Eugene Onegin

“He who can feel is always fleeing / The ghost of days beyond recall.”

The ability to “feel” (1.46.3) is presented as a curse in Eugene Onegin as it serves only as a reminder of what might be lost. The “days beyond recall” (1.46.4) are the memories that have slipped away from the consciousness, leaving behind only a vague emotional impression. The person who can feel is fleeing the impressions that these days leave behind, as the feeling lingers long after the memory itself. Onegin has the capacity to feel, and it weighs down on him like a burden compared to his less intelligent, less empathetic peers.

“I’ll grant the censor’s right to shine / And send these fruits of inspiration / To feed the critics’ hungry pen.”

The narrator acknowledges the existence of Russia’s network of critics and censors by asserting his lack of fear. His assertion is characterizing, framing the narrator himself as a bold and perhaps arrogant figure. Though he claims that he does not fear the censors, the poem itself was self-censored. Pushkin wrote an additional chapter with more scathing satirical passages but feared repercussions so much that he burned the manuscript. In this context, the narrator’s claims of not fearing censors ring like a hollow boast.

“He entertained with fond illusions / The doubts that plagued his heart and will.”

When Onegin meets Lensky, he immediately identifies the poet as a naive young man. However, he does not want to challenge Lensky’s naivety too much. Unlike most people Onegin meets, Lensky is sincere. Onegin strives to preserve this sincere innocence for as long as possible, going so far as to cater to Lensky’s “fond illusions” (2.7.9).

“So let him meanwhile live his life / Believing in the world’s perfection.”

Onegin recognizes Lensky’s innocence that, in turn, forces him to recognize his own jaded cynicism. He wants to allow Lensky to continue to believe in “the world’s perfection” (2.15.12), even if Onegin believes this to be a lie, so that Lensky can continue in his happy delusion for as long as possible. Onegin’s patronizing approach to Lensky’s naivety comes from a place of genuine friendship, a sincere emotion that seems unfamiliar to him.

“Thus heaven’s gift to us is this: / That habit takes the place of bliss.”

For most people in Onegin’s world, the idea of a routine is comforting. People spend their time attending the same events with the same people, night after night. To them, this habit is “bliss” (2.31.14). Onegin is different, however. He rejects any idea of routine as hollow and unsatisfying, whether in the city or the countryside. He needs constant stimulation and novelty to challenge his busy mind. In a highly formalized society, this makes him unique.

“She’s like that stupid moon you see / Up in that stupid sky you honor.”

Onegin’s scathing criticism of Olga’s personality is also a subtle criticism of Lensky’s naive character. Onegin compares Olga to “that stupid moon” (3.5.11), framing her as distant and unknowable, with no light of her own. At the same time, the clunky repetition of “stupid” (3.5.11) is deliberate, as though Onegin is writing a sarcastic parody of one of Lensky’s poems. Only a naive poet would see something to value in Olga, he suggests.

“And in the novel’s final pages, / Deceitful vice was made to pay / And honest virtue won the day.”

The narrator provides an indication that he is aware of the traditional, happy way in which stories come to a close. By establishing this early in the story, the narrator hints to the audience what will happen at the end of this story. However, expectations will be denied. Eugene Onegin does not have a happy ending and “honest virtue” (3.11.14) does not win the day. The reference to happy endings becomes an ironic sleight of hand given what will happen.

“Her light chemise has slipped, exposing / Her lovely shoulder to the night.”

After Tatyana writes her letter, she leaves herself emotionally exposed. She has told Onegin how she truly feels and given him the ability to destroy her on an emotional level. Once the letter is complete, Tatyana’s emotional vulnerability is made physical. Her clothes slip, exposing her shoulder to the night. Tatyana is exposed and naked in a literal and figurative sense.

“But I’m not made for exaltation / My soul’s a stranger to its call.”

Onegin is annoyed by Tatyana’s letter, but not because he cannot love her. The letter exposes his own cynical view of love and reminds him of his own self-loathing. There is no real Onegin, just a carefully constructed version that he presents to the world because he does not like his raw, honest self. That anyone could love this constructed version of Onegin is just a reminder of his deceitful personality, as he does not believe such a person is “made for exaltation” (4.14.1).

“All signs and portents quite alarmed her / All objects either scared or charmed her / With secret meanings they’d impart.”

Tatyana has a very different personality from most of the other people in her life. She is fascinated by the supernatural, though she is alarmed, charmed, and scared in equal measure. Like Onegin, she is searching for something beyond the immediate world, even if it scares her. Onegin does not know this about Tatyana, making his rejection of her all the more tragic.

“Tatyana seeks some passage showing / Just what the dreadful vision meant.”

Tatyana is searching for meaning in her life. On a smaller scale, she searches for a way to interpret her strange dreams. She believes that there is an intangible and unknown quality to the world that cannot be suitably explained by parties, marriage, or other social conventions; Tatyana is not like her peers, who are content with their simple, understandable world. She wants to know more.

“While Lensky rages at the sight. / Consumed with jealous indignation.”

The sight of Olga dancing with Onegin completely changes the innocent young poet. Lensky is “consumed with jealous indignation” (5.44.12), as though he has been completely devoured by a single emotion. Lensky is so affected by his jealousy because it is a negative emotion, very different from the optimism and beauty that previously fascinated him as a poet.

“Eugene, once left to contemplation / And face to face with his own soul, / Felt far from happy with his role.”

The next day, Onegin examines his actions with regret. Facing the consequences of his spiteful behavior, he feels immediate regret. He acted rashly by dancing with Olga, adding another negative quality to his personality that he does not like. Onegin allowed his carefully constructed image to slip for a moment as he was overwhelmed, and now he must pay the price.

“Poor Lensky’s muddled mind was swirling, / And silently he hung his head. / All jealousy and rage departed.”

The next day, Lensky is also struck by regret. When Olga assures Lensky that she still loves him, he realizes the absurdity of his actions. He has challenged his best friend to a duel over a misunderstanding and a momentary surge of emotion. Neither Lensky nor Onegin want to take part in the duel, but they are compelled by social etiquette to make good on their word. They are trapped by the expectations of society.

“As in a dreadful senseless dream, / They glower coldly as they scheme / In silence to destroy each other...”

The duel is a destructive and senseless act. Even the person who survives the duel will be destroyed, as the guilt of killing a friend will be all consuming. Grief, regret, and remorse are palpably felt by both men, even before the duel takes place, giving the entire duel a tragic air of two people being forced into something that neither of them wants due to a brief flurry of overwhelming emotions.

“O dreams! Where has your sweetness vanished? / And where has youth (glib rhyme) been banished?”

The death of Lensky is more than the death of one man. For the narrator, the death of the young poet is emblematic of a deeper, more destructive issue. The narrator regards Lensky’s death as the departure of youthful innocence from the world. Everywhere Onegin went, Lensky was the one person whom he vaguely tolerated and appreciated. With his death, there is nothing left but distractions for men like Onegin. The vivacity and sincerity that Lensky represented has also been killed by the duel.

“The tomb that lies before us / Holds but oblivion in the end.”

Lensky’s tomb serves as a reminder of the finality of death and the fleeting nature of life. As Lensky asked in his letter, Olga visits his grave to mourn. Her act of mourning is symbolic; though she quickly marries a different person, her world has been changed forever. She now has a reminder that everything she loves can vanish in an instant. The tomb remains as a physical reminder of life’s brittle nature.

“She found Onegin’s soul reflected.”

When she examines Onegin’s books, Tatyana pieces together the character of the man she has come to know. Onegin’s soul is a reflection, an echo of the various characters from literature that have fascinated him. He does not like his true self, so he has constructed a public image from the realms of fiction. He projects this identity into the world to protect himself and deflect the boring world around him. Only Tatyana has unraveled his secret and discovered the fictional nature of his public persona.

“With dread / She views the winter path ahead.”

The icy roads of Russia are foreboding and dangerous. While Tatyana examines the actual road, her examination takes on a more metaphorical meaning. The wintry path ahead is her dark future, one without Onegin and one in which she will be forced to go to Moscow at her family’s behest. She dreads her future because she knows that she will not be happy in the trappings of high society, so she must trudge on as best she can, just as she must carefully step along the dangerous road.

“But roads are bad now in our nation / Neglected bridges rot and fall.”

Toward the end of Eugene Onegin, the narrator’s criticisms of the Russian state become more pointed. He criticizes the infrastructure of the Russian Empire, claiming that the roads and bridges are neglected. This dilapidated infrastructure is a metaphor for the characters’ misery; following Lensky’s death, their happiness has also begun to “rot and fall” (7.34.2). By framing this satire in the context of a metaphor, the narrator deflects criticism from censors that might force him to change his work to something less damning of the state.

“Or will he sport some other mask?”

When the narrator sees Onegin after many years, he wonders which version of Onegin is present in the room. As Tatyana discovered, the man people knew as Onegin was actually a carefully constructed public persona based on literary references. After spending so long away, the narrator wonders whether Onegin has invented a new persona, a new mask to hide himself from the reality of the world he dislikes so much.

“Eugene can only stare, / He has no voice.”

At the beginning of the story, Onegin was famously verbose and charming. While he might not have liked the high society, he could talk endlessly about various topics. Seeing Tatyana again, however, he has his words taken away. Onegin is confronted with the mistakes of his past and one of his defining qualities—his verbosity—is taken away from him.

“Onegin, though, is fading quickly.”

In the final chapter, the dynamic between Onegin and Tatyana is completely switched. Whereas before, Tatyana obsessed over Onegin, wrote him a letter, and then began to fade in health when she was denied his love, Onegin now finds himself in a very similar situation. This role reversal emphasizes the mistake made by Onegin, putting him in the position of a lovestruck teenage girl.