Receive the gathering of the motley ones. Eugene Onegin

Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin / May 26 (June 6) 1799 - January 29 (February 10) 1837/ - great Russian poet. Playwright and prose writer.

In philology, Pushkin is considered as the creator of the modern Russian literary language.

Without thinking of amusing the proud world,

Loving the attention of friendship,

I'd like to introduce you

The pledge is more worthy than you,

More worthy than a beautiful soul,

Saint of a dream come true,

Poetry alive and clear,

High thoughts and simplicity;

But so be it - with a biased hand

Accept the collection of motley heads,

Half funny, half sad,

Common people, ideal,

The careless fruit of my amusements,

Insomnia, light inspirations,

Immature and withered years,

Crazy cold observations

And hearts of sorrowful notes.

CHAPTER FIRST

And he’s in a hurry to live and he’s in a hurry to feel.

Book Vyazemsky.

"My uncle has the most honest rules,

When I seriously fell ill,

He forced himself to respect

And I couldn't think of anything better.

His example to others is science;

But, my God, what a bore

To sit with the patient day and night,

Without leaving a single step!

What low deceit

To amuse the half-living

Adjust his pillows

It's sad to bring medicine,

Sigh and think to yourself:

When will the devil take you!"

So thought the young rake,

Flying in the dust on postage,

By the Almighty will of Zeus

Heir to all his relatives.

Friends of Lyudmila and Ruslan!

With the hero of my novel

Without preamble, right now

Let me introduce you:

Onegin, my good friend,

Born on the banks of the Neva,

Where might you have been born?

Or shone, my reader;

I once walked there too:

But the north is harmful for me ().

Having served excellently and nobly,

His father lived in debt

Gave three balls annually

And finally squandered it.

Eugene's fate kept:

At first Madame followed him,

Then Monsieur replaced her.

The child was harsh, but sweet.

Monsieurl "Abb?, poor Frenchman,

So that the child does not get tired,

I taught him everything jokingly,

I didn’t bother you with strict morals,

Lightly scolded for pranks

And in Summer garden took me for a walk.

When will the rebellious youth

The time has come for Evgeniy

It's time for hope and tender sadness,

Monsieur was driven out of the yard.

Here is my Onegin free;

Haircut in the latest fashion;

How dandy() London is dressed -

And finally saw the light.

He's completely French

He could express himself and wrote;

I danced the mazurka easily

And he bowed casually;

What do you want more? The light has decided

That he is smart and very nice.

We all learned a little bit

Something and somehow

So upbringing, thank God,

It's no wonder for us to shine.

Onegin was, according to many

(decisive and strict judges)

A small scientist, but a pedant:

He had a lucky talent

No coercion in conversation

Touch everything lightly

With the learned air of a connoisseur

Remain silent in an important dispute

And make the ladies smile

Fire of unexpected epigrams.

Latin is now out of fashion:

So, if I tell you the truth,

He knew quite a bit of Latin,

To understand the epigraphs,

Talk about Juvenal,

At the end of the letter put vale,

Yes, I remembered, although not without sin,

Two verses from the Aeneid.

He had no desire to rummage

In chronological dust

History of the earth;

But jokes of days gone by

From Romulus to the present day

He kept it in his memory.

Having no high passion

No mercy for the sounds of life,

He could not iambic from trochee,

No matter how hard we fought, we could tell the difference.

Scolded Homer, Theocritus;

But I read Adam Smith,

And there was a deep economy,

That is, he knew how to judge

How does the state get rich?

And how does he live, and why?

He doesn't need gold

When a simple product has.

His father couldn't understand him

And he gave the lands as collateral.

Everything that Evgeniy still knew,

Tell me about your lack of time;

But what was his true genius?

What he knew more firmly than all sciences,

What happened to him from childhood

And labor and torment and joy,

What took the whole day

His melancholy laziness, -

There was a science of tender passion,

Which Nazon sang,

Why did he end up a sufferer?

Its age is brilliant and rebellious

In Moldova, in the wilderness of the steppes,

Far away from Italy.

How early could he be a hypocrite?

To harbor hope, to be jealous,

To dissuade, to make believe,

Seem gloomy, languish,

Be proud and obedient

Attentive or indifferent!

How languidly silent he was,

How fieryly eloquent

How careless in heartfelt letters!

Breathing alone, loving alone,

How he knew how to forget himself!

How quick and gentle his gaze was,

Shy and impudent, and sometimes

Shined with an obedient tear!

How he knew how to seem new,

Jokingly amaze innocence,

To frighten with despair,

To amuse with pleasant flattery,

Catch a moment of tenderness,

Innocent years of prejudice

Win with intelligence and passion,

Expect involuntary affection

Beg and demand recognition

Listen to the first sound of the heart,

Pursue love, and suddenly

Achieve a secret date...

And then she's alone

Give lessons in silence!

How early could he have disturbed

Hearts of coquettes!

When did you want to destroy

He has his rivals,

How he sarcastically slandered!

What networks I prepared for them!

But you, blessed men,

You stayed with him as friends:

The wicked husband caressed him,

Foblas is a long-time student,

And the distrustful old man

And the majestic cuckold,

Always happy with yourself

With his lunch and his wife.

Sometimes he was still in bed:

They bring notes to him.

What? Invitations? Indeed,

Three houses for the evening call:

There will be a ball, there will be a children's party.

Where will my prankster ride?

Who will he start with? Doesn't matter:

It’s no wonder to keep up everywhere.

While in morning dress,

Putting on a wide bolivar (),

Onegin goes to the boulevard

And there he walks in the open space,

While the watchful Breget

Dinner won't ring his bell.

It’s already dark: he gets into the sled.

“Fall, fall!” - there was a cry;

Silvery with frosty dust

His beaver collar.

He rushed to Talon (): he is sure

What is Kaverin waiting for him there?

Entered: and there was a cork in the ceiling,

The current flowed from the comet's fault,

Before him roast-beef is bloody,

And truffles, the luxury of youth,

French cuisine has the best color,

And Strasbourg's pie is imperishable

Between live Limburg cheese

And a golden pineapple.

Thirst asks for more glasses

Pour hot fat over cutlets,

But the ringing of the Breguet reaches them,

That a new ballet has begun.

The theater is an evil legislator,

Fickle Adorer

Charming actresses

Honorary Citizen of the Backstage,

Onegin flew to the theater,

Where everyone, breathing freedom,

Ready to clap entrechat,

To flog Phaedra, Cleopatra,

Call Moina (in order to

Just so they can hear him).

Magic land! there in the old days,

Satire is a brave ruler,

Fonvizin, friend of freedom, shone,

And the overbearing Prince;

There Ozerov involuntary tributes

People's tears, applause

Shared with young Semyonova;

There our Katenin was resurrected

Corneille is a majestic genius;

There the prickly Shakhovskoy brought out

A noisy swarm of their comedies,

There Didelot was crowned with glory,

There, there under the canopy of the scenes

My younger days were rushing by.

My goddesses! what do you? Where are you?

Hear my sad voice:

Are you still the same? other maidens,

Having replaced you, they didn’t replace you?

Will I hear your choirs again?

Will I see the Russian Terpsichore

Soul-filled flight?

Or a sad look will not find

Familiar faces on a boring stage,

And, looking towards the alien light

Disappointed lorgnette

An indifferent spectator of fun,

I will yawn silently

And remember the past?

The theater is already full; the boxes shine;

The stalls and the chairs, everything is boiling;

In paradise they splash impatiently,

And, rising, the curtain makes noise.

Brilliant, half-airy,

I obey the magic bow,

Surrounded by a crowd of nymphs,

Worth Istomin; she,

One foot touching the floor,

The other slowly circles,

And suddenly he jumps, and suddenly he flies,

Flies like feathers from the lips of Aeolus;

Now the camp will sow, then it will develop,

And with a quick foot he hits the leg.

Everything is clapping. Onegin enters

Walks between the chairs along the legs,

The double lorgnette points sideways

To the boxes of unknown ladies;

I looked around all the tiers,

I saw everything: faces, clothes

He is terribly unhappy;

With men on all sides

He bowed, then went on stage.

He looked in great absentmindedness,

He turned away and yawned,

And he said: “It’s time for everyone to change;

I endured ballets for a long time,

But I’m tired of Didelot too" ().

More cupids, devils, snakes

They jump and make noise on stage;

Still tired lackeys

They sleep on fur coats at the entrance;

They haven't stopped stomping yet,

Blow your nose, cough, shush, clap;

Still outside and inside

Lanterns are shining everywhere;

Still frozen, the horses fight,

Bored with my harness,

And the coachmen, around the lights,

They scold the gentlemen and beat them in the palm of their hands:

And Onegin went out;

He goes home to get dressed.

Will I portray the truth in the picture?

Secluded office

Where is the mod pupil exemplary

Dressed, undressed and dressed again?

Everything for a plentiful whim

London trades scrupulously

And on the Baltic waves

He brings us lard and timber,

Everything in Paris tastes hungry,

Having chosen a useful trade,

Invents for fun

For luxury, for fashionable bliss, -

Everything decorated the office

Philosopher at eighteen years old.

Amber on the pipes of Constantinople,

Porcelain and bronze on the table,

And, a joy to pampered feelings,

Perfume in cut crystal;

Combs, steel files,

Straight scissors, curved scissors,

And brushes of thirty kinds

For both nails and teeth.

Rousseau (I note in passing)

Couldn't understand how important Grim was

Dare to brush your nails in front of him,

By an eloquent madman().

Defender of Liberty and Rights

In this case, he is completely wrong.

You can be a smart person

And think about the beauty of nails:

Why argue fruitlessly with the century?

The custom is despot between people.

Second Chadayev, my Evgeniy,

Fearing jealous judgments,

There was a pedant in his clothes

And what we called dandy.

He's at least three o'clock

He spent in front of the mirrors

And he came out of the restroom

Like windy Venus,

When, wearing a man's outfit,

The goddess goes to a masquerade.

In the last taste of the toilet

Taking your curious glance,

I could before the learned light

Here to describe his outfit;

Of course it would be brave

Describe my business:

But trousers, a tailcoat, a vest,

All these words are not in Russian;

And I see, I apologize to you,

Well, my poor syllable is already

I could have been much less colorful

Foreign words

Even though I looked in the old days

In Academic Dictionary.

Now we have something wrong in the subject:

We better hurry to the ball,

Where to headlong in a Yamsk carriage

My Onegin has already galloped.

In front of the faded houses

Along the sleepy street in rows

Double carriage lights

Cheerful shed light

And they bring rainbows to the snow:

Dotted with bowls all around,

The magnificent house glitters;

Shadows walk across the solid windows,

Profiles of heads flash

And ladies and fashionable weirdos.

Here our hero drove up to the entryway;

He passes the doorman with an arrow

He flew up the marble steps,

I straightened my hair with my hand,

Has entered. The hall is full of people;

The music is already tired of thundering;

The crowd is busy with the mazurka;

There is noise and crowding all around;

The cavalry guard's spurs are jingling;

The legs of lovely ladies are flying;

In their captivating footsteps

Fiery eyes fly

And drowned out by the roar of violins

Jealous whispers of fashionable wives.

On days of fun and desires

I was crazy about balls:

Or rather, there is no room for confessions

And for delivering a letter.

O you, honorable spouses!

I will offer you my services;

Please notice my speech:

I want to warn you.

You, mamas, are also stricter

Follow your daughters:

Hold your lorgnette straight!

Not that... not that, God forbid!

That's why I'm writing this

That I haven’t sinned for a long time.

Alas, for different fun

I've ruined a lot of lives!

But if morals had not suffered,

I would still love balls.

I love mad youth

And tightness, and shine, and joy,

And I’ll give you a thoughtful outfit;

I love their legs; but it's unlikely

You will find in Russia a whole

Three pairs of slender female legs.

Oh! I couldn't forget for a long time

Two legs... Sad, cold,

I remember them all, even in my dreams

They trouble my heart.

When, and where, in what desert,

Madman, will you forget them?

Oh, legs, legs! where are you now?

Where do you crush spring flowers?

Nurtured in eastern bliss,

On the northern, sad snow

You left no traces:

You loved soft carpets

A luxurious touch.

How long have I forgotten for you?

And I thirst for fame and praise,

And the land of the fathers, and imprisonment?

The happiness of youth has disappeared -

Like your light trail in the meadows.

Diana's breasts, Flora's cheeks

Lovely, dear friends!

However, Terpsichore's leg

Something more charming for me.

She, prophesying with a glance

An invaluable reward

Attracts with conventional beauty

A willful swarm of desires.

I love her, my friend Elvina,

Under the long tablecloth of the tables,

In the spring on the grassy meadows,

In winter on a cast iron fireplace,

There is a hall on the mirrored parquet floor,

By the sea on granite rocks.

I remember the sea before the storm:

How I envied the waves

Running in a stormy line

Lay down with love at her feet!

How I wished then with the waves

Touch your lovely feet with your lips!

No, never on hot days

My boiling youth

I didn't wish with such torment

Kiss the lips of the young Armids,

Or fiery roses touch the cheeks,

Or hearts full of languor;

No, never a rush of passion

Never tormented my soul like that!

I remember another time!

In sometimes cherished dreams

I hold the happy stirrup...

And I feel the leg in my hands;

Imagination is in full swing again

Her touch again

The blood ignited in the withered heart,

Again longing, again love!..

But it is enough to glorify the arrogant

With his chatty lyre;

They are not worth any passions

No songs inspired by them:

The words and gaze of these sorceresses

Deceptive... like their legs.

What about my Onegin? Half asleep

He goes to bed from the ball:

And St. Petersburg is restless

Already awakened by the drum.

The merchant gets up, the peddler goes,

A cabman pulls to the stock exchange,

The okhtenka is in a hurry with the jug,

The morning snow crunches under it.

I woke up in the morning with a pleasant noise.

The shutters are open; pipe smoke

Rising like a pillar of blue,

And the baker, a neat German,

In a paper cap, more than once

He was already opening his vasisdas.

But, tired of the noise of the ball,

And the morning turns to midnight,

Sleeps peacefully in the blessed shade

Fun and luxury child.

Wake up after noon, and again

Until the morning his life is ready,

Monotonous and colorful.

And tomorrow is the same as yesterday.

But was my Eugene happy?

Free, in the color of the best years,

Among the brilliant victories,

Among everyday pleasures?

Was he in vain among the feasts?

Careless and healthy?

No: his feelings cooled down early;

He was tired of the noise of the world;

The beauties didn't last long

The subject of his usual thoughts;

The betrayals have become tiresome;

Friends and friendship are tired,

Because I couldn’t always

Beef-steaks and Strasbourg pie

Pouring a bottle of champagne

And pour out sharp words,

When you had a headache;

And although he was an ardent rake,

But he finally fell out of love

And scolding, and saber, and lead.

The disease whose cause

It's time to find it long ago,

Similar to the English spleen,

In short: Russian blues

I mastered it little by little;

He will shoot himself, thank God,

I didn't want to try

But he completely lost interest in life.

Like Child-Harold, gloomy, languid

He appeared in living rooms;

Neither the gossip of the world, nor Boston,

Not a sweet look, not an immodest sigh,

Nothing touched him

He didn't notice anything.

Freakies of the big world!

He left everyone before you;

And the truth is that in our summer

The higher tone is rather boring;

At least maybe another lady

Interprets Say and Bentham,

But in general their conversation

Unbearable, though innocent, nonsense;

Besides, they are so immaculate,

So majestic, so smart,

So full of piety,

So careful, so precise,

So unapproachable for men,

That the sight of them already gives rise to spleen ().

And you, young beauties,

Which sometimes later

The daring droshky carries away

Along the St. Petersburg pavement,

And my Eugene left you.

Renegade of stormy pleasures,

Onegin locked himself at home,

Yawning, he took up the pen,

I wanted to write - but hard work

He felt sick; Nothing

It did not come from his pen,

And he didn’t end up in the perky workshop

People I don't judge

Because I belong to them.

And again, betrayed by idleness,

Languishing with spiritual emptiness,

He sat down - with a laudable purpose

Appropriating someone else's mind for yourself;

He lined the shelf with a group of books,

I read and read, but to no avail:

There is boredom, there is deception or delirium;

There is no conscience in that, there is no meaning in that;

Everyone is wearing different chains;

And the old thing is outdated,

And the old are delirious of the newness.

Like women, he left books,

And a shelf with their dusty family,

Covered it with mourning taffeta.

Having overthrown the burden of the conditions of light,

How does he, having fallen behind the bustle,

I became friends with him at that time.

I liked his features

Involuntary devotion to dreams,

Inimitable strangeness

And a sharp, chilled mind.

I was embittered, he was gloomy;

We both knew the game of passion:

Life tormented both of us;

The heat died down in both hearts;

Anger awaited both

Blind Fortune and People

In the very morning of our days.

He who lived and thought cannot

Do not despise people in your heart;

Whoever felt it is worried

Ghost of irrevocable days:

There is no charm for that.

That serpent of memories

He is gnawing at remorse.

All this often gives

Great pleasure to the conversation.

First Onegin's language

I was embarrassed; but I'm used to it

To his caustic argument,

And to a joke with bile in half,

And the anger of gloomy epigrams.

How often in the summer,

When it's clear and light

Night sky over the Neva (),

And the waters are cheerful glass

Diana's face does not reflect

Remembering the novels of previous years,

Remembering my old love,

Sensitive, careless again,

Breath of the favorable night

We reveled silently!

Like a green forest from prison

The sleepy convict has been transferred,

So we were carried away by the dream

Young at the start of life.

With a soul full of regrets,

And leaning on granite,

Evgeniy stood thoughtfully,

How Peet () described himself.

Everything was quiet; only at night

The sentries called to each other;

Yes, the distant sound of the droshky

With Millonna it suddenly rang out;

Just a boat, waving its oars,

Floated along the dormant river:

And we were captivated in the distance

The horn and the song are daring...

But sweeter, in the midst of nightly fun,

The chant of the Torquat octaves!

Adriatic waves,

Oh Brenta! no, I'll see you

And full of inspiration again,

I will hear your magical voice!

He is holy to the grandchildren of Apollo;

By the proud lyre of Albion

He is familiar to me, he is dear to me.

Golden nights of Italy

I will enjoy the bliss in freedom,

With a young Venetian woman,

Sometimes talkative, sometimes dumb,

Floating in a mysterious gondola;

With her my lips will find

The language of Petrarch and love.

Will the hour of my freedom come?

It's time, it's time! - I appeal to her;

I'm wandering over the sea (), waiting for the weather,

Manyu sailed the ships.

Under the robe of storms, arguing with the waves,

Along the free crossroads of the sea

When will I start free running?

It's time to leave the boring beach

Elements that are hostile to me,

And among the midday swells,

Under the sky of my Africa (),

Sigh about gloomy Russia,

Where I suffered, where I loved,

Where I buried my heart.

Onegin was ready with me

See foreign countries;

But soon we were destined

Divorced for a long time.

His father then died.

Gathered in front of Onegin

Lenders are a greedy regiment.

Everyone has their own mind and sense:

Evgeny, hating litigation,

Satisfied with my lot,

He gave them the inheritance

Not seeing a big loss

Or foreknowledge from afar

The death of my old uncle.

Suddenly he really got

Report from the manager

That uncle is dying in bed

And I would be glad to say goodbye to him.

After reading the sad message,

Evgeniy on a date right away

Swiftly galloped through the mail

And I already yawned in advance,

Getting ready, for the sake of money,

For sighs, boredom and deception

(And thus I began my novel);

But, having arrived at my uncle’s village,

I found it already on the table,

As a tribute to the ready land.

He found the yard full of services;

To the dead man from all sides

Enemies and friends gathered,

Hunters before the funeral.

The deceased was buried.

The priests and guests ate, drank,

And then we parted important ways,

It's as if they were busy.

Here is our Onegin, a villager,

Factories, waters, forests, lands

The owner is complete, and until now

An enemy of order and a spendthrift,

And I’m very glad that the old path

Changed it to something.

Two days seemed new to him

Lonely fields

The coolness of the gloomy oak tree,

The babbling of a quiet stream;

On the third grove, hill and field

He was no longer occupied;

Then they induced sleep;

Then he saw clearly

That in the village the boredom is the same,

Although there are no streets or palaces,

No cards, no balls, no poems.

Handra was waiting for him on guard,

And she ran after him,

Like a shadow or a faithful wife.

I was born for a peaceful life

For village silence:

More vivid creative dreams.

Dedicating yourself to the leisure of the innocent,

I wander over a deserted lake,

And far niente is my law.

I wake up every morning

For sweet bliss and freedom:

I read little, sleep for a long time,

I don’t catch flying glory.

Isn't that how I was in years past?

Spent inactive, in the shadows

My happiest days?

Flowers, love, village, idleness,

Fields! I am devoted to you with my soul.

I'm always happy to notice the difference

Between Onegin and me,

To the mocking reader

Or some publisher

Intricate slander

Comparing my features here,

Didn’t repeat it shamelessly later,

Why did I smear my portrait?

Like Byron, the poet of pride,

As if it's impossible for us

Write poems about others

As soon as about yourself.

Let me note by the way: all poets -

Love dreamy friends.

Sometimes there were cute things

I dreamed, and my soul

I kept their image secret;

Afterwards the Muse revived them:

So I, careless, sang

And the maiden of the mountains, my ideal,

And captives of the shores of Salgir.

Now from you, my friends,

I often hear the question:

"For whom does your lyre sigh?

To whom, in the crowd of jealous maidens,

Did you dedicate the chant to her?

Whose gaze, stirring inspiration,

Rewarded with touching affection

Your thoughtful singing?

Who did your poem idolize?"

And, guys, no one, by God!

Love's crazy anxiety

I experienced it bleakly.

Blessed is he who combined with her

The fever of rhymes: he doubled it

Poetry is sacred nonsense,

Following Petrarch,

And calmed the torment of the heart,

In the meantime, I also caught fame;

But I, loving, was stupid and dumb.

Love has passed, the Muse has appeared,

And the dark mind became clear.

Free, looking for union again

Magic sounds, feelings and thoughts;

I write, and my heart does not grieve,

The pen, having forgotten itself, does not draw,

Near unfinished poems,

No women's legs, no heads;

The extinguished ashes will no longer flare up,

I'm still sad; but there are no more tears,

And soon, soon the storm's trail

My soul will completely calm down:

Then I'll start writing

Poem of songs in twenty-five.

I was already thinking about the form of the plan,

And I’ll call him a hero;

For now, in my novel

I finished the first chapter;

I reviewed all of this strictly:

There are a lot of contradictions

But I don’t want to fix them.

I will pay my debt to censorship,

And for journalists to eat

I will give the fruits of my labors:

Go to the banks of the Neva,

Newborn creation

And earn me a tribute of glory:

Crooked talk, noise and swearing!

CHAPTER TWO

The village where Evgeniy was bored,

There was a lovely corner;

There's a friend of innocent pleasures

I could bless the sky.

The master's house is secluded,

Protected from the winds by a mountain,

He stood over the river. In the distance

Before him they dazzled and bloomed

Golden meadows and fields,

Villages flashed by; here and there

The herds roamed the meadows,

And the canopy expanded thick

A huge, neglected garden,

Shelter of thoughtful Dryads.

The venerable castle was built

How castles should be built:

Extremely durable and calm

In the taste of smart antiquity.

There are lofty chambers everywhere,

There is damask wallpaper in the living room,

Portraits of kings on the walls,

And stoves with colorful tiles.

All this is now dilapidated,

I don't really know why;

Yes, however, my friend

There was very little need for that,

Then he yawned

Among fashionable and ancient halls.

He settled in that peace,

Where is the village old-timer?

For about forty years he was quarreling with the housekeeper,

I looked out the window and squashed flies.

Everything was simple: the floor was oak,

Two wardrobes, a table, a down sofa,

Not a speck of ink anywhere.

Onegin opened the cabinets:

In one I found an expense notebook,

In another there is a whole line of liqueurs,

Jugs of apple water

And the eighth year calendar;

An old man with a lot to do,

I didn’t look at other books.

Alone among his possessions,

Just to pass the time,

Our Evgeniy first conceived

Establish a new order.

In his wilderness the desert sage,

He is the yoke of the ancient corvée

I replaced it with easy quitrent;

And the slave blessed fate.

But in his corner he sulked,

Seeing this as terrible harm,

His calculating neighbor.

That he is a most dangerous weirdo.

At first everyone went to see him;

But since from the back porch

Usually served

He wants a Don stallion,

Only along the main road

He will hear their home noises, -

Offended by such an act,

Everyone ended their friendship with him.

"Our neighbor is ignorant, crazy,

He is a pharmacist; he drinks one

A glass of red wine;

He doesn't suit ladies' arms;

Everything is yes and no; won't say yes

Or not, sir." Such was the general voice.

To my village at the same time

The new landowner galloped up

And equally strict analysis

The neighborhood provided a reason.

Named Vladimir Lenskoy,

With a soul straight from Göttingen,

Handsome man, in full bloom,

Kant's admirer and poet.

He's from foggy Germany

He brought the fruits of learning:

Freedom-loving dreams

The spirit is ardent and rather strange,

Always an enthusiastic speech

And shoulder-length black curls.

From the cold depravity of the world

Before you even have time to fade,

His soul was warmed

Hello friend, caress girls.

He was a dear ignoramus at heart,

He was cherished by hope,

And the world has a new shine and noise

Still captivated the young mind.

He amused me with a sweet dream

Doubts of your heart;

The purpose of our life is for him

Was a tempting mystery

He puzzled over her

And he suspected miracles.

He believed that his soul was dear

Must connect with him

That, despairingly languishing,

She waits for him every day;

He believed that his friends were ready

It is his honor to accept the shackles,

And that their hand will not tremble

Break the slanderer's vessel;

That there are those chosen by fate,

People's sacred friends;

That their immortal family

Irresistible rays

Someday it will dawn on us

And the world will be blessed.

Indignation, regret,

For good, pure love

And glory is sweet torment

His blood was stirred early.

He traveled the world with a lyre;

Under the sky of Schiller and Goethe

Their poetic fire

The soul ignited within him.

And the muses of the sublime arts,

Lucky, he was not ashamed;

He proudly preserved in his songs

Always high feelings

Gusts of a virgin dream

And the beauty of important simplicity.

He sang love, obedient to love,

And his song was clear,

Like the thoughts of a simple-minded maiden,

Like a baby's dream, like the moon

In the deserts of the serene sky,

Goddess of secrets and tender sighs.

He sang separation and sadness,

And something, and the foggy distance,

And romantic roses;

He sang those distant countries

Where long in the bosom of silence

His living tears flowed;

He sang the faded color of life

Almost eighteen years old.

In the desert, where Eugene is alone

I could appreciate his gifts,

Lords of neighboring villages

He didn't like feasts;

He ran away from their noisy conversation.

Their conversation is sensible

About haymaking, about wine,

About the kennel, about my relatives,

Of course, he didn’t shine with any feeling,

Not with poetic fire,

Neither sharpness nor intelligence,

No hostel art;

But the conversation of their lovely wives

He was much less intelligent.

Rich, good-looking, Lenskoy

Everywhere he was accepted as a groom;

This is the custom of the village;

All daughters were destined for their own

For the half-Russian neighbor;

Will he come up, immediately the conversation

Turns the word around

About the boredom of single life;

They call the neighbor to the samovar,

And Dunya is pouring tea,

They whisper to her: “Dunya, take note!”

Then they bring the guitar:

And she will squeal (my God!).

Come to my golden palace!.. ()

But Lensky, without having of course

There is no desire to marry,

With Onegin I wished cordially

Let's make the acquaintance shorter.

They got along. Wave and stone

Poetry and prose, ice and fire

Not so different from each other.

First by mutual difference

They were boring to each other;

Then I liked it; Then

We came together every day on horseback,

And soon they became inseparable.

So people (I am the first to repent)

There's nothing to do, friends.

But there is no friendship between us either.

Having destroyed all prejudices,

We respect everyone as zeros,

And in units - yourself.

We all look at Napoleons;

There are millions of two-legged creatures

For us there is one weapon;

We feel wild and funny.

Evgeniy was more tolerable than many;

Although he certainly knew people

And in general he despised them, -

But (there are no rules without exceptions)

He distinguished others very much

And I respected someone else’s feelings.

He listened to Lensky with a smile.

The poet's passionate conversation,

And the mind, still unsteady in judgment,

And an eternally inspired gaze, -

Everything was new to Onegin;

He's a cooling word

I tried to keep it in my mouth

And I thought: it’s stupid to bother me

His momentary bliss;

And without me the time will come;

Let him live for now

Let the world believe in perfection;

Forgive the fever of youth

And youthful heat and youthful delirium.

Everything gave rise to disputes between them

And it led me to think:

Tribes of past treaties,

The fruits of science, good and evil,

And age-old prejudices,

And the grave secrets are fatal,

Fate and life in their turn,

Everything was subject to their judgment.

The poet in the heat of his judgments

I read, having forgotten myself, meanwhile

Excerpts from northern poems,

And indulgent Evgeniy,

Although I didn’t understand them much,

He listened diligently to the young man.

But more often they were occupied by passions

The minds of my hermits.

Having left their rebellious power,

Onegin spoke about them

With an involuntary sigh of regret.

Blessed is he who knew their worries

And finally he left them behind;

Blessed is he who did not know them,

Who cooled love with separation,

Enmity - slander; sometimes

Yawned with friends and with my wife,

Jealous, not bothered by torment,

And grandfathers' faithful capital

I didn’t trust the insidious two.

When we come running under the banner

Prudent silence

When the flame of passions goes out

And we start to laugh

Their willfulness or impulses

And belated reviews, -

The humble, not without difficulty,

We love to listen sometimes

The passions of strangers are a rebellious language,

And he moves our hearts.

That's right, an old disabled person

The diligent ear willingly inclines

The stories of young mustaches,

Forgotten in his hut.

But also fiery youth

Can't hide anything.

Enmity, love, sadness and joy

She's ready to talk.

In love, considered disabled,

Onegin listened with an important look,

How, loving confession of the heart,

The poet expressed himself;

Your trusting conscience

He innocently exposed.

Evgeniy found out without difficulty

A young story of his love,

A story full of feelings,

Not new to us for a long time.

Oh, he loved like in our summer

They no longer love; as one

The Mad Soul of the Poet

Still condemned to love:

Always, everywhere one dream,

One common desire

One familiar sadness.

Nor the cooling distance,

Nor long summers of separation,

This watch is not given to the muses,

Nor foreign beauties,

Neither the noise of fun nor Science

The souls in him have not changed,

Warmed by virgin fire.

A little boy, captivated by Olga,

Having not yet known heartache,

He was a touched witness

Her infant amusements;

In the shadow of a guardian oak grove

He shared her fun

And crowns were predicted for the children

Friends, neighbors, their fathers.

In the wilderness, under a humble canopy,

Full of innocent charm

In the eyes of her parents, she

Bloomed like a secret lily of the valley,

Unknown in the grass, deaf

Neither moths nor bees.

She gave the poet

The first dream of youthful delights,

And the thought of her inspired

His tarsus's first groan.

Sorry, the games are golden!

He fell in love with dense groves,

Solitude, silence,

And the Night, and the Stars, and the Moon,

The moon, the heavenly lamp,

To which we dedicated

Walking in the evening darkness

And tears, secret torments will be a joy...

But now we see only in her

Replacing dim lights.

Always modest, always obedient,

Always cheerful like the morning,

How a poet's life is simple-minded,

How sweet is love's kiss,

Eyes like the sky blue;

Everything in Olga... but any novel

Take it and find it right

Her portrait: he is very cute,

I used to love him myself,

But he bored me immensely.

Allow me, my reader,

Take care of your older sister.

Her sister's name was Tatyana... ()

For the first time with such a name

Tender pages of the novel

We willfully sanctify.

So what? it is pleasant, sonorous;

But with him, I know, it’s inseparable

Memories of antiquity

Or girlish! We all should

Frankly: there is very little taste

In us and in our names

(We're not talking about poetry);

We don't need enlightenment

And we got it from him

Pretense, nothing more.

So, she was called Tatyana.

Not your sister's beauty,

Nor the freshness of her ruddy

She wouldn't attract anyone's attention.

Dick, sad, silent,

Like a forest deer is timid,

She is in her own family

The girl seemed like a stranger.

She didn't know how to caress

To your father, nor to your mother;

Child herself, in a crowd of children

I didn’t want to play or jump

And often alone all day

She sat silently by the window.

Thoughtfulness, her friend

From the most lullabies of days,

The flow of rural leisure

Decorated her with dreams.

Her pampered fingers

They didn't know needles; leaning on the embroidery frame,

She has a silk pattern

Didn't bring the canvas to life.

A sign of the desire to rule,

With an obedient doll child

Prepared in jest

To decency, the law of light,

And it’s important to repeat to her

Lessons from your mother.

But dolls even in these years

Tatyana didn’t take it in her hands;

About city news, about fashion

I didn’t have any conversations with her.

And there were children's pranks

They are alien to her; scary stories

In winter in the dark of nights

They captivated her heart more.

When did the nanny collect

For Olga on a wide meadow

All her little friends,

She didn't play with burners,

She was bored and the ringing laughter,

And the noise of their windy pleasures.

She loved on the balcony

Warn the dawn,

When on a pale sky

The round dance of the stars disappears,

And quietly the edge of the earth brightens,

And, the harbinger of the morning, the wind blows,

And the day gradually rises.

In winter, when the night shadow

Has half the world's share,

And share in idle silence,

Under the foggy moon,

The lazy East rests,

Awakened at the usual hour

She got up by candlelight.

She liked novels early on;

They replaced everything for her;

She fell in love with deceptions

And Richardson and Russo.

Her father was a kind fellow,

Belated in the past century;

But I saw no harm in the books;

He never reads

I considered them an empty toy

And didn't care

What is my daughter's secret volume?

I dozed under my pillow until morning.

His wife was herself

Richardson is crazy.

She loved Richardson

Not because I read it

Not because Grandison

She preferred Lovelace ();

But in the old days, Princess Alina,

Her Moscow cousin,

She often told her about them.

There was still a groom at that time

Her husband, but in captivity;

She sighed about something else

Who with heart and mind

She liked it much more:

This Grandison was a nice dandy,

Player and Guard Sgt.

Like him, she was dressed

Always in fashion and becoming;

But without asking her advice,

The girl was taken to the crown.

And, to dispel her grief,

The wise husband left soon

To her village, where she is

God knows who I'm surrounded by

I tore and cried at first,

I almost divorced my husband;

Then I took up housekeeping,

I got used to it and was satisfied.

This habit has been given to us from above:

She is a replacement for happiness ().

Habit sweetened the sorrow,

Irresistible by nothing;

Big opening soon

She was completely consoled:

She is between business and leisure

Revealed the secret as a husband

Rule autocratically

And then everything went smoothly.

She went to work

Salted mushrooms for the winter,

She kept expenses, shaved her foreheads,

I went to the bathhouse on Saturdays,

She beat the maids in anger -

All this without asking my husband.

Sometimes I peed in blood

She is in the albums of gentle maidens,

Called Polina Praskovya

And she spoke in a sing-song voice,

She wore a very narrow corset,

And Russian N is like N French

She knew how to pronounce through her nose;

But soon everything changed;

Corset, Album, Princess Alina,

Sensitive poems notebook

She forgot; started calling

Shark like the old Selina

And finally updated

There is cotton wool on the robe and cap.

But her husband loved her heartily,

Was not part of her plans

I believed her in everything blithely,

And he ate and drank in his dressing gown;

His life rolled on calmly;

In the evening I sometimes came together

A good family of neighbors,

Unceremonious friends

And push and slander

And laugh about something.

Time passes; meanwhile

They will order Olga to prepare tea,

There's dinner, it's time to sleep there,

And the guests are coming from the yard.

They kept life peaceful

Habits of a dear old man;

At their Shrovetide

There were Russian pancakes;

Twice a year they fasted;

Loved the round swing

Podblyudny songs, round dance;

On Trinity Day, when people

Yawning, he listens to the prayer service,

Touchingly on the beam of dawn

They shed three tears;

They needed kvass like air,

And at their table there are guests

They carried dishes according to rank.

And so they both grew old.

And finally they opened

In front of the husband are the doors of the coffin,

And he received a new crown.

He died an hour before lunch

Mourned by his neighbor,

Children and faithful wife

More sincere than anyone else.

He was a simple and kind gentleman,

And where his ashes lie,

The tombstone reads:

Humble Sinner, Dmitry Larin,

The Lord's servant and foreman

Under this stone he tastes peace.

Returned to his penates,

Vladimir Lensky visited

Neighbor's humble monument,

And he dedicated his sigh to the ashes;

And my heart was sad for a long time.

"PoorYorick! () - he said sadly, -

He held me in his arms.

How often did I play as a child?

His Ochakov medal!

He read Olga for me,

He said: Will I wait for the day?..”

And, full of sincere sadness,

Vladimir immediately drew

His funeral madrigal.

And there is also a sad inscription

Father and mother, in tears,

He honored the patriarchal ashes...

Alas! on the reins of life

Instant generational harvest

By the secret will of providence,

They rise, mature and fall;

Others are following them...

So our windy tribe

Growing, worried, seething

And he presses towards the grave of his great-grandfathers.

Our time will come, our time will come,

And our grandchildren in good time

They will push us out of the world too!

For now, revel in it,

Enjoy this easy life, friends!

I understand her insignificance

And I am little attached to her;

I closed my eyelids for ghosts;

But distant hopes

Sometimes the heart is disturbed:

Without an inconspicuous trace

I would be sad to leave the world.

I live and write not for praise;

But I think I would like

To glorify your sad lot,

So that about me, like a faithful friend,

I remembered at least a single sound.

And he will touch someone's heart;

And, preserved by fate,

Perhaps it won't drown in Lethe

A stanza composed by me;

Perhaps (a flattering hope!)

The future ignorant will point out

To my illustrious portrait

And he says: he was a poet!

Please accept my thanks

Fan of peaceful Aonides,

O you, whose memory will preserve

My flying creations

Whose benevolent hand

Shall ruffle the old man's laurels!

CHAPTER THREE

Elle ?tait fille, ?lle etait amoureuse.

"Where? These are poets for me!”

- Goodbye, Onegin, I have to go.

"I'm not holding you; but where are you

Are you spending your evenings?"

- At the Larins'. - “This is wonderful.

Have mercy! and it's not difficult for you

Kill there every evening?"

- Not a little. - "Can not understand.

Now I see what it is:

First of all (listen, am I right?),

A simple Russian family,

There is great zeal for guests,

Jam, eternal conversation

About the rain, about the flax, about the barnyard..."

“I don’t see any trouble here yet.”

“Yes, boredom, that’s the problem, my friend.”

- I hate your fashionable world;

My home circle is dearer to me,

Where can I... - “An eclogue again!

Yes, that's enough, honey, for God's sake.

Well? you're going: it's a pity.

Oh, listen, Lenskoy; can't it be

I want to see this Phyllida,

The subject of both thoughts and pen,

And tears, and rhymes et cetera?..

Imagine me." - You're kidding. - "No."

- I'm glad. - “When?” - Right now.

They will gladly accept us.

Others galloped

Appeared; they are lavished

Sometimes difficult services

Hospitable old times.

Ritual of famous treats:

They carry jam on saucers,

They put a waxed one on the table

A jug of lingonberry water,

They are dear to the shortest

They fly home at full speed ().

Now let's listen secretly

Our heroes conversation:

- Well, Onegin? you are yawning. -

- “Habit, Lenskoy.” - But you miss

You're somehow bigger. - “No, it’s the same.

However, it is already dark in the field;

Hurry! go, go, Andryushka!

What stupid places!

By the way: Larina is simple,

But a very sweet old lady,

I'm afraid: lingonberry water

It wouldn't harm me.

Tell me: which one is Tatyana?

- Yes, the one who is sad

And silent, like Svetlana,

She came in and sat by the window. -

“Are you really in love with the smaller one?”

- And what? - "I would choose another,

If only I were like you, a poet.

Olga has no life in her features.

Exactly in Vandik's Madona:

She's round and red-faced,

Like this stupid moon

On this stupid sky.

Vladimir answered dryly

And then he was silent the whole way.

Meanwhile, Onegin's phenomenon

The Larins produced

Everyone is very impressed

And all the neighbors were entertained.

Guess after guess went on.

Everyone began to interpret furtively,

It is not without sin to joke and judge,

Tatiana predicts a groom;

Others even claimed

That the wedding is completely coordinated,

But then stopped

That they didn’t get any fashionable rings.

About Lensky's wedding long ago

They had already decided.

Tatyana listened with annoyance

Such gossip; but secretly

With inexplicable joy

I couldn’t help but think about it;

And a thought sank into my heart;

The time has come, she fell in love.

So the grain fell into the ground

Spring is animated by fire.

Her imagination has long been

Burning with bliss and melancholy,

Hungry for fatal food;

Long-time heartache

Her young breasts were tight;

The soul was waiting... for someone,

And she waited... The eyes opened;

She said: it's him!

Alas! now both days and nights,

And a hot lonely dream,

Everything is full of it; everything to the sweet girl

Incessantly magical power

Talks about him. Annoying to her

And the sounds of gentle speeches,

And the gaze of a caring servant.

I am plunged into despondency,

She doesn't listen to guests

And curses their leisure time,

Their unexpected arrival

And a long squat.

Now with what attention she pays

Reads a sweet novel

With such living charm

Drinks seductive deception!

Happy power of dreams

Animated creatures

Lover of Julia Volmar,

Malek-Adele and de Linard,

And Werther, the rebellious martyr,

And the incomparable Grandison (),

Which brings us to sleep, -

Everything for the tender dreamer

IN single image clothed themselves,

Merged into one Onegin.

Imagining a heroine

Your beloved creators,

Clarissa, Julia, Delphine,

Tatyana in the silence of the forests

One wanders with a dangerous book,

She searches and finds in her

Your secret heat, your dreams,

The fruits of heart fullness,

Sighs and, taking it for himself

Someone else's delight, someone else's sadness,

Whispers into oblivion by heart

A letter for a dear hero...

But our hero, whoever he is,

It certainly wasn't Grandison.

Your own syllable in an important mood,

Used to be a fiery creator

He showed us his hero

Like a sample of perfection.

He gave away his favorite object,

Always unjustly persecuted

Sensitive soul, mind

And an attractive face.

Feeding the heat of pure passion,

Always an enthusiastic hero

I was ready to sacrifice myself

And at the end of the last part

Vice was always punished

It was a worthy wreath.

And now all minds are in the fog,

Morality puts us to sleep,

Vice is kind - and in the novel,

And there he triumphs.

British Muse of Tall Tales

The girl's sleep is disturbed,

And now her idol has become

Or a brooding Vampire,

Or Melmoth, the gloomy tramp,

Ile the Eternal Jew, or Corsair,

Or the mysterious Sbogar ().

Lord Byron by a lucky whim

Cloaked in sad romanticism

And hopeless selfishness.

My friends, what's the point of this?

Perhaps, by the will of heaven,

I will stop being a poet

A new demon will inhabit me,

And the Phebovs, despising threats,

I will stoop to humble prose;

Then a novel in the old way

It will take my cheerful sunset.

Not the torment of secret villainy

I will portray it menacingly,

But I’ll just tell you

Traditions of the Russian family,

Love's captivating dreams

Yes, the morals of our antiquity.

I will retell simple speeches

Old man's father or uncle,

Children's appointments

By the old linden trees, by the stream;

Unhappy jealousy torment,

Separation, tears of reconciliation,

I'll quarrel again, and finally

I'll walk them down the aisle...

I will remember the speeches of passionate bliss,

Words of yearning love

Which in days gone by

At the feet of a beautiful mistress

They came to my tongue

Which I am now unaccustomed to.

Tatiana, dear Tatiana!

With you now I shed tears;

You're in the hands of a fashionable tyrant

I've already given up my fate.

You will die, dear; but first

You are in blinding hope

You call for dark bliss,

You will know the bliss of life

You drink the magical poison of desires,

Dreams haunt you:

Everywhere you imagine

Happy Date Shelters;

Everywhere, everywhere in front of you

Your tempter is fatal.

The melancholy of love drives Tatiana away,

And she goes to the garden to be sad,

And suddenly the eyes become motionless,

The chest and cheeks rose

Covered in instant flames,

The breath froze in my mouth,

And there is noise in the ears, and a sparkle in the eyes...

Night will come; the moon goes around

Watch the distant vault of heaven,

And the nightingale in the darkness of the trees

Sonorous tunes turn you on.

Tatyana doesn't sleep in the dark

And quietly says to the nanny:

“I can’t sleep, nanny: it’s so stuffy here!

Open the window and sit with me."

- What, Tanya, what’s wrong with you? - "I'm bored,

Let's talk about old times."

- About what, Tanya? I used to

I kept quite a bit in my memory

Ancient tales, fables

About evil spirits and maidens;

And now everything is dark to me, Tanya:

What I knew, I forgot. Yes,

A bad turn has come!

It's crazy... - "Tell me, nanny,

About your old years:

Were you in love then?"

- And, that’s it, Tanya! These summers

We haven't heard about love;

Otherwise I would have driven you away from the world

My deceased mother-in-law. -

“How did you get married, nanny?”

- So, apparently, God ordered it. My Vanya

Was younger than me, my light,

And I was thirteen years old.

The matchmaker went around for two weeks

To my family, and finally

My father blessed me.

I cried bitterly out of fear,

They unraveled my braid while crying,

Yes, they took me to church singing.

And so they brought someone else into the family...

Yes, you don’t listen to me... -

"Oh, nanny, nanny, I'm sad,

I'm sick, my dear:

I'm ready to cry, I'm ready to cry!.."

- My child, you are unwell;

Lord have mercy and save!

What do you want, ask...

Let me sprinkle you with holy water,

You're all burning... - "I'm not sick:

I... you know, nanny... is in love"

- My child, God be with you! -

And the nanny girl with a prayer

She baptized with a decrepit hand.

“I’m in love,” she whispered again

She is sad for the old lady.

- Dear friend, you are unwell. -

"Leave me: I'm in love."

And meanwhile the moon was shining

And illuminated with a languid light

Tatiana's pale beauties,

And loose hair,

And drops of tears, and on the bench

Before the young heroine,

With a scarf on his gray head,

An old woman in a long padded jacket

And everything was dozing in silence

Under an inspiring moon.

And my heart ran far

Tatiana, looking at the moon...

Suddenly a thought appeared in her mind...

"Go ahead, leave me alone.

Give me a pen and paper, nanny,

Yes, move the table; I'll go to bed soon;

I'm sorry." And here she is alone.

Everything is quiet. The moon is shining on her.

Leaning on her elbows, Tatyana writes.

And everything is on Evgeny’s mind,

And in a thoughtless letter

The love of an innocent maiden breathes.

The letter is ready, folded...

Tatiana! Who is it for?

I knew unattainable beauties,

Cold, clean like winter,

Relentless, incorruptible,

Incomprehensible to the mind;

I marveled at their fashionable arrogance,

Their natural virtues,

And, I admit, I ran away from them,

And, I think, I read with horror

Above their eyebrows is the inscription of hell:

Abandon hope forever ().

Inspiring love is a problem for them,

It's their joy to scare people.

Perhaps on the banks of the Neva

You've seen ladies like this.

Among obedient fans

I've seen other eccentrics

Selfishly indifferent

For passionate sighs and praise.

And what did I find with amazement?

They, with harsh behavior

Scaring timid love

They knew how to attract her again,

At least I'm sorry

At least the sound of speeches

Sometimes it seemed more tender,

And with gullible blindness

Young lover again

I ran after the sweet vanity.

Why is Tatyana more guilty?

Because in sweet simplicity

She knows no deception

And believes in his chosen dream?

Because he loves without art,

Obedient to the attraction of feelings,

Why is she so trusting?

What is gifted from heaven

With a rebellious imagination,

Alive in mind and will,

And wayward head,

And with a fiery and tender heart?

Won't you forgive her?

Are you frivolous passions?

The coquette judges in cold blood,

Tatiana loves seriously

And he surrenders unconditionally

Love like a sweet child.

She doesn’t say: let’s put it aside -

We will multiply the price of love,

Or rather, let’s start it online;

First vanity is stabbed

Hope, there is bewilderment

We'll torture our hearts, and then

We will revive the jealous with fire;

And then, bored with pleasure,

The slave is cunning from the shackles

Ready to break out at all times.

I still foresee difficulties:

Saving the honor of our native land,

I will have to, without a doubt,

Translate Tatiana's letter.

She didn't speak Russian well

I haven’t read our magazines,

And it was difficult to express myself

In your native language,

So, I wrote in French...

What to do! I repeat again:

Until now, ladies' love

Didn't speak Russian

Our language is still proud

I'm not used to postal prose.

Can I imagine them?

With “Well-Intentioned” () in hand!

I swear at you, my poets;

Isn't it true: lovely objects,

Who, for their sins,

You wrote poems in secret,

To whom you dedicated your heart,

Isn't that all, in Russian?

Possessing weakly and with difficulty,

He was so cutely distorted

And in their mouths a foreign language

Didn't you turn to your native?

God forbid I get together at the ball

Or while driving around on the porch

With a seminarian in a yellow chalet

Or with an academician in a cap!

Like rosy lips without a smile,

No grammatical error

I don't like Russian speech.

Perhaps, for my misfortune,

New generation of beauties,

The magazines heeded the pleading voice,

He will teach us grammar;

Poems will be put into use;

But I... why should I care?

I will be faithful to the old days.

Incorrect, careless babble,

Inaccurate pronunciation of speeches

Still heart fluttering

They will produce in my breast;

I have no strength to repent,

Gallicisms will be sweet to me,

Like the sins of past youth,

Like Bogdanovich's poems.

But it's complete. It's time for me to get busy

A letter from my beauty;

I gave my word, so what? oh yeah

Now I'm ready to give up.

I know: gentle guys

Feather is not in fashion these days.

Singer of Feasts and languid sadness (),

If only you were with me,

I would become an immodest request

To disturb you, my dear:

So that magical melodies

You shifted the passionate maiden

Foreign words.

Where are you? come: your rights

I bow to you...

But among the sad rocks,

Having weaned my heart from praise,

Alone, under the Finnish sky,

He wanders, and his soul

He does not hear my grief.

Tatiana's letter is in front of me;

I cherish it sacredly,

Who inspired her with this tenderness,

And words of kind negligence?

Who inspired her with touching nonsense,

Crazy heart conversation

Both fascinating and harmful?

I can not understand. But here

Incomplete, weak translation,

The list is pale from a living picture,

Or the pranked Freischitz

By the fingers of timid students:

Tatiana's letter to Onegin

I am writing to you - what more?

What more can I say?

Now I know it's in your will

Punish me with contempt.

But you, to my unfortunate fate

Keeping at least a drop of pity,

You won't leave me.

At first I wanted to remain silent;

Believe me: my shame

You would never know

If only I had hope

At least rarely, at least once a week

To see you in our village,

Just to hear your speeches,

Say your word, and then

Think about everything, think about one thing

And day and night until we meet again.

But they say you are unsociable;

In the wilderness, in the village, everything is boring for you,

And we... we don’t shine with anything,

Even though you are welcome in a simple-minded way.

Why did you visit us?

In the wilderness of a forgotten village

I would never have known you

I wouldn't know bitter torment.

Souls of inexperienced excitement

Having come to terms with time (who knows?),

I would find a friend after my heart,

If only I had a faithful wife

And a virtuous mother.

Another!.. No, no one in the world

I wouldn't give my heart!

It is destined in the highest council...

That is the will of heaven: I am yours;

My whole life was a pledge

The faithful's meeting with you;

I know you were sent to me by God,

Until the grave you are my keeper...

You appeared in my dreams,

Invisible, you were already dear to me,

Your wonderful gaze tormented me,

A long time ago... no, it was not a dream!

You barely walked in, I instantly recognized

Everything was stupefied, on fire

And in my thoughts I said: here he is!

Isn't it true? I heard you:

You spoke to me in silence

When I helped the poor

Or she delighted me with prayer

The longing of a worried soul?

And at this very moment

Isn't it you, sweet vision,

Flashed in the transparent darkness,

Quietly leaning against the headboard?

Isn’t it you, with joy and love,

Did you whisper words of hope to me?

Who are you, my guardian angel,

Or the insidious tempter:

Resolve my doubts.

Maybe it's all empty

Deception of an inexperienced soul!

And something completely different is destined...

But so be it! my destiny

From now on I give you

I shed tears before you,

I beg your protection...

Imagine: I'm here alone,

Nobody understands me,

My mind is exhausted

And I must die in silence.

I'm waiting for you: with one glance

Revive the hopes of your heart,

Or break the heavy dream,

Alas, a well-deserved reproach!

I'm cumming! It's scary to read...

I freeze with shame and fear...

But your honor is my guarantee,

And I boldly entrust myself to her...

Tatyana will sigh, then gasp;

The letter trembles in her hand;

The pink wafer is drying

On a sore tongue.

She leaned her head towards his shoulder.

The light shirt came off

From her lovely shoulder...

But now there's a moonbeam

The glow goes out. There's a valley there

It becomes clearer through the steam. There's a flow

Silvered; there's a horn there

The shepherd wakes up the villager.

It’s morning: everyone got up a long time ago,

My Tatyana doesn't care.

She doesn't notice the dawn

Sits with drooping head

And he doesn’t press on the letter

Your seal is cut out.

But, quietly unlocking the door,

Filipevna is already gray-haired

He brings tea on a tray.

"It's time, my child, get up:

Yes, you, beauty, are ready!

Oh my early bird!

I was so afraid of this evening!

Yes, thank God, you are healthy!

There is no trace of nighttime melancholy,

Your face is like the color of poppies."

- Ah! Nanny, do me a favor. -

“If you please, dear, give orders.”

- Don’t think... really... suspicion...

But you see... ah! don't refuse. -

“My friend, God is your guarantee.”

- So, let’s go quietly to the grandson.

With this note to O... to that...

To the neighbor... and tell him -

So that he doesn't say a word,

So that he doesn’t call me... -

"To whom, my dear?

I've become clueless these days.

There are a lot of neighbors around;

Where can I count them?

- How slow-witted you are, nanny! -

"Dear friend, I'm old,

Old: the mind is growing dull, Tanya;

And then, it happened, I was excited,

It happened that the word of the master's will..."

- Oh, nanny, nanny! before that?

What do I need in your mind?

You see, it's about the letter

To Onegin. - “Well, business, business,

Don't be angry, my soul,

You know, I'm incomprehensible...

Why are you turning pale again?"

- So, nanny, it’s really nothing.

Send your grandson. -

But the day passed and there was no answer.

Another one has arrived: everything is gone, no matter what.

Pale as a shadow, dressed in the morning,

Tatyana is waiting: when will the answer be?

Olga, the admirer, has arrived.

“Tell me: where is your friend?”

He had a question from the hostess.

“He somehow completely forgot about us.”

Tatyana flushed and trembled.

- He promised to be today,

He answered old lady Lenskaya:

Yes, apparently the post office was delayed. -

Tatyana lowered her gaze,

As if hearing an evil reproach.

It was getting dark; shining on the table

The evening samovar hissed.

Chinese teapot heating;

Light steam swirled beneath him.

Spilled by Olga's hand,

Through the cups in a dark stream

Already the fragrant tea was running,

And the boy served the cream;

Tatiana stood in front of the window,

Breathing on the cold glass,

Thoughtful, my soul,

She wrote with a pretty finger

On foggy glass

Treasured monogram O yes E.

And meanwhile her soul ached,

And the languid gaze was full of tears.

Suddenly there was a stomp!.. her blood froze.

Here's closer! jump... and into the yard

Eugene! "Oh!" – and lighter than a shadow

Tatyana jumped into another hallway,

From the porch to the yard, and straight into the garden,

Flying, flying; look back

He doesn't dare; ran around instantly

Curtains, bridges, meadow,

Alley to the lake, woods,

I broke the siren bushes,

Flying through the flower beds to the stream,

And gasping for breath on the bench

"Here he is! Evgeniy is here!

Oh my God! What did he think!

She has a heart full of torment,

A dark dream keeps hope alive;

She trembles and glows with heat,

And waits: is it coming? But he doesn't hear.

In the maid's garden, on the ridges,

Picking berries in the bushes

And they sang in chorus as ordered

(Order based on

So that the master's berries secretly

Evil lips do not eat,

And they were busy singing:

An idea of rural wit!).

Song of the girls

Girls, beauties,

Darlings, girlfriends,

Play around, girls!

Have fun, darlings!

Play a song

The cherished song,

Lure the fellow

To our round dance.

How can we lure the young man?

As we see from afar,

Let's run away, darlings,

Let's throw cherries

Cherry, raspberry,

Red currants.

Don't go eavesdropping

Treasured songs,

Don't go peeking

Our games are girls' ones.

They sing, and with carelessness

Tatyana waited impatiently,

So that the trembling of her heart subsides,

So that the glow goes away.

But in the Persians there is the same trembling,

And the heat on the cheeks does not go away,

But brighter, brighter it only burns...

That's how the poor moth shines

And beats with a rainbow wing,

Captivated by the school naughty boy

So a bunny trembles in the winter,

Suddenly seeing from afar

Into the bushes of a fallen shooter.

But finally she sighed

And she rose from her bench;

I went, but only turned around

In the alley, right in front of her,

Shining eyes, Evgeniy

Stands like a menacing shadow,

And, as if burned by fire,

She stopped.

But the consequences of an unexpected meeting

Today, dear friends,

I am not able to retell it;

I owe it after a long speech

And take a walk and relax:

I'll finish it sometime later.

CHAPTER FOUR

La morale est dans la nature des choses.

I. II. III. IV. V.VI.VII.

The less we love a woman,

The easier it is for her to like us

And the more likely we destroy her

Among seductive networks.

Debauchery used to be cold-blooded

Science was famous for love,

Trumpeting about myself everywhere

And enjoying without loving.

But this is important fun

Worthy of old monkeys

Grandfather's vaunted times:

Lovlasov's fame has faded

With the glory of red heels

And stately wigs.

Who isn't bored of being a hypocrite?

Repeat one thing differently

It is important to try to assure that

What everyone has been sure of for a long time,

Still hearing the same objections,

Destroy prejudices

Which were not and are not

A girl at thirteen years old!

Who can't be tired of threats?

Prayers, oaths, imaginary fear,

Notes on six sheets,

Deceptions, gossip, rings, tears,

Supervision of aunts, mothers,

And friendship is difficult between husbands!

That’s exactly what my Eugene thought.

He is in his first youth

Was a victim of stormy delusions

And unbridled passions.

Spoiled by the habit of life,

One is temporarily fascinated,

Disappointed with others

We slowly languish with desire,

We languish with windy success,

Listening in noise and in silence

The eternal murmur of the soul,

Suppressing a yawn with laughter:

This is how he killed eight years old

Losing life's best color.

He no longer fell in love with beauties,

And somehow he was dragging his feet;

If they refused, I was instantly consoled;

They will change - I was glad to relax.

He searched for them without ecstasy,

And left without regret,

Slightly remembering their love and anger.

So definitely an indifferent guest

Comes to evening whist,

sits down; game over:

He leaves the yard

Sleeps peacefully at home

And he himself doesn’t know in the morning,

Where will he go in the evening?

But, having received Tanya’s message,

Onegin was deeply touched:

The language of girlish dreams

He was disturbed by a swarm of thoughts;

And he remembered dear Tatyana

And the color is pale and the appearance is dull;

And into a sweet, sinless sleep

He was immersed in his soul,

Perhaps the feeling is an ancient ardor

He took possession of it for a minute;

But he didn't want to deceive

The gullibility of an innocent soul.

Now we'll fly to the garden,

Where Tatyana met him.

They were silent for two minutes,

But Onegin approached her

And he said: “You wrote to me,

Don't deny it. I've read

Souls of trusting confession,

Innocent outpouring of love;

Your sincerity is dear to me;

She got excited

Feelings that have long been silent;

But I don’t want to praise you;

I will repay you for it

Recognition also without art;

Accept my confession:

I submit myself to you for judgment.

"Whenever life around home

I wanted to limit;

When would I be a father, a husband?

A pleasant lot has decreed;

When would a family picture

I was captivated for just one moment, -

That would be true, except for you alone,

I was looking for no other bride.

I will say without madrigal sparkles:

Found my former ideal,

I would definitely choose you alone

To the friends of my sad days,

All the best as a pledge,

And I would be happy... as much as I could!

“But I was not made for bliss;

My soul is alien to him;

Your perfections are in vain:

I am not worthy of them at all.

Believe me (conscience is a guarantee),

Marriage will be torment for us.

No matter how much I love you,

Having gotten used to it, I immediately stop loving it;

You start crying: your tears

My heart will not be touched

And they will only infuriate him.

You judge what kind of roses

Hymen will prepare for us

And maybe for many days.

"What could be worse in the world?

Families where the poor wife

Sad about an unworthy husband

Alone both day and evening;

Where is the boring husband, knowing her worth

(However, cursing fate),

Always frowning, silent,

Angry and coldly jealous!

That's who I am. And that's what they were looking for

You are a pure, fiery soul,

When with such simplicity,

Did they write to me with such intelligence?

Is this really your lot?

Appointed by strict fate?

“There is no return to dreams and years;

I will not renew my soul...

I love you with the love of a brother

And maybe even more tender.

Listen to me without anger:

The young maiden will change more than once

Dreams are easy dreams;

So the tree has its own leaves

Changes every spring.

So, apparently, it was destined by heaven.

Main characters

Eugene Onegin- a prominent young man of eighteen years old, a native of noble family, who received a French" home upbringing, a secular dandy, knowledgeable about fashion, very eloquent and able to present himself in society, a "philosopher".

Tatyana Larina- the eldest daughter of the Larins, a quiet, calm, serious girl of seventeen years old, who loved to read books and spend a lot of time alone.

Vladimir Lensky- a young landowner who was “nearly eighteen years old,” a poet, a dreamy person. At the beginning of the novel, Vladimir returns to native village from Germany, where he studied.

Olga Larina- the youngest daughter of the Larins, lover and bride of Vladimir Lensky, always cheerful and sweet, she was the complete opposite of her older sister.

Other characters

Princess Polina (Praskovya) Larina- mother of Olga and Tatyana Larin.

Filipevna- Tatiana's nanny.

Princess Alina- Tatiana and Olga's aunt, Praskovya's sister.

Zaretsky- a neighbor of Onegin and Larin, Vladimir’s second in the duel with Evgeniy, a former gambler who became a “peaceful” landowner.

Prince N.- Tatiana’s husband, “important general”, friend of Onegin’s youth.

The novel in verse “Eugene Onegin” begins with a brief author’s address to the reader, in which Pushkin characterizes his work:

“Receive the collection of motley heads,
Half funny, half sad,
Common people, ideal,
The careless fruit of my amusements."

Chapter first

In the first chapter, the author introduces the reader to the hero of the novel - Evgeny Onegin, the heir of a wealthy family, who rushes to his dying uncle. The young man was “born on the banks of the Neva,” his father lived in debt, often held balls, which is why he eventually completely lost his fortune.

When Onegin matured enough to go out into the world, high society accepted the young man well, since he had an excellent command of French, danced the mazurka easily and could talk freely on any topic. However, it was not science or brilliance in society that interested Eugene most of all - he was a “true genius” in the “science of tender passion” - Onegin could turn the head of any lady, while remaining on friendly terms with her husband and admirers.

Evgeny lived an idle life, walking along the boulevard during the day, and in the evening visiting luxurious salons where he was invited famous people St. Petersburg. The author emphasizes that Onegin, “afraid of jealous condemnation,” was very careful about his appearance, so he could spend three hours in front of the mirror, bringing his image to perfection. Evgeniy returned from the balls in the morning, when the rest of the residents of St. Petersburg were rushing to work. By noon the young man woke up and again

“Until the morning his life is ready,
Monotonous and motley."

However, is Onegin happy?

“No: his feelings cooled down early;
He was tired of the noise of the world."

Gradually, the hero was overcome by the “Russian blues” and he, as if Chade-Harold, appeared gloomy and languid in the world - “nothing touched him, he did not notice anything.”

Evgeniy withdraws from society, locks himself at home and tries to write on his own, but the young man does not succeed, since “he was sick of persistent work.” After this, the hero begins to read a lot, but realizes that literature will not save him: “like women, he left books.” Evgeny, from a sociable, secular person, becomes a withdrawn young man, prone to “caustic argument” and “joke with bile in half.”

Onegin and the narrator (according to the author, it was at this time that they met the main character) were planning to leave St. Petersburg abroad, but their plans were changed by the death of Eugene’s father. The young man had to give up his entire inheritance to pay his father’s debts, so the hero remained in St. Petersburg. Soon Onegin received news that his uncle was dying and wanted to say goodbye to his nephew. When the hero arrived, his uncle had already died. As it turned out, the deceased bequeathed a huge estate to Evgeniy: lands, forests, factories.

Chapter two

Evgeniy lived in a picturesque village, his house was located by the river, surrounded by a garden. Wanting to somehow entertain himself, Onegin decided to introduce new orders in his domains: he replaced corvee with “light rent”. Because of this, the neighbors began to treat the hero with caution, believing “that he is the most dangerous eccentric.” At the same time, Evgeny himself avoided his neighbors, avoiding getting to know them in every possible way.

At the same time, the young landowner Vladimir Lensky returned from Germany to one of the nearest villages. Vladimir was a romantic person,

“With a soul straight from Göttingen,
Handsome man, in full bloom,
Kant's admirer and poet."

Lensky wrote his poems about love, was a dreamer and hoped to reveal the mystery of the purpose of life. In the village, Lensky, “according to custom,” was mistaken for a profitable groom.

However, among the villagers, Lensky’s special attention was attracted by the figure of Onegin, and Vladimir and Evgeniy gradually became friends:

“They got along. Wave and stone
Poems and prose, ice and fire."

Vladimir read his works to Evgeniy and talked about philosophical things. Onegin listened to Lensky’s passionate speeches with a smile, but refrained from trying to reason with his friend, realizing that life itself would do this for him. Gradually, Evgeny notices that Vladimir is in love. Lensky’s beloved turned out to be Olga Larina, whom the young man knew as a child, and his parents predicted a wedding for them in the future.

“Always modest, always obedient,
Always cheerful like the morning,
How a poet's life is simple-minded,
How sweet is the kiss of love."

The complete opposite of Olga was her older sister, Tatyana:

“Wild, sad, silent,
Like a forest deer is timid."

The girl did not find the usual girlish pastimes fun, she loved to read novels by Richardson and Rousseau,

“And often all day alone
I sat silently by the window."

Tatiana and Olga's mother, Princess Polina, was in love with someone else in her youth - a guard sergeant, a dandy and a gambler, but without asking, her parents married her to Larin. The woman was sad at first, but then took up housekeeping, “got used to it and became happy,” and gradually peace reigned in their family. Having lived a quiet life, Larin grew old and died.

Chapter Three

Lensky begins to spend all his evenings with the Larins. Evgeniy is surprised that he has found a friend in the company of a “simple, Russian family,” where all conversations boil down to discussing the household. Lensky explains that he enjoys home society more than a social circle. Onegin asks if he can see Lensky's beloved and his friend invites him to go to the Larins.

Returning from the Larins, Onegin tells Vladimir that he was pleased to meet them, but his attention was more attracted not by Olga, who “has no life in her features,” but by her sister Tatyana, “who is sad and silent, like Svetlana.” Onegin's appearance at the Larins' house caused gossip that perhaps Tatiana and Evgeniy were already engaged. Tatyana realizes that she has fallen in love with Onegin. The girl begins to see Evgeniy in the heroes of the novels, to dream about the young man, walking in the “silence of the forests” with books about love.

One sleepless night, Tatyana, sitting in the garden, asks the nanny to tell her about her youth, about whether the woman was in love. The nanny says that she was married by agreement at the age of 13 to a guy younger than her, so the old woman does not know what love is. Peering into the moon, Tatyana decides to write a letter to Onegin declaring her love on French, since at that time it was customary to write letters exclusively in French.

In the message, the girl writes that she would remain silent about her feelings if she were sure that she would be able to see Evgeniy at least sometimes. Tatyana reasons that if Onegin had not settled in their village, perhaps her fate would have turned out differently. But he immediately denies this possibility:

“This is the will of heaven: I am yours;
My whole life was a pledge
The faithful date with you."

Tatyana writes that it was Onegin who appeared to her in her dreams and it was him she dreamed about. At the end of the letter, the girl “hands over” her destiny to Onegin:

"I'm waiting for you: with one glance
Revive the hopes of your heart,
Or break the heavy dream,
Alas, a well-deserved reproach!

In the morning, Tatyana asks Filipyevna to give Evgeniy a letter. There was no answer from Onegin for two days. Lensky assures that Evgeny promised to visit the Larins. Finally Onegin arrives. Tatiana, frightened, runs into the garden. Having calmed down a little, he goes out into the alley and sees Evgeniy standing right in front of him “like a menacing shadow.”

Chapter Four

Evgeny, who even in his youth was disappointed with relationships with women, was touched by Tatyana’s letter, and that is why he did not want to deceive the gullible, innocent girl.

Having met Tatyana in the garden, Evgeniy spoke first. The young man said that he was very touched by her sincerity, so he wants to “repay” the girl with his “confession.” Onegin tells Tatyana that if a “pleasant lot had commanded” him to become a father and husband, he would not have looked for another bride, choosing Tatyana as his “friend of sad days.” However, Eugene “was not created for bliss.” Onegin says that he loves Tatyana like a brother and at the end of his “confession” turns into a sermon to the girl:

“Learn to control yourself;
Not everyone will understand you like I do;
Inexperience leads to disaster."

Discussing Onegin's action, the narrator writes that Eugene acted very nobly with the girl.

After the date in the garden, Tatyana became even sadder, worrying about her unhappy love. There is talk among the neighbors that it is time for the girl to get married. At this time, the relationship between Lensky and Olga is developing, young people spend more and more time together.

Onegin lived as a hermit, walking and reading. One winter evening Lensky comes to see him. Evgeniy asks his friend about Tatyana and Olga. Vladimir says that his wedding with Olga is scheduled in two weeks, which Lensky is very happy about. In addition, Vladimir recalls that the Larins invited Onegin to visit Tatiana’s name day.

Chapter Five

Tatyana loved the Russian winter very much, including Epiphany evenings, when the girls told fortunes. She believed in dreams, omens and fortune telling. On one of the Epiphany evenings, Tatyana went to bed, putting a girl’s mirror under her pillow.

The girl dreamed that she was walking through the snow in the darkness, and in front of her there was a roaring river, across which was thrown a “trembling, disastrous bridge.” Tatyana doesn't know how to cross it, but here with reverse side A bear appears along the stream and helps her cross. The girl tries to run away from the bear, but the “shaggy footman” followed her. Tatiana, unable to run any longer, falls into the snow. The bear picks her up and carries her into a “wretched” hut that appears between the trees, telling the girl that his godfather is here. Having come to her senses, Tatyana saw that she was in the hallway, and behind the door she could hear “a scream and the clink of a glass, as at a big funeral.” The girl looked through the crack: there were monsters sitting at the table, among whom she saw Onegin, the host of the feast. Out of curiosity, the girl opens the door, all the monsters begin to reach out to her, but Evgeny drives them away. The monsters disappear, Onegin and Tatyana sit on the bench, the young man puts his head on the girl’s shoulder. Then Olga and Lensky appear, Evgeny begins to scold the uninvited guests, suddenly pulls out a long knife and kills Vladimir. In horror, Tatiana wakes up and tries to interpret the dream from the book of Martyn Zadeka (fortune teller, interpreter of dreams).

It’s Tatiana’s birthday, the house is full of guests, everyone is laughing, crowding around, saying hello. Lensky and Onegin arrive. Evgeniy is seated opposite Tatiana. The girl is embarrassed, afraid to look up at Onegin, she is ready to cry. Evgeny, noticing Tatiana's excitement, became angry and decided to take revenge on Lensky, who brought him to the feast. When the dancing began, Onegin invites Olga exclusively, without leaving the girl even during breaks between dances. Lensky, seeing this, “flashes up in jealous indignation.” Even when Vladimir wants to invite his bride to dance, it turns out that she has already promised Onegin.

“Lenskaya is unable to bear the blow” - Vladimir leaves the holiday, thinking that only a duel can solve the current situation.

Chapter Six

Noticing that Vladimir had left, Onegin lost all interest in Olga and returned home at the end of the evening. In the morning, Zaretsky comes to Onegin and gives him a note from Lensky challenging him to a duel. Evgeny agrees to a duel, but, left alone, he blames himself for making a joke about his friend’s love in vain. According to the terms of the duel, the heroes were supposed to meet at the mill before dawn.

Before the duel, Lensky stopped by Olga, thinking to embarrass her, but the girl greeted him joyfully, which dispelled her beloved’s jealousy and annoyance. Lensky was absent-minded all evening. Arriving home from Olga, Vladimir examined the pistols and, thinking about Olga, writes poetry in which he asks the girl to come to his grave in the event of his death.

In the morning, Evgeniy overslept, so he was late for the duel. Vladimir's second was Zaretsky, Onegin's second was Monsieur Guillot. At Zaretsky’s command, the young men came together and the duel began. Evgeny is the first to raise his pistol - when Lensky just started to aim, Onegin already shoots and kills Vladimir. Lensky dies instantly. Evgeniy looks at his friend’s body in horror.

Chapter Seven

Olga did not cry for Lensky for long; she soon fell in love with a lancer and married him. After the wedding, the girl and her husband left for the regiment.

Tatyana still could not forget Onegin. One day, while walking through a field at night, a girl accidentally came to Evgeniy’s house. The girl is warmly greeted by the courtyard family and Tatyana is allowed into Onegin’s house. The girl, looking around the rooms, “stands for a long time in the fashionable cell, enchanted.” Tatyana begins to constantly visit Evgeniy’s house. The girl reads her lover’s books, trying to understand from the notes in the margins what kind of person Onegin is.

At this time, the Larins begin talking about how it’s time for Tatyana to get married. Princess Polina is worried that her daughter refuses everyone. Larina is advised to take the girl to the “bride fair” in Moscow.

In winter, the Larins, having collected everything they need, leave for Moscow. They stayed with an old aunt, Princess Alina. The Larins begin to travel around to visit numerous acquaintances and relatives, but the girl is bored and uninterested everywhere. Finally, Tatyana is brought to the “Meeting,” where many brides, dandies, and hussars have gathered. While everyone is having fun and dancing, the girl, “unnoticed by anyone,” stands at the column, remembering life in the village. Then one of the aunts drew Tanya’s attention to the “fat general.”

Chapter Eight

The narrator again meets the now 26-year-old Onegin at one of the social events. Eugene

"languishing in idle leisure
Without work, without wife, without business,
I didn’t know how to do anything.”

Before this Onegin for a long time traveled, but he was tired of this too, and so, “he returned and ended up, like Chatsky, from the ship to the ball.”

At the evening, a lady appears with a general, who attracts everyone's attention from the public. This woman looked "quiet" and "simple". Evgeny recognizes Tatyana as a socialite. Asking a friend of the prince who this woman is, Onegin learns that she is the wife of this prince and indeed Tatyana Larina. When the prince brings Onegin to the woman, Tatiana does not show her excitement at all, while Eugene is speechless. Onegin cannot believe that this is the same girl who once wrote him a letter.

In the morning, Evgeniy receives an invitation from Prince N., Tatiana’s wife. Onegin, alarmed by memories, eagerly goes to visit, but the “stately”, “careless Lawgiver of the hall” does not seem to notice him. Unable to bear it, Eugene writes a letter to the woman in which he declares his love for her, ending the message with the lines:

“Everything is decided: I am in your will,
And I surrender to my fate."

However, no answer comes. The man sends a second, third letter. Onegin was again “caught” by a “cruel blues”, he again locked himself in his office and began to read a lot, constantly thinking and dreaming about “secret legends, heartfelt, dark antiquities.”

One spring day, Onegin goes to Tatyana without an invitation. Eugene finds a woman crying bitterly over his letter. The man falls at her feet. Tatyana asks him to stand up and reminds Evgenia how in the garden, in the alley she humbly listened to his lesson, now it’s her turn. She tells Onegin that she was in love with him then, but found only severity in his heart, although she does not blame him, considering the man’s act noble. The woman understands that now she is in many ways interesting to Eugene precisely because she has become a prominent socialite. In parting, Tatyana says:

“I love you (why lie?),
But I was given to another;
I will be faithful to him forever"

And he leaves. Evgeny is “as if struck by thunder” by Tatiana’s words.

“But a sudden ringing sound rang out,
And Tatyana’s husband showed up,
And here is my hero,
In a moment that is evil for him,
Reader, we will now leave,
For a long time... forever..."

conclusions

The novel in verse “Eugene Onegin” amazes with its depth of thought, the volume of events, phenomena and characters described. Depicting in the work the morals and life of cold, “European” St. Petersburg, patriarchal Moscow and the village - the center of folk culture, the author shows the reader Russian life as a whole. A brief retelling of “Eugene Onegin” allows you to get acquainted only with the central episodes of the novel in verse, therefore, for a better understanding of the work, we recommend that you familiarize yourself with the full version of the masterpiece of Russian literature.

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The novel “Eugene Onegin” is a must-read for all connoisseurs of Pushkin’s work. This large work plays one of the key roles in the poet’s work. This work had an incredible influence on all Russian fiction. An important fact from the history of writing the novel is that Pushkin worked on it for about 8 years. It was during these years that the poet reached his creative maturity. The book, completed in 1831, was published only in 1833. The events described in the work cover the period between 1819 and 1825. It was then, after the defeat of Napoleon, that the campaigns of the Russian army took place. The reader is presented with situations that took place in society during the reign of Tsar Alexander I. The interweaving of historical facts and realities in the novel that are important for the poet made it truly interesting and lively. Based on this poem, many have been written scientific works. And interest in it does not fade even after almost 2 hundred years.

It is difficult to find a person who is not familiar with the plot of Pushkin’s work “Eugene Onegin”. The central line of the novel is a love story. Feelings, duty, honor - all this is the main problem of creation, because it is so difficult to combine them. Two couples appear before the reader: Evgeny Onegin with Tatyana Larina and Vladimir Lensky with Olga. Each of them dreams of happiness and love. But this is not destined to happen. Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin was a master of describing unrequited feelings. Tatyana, who falls madly in love with Onegin, does not receive the desired answer from him. He understands that he loves her only after strong shocks that melt his stone heart. And now, it would seem, the happy ending is so close. But the heroes of this novel in verse are not destined to be together. The bitter thing is that the characters cannot blame fate or others for this. From the very beginning of Eugene Onegin, you understand that only their mistakes influenced this sad outcome. The search for the right path was unsuccessful. The content of such deep philosophical moments in the work makes the reader think about the reasons for the actions of the heroes. In addition to a simple love story, the poem is filled with living stories, descriptions, pictures and colorful characters with difficult destinies. Through the chapters of the novel, step by step, you can trace the most incredible details of that era.

The main idea of the text of “Eugene Onegin” is not easy to identify. This book gives an understanding that true happiness is not available to everyone. Only people who are not burdened with spiritual development and aspirations for the highest can truly enjoy life. Simple things that anyone can achieve are enough for them. Sensitive and thinking individuals, according to the author, suffer more often. They will face inevitable death, like Lensky, “empty inaction,” like Onegin, or silent sadness, like Tatyana. This pattern is frightening and causes a feeling of melancholy. Moreover, Pushkin, in no case, directly accuses his heroes. He emphasizes that it was the environment around that made the characters this way. After all, every respectable, intelligent and noble person will change under the influence of a heavy burden serfdom and hard work. The emergence of this abnormal system in society has made hundreds of thousands of people unhappy. It is the sadness from such events that is expressed in the last lines of the work. Alexander Sergeevich managed to skillfully combine the problems of society with the hardships of individual destinies. This combination makes you re-read the novel again and again, marveling at the suffering of the characters, sympathizing with them and empathizing. The novel “Eugene Onegin” can be read online or downloaded for free on our website.

We bring to your attention summary by chapter novel " Eugene Onegin» A.S. Pushkin.

Chapter 1.

Eugene Onegin, the “young rake”, goes to receive the inheritance he received from his uncle. The following is the biography of Evgeny Onegin:

« ...The fate of Eugene kept:
At first Madame followed him,
Then Monsieur replaced her;
The child was rough, but sweet...«

« ...When will the rebellious youth
The time has come for Evgeniy
It's time for hope and tender sadness,
Monsieur was driven out of the yard.
Here is my Onegin free;
Haircut in the latest fashion;
How dandy London is dressed -
And finally saw the light.
He's completely French
He could express himself and wrote;
I danced the mazurka easily
And he bowed casually;..«

« ...He had a lucky talent
No coercion in conversation
Touch everything lightly
With the learned air of a connoisseur
Remain silent in an important dispute
And make the ladies smile
By the fire of unexpected epigrams..."

« ... Scolded Homer, Theocritus;
But I read Adam Smith
And there was a deep economy...”

Of all the sciences, Onegin mastered the most " the science of tender passion«:
« ...How early could he be a hypocrite,
To harbor hope, to be jealous,
To dissuade, to make believe,
Seem gloomy, languish,
Be proud and obedient
Attentive or indifferent!
How languidly silent he was,
How fieryly eloquent
How careless in heartfelt letters!
Breathing alone, loving alone,
How he knew how to forget himself!
How quick and gentle his gaze was,
Shy and impudent, and sometimes
Shined with an obedient tear!..”

«. .. Sometimes he was still in bed,
They bring notes to him.
What? Invitations? Indeed?
Three houses for the evening call:
There will be a ball, there will be a children's party.
Where will my prankster ride?
Who will he start with? Doesn't matter:
It’s no wonder you can keep up everywhere..."

Onegin - " theater, an evil legislator, a fickle admirer of charming actresses, an honorary citizen of the backstage". After the theater, Onegin hurries home to change clothes. Pushkin describes Onegin’s office and his manner of dressing:

« ...Everything for a plentiful whim
London trades scrupulously
And on the Baltic waves
He brings us lard and timber,
Everything in Paris tastes hungry,
Having chosen a useful trade,
Invents for fun
For luxury, for fashionable bliss, -
Everything decorated the office
A philosopher at eighteen...«

« ...You can be a efficient person
And think about the beauty of nails:
Why argue fruitlessly with the century?
The custom is despot between people.
Second Chadayev, my Evgeniy,
Fearing jealous judgments,
There was a pedant in his clothes
And what we called dandy.
He's at least three o'clock
He spent in front of the mirrors...”

Having changed clothes, Onegin goes to the ball. Pushkin's judgment about balls and women's legs follows. The ball ends in the morning and Evgeny Onegin goes to bed. A lyrical digression follows about the life of business Petersburg. Immediately Pushkin asks himself whether his hero was happy with such a life:

« ...No: his feelings cooled down early;
He was tired of the noise of the world;
The beauties didn't last long
The subject of his usual thoughts;
The betrayals have become tiresome;
I'm tired of friends and friendship..."

Onegin is moping, growing cold towards life and towards women. He is trying to engage in literary work, but in order to compose he needs to work hard, which Onegin is not very attracted to. He's writing: " I read and read, but to no avail..."During this period, Pushkin met Onegin:

«… I liked his features
Involuntary devotion to dreams,
Inimitable strangeness
And a sharp, chilled mind…»

Together they are going to go on a journey, but Onegin’s father dies. After his death, all remaining assets are distributed to creditors. Then Onegin receives news that his uncle is dying. His uncle bequeathed his property to Onegin. Evgeniy goes to say goodbye to his uncle, upset in advance by the upcoming boredom. But when he arrives, he finds him already dead.

« ...Here is our Onegin - a villager,
Factories, waters, forests, lands
The owner is complete, and until now
An enemy of order and a spendthrift,
And I’m very glad that the old path
Changed it to something..."

But soon rural life becomes boring for Onegin. But Pushkin likes it.

Chapter 2.

Onegin now decides to carry out a series of transformations in his village:

« ...He is the yoke of the ancient corvée
I replaced it with easy quitrent;
And the slave blessed fate...«

Onegin does not really like his neighbors, and therefore they stopped communicating with him. Soon, landowner Vladimir Lensky arrives at his estate, located next to Onegin’s lands.

«… Handsome man, in full bloom,
Kant's admirer and poet.
He's from foggy Germany
He brought the fruits of learning:
Freedom-loving dreams
The spirit is ardent and rather strange,
Always an enthusiastic speech
And shoulder-length black curls...«

Lensky was a romantic:

« ...He believed that the soul was dear
Must connect with him
That, despairingly languishing,
She waits for him every day;
He believed that his friends were ready
It's an honor to accept his shackles
And that their hand will not tremble
Break the slanderer's vessel...«

Lensky is received with pleasure in the area and is perceived as a groom. However, Lensky only communicates with pleasure with Evgeny Onegin.

« ...They got along. Wave and stone
Poetry and prose, ice and fire
Not so different from each other...«

«. ..Everything gave rise to disputes between them
And it led me to think:
Tribes of past treaties,
The fruits of science, good and evil,
And age-old prejudices,
And the grave secrets are fatal...«

Onegin and Lensky become friends " having nothing to do". They see each other every day. The Larins lived in these places. Vladimir, while still a teenager, was in love with Olga Larina. This is how Pushkin describes Olga:

« ...Always modest, always obedient,
Always cheerful like the morning,
How a poet's life is simple-minded,
How sweet is love's kiss,
Eyes like the sky blue;
Smile, flaxen curls,
Movements, voice, light stance -
Everything in Olga... but any novel
Take it and you will find it, right,
Her portrait: he is very cute,
I used to love him myself,
But he bored me immensely...«

Olga has an older sister, Tatyana. Pushkin describes Tatyana as follows:

« ...Dika, sad, silent,
Like a forest deer, timid,
She is in her own family
The girl seemed like a stranger.
She didn't know how to caress
To your father, nor to your mother;
Child herself, in a crowd of children
I didn’t want to play or jump
And often alone all day
I sat silently by the window...«

Tatyana loved to read novels, which were recommended to her by her relative Princess Alina. The following describes the story of Princess Alina. When she was a girl, she fell in love with a military man, but her parents married her off to someone else without her consent. The husband took Alina to the village, where she soon forgot her ardent love and enthusiastically took up housekeeping:

« ...A habit has been given to us from above:
She is a substitute for happiness...”

« ...They kept their lives peaceful
Habits of a dear old man;
At their Shrovetide
There were Russian pancakes;
Twice a year they fasted;
Loved the round swing
Podblyudny songs, round dance;
On Trinity Day, when people
Yawning, he listens to the prayer service,
Touchingly on the beam of dawn
They shed three tears;
They needed kvass like air,
And at their table there are guests
They carried dishes according to rank...«

Vladimir Lensky visits the grave of Olga's father. Writes "tombstone madrigal". The chapter ends with philosophical reflections on the change of generations.

Chapter 3.

Lensky begins to visit the Larins as often as possible. Ultimately, he spends all his free time with the Larins. Onegin asks Lensky to introduce him to Larin. Onegin is eagerly greeted and treated to food. Tatiana makes a great impression on Onegin. The neighbors around begin to spread rumors that Tatyana and Onegin will soon get married. Tatiana falls in love with Evgeniy:

«… The time has come, she fell in love...«

« ...Long-time heartache
Her young breasts were tight;
The soul was waiting... for someone,
and waited...«

Now, rereading the novels, Tatyana imagines herself as one of the heroines. Acting according to the stereotype, he is going to write a letter to his lover. But Onegin has long ceased to be a romantic:

«. ..Tatiana, dear Tatiana!
With you now I shed tears;
You're in the hands of a fashionable tyrant
I've already given up my fate...«

One night Tatyana and the nanny started talking about antiquity. And then Tatyana admits that she fell in love. But she did not reveal her lover’s name:

«… Tatiana loves seriously
And he surrenders unconditionally
Love like a sweet child.
She doesn’t say: let’s put it aside -
We will multiply the price of love,
Or rather, let’s start it online;
First vanity is stabbed
Hope, there is bewilderment
We'll torture our hearts, and then
We will revive the jealous with fire;
And then, bored with pleasure,
The slave is cunning from the shackles
Ready to break out at all times…»

Tatyana decides to write a frank letter to Onegin. He writes in French, because... " she didn't speak Russian well«.

Tatiana's letter to Onegin(P.S. Usually this passage is asked to be learned by heart)

« ...I’m writing to you - what more?
What more can I say?
Now I know it's in your will
Punish me with contempt.
But you, to my unfortunate fate
Keeping at least a drop of pity,
You won't leave me.
At first I wanted to remain silent;
Believe me: my shame
You would never know
If only I had hope
At least rarely, at least once a week
To see you in our village,
Just to hear your speeches,
Say your word, and then
Think everything, think about one thing
And day and night until we meet again.
But they say you are unsociable;
In the wilderness, in the village, everything is boring for you,
And we... we don’t shine with anything,
Even though you are welcome in a simple-minded way.
Why did you visit us?
In the wilderness of a forgotten village
I would never have known you
I wouldn't know bitter torment.
Souls of inexperienced excitement
Having come to terms with time (who knows?),
I would find a friend after my heart,
If only I had a faithful wife
And a virtuous mother.
Another!.. No, no one in the world
I wouldn't give my heart!
It is destined in the highest council...
That is the will of heaven: I am yours;
My whole life was a pledge
The faithful's meeting with you;
I know you were sent to me by God,
Until the grave you are my keeper...
You appeared in my dreams,
Invisible, you were already dear to me,
Your wonderful gaze tormented me,
Your voice was heard in my soul
A long time ago... no, it was not a dream!
You barely walked in, I instantly recognized
Everything was stupefied, on fire
And in my thoughts I said: here he is!
Isn't it true? I heard you:
You spoke to me in silence
When I helped the poor
Or she delighted me with prayer
The longing of a worried soul?
And at this very moment
Isn't it you, sweet vision,
Flashed in the transparent darkness,
Quietly leaning against the headboard?
Isn’t it you, with joy and love,
Did you whisper words of hope to me?
Who are you, my guardian angel
Or the insidious tempter:
Resolve my doubts.
Maybe it's all empty
Deception of an inexperienced soul!
And something completely different is destined...
But so be it! my destiny
From now on I give you
I shed tears before you,
I beg your protection...
Imagine: I'm here alone,
Nobody understands me,
My mind is exhausted
And I must die in silence.
I'm waiting for you: with one glance
Revive the hopes of your heart
Or break the heavy dream,
Alas, a well-deserved reproach!
I'm cumming! It's scary to read...
I freeze with shame and fear...
But your honor is my guarantee,
And I boldly entrust myself to her..."

In the morning, Tatyana asks the nanny to send this letter to Onegin. Two days pass. But there is no news from Onegin. Lensky arrives without Evgeniy. He assures that Onegin promised to come this evening. Tatyana is convinced of the correctness of Lensky’s words when she sees Onegin approaching. She gets scared and runs into the garden, where the maids are picking berries and singing a folk song.

Chapter 4.

Having received a sincere letter from Tatyana, Onegin considers it right to explain himself to the girl just as sincerely. He does not want to deceive a pure soul. He believes that over time he will get bored with Tatyana, that he will not be able to repay her with fidelity and be an honest husband.

« ...Whenever life is at home
I wanted to limit;
When would I be a father, a husband?
A pleasant lot has decreed;
When would a family picture
I was captivated at least for a single moment, -
That would be true, except for you alone,
I was looking for no other bride.
I will say without madrigal sparkles:
Found my former ideal,
I would probably choose you alone
To the friends of my sad days,
All the best as a pledge,
And I would be happy... as much as I could!
But I am not made for bliss;
My soul is alien to him;
Your perfections are in vain:
I am not worthy of them at all.
Believe me (conscience is a guarantee),
Marriage will be torment for us.
No matter how much I love you,
Having gotten used to it, I immediately stop loving it;
You start crying: your tears
My heart will not be touched
And they will only infuriate him...«

« ...Learn to control yourself:
Not everyone will understand you like I do;
Inexperience leads to disaster...»

Tatyana listens to Onegin's confession " barely breathing, no objections". A lyrical digression follows about relatives and friends who remember you only on holidays, about loving but fickle women. To the question “ Whom to love? Who to believe?", Pushkin answers the following: " Without wasting your labors in vain, love yourself". After an explanation with Onegin, Tatyana falls into melancholy.

Meanwhile, a romance develops in the most happy way between Olga Larina and Vladimir Lensky. There follows a lyrical digression about poems in ladies' albums and Pushkin's attitude towards them.

Onegin lives carefree in the village. Autumn passes, winter comes. A lyrical digression follows a description of autumn and the beginning of winter. Lensky has dinner at Onegin's, admires Olga and invites Onegin to Tatyana's name day at the Larins'. Lensky and Olga are due to get married soon. The wedding day has been set.

Chapter 5.

The chapter begins with a description of winter nature.

« ...Winter!.. The peasant, triumphant,
On the firewood he renews the path;
His horse smells the snow,
Trotting along somehow...«

It's time for fortune telling.

« ...Tatyana believed the legends
Of common folk antiquity,
And dreams, and card fortune-telling,
And the predictions of the moon...«

That night Tatyana has a dream. Tatyana Larina's dream:

She walks through the clearing. He sees a stream in front of him. but to cross it, you need to walk along rickety footbridges. She is scared. Suddenly a bear crawls out from under the snow and extends a helping paw to her. She crosses the stream, leaning on the bear's paw. Tatiana follows into the forest. The same bear is following her. She gets scared, gets very tired and falls into the snow. The bear picks her up and takes her to his godfather’s hut. Through the crack, Tatyana sees Onegin sitting at the table. Monsters surround him on all sides. Tatiana opens the door to the room. But because of the draft, all the candles are blown out. Tatiana tries to escape. But monsters surround her and block her path. Then Onegin defends the girl: “ My! - Evgeny said menacingly..."The monsters disappear. Onegin sits Tatiana on a bench and lowers his head onto her shoulder. Then Olga and Lensky enter the room. Suddenly, Onegin pulls out a knife and kills Lensky.

Tatyana wakes up from such a nightmare. She tries to unravel the terrible dream, but she fails.

Guests arrive for the name day: the fat Pustyakovs; landowner Gvozdin, " owner of poor men"; the Skotinina spouses with children of all ages (from 2 to 13 years); " district dandy Petushkov"; Monsieur Triquet, " wit, recently from Tambov“, who brings congratulatory poems to Tatiana; company commander, " mature young ladies idol". Guests are invited to the table. Lensky and Onegin arrive. Tatyana is embarrassed, ready to faint, but pulls herself together. Onegin, terribly unloving " tragic-nervous phenomena“, as well as provincial feasts, is angry with Lensky, who persuaded him to go to the Larins on Tatiana’s day. After dinner, the guests sit down to play cards, while others decide to start dancing. Onegin, angry with Lensky, decides to take revenge on him and, out of spite, constantly invites Olga, whispers in her ear “ some vulgar madrigal". Olga refuses Lensky to dance because... By the end of the ball she had already promised them all to Onegin. Lensky leaves, having decided to challenge Onegin to a duel.

Chapter 6.

After the ball, Onegin returns home. The rest of the guests stay with the Larins. Here Zaretsky comes to Onegin, “ once a brawler, a chieftain of a gambling gang, the head of a rake, a tavern tribune". He gives Onegin a note with a challenge to a duel from Vladimir Lensky. Evgeniy replies “ Always ready!“, but in his heart he regrets that he provoked his young friend to righteous anger and feelings of jealousy. However, Onegin is afraid of gossip that will spread " old duelist"Zaretsky, if Onegin shows himself" not a ball of prejudice, not an ardent boy, a fighter, but a husband with honor and intelligence". Before the duel, Lensky meets with Olga. She shows no change in their relationship. Returning home, Lensky checks the pistols, reads Schiller, “ dark and dull"Writes love poems. The duel was supposed to take place in the morning. Onegin wakes up and is therefore late. Zaretsky is surprised when he sees that Onegin comes to the duel without seconds and generally breaks all the rules of the duel. Onegin introduces his French footman as a second: “ Although he is an unknown person, he is, of course, an honest fellow.". Onegin shoots and " the poet silently drops the gun". Onegin is horrified by what happened. His conscience is tormenting him. Pushkin reflects on how everything would have turned out if Lensky had not been killed in a duel. Perhaps Lensky would have become a great poet, or perhaps an ordinary villager. At the end of the chapter, Pushkin sums up his poetic fate.

Chapter 7.

The chapter begins with a description of spring nature. Everyone has already forgotten about Lensky. Olga married a lancer and went with him to the regiment. After her sister’s departure, Tatyana remembers Onegin more and more often. She visits his house and his office. Reads his books with his notes. She sees a portrait of Lord Byron and a cast iron statue of Napoleon. She begins to understand Onegin's way of thinking.

«. ..The eccentric is sad and dangerous,
The creation of hell or heaven,
This angel, this arrogant demon,
What is he? Is it really imitation?
An insignificant ghost, or else
Muscovite in Harold's cloak,
interpretation of other people's whims,
A complete vocabulary of fashion words?..
Isn't he a parody?..«

Tatyana’s mother decides to go to Moscow in winter for the “bride fair”, because... believes that the time has come to decide Tatiana’s fate and marry her off. A lyrical digression follows about bad Russian roads, Moscow is described. In Moscow, the Larins stay with a relative of Alina and “ Tanya is taken to family dinners every day". In relatives " no change visible«:

« ... Everything about them is the same as the old model:
At Aunt Princess Elena's
Still the same tulle cap;
Everything is whitewashed Lukerya Lvovna,
Lyubov Petrovna lies all the same,
Ivan Petrovich is just as stupid
Semyon Petrovich is also stingy...»

Tatyana doesn't tell anyone about her unrequited love to Evgeny Onegin. She is burdened by the metropolitan lifestyle. She doesn't like balls, the need to communicate with many people and listen to " vulgar nonsense"Moscow relatives. She is uncomfortable and wants the old village solitude. Finally, an important general pays attention to Tatiana. At the end of the chapter, the author gives an introduction to the novel.

Chapter 8.

The chapter begins with a lyrical digression about poetry, about the muse and about the poetic fate of Pushkin. Further, at one of the receptions, Pushkin meets Onegin again:

« ...Onegin (I’ll take up him again),
Having killed a friend in a duel,
Having lived without a goal, without work
Until twenty-six years old,
Languishing in idle leisure
Without work, without wife, without business,
I couldn’t do anything...«

Onegin traveled for some time. Returning, he went to the ball, where he met a lady who seemed familiar to him:

« ...She was leisurely,
Not cold, not talkative,
Without an insolent look for everyone,
Without pretensions to success,
Without these little antics,
No imitative ideas...
Everything was quiet, it was just there...«

Onegin asks the prince who this lady is. The prince replies that this is his wife, whose maiden name is Larina Tatyana. The friend and prince introduces Onegin to his wife. Tatyana does not reveal anything about her feelings or her previous acquaintance with Evgeniy. She asks Onegin: “ How long has he been here, where is he from? And isn’t it from their side?” Onegin is amazed by such changes in the once open and frank Tatyana. He leaves the reception thoughtfully:

« ... Is it really the same Tatyana,
which he is alone with,
At the beginning of our romance,
In the remote, distant side,
In the good heat of moralizing
I once read instructions,
The one from whom he keeps
A letter where the heart speaks
Where everything is outside, everything is free,
That girl... is this a dream?..
The girl he
Neglected in humble fate,
Was she really with him now?
So indifferent, so brave?..«

The prince invites Onegin to his place for the evening, where he gathers the color of the capital, and the nobility, and fashion models, faces encountered everywhere, necessary fools.” Onegin accepts the invitation and is once again surprised by the changes in Tatyana. She is now " legislator hall". Onegin falls seriously in love, begins to court Tatiana and follows her everywhere. But Tatyana is indifferent. Onegin writes a letter to Tatyana in which he sincerely repents of his former fear of losing " hateful freedom«. Onegin's letter to Tatiana:

« I foresee everything: you will be insulted
An explanation for the sad mystery.
What bitter contempt
Your proud look will portray!
What I want? for what purpose
Will I open my soul to you?
What evil fun
Perhaps I’m giving a reason!
Once I met you by chance,
Noticing a spark of tenderness in you,
I didn't dare believe her:
I didn’t give in to my dear habit;
Your hateful freedom
I didn't want to lose.
One more thing separated us...
Lensky fell an unfortunate victim...
From everything that is dear to the heart,
Then I tore my heart out;
Stranger to everyone, not bound by anything,
I thought: freedom and peace
Substitute for happiness. My God!
How wrong I was, how I was punished...
No, I see you every minute
Follow you everywhere
A smile of the mouth, a movement of the eyes
To catch with loving eyes,
Listen to you for a long time, understand
Your soul is all your perfection,
To freeze in agony before you,
To turn pale and fade away... what bliss!
And I am deprived of this: for you
I wander everywhere at random;
The day is dear to me, the hour is dear to me:
And I spend it in vain boredom
Days counted down by fate.
And they are so painful.
I know: my life has already been measured;
But so that my life may last,
I have to be sure in the morning
That I will see you this afternoon...
I'm afraid, in my humble prayer
Your stern gaze will see
The undertakings of despicable cunning -
And I hear your angry reproach.
If only you knew how terrible
To yearn for love,
Blaze - and mind all the time
To subdue the excitement in the blood;
Want to hug your knees
And burst into tears at your feet
Pour out prayers, confessions, penalties,
Everything, everything that I could express,
Meanwhile, with feigned coldness
Arm both speech and gaze,
Have a calm conversation
Looking at you with a cheerful look!..
But so be it: I’m on my own
I can no longer resist;
Everything is decided: I am in your will,
And I surrender to my fate...«

However, Tatyana did not respond to this letter. she is still cold and unapproachable. Onegin is overcome by blues, he stops attending social gatherings and entertainment, constantly reads, but all his thoughts still revolve around the image of Tatyana. Onegin " almost went crazy, or didn’t become a poet"(i.e. romantic). One spring, Evgeny goes to Tatiana’s house and finds her alone in tears reading his letter:

« Oh, who would silence her suffering
I didn’t read it in this quick moment!
Who is the old Tanya, poor Tanya
Now I wouldn’t recognize the princess!
In the anguish of insane regrets
Evgeniy fell at her feet;
She shuddered and remained silent
And he looks at Onegin
No surprise, no anger…»

Tatyana decides to explain herself to Onegin. She remembers Onegin's confession once in the garden (chapter 4). She does not believe that Onegin is to blame for anything. Moreover, she finds that Onegin then acted nobly with her. She understands that Onegin is in love with her because now she rich and noble", and if Onegin manages to conquer her, then in the eyes of the world this victory will bring him " tempting honor". Tatiana assures Evgeniy that “ masquerade rags"and secular luxury do not appeal to her, she would gladly exchange her current position for " those places where for the first time, Onegin, I saw you". Tatyana asks Evgeny not to pursue her anymore, since she intends to continue to remain faithful to her husband, despite her love for Onegin. With these words, Tatyana leaves. Her husband appears.

That's how it is summary novel " Eugene Onegin«

Happy studying!

"Eugene Onegin"(1823-1831) - a novel in verse by Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin, one of the most significant works Russian literature.

History of creation

Pushkin worked on the novel for over seven years. The novel was, according to Pushkin, “the fruit of a mind of cold observations and a heart of sorrowful observations.” Pushkin called working on it a feat - of all his creative heritage only “Boris Godunov” he characterized with the same word. Against a broad background of pictures of Russian life, the dramatic fate of the best people of the noble intelligentsia is shown.

Pushkin began work on Onegin in 1823, during his southern exile. The author abandoned romanticism as the leading creative method and began to write a realistic novel in verse, although the influence of romanticism is still noticeable in the first chapters. Initially, it was assumed that the novel in verse would consist of 9 chapters, but Pushkin subsequently reworked its structure, leaving only 8 chapters. He excluded the chapter “Onegin’s Travels” from the work, which he included as an appendix. After this, the tenth chapter of the novel was written, which is an encrypted chronicle of the life of the future Decembrists.

A novel in verse was published separate chapters, and the output of each chapter became big event in modern literature. In 1831, the novel in verse was completed and published in 1833. It covers events from 1819 to 1825: from the foreign campaigns of the Russian army after the defeat of Napoleon to the Decembrist uprising. These were the years of development of Russian society, the reign of Tsar Alexander I. The plot of the novel is simple and well known. At the center of the novel is a love affair. And the main problem is eternal problem feelings and duty. The novel “Eugene Onegin” reflected the events of the first quarter of the 19th century, that is, the time of creation and the time of action of the novel approximately coincide. Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin created a novel in verse similar to Byron’s poem “Don Juan”. Having defined the novel as “a collection colorful chapters", Pushkin emphasizes one of the features of this work: the novel is, as it were, “open” in time, each chapter could be the last, but it could also have a continuation. And thus the reader draws attention to the independence of each chapter of the novel. The novel has become an encyclopedia of Russian life of the 20s of the century before last, since the breadth of the novel’s coverage shows readers the whole reality of Russian life, as well as the multiplicity of plots and descriptions of different eras. This is what gave V. G. Belinsky the basis to conclude in his article “Eugene Onegin”:
“Onegin can be called an encyclopedia of Russian life and a highly folk work.”
In the novel, as in the encyclopedia, you can find out everything about the era: how they dressed, what was in fashion, what people valued most, what they talked about, what interests they lived. “Eugene Onegin” reflects the whole of Russian life. Briefly, but quite clearly, the author showed the fortress village, lordly Moscow, secular Petersburg. Pushkin truthfully depicted the environment in which the main characters of his novel, Tatyana Larina and Evgeny Onegin, live. The author reproduced the atmosphere of the city noble salons in which Onegin spent his youth.

Plot

The novel begins with a grumpy speech by the young nobleman Eugene Onegin, dedicated to the illness of his uncle, which forced him to leave St. Petersburg and go to the sick bed in the hope of becoming the heir of the dying man. The narrative itself is told on behalf of the nameless author, who introduced himself as a good friend of Onegin. Having thus outlined the plot, the author devotes the first chapter to a story about the origin, family, and life of his hero before receiving news of a relative’s illness.

Evgeny was born “on the banks of the Neva,” that is, in St. Petersburg, in the family of a typical nobleman of his time -

“Having served excellently and nobly, his father lived in debt. He gave three balls every year and finally squandered it.” The son of such a father received a typical upbringing - first by the governess Madame, then by a French tutor who did not bother his pupil with an abundance of science. Here Pushkin emphasizes that Evgeniy’s upbringing from childhood was carried out by people who were strangers to him, and foreigners at that.
Onegin's life in St. Petersburg was full love affairs and secular amusements, but now he faces boredom in the village. Upon arrival, it turns out that his uncle died, and Eugene became his heir. Onegin settles in the village, and soon the blues really take hold of him.

Onegin’s neighbor turns out to be eighteen-year-old Vladimir Lensky, a romantic poet, who came from Germany. Lensky and Onegin converge. Lensky is in love with Olga Larina, the daughter of a landowner. Her thoughtful sister Tatyana is not like the always cheerful Olga. Having met Onegin, Tatyana falls in love with him and writes him a letter. However, Onegin rejects her: he is not looking for a calm family life. Lensky and Onegin are invited to the Larins. Onegin is not happy about this invitation, but Lensky persuades him to go.

“[...] He pouted and, indignant, vowed to enrage Lensky, and to take revenge in order.” At dinner with the Larins, Onegin, in order to make Lensky jealous, unexpectedly begins to court Olga. Lensky challenges him to a duel. The duel ends with Lensky's death, and Onegin leaves the village.
Two years later, he appears in St. Petersburg and meets Tatyana. She is an important lady, the wife of a prince. Onegin was inflamed with love for her, but this time he was rejected, despite the fact that Tatyana also loves him, but wants to remain faithful to her husband.

Storylines

Onegin and Tatiana:
- Meet Tatyana
- Conversation with the nanny
- Tatiana's letter to Onegin
- Explanation in the garden
- Tatiana's dream. Name day
- Visit to Onegin's house
- Departure to Moscow
- Meeting at a ball in St. Petersburg after 2 years
- Letter to Tatyana (explanation)
- Evening at Tatiana's
Onegin and Lensky:
- Dating in the village
- Conversation after the evening at the Larins'
- Lensky's visit to Onegin
- Tatiana's name day
- Duel (Death of Lensky)

Characters

Eugene Onegin- the prototype Pyotr Chaadaev, a friend of Pushkin, was named by Pushkin himself in the first chapter. The story of Onegin is reminiscent of the life of Chaadaev. An important influence on the image of Onegin was exerted by Lord Byron and his “Byronian Heroes”, Don Juan and Childe Harold, who are also mentioned more than once by Pushkin himself.
Tatyana Larina- prototype Avdotya (Dunya) Norova, Chaadaev’s friend. Dunya herself is mentioned in the second chapter, and at the end of the last chapter, Pushkin expresses his grief over her untimely death. Due to the death of Dunya at the end of the novel, the prototype of the princess, matured and transformed Tatiana, is Anna Kern, Pushkin’s beloved. She, Anna Kern, was the prototype of Anna Kerenina. Although Leo Tolstoy copied Anna Karenina’s appearance from Pushkin’s eldest daughter, Maria Hartung, the name and story are very close to Anna Kern. Thus, through the story of Anna Kern, Tolstoy's novel Anna Karenina is a continuation of the novel Eugene Onegin.
Olga Larina, her sister is a generalized image of a typical heroine of a popular novel; beautiful in appearance, but lacking deep content.
Vladimir Lensky- Pushkin himself, or rather his idealized image.
Tatiana's nanny- probable prototype - Arina Rodionovna Yakovleva, Pushkin’s nanny
Zaretsky, duelist - Fyodor Tolstoy the American was named among the prototypes
Tatyana Larina's husband, not named in the novel, is an “important general,” General Kern, Anna Kern’s husband.
Author of the work- Pushkin himself. He constantly interferes in the course of the narrative, reminds of himself, makes friends with Onegin, in his lyrical digressions shares with the reader his thoughts about a variety of life issues, expresses his worldview position.

The novel also mentions the father - Dmitry Larin - and the mother of Tatyana and Olga; “Princess Alina” - Moscow cousin of Tatyana Larina’s mother; Onegin's uncle; a number of comical images of provincial landowners (Gvozdin, Flyanov, “Skotinins, the gray-haired couple”, “fat Pustyakov”, etc.); St. Petersburg and Moscow light.
The images of provincial landowners are mainly of literary origin. Thus, the image of the Skotinins refers to Fonvizin’s comedy “The Minor,” Buyanov is the hero of the poem “Dangerous Neighbor” (1810-1811) by V. L. Pushkin. “Among the guests there were also “important Kirin”, “Lazorkina - a widow-widow”, “fat Pustyakov” was replaced by “fat Tumakov”, Pustyakov was called “skinny”, Petushkov was a “retired clerical worker”.

Poetic features

The novel is written in a special “Onegin stanza”. Each stanza consists of 14 lines of iambic tetrameter.
The first four lines rhyme crosswise, lines five through eight rhyme in pairs, lines nine through twelfth are connected in a ring rhyme. The remaining 2 lines of the stanza rhyme with each other.