said again. “Could be,” said the explorer, “I take your word for it.” “Good,” said the officer, at least partially contented, and, holding the sheet, stepped onto the ladder; with great care he inserted the sheet into the sketcher, apparently making a total rearrangement of the wheels; it was a very painstaking task; very small wheels must also have been involved; at times the officer’s head disappeared in the sketcher altogether, because he had to examine the wheels so closely.
The explorer watched this labor from below without a pause; his neck grew stiff and his eyes hurt from the sunlight that streamed all over the sky. The soldier and the condemned man were occupied only with each other. The condemned man’s shirt and trousers, which were already in the pit, were fished out by the soldier on the point of his bayonet. The shirt was horribly filthy, and the condemned man washed it in the bucket of water. When he put on the shirt and trousers, both the soldier and the condemned man had to laugh out loud, because, after all, the garments were cut in two in the back. Perhaps the condemned man felt obligated to entertain the soldier; in his cut-up clothes he turned around in a circle in front of the soldier, who squatted on the ground and slapped his knees as he laughed. Nevertheless, they still controlled themselves out of regard for the gentlemen’s presence.
When the officer was finally finished up above, he once more surveyed the whole thing in every detail, smiling all the while; now he closed the cover of the sketcher, which had been opened up till then, climbed down, looked into the pit and then at the condemned man, noticed with satisfaction that he had taken his clothing out, then went to the bucket of water to wash his hands, realized too late how loathsomely filthy it now was, was sad about not being able to wash his hands, finally dipped them in the sand—he found this substitute inadequate but he had to make do with it—then stood up and started to un-button his uniform jacket. As he did so, the two lady’s handkerchiefs he had crammed behind his collar fell into his hands right away. “Here are your handkerchiefs for you,” he said, throwing them to the condemned man. And to the explorer he said, by way of explanation, “Gifts from the ladies.”
Despite the obvious haste with which he took off his jacket and then stripped completely, he nevertheless handled each garment very carefully; he even expressly ran his fingers over the silver braid on his jacket and shook a tassel back into place. It seemed inconsistent with this care, however, that, as soon as he was through handling a garment, he immediately threw it into the pit with an angry jerk. The last thing left to him was his short sword with its belt. He drew the sword from its sheath, broke it, then gathered everything together in his hand, the pieces of the sword, the sheath and the belt, and threw them away so violently that they clattered together down in the pit.
Now he stood there naked. The explorer bit his lips and said nothing. Of course, he knew what was going to happen, but he had no right to prevent the officer from doing anything he wanted. If the judicial procedure to which the officer was devoted was really so close to being abolished—possibly as a result of the intervention of the explorer, which the latter, for his part, felt obligated to go ahead with—then the officer was now acting perfectly correctly; in his place the explorer would have acted no differently.
At first the soldier and the condemned man understood nothing; at the beginning they didn’t even watch. The condemned man was quite delighted to have gotten the handkerchiefs back, but he wasn’t allowed to take pleasure in them long, because the soldier took them away from him in one rapid, unforeseeable grab. Now, in his turn, the condemned man tried to pull the handkerchiefs out of the belt under which he had stowed them, but the soldier was alert. They were fighting that way half-jokingly. Only when the officer was completely naked did they pay attention. The condemned man in particular seemed struck by the presentiment of some great shift in events. What had happened to him was now happening to the officer. Perhaps it would continue that way right up to the bitter end. Probably the foreign explorer had given the order for it. Thus it was revenge. Without having suffered all the way himself, he was nevertheless avenged all the way. A broad, soundless laugh now appeared on his face and no longer left it.
But the officer had turned toward the machine. If it had been clear even earlier that he understood the machine intimately, now it was absolutely astounding how he manipulated it and how it obeyed him. He had merely brought his hand close to the harrow and it rose and sank several times until reaching the proper position for receiving him; he merely clutched the bed by the edge and it already began to vibrate; the felt gag moved toward his mouth; it was evident that the officer didn’t really want to use it, but his hesitation lasted only a moment; he gave in right away and closed his mouth around it. Everything was ready, only the straps still hung down along the sides, but they were obviously unnecessary; the officer didn’t need to be buckled in. Then the condemned man noticed the loose straps; in his opinion the execution wouldn’t be perfect if the straps weren’t buckled tight; he made a vigorous sign to the soldier and they ran over to strap in the officer. He had already stretched out one foot to move the crank that was to set the sketcher in motion; then he saw that those two had come, so he pulled back his foot and let himself be strapped in. Now, of course, he could no longer reach the crank; neither the soldier nor the condemned man would be able to find it, and the explorer was determined not to move an inch. It wasn’t necessary; the straps were scarcely in place when the machine started running; the bed vibrated, the needles danced on his skin; the harrow moved lightly up and down. The explorer had already been staring at the scene for some time before he recalled that a wheel in the sketcher should have been squeaking; but all was still, not the slightest whir was to be heard.
Because of this quietness, their attention was drawn away from the actual operation of the machine. The explorer looked over at the soldier and the condemned man. The condemned man was the livelier one; everything about the machine interested him; now he bent down, now he stretched upward; his index finger was constantly extended to show the soldier something. It was agonizing for the explorer. He was resolved to stay there to the end, but he knew he couldn’t stand the sight of those two very long. “Go home,” he said. The soldier may have been prepared to do so, but the condemned man looked on the order as an actual punishment. He asked beseechingly, with clasped hands, to be allowed to remain, and when the explorer shook his head and refused to give in, he even knelt down. The explorer saw that orders were of no use in this instance; he was about to go over and chase the two away. Then he heard a noise up in the sketcher. He looked up. Was that cogwheel creating a hindrance after all? But it was something else. Slowly the cover of the sketcher lifted and then flew wide open with a bang. The cog of a wheel became visible and rose higher, soon the whole wheel could be seen; it was as if some terrific force were compressing the sketcher, so that there was no more room for this wheel; the wheel turned until it reached the rim of the sketcher, fell down and rolled on its edge for some distance in the sand before coming to rest on its side. But up there a second wheel was already rising, followed by many more wheels, large, small and barely discernible ones; the same thing occurred with all of them; every time it seemed the sketcher surely had to be completely empty, a new, particularly numerous group appeared, rose, fell down, rolled in the sand and came to rest. This series of events made the condemned man completely forget the explorer’s command; the cogwheels delighted him thoroughly; he kept trying to grab hold of one, at the same time spurring the soldier on to help him, but always drew back his hand in alarm, because that wheel was followed immediately by another wheel that frightened him, at least when it just started to roll.
The explorer, on the other hand, was very uneasy; the machine was obviously falling apart; the quietness of its operation was deceptive; he felt that he now had to do something for the officer, who could no longer take care of himself. But while the falling of the cogwheels had monopolized his entire attention, he had neglected to observe the rest of the machine; now, however, that the last cogwheel had left the sketcher and he bent over the harrow, he had a new, even worse surprise. The harrow wasn’t writing, it was merely stabbing, and the bed wasn’t turning the body over but merely lifting it, quivering, into the needles. The explorer wanted to intervene and possibly bring the whole thing to a standstill; this was no torture such as the officer wished to achieve, this was outright murder. He extended his hands. But at that moment the harrow was already lifting itself to the side with the skewered body, as it usually did only in the twelfth hour. The blood was flowing in a hundred streams, not mixed with water; the little water pipes had failed to work this time, as well. And now the final failure took place; the body didn’t come loose from the long needles; it poured out its blood, but hung over the pit without falling. The harrow was already prepared to return to its former position, but, as if it noticed of its own accord that it was not yet free of its burden, it remained above the pit. “Why don’t you help?” shouted the explorer to the soldier and the condemned man, seizing the officer’s feet himself. He intended to press himself against the feet on this side, while those two grasped the officer’s head on the other side, so he could be slowly removed from the needles. But now those two couldn’t make up their minds to come; the condemned man actually turned away; the explorer had to go up to them and forcibly hustle them over to the officer’s head. In doing so, he saw the face of the corpse, almost against his will. It was as it had been in life; no sign of the promised redemption could be discovered; what all the others had found in the machine, the officer did not find; his lips were tightly compressed, his eyes were open and had a living expression; his gaze was one of calm conviction; his forehead was pierced by the point of the big iron spike.
When the explorer, with the soldier and the condemned man behind him, arrived at the first houses of the colony, the soldier pointed to one and said: “Here is the teahouse.”
On the ground floor of the house was a long, low cavelike room, its walls and ceiling blackened by smoke. On the street side it was open for its entire width. Although the teahouse was not much different from the rest of the houses in the colony, which, except for the governor’s palace complex, were all very rundown, it still gave the explorer the impression of a historic survival; and he felt the impact of earlier times. He stepped up closer and, followed by the two who were accompanying him, he walked among the unoccupied tables that stood in the street in front of the teahouse, inhaling the cool, musty air that came from inside. “The Old Man is buried here,” said the soldier; “the priest refused to allow him a place in the cemetery. For a while people were undecided about where to bury him, finally they buried him here. I’m sure the officer didn’t tell you anything about that, because he was naturally more ashamed of that than of anything else. He even tried a few times to dig the Old Man out at night, but he was always chased away.” “Where is the grave?” asked the explorer, who couldn’t believe the soldier. At once both of them, the soldier and the condemned man, ran ahead of him and with outstretched hands indicated a spot where they claimed the grave was located. They led the explorer all the way to the back wall, where customers were sitting at a few tables. Probably they were dock workers, powerful men with short beards that were so black they shone. All were jacketless, their shirts were torn, they were poor, downtrodden people. When the explorer approached, a few of them stood up, flattened themselves against the wall and looked in his direction. “It’s a foreigner,” was the whisper on all sides of the explorer; “he wants to see the grave.” They pushed aside one of the tables, beneath which there actually was a gravestone. It was a simple stone, low enough to be concealed under a table. It bore an inscription in very small letters; the explorer had to kneel to read it. It said: “Here lies the old governor. His followers, who may not now reveal their names, dug this grave for him and erected the stone. There exists a prophecy that after a certain number of years the governor will rise again and will lead his followers out of this house to reconquer the colony. Believe and wait!” When the explorer had read this and stood up, he saw the men standing around him and smiling, as if they had read the inscription along with him, had found it ludicrous and were inviting him to share their opinion. The explorer acted as if he didn’t notice this, distributed a few coins among them, waited until the table was pushed back over the grave, left the teahouse and went down to the harbor.
In the teahouse the soldier and the condemned man had run into acquaintances who detained them. But they must have torn themselves away from them quickly, because the explorer was still only halfway down the long flight of stairs that led to the boats when he saw they were already running after him. They probably wanted to force the explorer to take them along at the last moment. While the explorer, down below, was negotiating with a boatman to row him over to the steamer, those two dashed furiously down the steps, silently, because they didn’t dare shout. But when they arrived down below, the explorer was already in the boat, which the boatman was just shoving off from shore. They might still have been able to jump into the boat, but the explorer picked up a heavy, knotted hawser from the floor, threatened them with it and thus prevented them from jumping.