57°03”N, 135°19”W
SOUTH-EAST COAST OF ALASKA
Alexander von Nordmann, professor of zoology at the Imperial Alexander University in Finland, raises his glass, and the conversation begins to flow.
Speaking Swedish feels homely after all that Russian, French and English, and the professor is delighted with the visit, which is, of course, long overdue.
After all, he is a state councillor and an esteemed researcher who has discovered hitherto unseen parasites in the jaws of a bream and presented the new, wondrous science of palaeontology to Finnish academia.
And now he has spent four long and uncomfortable months in the northernmost corner of the Americas, so it is only right and proper that the Governor of Alaska should honour him with his presence.
To his relief, von Nordmann sees that Governor Furuhjelm is a progressive man, eager to develop the colony’s zoological collections, and the governor promises to send him the second edition of Lamarck’s natural history of invertebrates, containing a section dealing with parasites of the gut.
They enjoy dinner together, von Nordmann regales the governor with the fascinating life cycle of the sea snail Tergipes edwardsii, and time flies by, but when it is time to move to the cognac, Furuhjelm stands up from his chair and makes his apologies: as the professor will surely appreciate, the ins and outs of the shipping company give him no rest.
The two men bid each other farewell in convivial high spirits.
Before taking his leave, Furuhjelm asks whether there is anything he might do to benefit the professor and his university, and at this Alexander von Nordmann does not hesitate: he wishes to find the most precious of all discoveries in the north: he wants the famed Rhytina stelleri.
The Governor of Alaska, Johan Hampus Furuhjelm, is returning from the northern regions of the colony, and during the journey his worst fears were realised.
The fur-bearing animals have disappeared into the wilderness and the natives and hunters have been getting into scuffles with one another.
He makes calculation upon calculation, but whichever way he looks at it he cannot promise that things will get better in the future, even though he has ordered his men to prise glistering, frozen blocks from the lakes.
Now the Californians will be able to cool themselves with ice delivered by the Russian-American Company and crunch the pure, northern waters of Redoubt Lake into their whisky glasses, but even this does little to alleviate his problems. Even if every single champagne banquet in the world were to buy ice from their company, this too would be insufficient, because to compensate for even one otter pelt, they would have to harvest an entire shipload of ice.
Nonetheless, the governor does not allow his fatigue to show but promises the professor that he will do what he can, though he knows that the last known sighting of the animal von Nordmann has asked about was almost a century ago.
And so, he promises to locate it, for what is one more impossible promise on his already lengthy list?
The travelogues from Bering’s expedition eventually found their way to St Petersburg, and since then more ink has appeared on the east of the map.
Dark spots mark the positions of the islands, and behind them is an uncharted shoreline, a new, foreign land.
And in each report, one exciting word comes up again and again: furs – the smooth skins of the sea otters, the furry pelts of the foxes – and before long the whole world wishes to wrap itself in Alaskan hide.
The riches of Alaska are the stuff of legend, and the Russian-American Company is duly founded to harness those riches.
Furs and pelts travel across the globe aboard its ships, to Russian, China, Japan, Chile, Hawaii and California, a total of 51,315 sea-otter skins, 831,396 seal skins, 319,514 beaver skins and 291,655 foxes.
Most valuable of all are the otters: clients will pay anything between eight hundred and a thousand dollars for one skin, and each consignment of furs brings the Company around fifty thousand dollars in profit.
The half century that follows is a time of full cargos and full wallets, until suddenly shores that were once crowded with otters exist only in the stories of old men.
Walrus tusks keep the books pretty for another decade, but eventually the supply of northern ivory runs dry too, and in St Petersburg tongues begin to wag.
The Company needs a new leader, a governor who will get profits soaring again, and officials in the capital believe they have found just the man for the job.
Johan Hampus Furuhjelm has already overseen Russian military operations in eastern Siberia.
As commander of the harbour at Ayan, he kept the soldiers and the town in good order and, more importantly, managed to negotiate a lucrative trade deal with the intractable Japanese.
Now he has been recalled to St Petersburg.
There follows a slew of negotiations, tentative dinner invitations, and on Christmas Day the news is finally announced: Furuhjelm has been named the new Governor of Russian Alaska.
His new residence will be at Novo-Arkhangelsk, and he is to assume his position without delay.
Before taking control of the north, however, there is one more feat that Furuhjelm must undertake.
At thirty-seven years of age, he is still a bachelor, and the Company has had bad experiences of unmarried governors.
Blue-eyed children among the natives bring dishonour upon the colony, and besides, the governor ought to be an example to his subordinates: he must arrive in the north a married man.
Furuhjelm needs a wife in her prime, a woman who can withstand the irksome, uncomfortable journey and the Alaskan winter, but he has not set foot in Europe in eight years, and one does not meet women of good reputation in a military harbour.
He is told not to worry; they have found him a splendid wife in Helsinki, one Anna Elisabet von Schoultz, a 23-year-old lady of excellent Scots-Swedish extraction who speaks many languages and will not fall ill at the drop of a hat.
The only stain against Miss von Schoultz’s character is her father, a man of little honour who abandoned his family and disappeared without a trace – rumour has it he was hanged during the Canadian Rebellions – but with any luck the governor will not hold the sins of the father against the daughter.
Furuhjelm shakes his head, as in fact the knowledge of her background makes him gaze at Anna’s photograph all the more wistfully: they could be made for each other, the honourable children of dishonourable fathers.
Anna and Hampus first meet at a New Year’s ball held near Senate Square.
The Langenskiold house is small, but the ballroom is festooned with shields and lanterns, and the two dance together.
Hampus is quiet and serious, he looks older than his thirty-seven years, but he dances well, and the following day he stops in for lunch.
After this, everything happens rather quickly.
The wedding is held in February. The cream of Helsinki society is invited to the reception, and after the celebrations the newly-weds travel to the countryside to visit their respective families, but their honeymoon is short-lived.
Four days of tea and champagne, then they must begin their journey to Alaska.
A governor’s wife. Anna can hardly believe her luck.
In her eyes, Hampus is the perfect husband, polite and respectable; no wife could possibly want for more.
Anna’s mother gives her some marriage guides, and she reads the books carefully and takes notes.
A good wife should be placid and calm, she should earn her husband’s respect with impeccable behaviour and meticulous housekeeping – but what does Anna know of running a large household?
She is more acquainted with the carefree urban life, her comfortable house on Mikonkatu where she never has to bother herself with menus or the price of foodstuffs.
She writes to her mother: I have but one wish, one desire, that he may never, never find himself disappointed in me.
First they travel to St Petersburg. Hampus signs agreements and contracts, pores over ledgers, while Anna accustoms herself to her new role.
She is the governor’s wife, a colonial queen, but to her frustration she must introduce herself to high society without her husband, for Hampus has no time to partake in the festivities.
Luckily, as the governor’s wife she is warmly received in all quarters, there is no end to the balls and engagements, and she must have new clothes tailored for herself.
After her father disappeared, the family had a chronic lack of money, but now she can buy hats and fabrics, acquire pink silk and dark-green damask and tell her mother about all the items she has bought and how much everything cost. My own most precious darling Mother, these have been such happy days!
Hampus sends you his dear love but cannot write this time, though I am sure you are never far from his thoughts.