Eugene Onegin is a novel about the attempted courtships of Lensky and Olga, and Eugene and Tatyana. Although the narrator claims that love and romance are some of the most important parts of life, his portrayal of courtship rituals and marriage is often humorous and cynical. In the case of the sisters Olga and Tatyana, for example, the narrator notes how each fails to live up to the heroines who appear in romantic novels. Although Olga is beautiful and Lensky loves her a lot, the more mature Eugene has an easier time seeing Olga’s flaws, which include coldness and fickleness. Although she falls deeply in love with Lensky, she seems to decide she prefers Eugene after just one dance, suggesting that her love may have been shallow to begin with. Meanwhile, the narrator notes how Tatyana is not traditionally beautiful, is shy, and has unrefined country manners. Her sheltered existence causes her to become obsessive in her love of Eugene. For all her flaws, Tatyana’s love is pure, and yet Eugene rejects it anyway. His rejection speech to her is technically polite but also condescending, as instead of following his emotions, he logically and perhaps pompously tells her why their marriage wouldn’t work, breaking Tatyana’s heart.
While the narrator portrays the early courtship troubles of Olga and Tatyana with humor, things take a darker turn as the novel goes on. Olga shows the true extent of her fickleness by forgetting all about Lensky and marrying someone else very shortly after Lensky’s death, proving Eugene’s claim that she can be as “cold” as the moon. Meanwhile, Tatyana follows Eugene’s suggestion to think practically and forms a favorable marriage with a general, only for Eugene to realize too late that he loves Tatyana after all. In each case, the issue is not necessarily with love but with the rituals surrounding it. Even before Olga and Tatyana were born, their mother, Dame Larin consented to marry a man she didn’t love, Dmitry Larin, in order to fulfill social expectations. Tatyana’s nurse had an even worse experience of being married off young, which frightens Tatyana and shows her a dark side of adult relationships. On the other hand, by avoiding marriage for philosophical reasons, Eugene just created a different problem for himself, with his personal philosophies becoming just as stifling as the social rituals other characters follow. Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin depicts how love can be complicated and how the social norms around courtship can stifle or distort love, making it difficult to find true love and even more difficult to marry for it. At the same time, the negative outcomes that befall characters who become consumed with feeling show how unrestrained passion can also lead a person astray. The novel ultimately suggests, then, that love is a balance, with both too much passion and too much restraint being equally dangerous.
Love, Courtship, and Marriage ThemeTracker
Love, Courtship, and Marriage Quotes in Eugene Onegin
From early youth she read romances,
And novels set her heart aglow;
She loved the fictions and the fancies
Of Richardson and of Rousseau.
Her husband at the time was still
Her fiancé—against her will!
For she, in spite of family feeling,
Had someone else for whom she pined—
A man whose heart and soul and mind
She found a great deal more appealing;
This Grandison was fashion’s pet,
A gambler and a guards cadet.
‘Your Olga’s look is cold and dead,
As in some dull, Van Dyck madonna;
So round and fair of face is she,
She’s like that stupid moon you see,
Up in that stupid sky you honour.’
Vladimir gave a curt reply
And let the conversation die.
I’m writing you this declaration—
What more can I in candour say?
It may be now your inclination
To scorn me and to turn away;
But if my hapless situation
Evokes some pity for my woe,
You won’t abandon me, I know.
‘You wrote to me. Do not deny it.
I’ve read your words and they evoke
My deep respect for your emotion,
Your trusting soul… and sweet devotion.
Your candour has a great appeal
And stirs in me, I won’t conceal,
Long dormant feelings, scarce remembered.
But I’ve no wish to praise you now;
Let me repay you with a vow
As artless as the one you tendered;
Hear my confession too, I plead,
And judge me both by word and deed.’
How oft have tearful poets chances
To read their works before the glances
Of those they love? Good sense declares
That no reward on earth compares.
Oh, blest is he who lives believing,
Who takes cold intellect for naught,
Who rests within the heart’s sweet places
As does a drunk in sleep’s embraces,
Or as, more tenderly I’d say,
A butterfly in blooms of May;
But wretched he who’s too far-sighted,
Whose head is never fancy-stirred,
Who hates all gestures, each warm word,
As sentiments to be derided,
Whose heart… experience has cooled
And barred from being loved … or fooled!
Tatyana (with a Russian duty
That held her heart, she knew not why)
Profoundly loved, in its cold beauty,
The Russian winter passing by:
Crisp days when sunlit hoarfrost glimmers,
The sleighs, and rosy snow that shimmers
In sunset’s glow, the murky light
That wraps about the Yuletide night.
Tatyana, in her low-cut gown,
Steps out of doors and trains a mirror
Upon the moon to bring it nearer;
But all that shows in her dark glass
Is just the trembling moon, alas….
But no, she can’t. What explanation? …
Well, she’s just promised his good friend
The next dance too. In God’s creation!
What’s this he hears? Could she intend? …
Can this be real? Scarce more than swaddler—
And turned coquette! A fickle toddler!
Already has she mastered guile,
Already learned to cheat and smile!
The blow has left poor Lensky shattered;
And cursing woman’s crooked course,
He leaves abruptly, calls for horse,
And gallops off. Now nothing mattered—
A brace of pistols and a shot
Shall instantly decide his lot.
‘What can I do? Tatyana’s grown,’
Dame Larin muttered with a moan.
‘Her younger sister married neatly;
It’s time that she were settled too,
I swear I don’t know what to do;
She turns all offers down completely,
Just says: “I can’t”, then broods away,
And wanders through those woods all day.’
The night has countless stars to light her,
And Moscow countless beauties too;
And yet the regal moon shines brighter
Than all her friends in heaven’s blue;
And she, whose beauty I admire—
But dare not bother with my lyre—
Just like the moon upon her throne,
Mid wives and maidens shines alone.
With what celestial pride she grazes
The earth she walks, in splendour dressed!
What languor fills her lovely breast!
How sensuous her wondrous gazes! …
But there, enough; have done at last:
You’ve paid your due to follies past.
‘And happiness was ours … so nearly!
It came so close! … But now my fate
Has been decreed. I may have merely
Been foolish when I failed to wait;
But mother with her lamentation
Implored me, and in resignation
(All futures seemed alike in woe)
I married…. Now I beg you, go!
I’ve faith in you and do not tremble;
I know that in your heart reside
Both honour and a manly pride.
I love you (why should I dissemble?);
But I am now another’s wife,
And I’ll be faithful all my life.’
But those to whom, as friends and brothers,
My first few stanzas I once read—
‘Some are no more, and distant… others.’
As Sadi long before us said.
Without them my Onegin’s fashioned.
And she from whom I drew, impassioned,
My fair Tatyana’s noblest trait…
Oh, much, too much you’ve stolen, Fate!
But blest is he who rightly gauges
The time to quit the feast and fly,
Who never drained life’s chalice dry,
Nor read its novel’s final pages;
But all at once for good withdrew—
As I from my Onegin do.