"King" Jorgen

Jorgensen

When Iceland's Future King Visited Tahiti

By Eric Ramsden

rHITI has had many strange visitors since the island’s contact with Europeans, but none more colourful than Jorgen Jorgensen (or Jurgensen) who was there for a couple of months in 1806. Neither did the missionaries there ever have a more trenchant critic than the man who, three years later, seized Iceland and proclaimed himself king.

Information that a new biography of the Dane was about to appear in Lon don induced me to peruse his “State of Christianity in the Island of Otaheite and a Defence of the Pure Precepts of the Gospel Against Modem Antichrists”, which he published in a positively im pressive edition in London in 1811.

The book, long since forgotten, and important only for its sidelights upon the LMS missionaries, contains much of the religious balderdash of the period. It is undoubtedly one of the rarities of Paci fic literature. The Mitchell Library’s copy was presented by Jorgensen to the then Colonial Secretary, Alexander Mc- Leay. The author called himself “A Foreign Traveller”.

Jorgensen was that, and a great deal more. Tahiti was, of course, merely an incident in his exciting life. He has been called “Monarch of Iceland, naval cap tain, revolutionist, diplomatic agent, author, dramatist, nreacher, political prisoner, gambler, hospital dispenser, Continental traveller, explorer, editor, expatriated exile, and colonial constable”.

One might also add, liar and spy. How ever, the Dane was a man of undoubted intelligence-even if he did end his days in a ditch in Tasmania.

He had had some experience in whal ing and sealing in the Pacific, before he called at Tahiti on the whaler “Alexan der” in 1806. Jorgensen was accom panied by a couple of Maoris. He col lected a Tahitian chief and the latter’s friend, and he took them to London, where he presented the quartette to Sir Joseph Banks. Banks was kindness itself. But within a year the Tahitians were dead, also one of the Maoris— despite the care of the Rev. Joseph Hard castle (in whose care Banks had placed them). Marquis, the surviving Maori, was proof against the rigours of the Eng lish climate for a time, because “he became a tolerable carpenter and kept himself employed”.

FOR the missionaries in Tahiti—Jor gensen had ample time to study them while he collected provisions, salted meat, etc., for the voyage—he had nothing but contempt. He considered them deficient in address. Their be haviour was timid, he said, without being respectful. In fact, they looked “like humble petitioners at a gentleman’s door, and it is easy to observe that they are men of no education”. In short, they were not gentlemen, and the Tahitians were quick to see, by the manner in which they were treated by other Euro peans, that they were not chiefs.

Jorgensen stated that, although there were fourteen missionaries on the island (and they had been there since 1797) they had only one convert. This girl, of about fourteen years, was reared in the household of the Rev. W. Henry and his wife. (I suspect that she was the half

caste daughter of George Stewart, the “Bounty” midshipman, whose wife was Peggy, the Tahitian). Jorgensen says the child was brow-beaten and terrorised by the missionary, and reduced to a mere skeleton. When she committed the smallest fault, he says, she was threat ened by her stern master with “the wrath of the Christian god”.

The fate of this girl, incidentally, is one of the minor mysteries of the "Bounty” tragedy. It has been inferred that she eventually visited her father’s home in the Orkneys.

THOUGH Jorgensen did not like Henry, he was more kindly disposed to wards the Rev. John Jefferson (whose grave was discovered by Mr. W.

W. Bolton, near Arue, in 1935). To me, Jefferson has never seemed an attractive personality. It was because of his intol erance and pigheadedness that his col league, the Rev. Thomas Lewis, found a grave so early in life. Lewis, after vainly asking his companions to marry him, eventually lived with a Tahitian girl, and was mysteriously killed by her lover.

Missionary historians are apt to skip over the Jefferson-Lewis episode which, though sordid in a way, was not with out importance.

Jefferson, he says, was a truly pious man (which is not doubted). In order to mortify the flesh, he retired unto himself, and, in his meditations —to the surprise of the Tahitians—uttered “the most hollow and dismal groans”. “He was never seen smiling, nor to enjoy a moment’s happiness,” wrote the Dane.

Jefferson, it might be explained, was in poor health, and died soon after. In appearance, Jorgensen says he was “like a ghost, his skin tinged with a yellow and deadly hue, like a man who has the jaundice.”

The Dane has some scathing things to say of a missionary whom he calls “J ”. (Obviously, this man was not Jefferson, and there was no other mis sionary then in Tahiti whose surname began with that initial.) This man, he says, came on his ship, drank more brandy than was good for him, and then, in a burst of confidence, declared that his colleagues were “canting hypocrites”. rERE is more substance to Jorgen sen’s portrait of Pomare, which is by no means flattering. The Dane says the King was 6 ft. 4 in. in height, and was “exceedingly intemperate”: he consumed brandy until the officers would give him no more, cursed the Christian god and exalted that of the Tahitians, and, finally, “took up a whole leg of mutton and gnarled it with his great and ugly teeth”. It is not a pretty picture, especially, as in the year of the Dane’s visit, Pomare was in the throes of writ ing to all and sundry, and the mission ary press was doing its best to present him favourably to its extensive public.

Pomare, of course, was shrewd enough to use the missionaries for his own pur pose, and at that time was writing to the Mission headquarters in London in the following strain: “Friends, I hope also you will send me plenty of muskets and powder, for wars are frequent in our country. Should I be killed, you will have nothing in Tahiti. Do not come here when I am dead. Tahiti is a regardless country.” On missionary-pur chased muskets (some of which came from Sydney) the ambitious Pomare rode to political power.

Jorgensen makes an interesting remark concerning the King’s bodyguard. Pom are, he wrote, had “200 majestic looking warriors, some even hailing from Peru”.

It has always been assumed that Pom

are’s guard comprised natives from the Paumotus.

The climax in Jorgensen’s career came in 1809, when, with the help of British trading interests, he seized Iceland, made the Danish Governor a prisoner, and declared himself King, or Protector. His regime (which was of the comic-opera variety) had lasted barely two months, when a British officer arrived at Reik javik to investigate. Jorgensen was taken back to England as a prisoner.

Gaming led to his eventual downfall, and finally, he was transported, to end his days in Tasmania, where, “gin warmed and not unhappy, he died in a wayside ditch”. Thirty-three years had passed since his brief hour of glory as the regal Protector of Iceland, Mr. and Mrs. Roy Hyde, of Wau, NG, accompanied by their daughter and son, recently arrived in Australia from the Morobe Goldfields. They will not be re turning to the Territory.

Mr. D. Haig, who has been manager of the Yorkshire Insurance Co., at Rabaul, TNG, arrived in Sydney recently on transfer. He has been succeeded by Mr. S. E. Costelloe.