The Carriage

“The squat houses often saw a nimble, well-built officer with a plume on his head walking by as he went to see his comrade to have a chat about promotions, about the most excellent tobacco, or sometimes to stake his droshky on a card.”

The village comes to life after the arrival of the cavalry regiment, the formerly drab houses themselves able to “see” the dramatic change. However, while they seem cheerful on the surface, the changes the soldiers bring are largely centered on material wealth and social status, setting the stage for the story’s critique of The Performance of Class and The Hazards of Consumption.

“The contents of the whole market had been confiscated for the dinner, so that the judge and his deaconess had nothing to eat but buckwheat flapjacks and farina porridge.”

These preparations for the general’s dinner party suggest that the cavalry regiment has figuratively invaded and taken over the small village, consuming everything in its wake. The interests and comfort even of local authority figures are being ignored in favor of the interests and comfort of the visitors, further complicating the relationships between people from varying social classes.

“Whether he had slapped somebody in the face once upon a time or somebody slapped him, I don’t remember exactly, but the point is that he was asked to resign.”

The narrator alludes to Chertokutsky’s departure from his regiment, hinting that it was the result of an interpersonal conflict but providing no further details. This establishes Chertokutsky as a character deeply concerned with social relationships and sometimes unaware of the consequences of his actions. Additionally, the narrator’s intimate, gossipy tone suggests that they are firmly grounded in the world of the story and have perhaps even interacted with the characters rather than simply viewing them from a distance.

“And did you, pray tell me, obtain her already broken in or did you, pray tell me, break her in here?”

Chertokutsky asks this of the general while all the men admire Agrafena Ivanovna. His repeated use of the phrase “pray tell me” reveals his natural obsequiousness and desire to please the general, and the question he asks is part of his larger obsession with power and control.

“Chertokutsky was extremely pleased that he had invited the gentleman officers to his house. In his head he was ordering patés and sauces in advance.”

In this moment, the reader gets access to Chertokutsky’s inner world for the first time: It is one in which he is reflecting on his achievement and making plans for future glories. Even though he is still at the general’s dinner party, he has already begun using the interactions with his host as a means to an end.

“Finally, a few minutes before supper, the whist ended, but it continued in words, and it seemed everyone’s heads were full of whist.”

As the general’s party draws to a close, the boundaries between social rituals like conversation and card games have become blurred: The guests can no longer distinguish between one form of exchange and another. The lavish food and drink have had an almost hypnotic effect on them, amplifying their obsessive practices of consumption.

“In short, when they started to disperse it was three in the morning, and the coachmen had to take some of the personages into their arms as if they were shopping packages. Chertokutsky, despite all his aristocratism, bent so far over in his carriage and with such a sweep of his head that when he got home he brought with him two burrs in his mustache.”

In this passage, a simile transforms the wealthy party guests into material objects managed and cared for by servants from the peasant class: The language thus enacts a reversal of social roles, giving power to those who typically lack it. Chertokutsky is both literally and figuratively brought low, losing control of himself, and allowing a marker of his high military status—his mustache—to become marred.

“Everyone in the house was fast asleep. The coachman had a hard time finding the valet, who led the master to the parlor and turned him over to the maid.”

Chertokutsky, unable to navigate his own home, is passed from one person to another. The process again highlights the class dynamics among these characters: They do not have the actual agency that would allow them to change their social status, but in this atypical, comedic scenario, they can briefly control the man who ordinarily controls them.

“As if on purpose, just then it was as beautiful a time as a July summer day can boast of.”

As Chertokutsky’s wife sits in the garden enjoying the fresh air, the landscape is suddenly personified, transformed into a willing participant in her experience of the beauty around her. Moreover, not only is it a lovely day, but it is also the loveliest a day could possibly be. This hyperbolic description comes just a few sentences before the comedic action of the narrative reaches its farcical peak, foreshadowing the exaggerated physical action that will soon follow.

“The pretty mistress of the house completely forgot that it was twelve o’clock and her husband was still sleeping. She could already hear the after-dinner snoring of two coachmen and one postboy who were sleeping in the stables behind the garden.”

Even though Chertokutsky’s wife hears men snoring, she forgets that her husband is also sleeping. While the narrator does not elaborate on the reason for this, it could be because the coachmen and the postboy are peasants who work on the Chertokutsky estate and thus have little in common with Chertokutsky himself. The total disconnection between the wife’s awareness of laborers and her awareness of her husband suggests that she does not see her husband as a worker in any sense of the word and underscores that people in these classes exist in completely separate spheres.

“In front was a light, open two-seat carriage; in it was sitting the general with thick epaulets that gleamed in the sunlight, and next to him the colonel. Behind that carriage followed another, with four seats; in it were sitting a major and the general’s adjutant and two more officers opposite them; behind the carriage followed the well-known regimental droshky, which on this occasion was in possession of the corpulent major; behind the drosky came a four-seat bon voyage, in which four officers were sitting with a fifth on top of their arms […] behind the bon voyage three officers were cutting a fine figure on splendid dapple-bay horses.”

This lengthy, detailed description of the visitors’ approach highlights the regiment’s constant presence in the daily lives of the villagers: Even when it seems there cannot possibly be more soldiers in a given place, more still arrive. Additionally, the narrator maintains a tone of critical distance, relaying in an objective, straightforward way what is happening as the cavalry members arrive at the Chertokutskys’ home. This is a complete shift from the intimate, personal voice in which the narrator speaks for much of the rest of the story—a change that calls into question the narrator’s feelings about the role of the military in the civilian world.

“‘Guests, what guests?’ After he said this, he produced a little moo, like the one a calf emits when seeking his mother’s teats with his snout. ‘Mmmm…’ he growled, ‘schnookums, stick out your little neck so I can kiss it.’“

The story again uses figurative language to highlight Chertokutsky’s helplessness and lack of self-awareness. In this instance, he is compared to a baby animal looking for nourishment and physical affection even as the outside world demands that he be strong, confident, and strategic in his social interactions. Chertokutsky’s transformation also emphasizes the vast differences between the public sphere and the domestic sphere. In the former, he can—with a great deal of effort—navigate highly politicized relationships, but in the latter, he forgets about his obligations entirely, regressing to a state of childlike need that would be inappropriate anywhere else.

“‘Oh, what a horse I am!’ he said, hitting himself in the forehead.”

As soon as he remembers inviting the general and officers to his home, Chertokutsky refers to himself derisively as a horse. The narrative thus continues drawing parallels between Chertokutsky and animals, but more specifically, this turn of phrase refers back to the appearance of Agrafena Ivanovna. The bay mare is owned and controlled—indeed, she has been “broken”—by the general, and in this moment, Chertokutsky appears to see himself playing a similar role in his relationship with the more powerful man.