Candle in the Attic Window(37)
Poor Paul. Bad enough his death must remain a mystery, but he had nearly completed his duties and was set to leave Sitka for home within the month. Though his body must remain in this godforsaken place, thank Heaven that at least his soul has escaped.
How are things in Brooklyn, Horatio? Have you begun building that silly bridge, yet? What a common task for such a valiant warrior!
Your friend,
Jeff
From: James Sheakley, Governor, District of Alaska
To: D. P. Packard, Greenville, Pennsylvania
March 19, 1894.
Dear D. P.,
Baranof Castle burned yesterday and we are well rid of it.
Perhaps the Blue Lady has found that which she sought; or perhaps she has finally claimed her ultimate revenge for whatever slight has tied her restless shade to this place. It may even be that the fire was righteous rather than diabolical, that the Good Lord has at long last seen fit to scour her from the Earth.
I am not given to flights of supernatural speculation; your father, God rest his soul, once called me the most stolid and skeptical man he had ever met. But I cannot deny what I have seen since my arrival last summer. And yesterday’s destruction marks 50 years of such horrors– 50 years to the day, D. P.! Real horrors, not apparitions; lives have been lost. The things I have witnessed! I will tell you when I next see you, rather than commit an account of these atrocities to paper; if the Blue Lady has gone from this world, let her remain gone.
If we may indeed hope that the Blue Lady’s reign ends with the immolation of her demesne, then a new beginning is called for. I think the fire is a sign; I have long been for moving the capital away from Sitka, perhaps to Juneau. Sitka is a trapping town and there are few animals left to be had. America’s future in Alaska, if it has one, lies with gold, or some yet-undiscovered treasure. The Lady has had done with us; let us have done with Sitka.
I have done my best, in my short tenure, to give Alaska those things I think it deserves: better schools, greater stature in the Republic, a peaceful existence for the Indians. My reward has been to be hounded throughout my home by a spectre whose grievances I can only speculate upon. I could hardly stand to set foot inside that place and lodged elsewhere when I could. Perhaps I shall now have peace.
How I yearn for the hills of Pennsylvania, D. P.! I have some years left here in Sitka and I would not think of shirking my duties. I will remain here and better what I can. But you may rest assured that I am headed straight to Greenville the moment my successor arrives. I cannot imagine I shall ever live elsewhere again. The things I have seen have made me appreciative of the comforts of home.
Your friend,
James
From: Olga Feodorovna, Novoarkhangelsk, Alaska.
To: Iryna Dvorkin, Saint Petersburg, Russia
July 20, 1840
Dear Iryna,
My most heartfelt apologies for the tardiness of this letter; surely, one who has been such a devoted lifelong friend and companion deserves greater consideration than this. But such is the degree of my distress that it has taken me over two months to become sufficiently accustomed to living in this wretched place that I might take pen in hand and produce anything more sensible than the ravings of a madwoman!
This is not to say, mind you, that there is anything of consequence to relate. Even a simple pleasantry such as a discussion of the weather is precluded by the simple fact that, much of the time, there is none. And on those occasions when we are blessed with weather, the skies rage so as to exceed the reach of the Russian language to describe them. As for life on Baranof Island, it is simply a mockery of aristocratic life as you and I had known it. Baranof Castle is drafty and dreary, and it is only with the utmost charity that one might call it a “castle” at all; are not castles built of stout stones rather than stacks of logs? And Novoarkhangelsk is no proper town but a seamy den of hunters and trappers; and where we are not surrounded by the ocean, we are fenced in by savages.
Despite this, Uncle Adolf insists that his appointment as Governor of Russian Alaska is a reward rather than a punishment! Though, of course, he is Finnish by birth and so, is easier acclimated to such an inhospitable locale.
Now, Iryna, stop your scoffing! You know I love Uncle Adolf with all my heart and shall ever be grateful to him for taking me in. I have only the most sincere best wishes for him, which is why I would have him finish his tenure as Governor as quickly as possible so he might move on to greater things– and that we might return home and leave Alaska behind forever!
I miss you greatly, dear Iryna, and will endeavor to write you regularly.
Your friend,
Olga
From: Olga Feodorovna, Novoarkhangelsk, Alaska
To: Iryna Dvorkin, Saint Petersburg, Russia
May 11, 1843
Dear Iryna,
It is nearly three years into my Alaskan exile, and three years you have had to tolerate my monthly letters in which I relate my misery and little else. I had intended that this letter mark the end of my correspondence with you, to be resumed only upon the occurrence of some event momentous enough to justify its chronicling. I wanted to spare you the endless cycles of anticipation and disappointment that my missives must surely produce. But no sooner had I made this resolution, when something happened that saw me racing to my desk and fumbling madly for ink and paper.