The Princess And The Caballero

This is the story of a princess in distress and of the knight who came
to her rescue. It is the story of why, in the mid-1800’s, the Russians
suddenly packed up and left California. It is also the story of how a
name in the Russian language took root on an obscure body of water
high up in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. The body of water isn’t really
all that significant; nor, I suppose, is this story of how this all
happened. But it’s a story from a time long past; a time the like of
which we will never see again. This was a time when a different breed
of men and women walked the mountains and valleys of California; an
era in which being a man on the frontier was intricately interwoven
with a time-honored code which often demanded that gentlemanly
behavior shine forth from a gruff exterior; a time when being a lady
on the frontier meant accepting the dangers offered by both the
untamed land as well as the men attempting to tame it, and facing both
of these dangers with bravery and equanimity. This was also a time
when a princess once walked the mountains of California; the daughter
of a Russian Tsar; a young woman who came to California to see for
herself the wonders of which she had heard so much while sitting at
the side of her father at the Russian court– and, it was rumored, to
perhaps set herself on a throne as Tsarina of California. This was a
time when both men and women Dreamed of Large Things, and it was a
time when California offered the possibility of such dreams coming
true. The princess’s connection with the Sierra Nevada Mountains is a
tenuous one, but because it involves a story of courage, chivalry, and
unrequited love; and most of all because it is a story which history
has largely forgotten, it is a tale which should be retold.

At the time of the Princess’s arrival in California, the Russian
presence here was reaching its peak. Russia had first begun its
explorations by ship along the coast of North America in the year of
1552, but hesitantly restricted its explorations to those of the
nautical kind for almost two centuries. It wasn’t until the 1760’s
that Russian settlers first established their permanent presence in
North America, as those two centuries of surveys had disclosed a
wealth of animal life to be had for the taking – for the very
profitable taking. They began by settling onto a group of islands off
the coast of Alaska, and then soon went on to the mainland where,
under orders from Catherine the Great in 1784, the first permanent
Russian settlement was founded at Three Saints Bay. They continued
spreading eastward, claiming more lands as they went. The natives were
not at all pleased with the Russian invaders and offered frequent
resistance to the intrusions. In response the Russians employed the
time-honored method of Conquering through Conversion; baptizing the
natives into a submissive acceptance of God’s Will; God’s Will, in
this case, being the uninterrupted flow of profits of the
Russian-American trading company.

The Russians began to establish a presence in California in 1803 when
American maritime merchants proposed a partnership to Alexandre
Baranov, the head official of the Russian American Company, for seal
hunting along the California coast, all the way south to Baja. The
Russians eagerly accepted and began to send ships as well as overland
parties to scout the possibilities in California. The reports sent
back to Baranov were encouraging, painting the picture of a temperate
climate, natives which could offer no serious resistance, and millions
of acres of available land. So Baranov began to make plans for
establishing a foothold in California to complement the one they
already had in Alaska.

The year 1805 saw a new hand take the helm of the Russian American
Company – Count Nicholas Petrovich Rezanov, a man who, through
marriage, manipulation, skill, and a lot of luck, had become a major
shareholder in the company. He first went to tour the colonies in
Alaska where he was surprised to see his fellow Russians dying of
scurvy and starvation. He immediately outfitted a ship and set sail
for California because he hoped, from the stories he’d heard, that
food would be found in abundance there. Since they as yet had no
settlement in California which was producing food, Rezanov pinned his
hopes on the Spanish settlers showing pity and selling the Russians
some badly needed supplies. They arrived in San Francisco Bay in late
March of 1806, where they found their small ship massively outgunned
by the Spanish. Rezanov met with the Commandante of the bastion, Jose
Arguello, to flex his diplomatic skills and talk the Spanish out of
some badly needed supplies. Arguello wavered. He felt sorry for the
starving Russians, so he didn’t sink the one pitiful ship they had
sent for help. Yet he also knew of their expansionist intentions, so
he really didn’t want to encourage them by feeding them. Almost a
month of unsuccessful negotiations passed with no result, during which
time Rezanov knew that more of his people were dying every day in
Alaska. Still, Rezanov wasn’t going to return home with nothing to
show for it. So while he negotiated with Arguello he also secretly
sent his ship’s captain out with a party of sailors to explore the
area and gather as much information as they could. Then he hit upon a
new – or actually, a centuries old – negotiating strategy, and offered
to marry Arguello’s daughter, Concepcion. She was said to be strong
willed, yet she was also beautiful. And, if union with her was the
price that must be paid for food, Rezanov was willing to pay it.

True, Concepcion was only fifteen years old, but that didn’t bother
Rezanov. His first wife back in Russia had been only fourteen years
old, and her early death had led to the inheritance which had moved
Rezanov into a controlling position within the Russian American
Company. Rezanov’s proposal of marriage was promptly accepted by both
the young lady as well as her father, the Commandante. The wedding was
held with all the pomp and ceremony that the 1806 village of Yuerba
Buena could summon, and then the supplies were quickly loaded on
Rezanov’s ship. The basic items of flour, beans, salt, and other
staples soon filled every hold, and they only regretted that fresh
fruit to alleviate the scurvy would not survive the month long voyage
which lay ahead. Rezanov kissed his fifteen year old bride goodbye
and, after six weeks in California, set sail back to Alaska, calling
out to her from the ship’s deck that he would soon return.

He never did return, of course. Nor did he ever have any such
intention. But the telling of lies is often a necessary part of every
diplomatic negotiation. Yet Concepcion waited patiently for his
return. One year later, when word of his death in Siberia reached her,
she adopted wearing black in mourning for the husband she barely
remembered. The cause of his demise was officially recorded as Death
from Exhaustion.  One can only wonder if his predilection for marrying
young teen girls had anything to do with this.

Yet this sad story is not the romantic tale mentioned above; not the
promised love story which has hopefully kept you reading this far, and
for which you are perhaps now getting impatient. For that you must
read just a bit further.

Rezanov, meanwhile, managed to save all the remaining Russian
colonists in Alaska from starvation, so he became a hero. And, based
upon the reports of the secretive surveys of California he had
undertaken while he was stuck there, he recommended to the Russian
emperor that a permanent colony immediately be established in
California to halt the northward advance of the Spanish. The emperor
agreed and sent out two ships to the California coast with
instructions to lay claim and to bury metal plaques on the land they
claimed as proof of the legality of their activities, should the need
of such proof arise. One such plaque was buried in the year 1809 at
Bodega Bay. Three years later, in 1812, the Russians returned to start
a permanent colony, the final location of which was settled upon about
fifteen miles north of Bodega Bay, and it became known as Fort Ross.
(The words ‘Ros’ and ‘Rus’ are root words in the Russian language
meaning ‘Russia’.)

Fort Ross quickly became a hub for Russian activity in California.
Russian ships used the nearby bay as a home port to exploit the
hunting grounds for seal and otter. Smaller settlements were
established to the north and east to grow food with the help of native
labor. The village of Russian River was one of those communities which
soon sprang up, lending its name both to the river and the community.
Hunting parties were sent out not only for food but also to search for
availability of fur bearing animals to increase the trade. Some of
these exploration parties went as far eastward as the Sierra Nevada
Mountains, climbing into them and even over onto the eastern slopes.
And this is how a Russian name became applied to a location high in
the Sierra – perhaps the only Russian name in all of the Sierra Nevada
Mountains; Rush Creek. Originally it was named Rus Creek – ‘Rus’ for
the Russian connection mentioned above, and ‘Creek’ because the name
Russian River had already been applied to that rapidly flowing body of
water near Fort Ross. The name later got Anglicized to Rush Creek, and
later appeared on maps with that name. But it was first Rus Creek,
first named by the Russian explorers who found it, who marked its
name, and who probably never returned.

In the meantime Fort Ross grew in size. The redwood forests of
northern California grew all the way to border of the settlement, so
there was plenty of wood available for construction. A wooden palisade
was erected to enclose the main parts of the settlement. Within this
enclosure were two military blockhouses, complete with cannon. A well
was dug in the center. Management housing was arranged along the walls
along with barracks, storerooms, and a chapel. Native laborers lived
outside. A few of the men involved in the management of the Russian
American Company had brought their wives over to California to keep
them company in this strange land, but for the rest of the all-male
population of company employees, Russian women were not to be found,
so many of the colonists took native brides. They lived with them
outside of the compound in a village which, over the years, saw the
growth of a large population of part Russian, part native children.

The Spanish, for their part, were shocked to discover that they
suddenly had neighbors just a short distance away from their
northernmost outpost of Yuerba Buena. The Commandante of Yuerba Buena
was rightfully cautious, even suspicious. But the Russians, on the
other hand, were friendly and issued invitations for the Spaniards to
visit Fort Ross any time they wished. Social contacts on the frontier
were scarce, and any representative of the civilized life they had all
left behind were welcome friends as far as the Russians were
concerned. When the Commandante and his officers finally did get
around to paying Fort Ross a grudging visit, they were amazed. Unlike
the Spanish, who had brought only the necessities of life north from
Mexico with them, the Russians had made the effort to make life a bit
more cultured in their remote outpost. There was at least one grand
piano in the fort, and many of the Russian officers and company
officials were proficient upon its keys. They melodies of Mozart and
Beethoven filled the air. A sumptuous meal full of European delicacies
was proudly presented to the visiting Spanish, which they washed down
with fine French wines.  After the meal there were cigars and brandy
in the library – a library full of hundreds of works of literature and
history. But the Russians were not out to impress their neighbors;
they were merely intent on making life as intellectually stimulating
and as comfortable as possible for themselves. And so the Spanish and
the Russians became friends – if only on the local level – and
tenuously remained so for many years.

The amount of furs being sent back to Russia grew constantly, and the
fame of California grew in the Russian Court. Life at Fort Ross was
good. The senoritas from the south side of the bay came north to flirt
with the Russian officers in their impressive uniforms on the north
side of the bay. Dances were held on both sides. There was much good
food; plenty of fine wine; many opportunities to hold someone close as
the music played.

As the fame of California and Fort Ross grew back home in Russia, it
came to the attention of the Princess Helena de Gagarin, and she told
her new husband that she wished to visit this fascinating place on
their honeymoon. Being of royal blood, she also apparently saw the
opportunity for staying in California as its new Tsarina. She arrived
in California not only with her new husband, but also accompanied by
two of Russia’s finest navy vessels. She quickly became the center of
attention at the fort, and all activity seemed to focus around her.
She excelled in horsemanship and went riding frequently through the
hills and valleys, and once went all the way to the top of a mountain
where she affixed a plaque naming it after herself. On the way back to
Fort Ross the Princess and her party were accosted by a band of
natives. Her guard of officers were pulled from their horses and tied
up, and the Princess was taken to the leader of the native party who
pondered what to do with her. The Princess got the distinct impression
that she was about to have a new husband.

At about this time a lone Spanish calvalry officer came riding up the
road and introduced himself as the brother of General Mariano
Guadalupe Vallejo, the Commandante of Yuerba Buena. Looking at the
trussed-up Russians and the frightened Princess – the very beautiful
frightened Princess – he asked the native leader about his intentions.
The native began to dither. It seemed that he knew and respected
Commandante Vallejo, and he didn’t want a bad report of his activities
to get back to him. So the officer asked the chief to wait for him to
return with his brother, the Commandante. Then, with a warm smile for
the Princess, he rode off. When he was out of sight of the natives he
whipped his horse into a lather and rode like hell as fast as he could
to Yuerba Buena. There he explained the situation to his brother and
the officers serving under him and then they all rode like hell back
to rescue the Princess. Her rescue was easily accomplished, as the
natives did not wish to incur Vallejo’s wrath. After a brief stopover
in Yuerba Buena to allow the Princess to freshen up, Vallejo
personally escorted her back to Fort Ross. The Lady in Distress had
been rescued, and Vallejo received a hero’s welcome. But from the
Princess he received much more. The Princess, it seemed, was much more
grateful to the Spanish soldier than a newlywed wife on her honeymoon
should have been – with any man other than her husband, that is. She
was smitten by the gallant officer and, even though they both knew it
was a hopeless situation, Princess Helena managed to give her rescuer
a parting gift when she and her husband soon left California forever.
Helena whispered into Vallejo’s ear that he, the Spanish, and the
Mexicans would soon be relieved of the presence of the Russians on
California soil; that upon returning home she would persuade the Tsar
that the California colonies should be abandoned.  This was to be her
gift to her Knight In Shining Armor; her Caballero. She was good to
her word. Shortly thereafter the Russian government sold Fort Ross to
John Sutter and left California forever.

Most historians would tell you that the Russians left California
because the fur trade, by this time, was dying; that the pelts both at
sea and on land were just getting too difficult to find. The
historians would also tell you that Mexico was pressing Fort Ross from
the south, Americans from the east, and there was a mad collection of
mountain men in their own back yard forming something called the Bear
Flag Revolt. They would tell you that these things were all too much
for the Russian settlers; that it was easier for them to just pack up
and leave, so they did just that. They would cite this litany of facts
with the confidence born from thoughtless repetition.

But isn’t it enticing to think that perhaps, between two people whom
history barely remembers; between those two whom fate brought together
in a chance encounter; chivalry, gentlemanly behavior, a code of
frontier honor, and unrequited love all played an unremembered role in
the chess game of history as empires from around the world moved their
pieces across the chess board of North America; that just two small
people made such a big difference, and a small body of water in the
Sierra Nevada Mountains got named in the process.