The Carriage

The story fluctuates between humor and earnestness as it simultaneously praises and critiques sociopolitical life in Imperial Russia. Drawing from Ukrainian folk traditions, Gogol embraces archetypal characters whose actions are somewhat predictable, like the well-meaning but bumbling general. However, inspired by 19th-century literary Realism, he also takes pains to develop the interior worlds of his more idiosyncratic characters; Chertokutsky, for example, has an opaque but apparently scandalous personal history and is driven by motives that are less straightforward (and therefore more psychologically plausible) than those of other figures. Finally, Gogol’s narrator fluctuates between omitting detail in the name of mystery and the impulse to describe everything. This tendency, according to some scholars, is evidence of the dual influence of both Gothic romance and early impressionism.

“The Carriage” is thus a text that insistently mixes genres, voices, and stylistic devices. However, these disparate elements are held together by the theme of Depth and Shallowness and the closely related concept known as poshlost. Poshlost is a Russian term that has no direct equivalent in English, but it refers generally to banality, triviality, pettiness, and lack of spiritual depth. Gogol has long been associated with poshlost, and many scholars argue that his texts contain ideal examples of the concept. Vladimir Nabokov explains that poshlost in Gogol’s work “is not only the obviously trashy but mainly the falsely important, the falsely beautiful, the falsely clever, the falsely attractive” (Nabokov, Vladimir. “Philistines and Philistinism.” 1950). In “The Carriage,” these traits are equally present in the flat characters and the round characters: The general is unbothered by his own cluelessness and makes no effort to think critically about anything happening around him, while Chertokutsky is an apt schemer but only grasps at further vanity and emptiness. This suggests that poshlost transcends not only rank and class but, in storytelling, boundaries between different types of characters (primary versus secondary, round versus flat, etc.).

Nabokov explores the concept of poshlost further in his analysis of Gogol’s short story “The Overcoat,” writing of Gogol’s texts broadly: “Something is very wrong and all men are mild lunatics engaged in pursuits to them that seem very important while an absurdly logical force keeps them at their futile jobs” (Nabokov, Vladimir. “The Overcoat” in Lectures on Russian Literature. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2017, p. 57). This fracture between purpose and fulfillment is fundamental to the narrative action of “The Carriage.” The main characters are driven—to their own destruction, in the case of Chertokutsky—by a need for something they cannot quite articulate, but none of them are satisfied even when they get what they want. This plays out principally via The Hazards of Consumption. Characters indulge lavishly in food, alcohol, and social pleasures, but they derive no lasting happiness from their consumption and at times seem hardly aware that it’s happening (as in Chertokutsky’s mindless drinking at the general’s party).

However, there is “an absurdly logical force” at work throughout the story, even if the characters themselves do not recognize it: the existing social, economic, and political order and its demands on the individual. This force drives Chertokutsky to The Performance of Class that results in his downfall, but it compels every single character, from the archetypal ones to the realistic ones, from the named to the unnamed. While not all of them emerge as “lunatics” in this particular story—if only because of the text’s brevity—all are headed toward the point of absurdity that Chertokutsky reaches. The sense of unity this creates—the feeling that even in the story’s funniest moments some collective doom might be just around the corner—speaks to Gogol’s political alignment. While he vehemently opposed anything resembling solidarity among the peasants and was criticized during his lifetime for defending serfdom and the tsarist autocracy, his fiction paints a picture of the world as an irrevocably interconnected place.

In “The Carriage,” this is accomplished through the characters’ relationship dynamics. There are numerous scenes involving exchanges of either material goods or ideas, and regardless of class status, characters are consistently completing tasks for one another. The two occasions in which characters have relatively long conversations—one between Chertokutsky and the general, the other between the general and Chertokutsky’s household staff—are quick and lively, suggesting that all the participants have an equal stake in communicating with each other. Not only is every person important to the narrative, but every word is important, if not in content then in form. Even the general’s numerous nonsensical interjections as he stutters through his confusion contribute to the structure of the interactions. For example, he requires everyone below the rank of captain to repeat themselves, and they willingly comply, communicating no significant information but crystallizing a social hierarchy—one that is itself vacuous in many ways but nevertheless serves a purpose. Ultimately, the world of the story is one in which each individual’s job is as futile and hazy as every other job, but everyone is equally motivated by a desire to simply do a job.

Nabokov comments on the sense of meaninglessness that paradoxically ties the story’s world together, writing:

You cannot place a man in an absurd situation if the whole world he lives in is absurd; you cannot do this if you mean by ‘absurd’ something provoking a chuckle or a shrug. But if you mean […] the human condition […] a pathetic human, lost in the midst of Gogol’s nightmarish, irresponsible world, would be ‘absurd’ (Lectures 57).

In other words, comedic moments—both subtle irony and overt farce—have their place in stories like “The Carriage,” but they are not what makes the village of B— a place that demands critical reflection. Rather, it is the characters’ shared feeling of absurdity and existential lack that gives the story structure and significance. Gogol embraces this absence, enabling the reader to fill in interpretive gaps as they see fit. When the general sees Chertokutsky hiding inside the carriage and exclaims, “Ah, you’re here!” in “amazement” (195), it is unclear whether he is angry, amused, embarrassed, or something else entirely. The story simply ends, leaving the audience to ponder the nature of the general’s amazement and consider all the ways it could potentially affect Chertokutsky’s life. Arriving at a single conclusion might be as challenging as categorizing this story within a single genre or defining its most significant literary or philosophical influence. As Nabokov maintains, “[If] you are interested in ‘ideas’ and ‘facts’ and ‘messages,’ keep away from Gogol” (Lectures 60).