Pushkin's Onegin: Tatiana's age

It's been a few years since I read Pushkin's Eugene Onegin but I saw an article today that has me wanting to revisit it again soon. This may be nothing new to many, but I wanted to pass it on.

Onegin’s Tatiana Was Only Thirteen? points out the references to Tatiana's maid's age in reference to her own. Also telling is Pushkin's choice of words:

Pushkin uses the word otrokovitsa. This hard-to-pronounce Russian word is usually translated as maiden but in Pushkin’s time otrok (male) and otrokovitsa (female) referred to children from 7 to 15 years old.

The conclusion that she *could* have been only thirteen seems to be consistent with my memory of Eugene's on-again/off-again conscience and not wanting to betray her innocence. It is possible for a "superfluous man" to do the right thing, even with (or because of) Pushkin's irony.

My concern with this supposition, though, comes from the consistency with Russian societal norms of the time. Would girls of thirteen been allowed to dance with men (as she does on her name-day party)? But then for a work that examines art vs. real life, how much stock should you put in what was common at the time? Like I said, I'll need to revisit this soon. I'm interested to hear from others on Onegin's rejection.

Eugene Onegin summary

The Duel between Onegin and Lensky (1901) by Ilya Repin
Picture source

the ache/toská: No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases it may be the desire for somebody or something specific, nostalgia, lovesickness. At the lowest level it grades into ennui, boredom, skuka

- from Vladimir Nabokov's commentary on Eugene Onegin

I watched a version of Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin and enjoyed it. Unfortunately that’s about all I can say…I just don’t get opera. The oldest boy did ask to watch “the movie where they sing the story” one night, so maybe the kids will appreciate it more than me. What I found interesting was how a slight change of emphasis at the end makes a world of difference. Pushkin highlights Onegin’s diminution over the last chapter, stopping just as he is about to be discovered by Tatyana’s husband—you anticipate further humiliation. Tchaikovsky leaves Onegin alone on stage, focusing on his despair. One of the last words he sings is toská, for which I’ve provided Nabokov’s multi-layered explanation above. Both are powerful endings but in completely different ways. (In the original opera version, the ending had Gremin catch Tatyana and Onegin together. Onegin leaves vowing to seek death. Tchaikovsky changed the ending before its professional debut.)

It shouldn’t take two months to write up Eugene Onegin, yet it did. The more I delved into it the more I enjoyed it. Pushkin’s style is very light and breezy, but his economy hides a depth of meaning and references. I’m fascinated by the response to the characters. Onegin’s rejection of Tatyana should endear him to the reader, yet it doesn’t. He has done the right thing and saved her from unhappiness (at least in theory), but his shallow self-righteousness turns the reader permanently against him as does treating Tatyana as just another plaything. He realizes his mistake and condemns Tatyana to a different hell. Both characters are doomed regardless of what Tatyana chooses at the end.

Below are a list of links on Eugene Onegin, Pushkin, and a few of his other works:

Online resources for Pushkin and Eugene Onegin

Eugene Onegin discussion: Chapters 1 – 4
Eugene Onegin discussion: Chapters 5 – 8

Onegin (1999 film)

A tie-in between Pushkin, Repin, and Babel
A shortened version on Byron’s influence on Pushkin
Pushkin on Count M.S. Vorontosov
Discussion on Pushkin’s Mozart and Salieri
Pushkin’s poem “I Loved You Once” and Joseph Brodsky’s similar poem

Eugene Onegin discussion: Chapters 5 – 8

Ball at Larins by Alexei Steipanovitch Stepanov (1911)
Picture source

Whatever in this rough confection
you sought - tumultuous recolleciton,
a rest from the toil and all its aches,
or just grammatical mistakes,
a vivid brush, a witty rattle -
God grant that from this little book
for heart's delight, or fun, you took,
for dreams, or journalistic battle,
God grant you took at least a grain.
On this we'll part; goodbye again!

(Chapter 8, xlix)

The second half…

Chapter 5 begins with a celebration of Russia, even its harsh winter. Noting the winter scene just described may be too “low and unrefined” for the reader, the narrator relays the Larins’ (and especially Tatyana’s) reliance on divinations and superstition. The rustic life may be low, but it feels more real than the city life Onegin lived. As Tatyana sleeps, her dream is easily the most disturbing and surreal part of the book (and could support a post or dissertation of its own). The troubling atmosphere within Tatyana’s psyche is reflected in the hallucination, Tatyana being threatened by horrific characters and beasts. Onegin is in her dream, at first reassuring her but then taking on some of the troubling aspects of the beasts. As the scene descends into violence, Tatyana wakes up having glimpsed a portent of what will happen. It’s funny to note that reading is the one thing that comforts her from the haunting vision.

Pushkin’s love/hate feelings about the countryside are most evident in his description of Tatyana’s name day celebration. The tender-hearted bumpkins are lovingly described, a pleasant earthiness to their manner and behavior. Yes, the party isn’t the same as one of the Petersburg parties that Onegin attended in Chapter One, but is that a bad thing? Lensky and Onegin enter the party late and are seated across from Tatyana. She lowers her eyes and trembles, but Onegin misreads the reason. Her reaction is because of him, but not for him. However he thinks she is yet another sad girl trembling for him and decides to stir things up at the party. Targeting Olga and Lensky says a lot about him, as he decides to undermine love between others.

Even so, Onegin does exhibit kindness in showing he was capable of pity, assisting Tatyana with a tender look when she stumbled during his acknowledgment in front of the party. Anything pleasant to be said about him ends with that gesture as Onegin dances and flirts with Olga the rest of the evening. At one point he is forced to choose between Tatyana and her sister, selecting to continue dancing with Olga. While he is simply toying with Olga (and Lensky), the irony is that she reads nothing into it beyond simple pleasantries—it makes little difference to her. But it enrages Lensky, scheduled to be married to Olga in less than two weeks. Lensky leaves the party, deciding on a duel to settle his damaged pride. An additional irony is that words fail the supposed poet Lensky, who chooses hazardous action instead of finding out what is behind Onegin’s actions or Olga’s acceptance. Up to this point, Lensky has represented the innocence lost in Onegin, but now the poet loses that virtue as well as his ability to communicate.

Onegin’s actions set off a chain of events in Chapter 6 that seem to harm everyone. Onegin, seeing Lensky has left, feels nothing but a tedium and languor—even in victory, the stakes were so low that his “pleasure on his vengeful act” bores him. Tatyana’s jealousy of her sister leads to her realization that she is still at Onegin’s mercy. Apparently Onegin cannot achieve sustained happiness so he decide to cause unhappiness in others. Another bad choice makes the fatal outcome inevitable—Lensky’s choice of Zaretsky as his second. Zaretsky is described as the “king of brawls”, well versed in the language and steps of a duel. Zaretsky fails to follow through on one of the basic roles of a second, which is to attempt to reconcile the dueling parties (something he is praised for having done with many others). Onegin regrets making fun of a “love so timorous and gentle”, yet does nothing to mitigate the damage he has caused. Lensky also regrets his actions, yet he is resolved to duel…apparently not to reclaim his honor but to protect Olga and other women from Onegin. Lensky attempts to write a poem, which is eloquent but not very original. His letter is a compendium of romantic notions and phrases, which he can commit to paper while he is unable to speak to Olga—he realizes her dancing with Onegin was innocent, but he lacks the ability to reconcile his relief with the avenging actions he has set in motion.

The duel follows with a dreamlike feeling. Onegin offends Lensky in every way possible—oversleeping, choosing a servant as a second, and more. Does he not take the duel seriously? Or does he think that it is an act that will not be carried out, or simply theater? Zaretsky makes sure the duel occurs. Lensky is shot in the chest, blood “smoking from the wound.” The narrator muses on what would have happened had Lensky lived: “A normal fate” would have awaited him, a less than pleasant description of that potential life that might have followed. Was it a loss that he died, or was it saving him from an ignoble life? The narrator reflects on time and aging, revealing he (the narrator) has matured, yet seeking the inspiration of youth. The “poet’s soul of passion” is not necessarily for the young, yet inspiration is described as a youthful feature. This just after the youthful passion of Lensky leads to his death…one of too many ironies to list. With Lensky’s death, the narrator draws symmetry between Onegin and the poet, highlighting similarities that can easily be overlooked because of their differences.

Chapter 7 sees an explicit shift in roles between Tatyana and Onegin. The narrator’s feeling of exile reflects not just Onegin’s self-banishment but Pushkin’s enforced exile as well. The chapter mirrors the first chapter of Onegin’s meaningless life in Petersburg, but in reverse. Olga’s brief period of mourning for Lensky is quickly followed by her marriage to a low level soldier. Her lack of depth reminds the reader that Onegin was correct—a poet would prefer her sister instead. Images of death flow throughout the chapter, such as Tatyana’s “shade-like” existence. She visits Onegin’s empty estate, exploring his library. His works reflect a different world than the romance novels she has read and it is as if she is trying to absorb and understand Onegin from the works he owned. In reading his books, she reads not just the story but Onegin as well, his notations providing additional insight. Yet the emptiness of Onegin and his life is revealed to Tatyana as literature guides her to knowledge and understanding. If only Onegin had absorbed as much from his reading. Not to mention who Onegin shows as his influences with prominent artwork of Lord Byron and Napoleon in his library.

Mirroring Onegin’s move to the country Tatyana moves to Moscow, her family guiding her through the protocol of finding a spouse in the city. Like Onegin she does not seem to belong in either the city or the country, yet her parting gestures show a tie to the forest (and symbolically to Russia) that lies at her core. The emptiness of Moscow’s social life echoes Onegin’s purposelessness in Petersburg society. Yet Tatyana grows during the chapter while Onegin, absent for the most part, diminishes. As we are introduced to Tatyana’s “fat general” (or future husband) the narrator provides a (false) introduction to the work while begging the muse to not allow any more diversions in his story. A little late for that at this point (recalling Sterne’s gift for misplacement), but at least is isn’t at the reader’s loss…

Chapter 8 does more than just invoke the muse, turning the Muse into a character. After a brief history of the narrator and his muse, the action returns to Tatyana in Moscow society (while a blending of Tatyana and his Muse is unavoidable to the reader). She is stately, mastering social requirements but not fully a part of what goes on around her. Onegin returns to the story, not fitting in to his surroundings as well. Those that see him are puzzled: “ ‘You know him, do you?’ ‘Yes and no.”” (8, viii) Which implies that Onegin is unknowable, restless for change where ever he goes. Onegin asks the “fat general” (now described as a prince) if who he sees is Tatyana. Shocked when he hears that she is now the prince’s wife, he is “introduced” to her. The transformation of Tatyana is complete at this point: she is described in icy, cold terms as opposed to her earlier fire. In addition, she demonstrates the self-control Onegin once counseled her to learn. After the icy meeting, Onegin wonders what ails him (love described as an illness again). This is a new sensation for him…he doesn’t recognize what it is at first.

Arriving early to a soiree hosted by the prince and Tatyana, Onegin sits with her but “words won’t fit / on Eugene’s lips” (8, xxii), reminiscent of “language dying” at their previous meeting. It is interesting to note how many times characters are unable to speak and the implied cost of that inability. Onegin’s diminution continues as he silently pines for Tatyana (and what the narrator feels she represents):

But my Eugene that night directed
his gaze at Tatyana alone –
not the plain, timorous, dejected
and lovelorn maiden whom he’d known,
but the unbending goddess-daughter
of Neva’s proud imperial water,
the imperturbable princess. (8, xxvii)

The roles are reversed from Onegin’s first visit to the Larins, where he claimed not to even remember which sister was which. Tatyana “refuses to perceive him”, causing Onegin in turn to write a letter to her. Just as she put herself in his hands with her letter to him, Onegin bares his soul to her. While his letter is slightly more proper than hers, it also feels soulless in comparison. He is approaching self-awareness, recognizing his earlier desire of freedom drove him to reject her. Yet the estrangement he feels from society since the duel with Lensky (of which Onegin paints himself as the victim)has deepened. The ultimate irony of the letter is how much it resembles Tatyana’s unsuccessful missive, a fact that cannot be lost on her. In one sense, its failure is but a rehashing of her letter’s failure.

Tatyana does not reply to his letter so Onegin sends more. She presents her frostiest demeanor to him at their next meeting as he looks with “eyes of fire”, more contrasts to earlier symbolism. He turns to books, but he is unable to glean anything from them. While he looks the part of the poet, he is unable to become one. (On a side note, his poetic intuition is superior to that of any other character, yet along with every other talent he shows he short sells it.) Onegin can take no more and goes to Tatyana’s house, slipping in unannounced (as only happens in a novel…I have a feeling Pushkin smiled as he wrote these lines). Onegin throws himself at her feet when he sees her reading his letters and crying. But the tables are fully turned. (Is this the only point in the book where she directly speaks to Onegin privately? I believe it is—the name day party address was in front of everyone.) She lectures him on propriety, absolving his previous rejection since he acted, yet excoriating him for his current lack of respect. She questions his motives—is he interested because she is in society now? Her access to the court? Or does he simply want another scandal? She sounds surprisingly like Onegin at one point, revealing how much she hates her life and how she would trade it all for a cottage with a library and garden. But recognizing she has committed herself, even though she still loves Onegin, she declares her intention to stay faithful to her husband. With that, all ties to the past are formally severed. As Tatyana leaves the room, Onegin is unable to move, thunderstruck from the lecture he has just received. And at that moment, Tatyana’s husband appears… .

The ending may be abrupt, but it leaves no doubt that Onegin has reached full diminishment. Three additional stanzas follow (which include the quotes at the top and bottom of the post), the narrator musing on his creations and the problems with his work’s reception. Does the reader know Onegin after finishing the work? Like the characters in the book said, “Yes and no.” To some extent, we may know Pushkin better than Onegin—a work in which the poet is murdered by a perceived rival foreshadows his own death. While that may be an easy interpretation after the fact, so is the split between Pushkin’s own nature represented by both Lensky and Onegin. What we do see, without having to read anything into the story, is the maturation of Pushkin across the decade that Eugene Onegin appeared. The latter chapters capture him at the height of his creative talent. Which I think would make Eugene Onegin proud of his creator…

Eugene Onegin and Vladimir Lensky's duel (1899) by Ilya Repin
Picture source

Blest he who's left the hurly-burly
of life's repast betimes, nor sought
to drain its goblet down, nor thought
of finishing its book, but early
has wished it an abrupt goodbye -
as, with my Eugene, have I.

(Chapter 8, li)

Eugene Onegin discussion: Chapters 1 – 4

Windmill in Mikhailovskoe, Russia
(where Pushkin was exiled 1824 - 1826)
Picture source

With womankind, the less we love them,
the easier they become to charm,
the tighter we can stretch above them
enticing nets to do them harm.
- 4, vii


‘I’ve dreams and years past resurrection;
a soul that nothing can renew…
I feel a brotherly affection,
or something tenderer still, for you.
Listen to me without resentment:
girls often change to their contentment
light dreams for new ones…so we see
each springtime, on the growing tree,
fresh leaves…for such is heaven’s mandate.
You’ll love again, but you must teach
your heart some self-control: for each
and every man won’t understand it
as I have…learn from my belief
that inexperience leads to grief.’
-4, xvi
(All translations by Charles Johnston)

I am finally getting to write something about Eugene Onegin…I feel bad this has taken so long to get to…I’m not sure why I’ve resisted writing about it so much. Regardless, I’ll try and provide an outline of the tale and highlight a few points in two posts.

The book begins (and ends) in media res, privy to the title character’s thoughts as he travels to his uncle’s deathbed. The second stanza abruptly switches to a narrator (who calls Onegin his good friend), providing background on Eugene. The first chapter focuses mostly on Onegin and his life in Petersburg. Unfortunately there isn’t much good to be said about him. His education was rudimentary at best, although Pushkin pokes fun at the cultured class of his day:“We all meandered through our schooling / haphazard; so, to God be thanks, / it’s easy, without too much fooling, / to pass for cultured in our ranks.”

A quick word on literary references which permeate the book—an ironic allusion appears from the very first line and continue nonstop. Many of the references have multiple levels of meaning—Stanza vii in Chapter 1 refers to Ovid, connecting Onegin’s focus on passion to the poet’s erotic verse. Yet the next lines highlight Ovid’s exile, an allusion to Pushkin’s situation as well as underscoring Onegin’s sense of not belonging in either the city or the country. This theme is hammered home many times with the frequent appearance of banishment and dreams. As I mention in the post on Pushkin and Byron, shades of Sterne constantly appear. The narrator, while providing background and understanding of Onegin in the first chapter, constantly begs forgiveness for multiple distractions. While proclaiming “That isn’t our immediate worry”, he still spends much ink on that topic. Also in that post, I touched briefly on Lord Byron’s influence, direct and indirect.

What I found most interesting in the first chapter is Onegin’s complexity. While Pushkin describes a totally unlikeable character, occasionally an attribute appears that makes the reader partial to him. After his lack of scholarship, Onegin’s true talent appears—playing a role perfectly in order to “trouble the heart of the professional flirt”. Yet this self-absorption with luxury and delight fails to completely win him over. Stanza xxxvii goes to great lengths to paint his dissatisfaction with society, duels, and infidelity. Onegin begins to distance himself from society and also gives up reading. The narrator makes his acquaintance with Onegin at this point, pulling no punches in describing his disagreeable characteristics (“disputing”, “cursing”, “virulence”, “bile”). Yet the narrator deepens his friendship. Onegin begins to show his desire for escape, yet his love of Russia binds him where he is. The narrator becomes as much of a character in the book as does Onegin, developing and evolving over time. More on this later, as the narrator becomes more than a liaison with the reader and comments on the serialization and reception of the work.

Onegin’s father dies, and despite a lavish lifestyle Onegin does not show avaricious grasping for money. After his uncle dies and he visits the inherited estate, enjoying the peace of the countryside or for at least two days. There he is bored just as in the city. You get the feeling that Onegin doesn’t belong or fit in anywhere. There is a void he takes little pains to fill. The narrator intrudes to make sure the reader understands the difference between him and Onegin (needling critics that he is unlike Byron and can do something other than a self-portrait), Pushkin’s attempt to differentiate himself from his creation. Yet Pushkin’s self-references continue, introducing his muse and then the narrator’s (or rather Pushkin’s) non-apology: “in my fiction / there’s far too much of contradiction, / but I refuse to chop or change.”

Chapter 2 goes into detail on Onegin’s leisure, which he loathes. Onegin stands out from his neighbors: he frees his serfs (making them renters instead), drinks wine instead of vodka, and rushes out the back door when neighbors call. Vladimir Lensky, a young student, appears and the two strike a deep friendship. Lensky and Onegin could hardly be more different. Lensky is moved by life and love, viewing himself a poet. Onegin has already been described as not a poet (I, vii) “So, verse and prose, they came together” (II, xiii), highlighting Pushkin’s description of the work as a novel in verse. (more on the prose/poetry dichotomy later) One characteristic I will address here is Onegin’s allowance for Lensky’s youth: “youth is a fever; we must spare / its natural right to rave and flare.” (II, xv) Onegin’s dispassion is his defining feature, making his exceptions all the more remarkable.

The narrator introduces Lensky’s love, Olga Larin, and her older sister Tatyana. Olga’s beauty enraptures Lensky, inspiring him and provides his muse. Not much time is spent describing her as she seems rather shallow, the narrator remarking that her beauty is the type that eventually bores him. Lensky’s devotion to Olga contrasts with Onegin’s use-and-discard approach to women. The narrator describes Tatyana, highlighting her solitude and reflective nature (in contrast, it seems, to all the other characters). Her love of romance novels is an additional difference, whether from Onegin’s disdain of books or from Lensky’s studies of more serious matter. Her father’s passing is described at the end of Chapter Two, adding yet another death to the story—the book does not shy away from death. The narrator’s musing on life and death seems to segue into Pushkin’s voice. How much you can believe of the claim “I never lived or wrote for praise” (II, xxxix) is open to question, although I don’t think Pushkin need worry that his work will be lost to a “drowning’s death in Lethe river”.

Chapter 3 opens with Onegin inviting himself along with Lensky to visit the Larins. Few details of this visit are provided until their drive home. Onegin feigns ignorance of which girl was Lensky’s love, though it is clear he paid more attention than he lets on. He tells Lensky that Tatyana would be the better choice for a poet, while Olga—pretty enough—is simply a “dumb moon”. I took that to mean that she has no life of her own but will reflect the spirit of livelier people around her. It is clear that Tatyana noticed Onegin, feeling in her “waiting soul” that he was the one for her. She reads even more romances, immersing herself in and identifying with the characters. While Tatyana pictures herself the heroine of a romance novel, the narrator makes it clear that Onegin was not on a level as one of the heroes. A sidebar follows on the state of current novels as well as a possible story arc that Pushkin will not follow.

Tatyana, unable to sleep, asks her old nurse if she was ever in love. The nurse laughs: “in those other / ages we’d never heard of love”. (3, xviii) Love and illness are the same to the nurse, or at least should be treated the same way. The moon is again referenced, this time as inspiration while things are viewed differently in its imperfect light. Tatyana decides to write a letter to Onegin, the narrator begging pardon to translate her French to Russian, a language that has been unable to express a lady’s love (until now, the narrator smirks, allowing Pushkin to pat himself on the back). The narrator expresses both his admiration at the letter’s tenderness as well as stating his disdain at the disaster it flirts with. It turns out, of course, that Tatyana’s letter is a beautiful declaration of love, laying herself open to Onegin’s response. A synopsis of her letter:
Tatyana admits that Onegin can “make my world a hell” if he scorns her, but she must write and hope he has pity. She asks why he had to visit the Larins, causing her a “laceration”. There is a randomness to love, and if she had not met him she may have been perfectly happy with another. But not now. She realized “in a blaze” that Onegin was the one for her. Yet “who are you: / the guardian angel of tradition / or some vile agent of perdition / sent to seduce?” Again mention she leaves her fate in his hands, she echoes his situation with her own: “I’ve no one here who comprehends me”. (3, xxxi)

Unable to re-read what she has written, she seals it and has the nurse’s grandson deliver it to Onegin. A day or two later, Onegin visits the Larins. Tatyana flees to the garden, trying to distract herself, but Onegin still finds her.

All of which leads to a reminiscence at Chapter 4’s start. The narrator looks back on the passing of “cold-blooded debauchery” along with the fading of the romantic novels (such as those Tatyana loved). The narrator’s realization of passion’s force, as well as the emptiness that it can lead to (“success’s giddy trifle”), is reflected in Onegin’s understanding that he wasted eight years and “life’s fine flower” in his empty pursuits. (4, ix) The reader has seen this part of Eugene where he goes through the motions of the game society expects, similar to the emptiness of a game of whist but with apparently higher stakes. All of this leads up to Onegin’s, response to Tatyana’s letter. “Yet Tanya’s note made its impression / on Eugene, he was deeply stirred”, kindling thoughts of his prior ways and what he could do with her. However he comes down on the side of not wishing “to betray / a soul so innocent, so trusting.” (4, xi)

One joy of the work comes from viewing the characters’ voyages of self-discovery. Here we see a tentative step by Onegin, which unfortunately leaves a lot to be desired. In short, his response to Tatyana’s letter lets her know that it has brought feelings to a part of him that had been dead. He chides her on the artlessness of her letter, but says he will confess in the same manner. He realizes what she is offering, but feels unable to accept it. He comments on his “sad existence”, noting he was “not intended / for happiness” (4, xiii and xiv). After noting her perfection, his realization that he would be miserable (and make her more so) after a day of marriage sounds a similar note to his boredom after two days in the country. In addition, some symbolism is reinforced in this section—Tatyana’s pure fire versus Onegin’s corrupt iciness. Onegin is perceptive, but something is still lacking. Why does he reject Tatyana? Is he truly saving her (and himself) from misery, acting on a higher plane? Or is he simply unwilling or unable to address the void in his life, letting cynicism control him? Nor do the options need to be mutually exclusive…

From the stanza quoted at the top (4, xvi), Onegin projects his behavior onto Tatyana. Preaching self-control is the ultimate irony, one that he only practices now because of his boredom. And if inexperience leads to grief, what does experience lead to? (The next stanzas are an aside, blending the narrator’s and Pushkin’s response to critics and personal insults.) Onegin’s response makes Tatyana’s passion burn more intensely (more of the fire imagery), while her overall “bloom begins to languish” (4, xxiv). In contrast, the narrator paints the scene of love between Olga and Lensky. The poet is reduced to silly romantic twaddle, but it masks a deep love (almost begging the question is that what love reduces us to?). After another dig by the narrator/Pushkin on empty grand tomes by and for aristocrats (as compared to the sentimental scribbling of provincials), there is another diversion on recent critical thought versus the works they purport to review. Pushkin seems unable to let any slight go.

After the meeting with Tatyana, Onegin spends the summer lost in his own little world. He loses track of time while in the country, letting life “mount its grip on him”. (4, xxxix) He dreams his life away, “Childe-Harold-like”. In another Byronesque moment, the narrator compares Bordeaux and Champagne, each symbolic of much more than just wine. As the two characters enjoy their wine, Lensky makes sure Onegin is coming to Tatyana’s upcoming name day party. The poet lies to Onegin, saying the party will be small. He then rhapsodizes about Olga and their wedding in two weeks. The differences are drawn between love and reason, Lensky and Onegin.

The economy and simplicity of Pushkin’s verses are a delight to read. The layers are readily apparent upon first reading, but the depths they explore (literary as well as psychologically) deepen with each evaluation. Nabokov took four volumes to translate and explain the work for a reason (beyond simply Nabokov being Nabokov). Also, listen to some of Pushkin’s poetry in Russian (I mentioned the Russian poetry page in the resources post) to sample the melodious nature of his work.

Update (15 Sep 2014): For more on Onegin's rejection of Tatyana, possibly due to her age, see this post.

Pushkin self-portrait
Picture source

Eugene Onegin discussion: Pushkin and Byron

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage by J.M.W. Turner
Picture source

I had written a long post on Lord Byron’s influence on Pushkin, as well as Pushkin creating something beyond Byron. As I was re-reading it, I realized only people working on graduate degrees related to this would care. Hell, even I didn’t care by the time I reached the end. So I’ll paraphrase it and try to at least discuss part of the novel.

With Byron’s influence waning, it is easy to forget the standing Byron had during his day. His writing hit notes that resonated perfectly for his time and Pushkin could probably identify (to some extent) with Byron’s life (or at least the persona) and characters. Byron doesn’t exert the same influence as he once did, obviously, but neither does Goethe’s Werther, but each captured and influenced their time. That Pushkin would esteem one of Europe’s leading writers is understandable. I can’t find it now, but I remember reading that Pushkin took pride in sleeping with one of Byron’s lovers. This tale may have been from Pushkin’s alleged journals, making the story questionable (but still fitting).

The romanticism usually associated with Byron comes through in Eugene Onegin, not just in particular characters but in works referenced in the novel. The melancholy and world-weariness of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage reflects the character of Onegin. Unlike Byron, who noted it was difficult to separate Harold and the author, Pushkin first separates Onegin from the author through the use of a narrator/character very different from Pushkin. In another sense, he also “divides” himself through two characters, Onegin and the poet Lensky. Still, the influence in using a Byronic hero stands out in Pushkin’s work. Not to mention he specifically mentions Childe Harold several times throughout the work.

Eugene Onegin seems to follow closer to Byron’s Don Juan (at least to me). Don Juan goes beyond the romanticism of Byron’s earlier work, adding much satire and irony. Pushkin denied that Eugene Onegin had anything in common with Don Juan, even though the mock heroics of both feel similar at times. Since both are a combination of several types of literature and show similar influences, they should feel comparable at times. Not to mention that Pushkin mentioned he had started a work “in the genre of Don Juan. It is interesting to note that Child Harolde is mentioned many times throughout Onegin while Don Juan has only one reference. But that mention is important. It occurs when Tatyana explores Onegin’s library after the duel, reading books (including Don Juan and other works by Byron) that Onegin would not share with her, causing her to understand “the creature / for whom her passion has been planned”. To drive home the point, it doesn’t hurt that Byron’s portrait is on the wall of the library, too. On top of the direct addresses to Byron’s works, Pushkin also indirectly addresses or alludes to them many times throughout the novel.

Which is not to say Pushkin focuses solely on Byron or was only influenced by him. Literary references and allusions are everywhere throughout the work, starting with the opening lines (an ironic reference to a fable). Having recently read Tristram Shandy, it is easy to see shades of Sterne, from the digressions (also similar to Byron and other works), to empty chapters (for various reasons), and placing the introduction at the end of the seventh chapter. Playfulness can take many forms, but Sterne’s tone and style seem apparent throughout the novel. With all of these references and allusions, Pushkin assumes a high level of literary knowledge in his readership.

I’ll mercifully end this post now. So much for being short…

Eugene Onegin discussion: Onegin (1999 film)

Picture source: RFC Galleries

Never one to do things in a consistent order (or even an order that even makes sense), I wanted to write about this movie before discussing the book. So I apologize in advance for referring to the work without directly addressing it first. For those unfamiliar with Eugene Onegin, here is a brief synopsis shamelessly stolen from the Economist’s article on the film:

Onegin is a "lishny chelovek"--a "spare" or "superfluous" man. Bored and cynical about his life as a Petersburg dandy, Onegin dreads country life even more as he is summoned to the deathbed of his uncle. On arrival, he finds that his uncle is already dead and that he is master of a large estate. Perversely deciding to stay, Onegin is drawn despite himself into a minuet of Russian country life. He befriends Lensky, a poet, who introduces him to Olga Larin, his pretty but shallow fiancée, and to Tatyana, her sister, who falls deeply in love with him.

Inspired by the novels she reads to heed the call of her heart, Tatyana writes Onegin a passionate declaration of love. He rejects her, flirts with Olga instead and, when challenged by him to a duel, kills his friend, Lensky. Years later, he meets Tatyana again. She is now a married grande dame, and it is his turn to write letters of adoration--and Tatyana's, despite her love, to reject him.

Despite changes to the text and flaws in the movie (at least to me), I recommend the film. The framework of Pushkin’s story rolls with the changes while some extra touches add to the story. Since I’m recommending it, I’ll start with the positives first. Many events from the book are compressed but carry the story forward, sometimes more economically than the text. A few examples of the compression/expansion:

• Tatyana’s rejection of Onegin squeezes the rank/class issue into a few lines regarding her “new found” nobility. Her choice of words helps accentuate that she possessed a noble nature even when she was ‘provincial’.
• Tatyana’s borrowing of books from Onegin’s uncle—having Onegin recommend an epistolary novel to Tatyana naturally dovetails with her letter to Onegin. Not to mention establishing she was familiar with Richardson and other novels of that that type.
• Some characters’ roles are expanded in the movie, which runs the risk of stealing more than just a few scenes. Princess Alina (Irene Worth) and Madame Larina (Harriet Walter) add a lot to the original story. One of my favorite scenes was Madame Larina sharing her views (with Onegin) on her daughters’ marriage prospects, among other topics. The stigma of “provinciality” diminishes with these scenes.
• I listened to the letters as I read Charles Johnston’s translation of them. The movie’s letters were written in a style much more conversational (and I’m assuming more literal), with some sections compressing a stanza into a line or two.
• The film and the locations are simply gorgeous. That shades of whites, browns, and grays can be so rich and varied was a beautiful surprise.
• The interplay between Onegin and Lensky are well done, expanding faithfully on their contrast in the book. Toby Stephens plays a well-rounded Lensky, Onegin’s opposite in so many ways. The novel highlights their differences using metaphors (cold for Onegin vs. hot for Lensky, for example) and the screen characters reflect these distinctions.

Much of the novel conveys an internal world, so the obvious question arises how to portray that world of feelings on film. Ralph Fiennes does a great job as the title character, letting his face and actions transmit what is going on beneath the surface. Liv Tyler got horrible reviews, but I think she did about as well as could be expected for the written role. Some scenes she carried extremely well, her pivotal rejection scene at the end, for example. Others…well, not so much. Some scenes it feels like Fiennes is making up for her lack of depth by overdoing it. Which is admirable, but distracting and overwrought. I’ll be happy to host a parlor game on who could have carried that role in 1998/1999.

And since I presented some positives, I’ll mention a few negatives that sprang to mind:

• Much of the first chapter of the book is spent on Onegin’s lifestyle in St. Petersburg. Yet only a cursory glance is given to this pre-hereditary phase. Much is conveyed in a short span, yet this section is important in understanding why Onegin rejects Tatyana and dreads the countryside so much—it’s not the defect of anyone but himself.
• The pacing begins to grate after a while. Sure, some things are worth expanding on but too much time is spent with some scenes.
• There are two famous and very different endings to the story: Pushkin’s ironic diminishment of Onegin and Tchaikovsky’s operatic focus on Onegin’s anguish. The movie went with something closer to the opera, focusing on Onegin’s despair at being rejected. This was one of the few times that the ironies from the page tiptoed onto the screen.

Which leads to the biggest disappointment for me. Pushkin’s playfulness and irony are rarely glimpsed. Some of the invented moments (Onegin letting the tutor know he is aware of his past, for example) show more subtlety and slyness than many of the events copied semi-faithfully from the story. I realize this would be a difficult task…how do you capture Pushkin’s simultaneous love and disdain? To make yet another allusion, this time to works influential on Pushkin, it is as if the movie tends to side with Byron’s Childe Harold instead of Don Juan. To me, the latter seems closer to the novel in tone and touch, a difference that alters what to highlight.

Also, Tatyana does develop in the movie but not as dramatically as the novel. Pushkin has her reach a level of understanding despite her feelings, something that felt muted in the movie. Yes, it’s there, but it didn’t have the same force (to me…as always, my understanding or interpretation is based on my limitations). One clue to the differences I felt in the movie (versus the novel) may be captured with Ralph Fiennes’ comment “It's about chances missed because you're so preoccupied with yourself”. Yes, that happens in the book but I don't think that is the central theme. While Fiennes goes on to highlight the note contrasts within the story (yes, getting warmer...warmer...), the movie seem to only hint at one of the (if not THE) central theme of the book: the contrast and relationship between art and life. I’ll expand on that more when I actually get a chance to post a discussion on the book. But the movie skirts around the edges of that theme nicely but never quite brings itself to address it directly. The many scenes taking place in Onegin’s uncles library or showing (the addition of) Onegin’s doodles lent itself perfectly as a springboard to explore the art vs. life theme. Not that it would have been easy—how do you capture the wealth of literary references Pushkin makes, for example? As it is, addressing that theme seems limited to a conversation between Onegin and Lensky.

As I said, I still recommend the movie on its own terms. As I mention in other film reviews, I don’t hold it against a movie when it veers away from the source material. If it stays true to the original spirit during additions or modifications, then I’m all for it. What struck me about Onegin, since I’m reliant on a translation from Russian to English, is that the movie represents an additional translation from English to the screen. Does it become too removed from the source? I don’t think so, but it does add some distance. However those that get the full impact of the original Russian may come to a different conclusion. If you’re so inclined, I also recommend Ralph Fiennes’ essay on “Shooting Pushkin”.

Eugene Onegin online resources

Alexander Pushkin
by Vasily Tropinin (1827)
Picture source

I only know a little bit about Alexander Pushkin but find him a fascinating character. My limited introduction to him so far has been the movie Amadeus, which took his play "Mozart and Salieri" as a starting point. Eugene Onegin will obviously suffer since I am dealing with a translation (by Charles Johnston). But I’m looking forward to immersing myself in his world. Here are a few links on Pushkin and Eugene Onegin.

Alexander Pushkin

Wikipedia entry for Alexander Pushkin

Works by Pushkin at
Project Gutenberg
Pushkin’s Poems
Translations by Mikhail Kneller
Poetry Lovers Page
Excerpts from the (alleged) Secret Journal (1836-1837)

Biographies of Pushkin at
Books and Writers
Princeton
The Literature Network

Stephany Gould Plecker’s “The Pushkin Page”

Reviews of T.J Binyon’s Pushkin biography in three publications

More on Pushkin’s African heritage at
PBS
The British Library

Listen to some of Pushkin’s poems in Russian—lovely

What looks to be a phenomenal resource at the Voice of Russia site to mark Pushkin’s 200th birthday

A Study of Nabokov's Commentary on Pushkin's Eugene Onegin
and Edmund Wilson’s review of Nabokov’s translation

Pushkin Under our Skin by Alexander Zholkovsky (USC)

Class notes on Pushkin by Dr. Gary R. Jahn at the University of Minnesota


Eugene Onegin

Wikipedia entry on the book

The work at:
Project Gutenberg
Pushkin’s Poems
Poetry Lovers Page
The Charles Johnston translation I’m reading is available online at a Russian site, but I’m not sure of copyright implications.

An interesting study on the challenge of translating Pushkin, with several versions of the opening stanzas and their literal translation

John Douglas Clayton at The University of Ottawa has a page dedicated to Russian language and literature in general, and specifically his research publication Ice and Flame addresses Eugene Onegin

I’ll add more links in the post(s) I do on the movie (and possibly the opera).

Update: Peter M. Lee was kind enough to point me toward his page on English Versions of Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin. In addition he has included over 30 translations of the opening stanza.