Veltman’s Virginie.

In 2023, introducing my review of Alexander Veltman’s Предки Калимероса [The forebears of Kalimeros] (1836), I wrote “having since read more Veltman than doubtless all but a handful of Americans, I’ve finally gotten around to one of his early works I missed along the way,” and now I’ve renewed the exploit by reading his 1837 novel Виргиния, или Поездка в Россию [Virginie, or a journey to Russia]. As usual, I have no idea whether anyone else would be interested in it, and even if they were it’s unlikely they’d actually read it because 1) it’s never been translated (and doubtless will never be) and 2) even to read it in Russian you have to download a pdf of the original publication, in pre-reform spelling and often hard to make out (at least that’s the only text I could find). So I will thoroughly spoil the plot in my summary (though plot is always the least important thing in Veltman).

It starts off:

Hector d’Alm, a handsome young Parisian, was compelled as a result of a purchase of land to spend a good deal of time in Briançon and in the environs of that Alpine city.

Парижанинъ Гекторъ д’Альмъ, прекрасный собою молодой человѣкъ, принужденъ былъ по случаю покупки земли, прожить долгое время въ Бріансонѣ и въ округѣ этого Адьпійскаго города.

He has no interest in the antiquities of the region (“Что мнѣ до символовъ прошедшаго, я хочу видѣть только настоящее”) and dreams of women, so in the interest of meeting some local members of the fair sex he visits a tree-planting festival. Ignoring the ancient roots of the celebration, he fixates on a beautiful girl and follows her to her home in a nearby village, where he pretends to be interested in the antiquarian researches of her father while casting smoldering glances at the girl, who is, of course, the titular Virginie. She, a virginal and naive fifteen-year-old, responds with the requisite blushes, and eventually, alone with her while her father is rummaging in his storeroom, he seizes the opportunity to give her a kiss. Unfortunately, she melts in his arms, her father dashes in, and before he knows it Hector is officially engaged to the tremulous Virginie. What to do?

He tells them he has to return to Paris on urgent business, but will come back as soon as he can. Needless to say, they hear nothing from him, and Virginie weeps, but her father says they’ll go to Paris and find out what’s wrong. So they pile into his carriage (from the days of Louis XIV) and eventually locate the errant suitor, who apologizes for not writing — busy! no time! — and explains that, alas, he has been ordered to accompany an embassy to Russia… but he will write her all about it, and when he returns they’ll have a magnificent wedding! Off he goes, they return to their Alpine paradise, and a long time passes, but eventually a letter arrives full of absurd descriptions of life in the frozen wastes of Russia. Virginie is thrilled, but she notices that in a couple of places it seems to be addressed to “Mathilde,” and the same issue occurs in later letters, which seem suspiciously devoid of personalized references. Her father decides they must go to Russia themselves; fortunately he has an uncle who lives there and has been wanting to see him. For this journey, considerably longer, he decides with great reluctance that his Louis XIV carriage is too decrepit (it barely made it to Paris), so he replaces it with one from the time of Louis XV. (I should explain at this point, though I think Veltman leaves it unclear until later, that the action is taking place in the first years of the 19th century.) Off they go, eventually reaching Moscow, where — surprise! — nobody has heard of Hector. At a loss, they keep making inquiries, and eventually hear from a friend of Hector’s that he is dead.

I’ll spare you the emotional turmoil this causes and simply report that at the insistence of her father (“I’ll die soon and I want to see you settled”) she marries a rich Russian officer named Selsky and has a couple of kids with him, in a comfortable if not passionate relationship. Then 1812 comes, war breaks out, and a great quantity of Frenchmen are captured and brought back to Russia, many of them finding work as tutors; since such a tutor is needed for the children in the Selsky household, one is hired. And what do you know, he turns out to be none other than Hector d’Alm! At first Virginie thinks it must be a relative, since she’s sure her beloved is dead, but then she overhears him telling someone about the adventure he’d had in Briançon, where he’d almost been forced to marry a local girl but had faked a journey to Russia to get out of it, rewriting some letters he borrowed from a friend who’d been there, and she realizes the awful truth. (He, of course, does not recognize the matronly Russian-speaking lady of the house as the teenager he had briefly wooed years before.) She faints.

It is at this point, almost 90% of the way through, that the novel’s gears mesh and it finally becomes compelling reading. The whole farrago of fake engagement, fake journey, fake letters, and fake death has been designed to bring about the situation that now ensues. When she wakes and sees Hector again, she flees the house; her loving husband follows her, but she refuses to return with him, so he sends for his carriage, induces her to get in, and takes her wherever she wants to go. At first he hopes that after a night in an inn she will come to herself, but she is barely willing to stop for meals and sleep — she keeps insisting “Farther! Farther!” and they head west. When they reach the frontier, he says they can’t go on, but she is so upset that he arranges for passports and they continue, passing through “Poland, Prussia, Germany, and Switzerland” before reaching the Alps and her home village, where they find her aged father still alive and delighted to see them. Selsky takes him aside and explains the situation. Now back in the home of her youth, Virginie has forgotten that she has a husband and children (though she feels she has seen them in a dream) and thinks Selsky is just a kindly guest. The men arrange for a doctor to visit; after interviewing the poor madwoman, he tells them that they must not on any account mention anything that’s happened since she left home. He advises Selsky to be patient and woo her as if she were an innocent girl; eventually she will love him and he can marry her again (he reassures him that there is no religious problem: it will simply be a confirmation of their vows). Eventually they can rejoin the children, whom she will “adopt” and love as her own. The suggestion works, and they are married, but now she becomes more and more insistent that he send for the children; when he agrees, she goes out every day to wait for them, even though he tells her it will be months before they come. Veltman tells us “God knows if she was able to wait until the arrival of her children” (Богъ вѣсть дождалась ли она дѣтей своихъ) and adds this final passage:

As far as Hector d’Alm is concerned, he’s not worth mentioning.

He was let go from his position as tutor; the rumor of his evil eye spread through the whole province and followed him everywhere: people were afraid to take him into their home. Having no means of subsistence, he asked to be sent among the other prisoners returning to France, and he disappeared like the ghost of the dream that frightened Virginia.

О Гекторѣ д’Альмѣ не стоило бы и упоминать.

Его уволили отъ обязанности образователя; но слухъ о его черномъ глазѣ разнесся по всей губерніи; этотъ слухъ преслѣдовалъ его повсюду: его боялись принимать въ домъ. Не имѣя средствъ къ пропитанію, онъ просилъ, чтобъ его отправили въ числѣ прочихъ плѣнныхъ, возвращавшихся во Францію, и изчезъ какъ призракъ сна, напугавшій Виргинію.

Strange, and strangely effective. (I corrected as many OCR errors as I could, but there are probably a few left.)

I was going to provide some extensive quotes I expect Hatters will enjoy, but it’s dinnertime and this is quite long enough already, so I’ll do that in a separate post.