The third act takes place some years later at a ball in St. Petersburg, in the house of Prince Gremin. Here we find Onegin, who is a friend and relative of the Prince. After long and aimless wanderings about the world he has come back to Russia utterly weary of life. The memory of his friend Lenski, whose premature death he caused, haunts him. In this melancholy state of mind he sees Tatiana again. The Prince enters the ballroom, leading a lady, whom Onegin recognizes as Tatiana. Then the Prince introduces her as his wife. She has grown far lovelier, then when he saw her last on the eve of Lenski's death. Onegin's passionate heart suddenly awakes to life again.—Tatiana bows coldly, concealing her emotion. Onegin explains to the Prince, that he has just returned from his travels.—He tries to talk with Tatiana; she however turns to her husband, pleading fatigue, and leaves the ball-room with him.
Onegin, torn by jealousy and love, decides, to recover her affection at any cost.
In the final scene he implores Tatiana, to be his own. The young wife resists, reminding him of the past, when he spurned the simple country maiden's blind love. At last she grows weak and confesses, that her love for him is not dead. His wooing growing more passionate, Tatiana declares, that she means to remain true to her husband, and refuses to elope with him, but feeling that she cannot resist him much longer, she flees, while Onegin rushes away, cursing himself and his whole life.
ELEKTRA.
Tragedy in one act by HUGO VON HOFMANNSTHAL.
Music by RICHARD STRAUSS.
The first production of Strauss' Elektra took place in Dresden January 25th, 1909. It met with immense applause from one part, with trenchant criticism from the Philistines.
Certainly Strauss is neither Wagnerian nor academical, and certain it is, that his new work is interesting enough, to necessitate its admission in the Standard Operaglass.
The instrumentation is marvellous; orchestral impossibilities are unknown to Strauss. Although he depicts with predilection the weird and ghastly, following closely the libretto, often sacrificing beauty of expression to realistic truth, yet he also finds motives of deep feeling. These are for instance the melodious songs of Chrysothemis, the sisters' first duet and the recognition of Orestes by Elektra.
The legend of Orestes has occupied the poets of all times. Its greatest interpreter was Sophokles, who first chose Elektra for the heroine of his drama. But while classic grandeur prevails in the old poet's drama, while he makes Elektra the tool of destiny decreed by the gods, the Viennese poet goes back to the original myth, depriving his heroine of every human feeling. She lets herself be guided only by her thirst for vengeance, and by her own savage and unprincipled instincts, and appears in striking contrast to her sister Chrisothemis, whose gentle nature is the one redeeming feature in the drama.