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Jailer Jailed

Anton Chekov

Have you ever noticed how donkeys are loaded? Generally the poor beasts are piled up with everything one can think of, regardless of bulk or quantity: kitchen paraphemalia, furniture, beds, barrels, sacks with infants in them; they are packed so that they look like huge formless masses, and even the tips of their hoofs are scarcely visible. Alexie T, public prosecutor of the Khlamov district court, looked somewhat like this when, after the bird bell had rung, he rushed into the railway coach to secure a place. He was loaded from head to foot: bundles of provision, pasteboard boxes, tin boxes, suitcase a large bottle of something or other, a woman’s cloak and heaven only knows what more! Streams of perspiration ran down his red face, his legs were about to give way under him, and the light of suffering was in his eyes. His wife, Natasha L, followed him carrying her multicoated parasol. She was a small freckled blonde with a protuberant jaw and bulging eyes, and looked exactly like a young pickerel being drawn from the water of the end of a hook.

After wandering at length through several coaches, the prosecutor succeeded in finding places; he dropped his baggage onto his seats, wiped the perspiration from his forehead, and headed for the exit.

“Where are you going?” his wife asked.

“I want to go into the station, sweetheart, to drink a glass of vodka.”

“You can put that idea out of your head. Sit down!” Balbinsky sighed and sat down.

“Hold this basket-it has the dishes in it.”

Balbinsky took the large basket and looked longingly out the window.

At the fourth stop, his wife sent him into the station for hot water and there, near the buffet, he met his friend Flyazhkin, assistant to the president of the district court of Plinsk, with whom he had planned to make this trip abroad.

“My dear fellow, what does this mean?” Flyazhkin swooped down upon him. “This is a dirty trick, to say the least. We agreed to travel together in the same coach. What the devil are you doing in a third class coach? Why are you travelling in third class? No money? Or what?”

Balbinsky made a despairing gesture and began to blink his eyes.

“It’s all the same to me now”, he muttered, “I’d just as soon ride in the tender. It looks as if it’s all over, everything we planned. I could throw myself under the train. You cannot imagine, my dear fellow, to what extent my wife has worn me out. I’m so exhausted it’s a wonder I’m still alive! My God! The weather is magnificent... this air... the open country... nature... all the conditions for an undisturbed existence. Just the thought of going abroad ought to be enough to make me ecstatic. But no! Some evil destiny had to fasten that treasure round my neck. And observe the irony of fate: I invented this liver complaint for the sole purpose of getting away from my wife. I wanted to escape for a while – go abroad. All winter long I’ve dreamed of freedom, even in my waking dreams I saw myself alone. And now? I’m stuck with her for the trip! I tried one thing and then another-all for nothing! I’m going with you, no matter what.. Well, she came. I suggested we go second class. Not for the world! Why’ she says ‘should we waste the money?’ I gave her all the reasons. I told her we had the money that we lose prestige if we travel third class that it’s stuffy, it sinks, but she wouldn’t listen. A demon of frugality possesses her. Take this baggage for instance. Now, why do we have to drag along such masses of stuff? Why all these the bundles, boxes, suitcase, and other trash? Not only did we check ten poods of baggage, but we still require four seats in our car. The conductor keeps asking us to make room for others; the passenger get angry, she wrangles with them. It’s a shame! Would you believe it? I’m on oat coals! But to get away from her? God help me! She won’t allow me one step from her. I have to sit next to her and hold an enormous basket on my knees. Just now she sent me for hot water. Now, does it look proper for a court prosecutor to run about carrying a copper teapot? You know, probably some of my witnesses and defendants travelling on this train. My prestige is going to hell. But from now on, my dear fellow, this is going to be a lesson to me. It’s impossible to realize what personal freedom means! Sometimes you get carried away and, you know, for no reason at all, you stick someone in jail. Well, now I understand, it’s penetrated... I understand what it means to be in jail. Oh, how I understand!”

“I guess you’d be glad to get out on bail.” Flyazhkin smirked.

“Overjoyed! Would you believe it, regardless of my circumstances I’d be willing to put up a bond of 10.000! but I’ve got to run. She’s probably having a fit. I’ll get roasted.!

In Verzhbolovo, when Flyazhkin was taking on early morning stroll on the platform, he caught sight of Balbinsky’s sleeping face at the window of one of the third class coaches.

“Wait a minute”, the prosecutor beckoned to him. “She still sleeping -not awake yet- and when she’s asleep, I’m relatively free. To get out would be impossible, but at least I can put this basket on the floor in the meantime. That’s something to be thankful for! Oh, yes! I didn’t tell you? I’m so happy!”

“Why?”

“Two boxes and one bag were stolen from us –now we’re that much lighter. Yesterday we finished the goose and all the meat pies. I purposely ovrate so there would be less baggage. And the air in this coach! You could hang a hatched on it. Whew! This isn’t a journey – it’s sheer torture!”

The prosecutor turned and looked with bitterness at his sleeping spouse. “My Varvarka.” He whispered. “What a tyrant, what a herod you are! With my luck, will I ever escape from you, Xantippe? …Would you believe it Ivan Nikitich, sometimes I close my eyes and dream… What do I dream? If ifs and ans were pots and pans, she would fall into my clutches as my defendant. I think I’d sentence her to hard labor. But –she’s waking up- sh!”

In the twinkling of an eye he assumed an innocent expression, picked up the basket and set it on his lap.

At Eidkumen, when he came out to get hot water, he looked more cheerful.

“Two more boxes stolen!” he confided exultantly to Flyazhkin. And we’ve eaten up the rolls –we’re that much lighter!”

When they reached Konigsberg he ran into Flyazhkin coach looking positively transfigured. He threw himself down on the divan and burst into laughter.

“My dear friend! Ivan Nikitich! Let me embrace  you! I’m so happy, so perniciously happy! I am free! Co you understand? Free! My wife has run away!”

“What you mean ‘run away’?”

“She left the coach during the night, and she hasn’t come back! She ran off, or fell under the train, or maybe she left in a station somewhere. Anyway, she’s gone! Oh my angel!”

“But listen,” Flyazhkin became alarmed, “in that case you ought to telegraph-“

“Gor forbid! I’m enjoying my freedom so much, I can’t even describe it to you! Let’s go out on the platform and walk up and down… and breath freely!”

The two friends went out and marched up and down the platform. With every breath the prosecutor exclaimed, “How good! I can breathe! Are there actually people that live like this all the time? Do you know that, brother?” He reached a sudden decision. “I’ll move with you. We’ll spread out and live like bachelors.” And he ran headlong to his own coach to get his things.

Within a few minutes he was back again, no longer bearning, but pale, stunned, and with the copper teapot in his hands. He staggered slightly, and clutched his heart.

“She back!” He made a despairing gesture in answer to his friend’s questioning gaze. “It seems that during the night she got confused about the cars, and went into the wrong one by mistake. And that’s it, brother!”

The prosecutor stood before his friend with a dazed, despairing look on his face. Tears rose to his eyes. There was a moment of silence.

“Do you know what?” Flyazhkin said, taking him gently by the collar. “If I were in your place, I’d do the running away…”

“What do you mean?”

“Run away, that’s all; otherwise you’re going to wither away. You should see yourself!”

“Run away… run away…” mused the prosecutor. “That’s an idea! Well, I tell you what I’ll do, brother: I’ll get onto the wrong train at the next station and –I’m off! Later I can tell her it was a mistake. Well, Good bye… See you in Paris!”

Acting vs Lying

act or lie???

Acting and lying have some similarities, that are why people get confused with the usage of these two words. Many things can be said about the similarities of acting and lying.  Both spin a falsehood, leading the audience deeper and deeper into the trap until the very end when they are released.  Both force the performer into a position where they are not entirely themselves and not entirely in control of what they say or do.  However, there are striking differences between acting and lying.

            The first thing that makes acting different from lying is that liars are always themselves, but actors play someone else. When we are lying, we are just showing a different side of ourselves, or a different part of our personality. We do not talk to our parents the same way we talk to our friends or other people. Chances are that we change the way that we talk or the things we say. Actor lies for the sake of the character he is playing, while the liar lies for himself. Acting is an art, and though both actor as well as audience knows that the actor is lying and just portraying the character. They are led into believing that actor is really the character on screen. Many talented actors can play very different characters just like themselves in movies or plays.

            The second different thing between laying and acting is that lying happens on a regular basis. We all started on the practice of lying in our childhood though we are always taught the importance of the virtue of truth. Lying may be as common as a second nature to us. When caught in the act of lying, we may try to cover it up. Either changing the whole story or using words that let others know that it was only for play or how sorry we are. Similar to lying, acting is also done just as often as lying. However, the only difference is the actors often do not make up their own lies in movies or plays. They have someone else to do it. When the actors are not believable, they do not just pretend that did not say it. This is when the script is changed to make it more believable.

            The last thing that makes lying quite different from acting is the reason. To start off with a lie or a scene there is always a reason. For instance in lying, the reason may be that if you do not lie then you can have trouble. This is often the most common reason for lying. Another reason is because we may be told something like a secret. Someone then may ask us if we have heard anything about that. Obviously we do not want to ruin a surprise, break our trust, or even ruin a relationship with telling the truth. On the other hand, for acting the reason could be thought as the director is the one making the lies. However, following and reading is the same thing. Actors really lie for the money, attention, and jobs.

            Generally, acting and lying are two thing that almost the same. Yet, they have their own characteristics inside that make them become very different. The different may come from the personality, intensity, and also the reason. From the differences, acting is seen as a good thing whereas lying is a negative one. In a simple way, we can say that an actor is the best of liars, but a liar is the worst of actors.