Published in 1856, ‘Two Hussars’ is a timeless novella with a generational perspective about young men then and young men now. Naturally “then” carries an implicit meaning of greater honour, virtue, chivalry and integrity, while “now” almost always stands for the degeneracy of social customs and morals.
In his own classic way Tolstoy points out how this is both true and untrue, by taking the example of two generations, father and son, with the same name, Count Turbin, and how they reacted to almost exactly similar circumstances twenty years apart. It is for the reader to determine whether such a difference is due to defects in character, whether of father or son; or whether, in fact, society itself has changed, perhaps become degenerate, or simply whether hypocrisy governed both the past and the present.
The father is a lively scoundrel, who drinks, beats up his servant, borrows money freely, flirts with every girl he sees, and even seduces a respectable and innocent widow in his one evening in the town. He is made welcome wherever he goes, because together with his cheerfulness, he shows himself to be so open-handed and generous hearted that the servant whose teeth he had knocked out for insolence, says to the dog which he had neglected to feed: “He’s knocked my teeth out, Bluchy, but still he’s my count and I’d go through fire for him-I would!”
Nevertheless, he carries the reputation of a fearless man, a duellist, the terror of the enemy, and occasionally a brutal tyrant. In the space of one evening, he finds the time to attend a ball, dance with all the ladies, flirt with the girls at a gypsy camp, and endear himself to their husbands with the companionable manner in which he joined their revels, attend a card party where he observes a colleague losing badly to a cardsharp, challenges the sharp, recovers and restores the money to his friend and runs back to the widow for a final embrace and leaves her sleeping before finally for Moscow.
Now the son, also Count Turbin, about twenty years later. By a curious play of circumstances, he lands in the same village as his father had. Like his father, he finds no accommodation suitable for his rank and status. The son, unlike the father, is coarse, mean-minded and dishonest, savage to his inferiors, and overjoyed at winning at cards from an old lady. It happens that this old lady is in fact the beautiful widow whom the old Count Turbin had so gallantly seduced twenty years ago.
The son despises the society of the country people whose food and drink he does not, however, deign to refuse. Even the knowledge that his father had spent an agreeable evening with these same people more than twenty years ago does not induce him to display the least courtesy to them. His manners are insensitive and ungentlemanly, and by the time the evening is over, he fails in an attempted seduction of the widow’s daughter, Lisa. (Now, although never explicitly spelt out, there is always the underlying idea that the seduction of the mother by old Count Turbin had resulted in Lisa.) So it is as well that the son’s attempted assault had resulted in failure.
And finally, the second Count Turbin is a coward. Challenged to a duel by a subordinate, the count allowed his second to settle the affair so discreetly that not only was there no duel, but nobody else in the regiment even heard of it.
A simple tale but engrossing in its lavish detail and colour and gaiety, clashing with the sombre greys of time and old age, told with an astonishing economy of words.