frustrated progressive
SLPing Through the Cracks
The Dog-Days King
(Disclaimer: All sources I’ve found are extremely vague about the circumstances of Jorgensen’s encounter with HMS Talbotand subsequent events, so apologies if I’ve missed part of my POD)
POD- Jorgensen’s ship is not damaged, HMS Talbot sails by unnoticed. Jorgen Jorgensen returns to England, and represents himself to Banks and other allies as a loyal subject who overthrew a sclerotic enemy regime in the interest of the inhabitants and British trade, installing himself as “Protector” essentially by default and not through Agathoclean impulses. Using the implied non-objections of his British companions as corroborating evidence that his action was not prejudicial to British interests, the Admiralty gives him leave to return to Iceland while his case is sorted out, as confining him would leave a total anarchy even more offensive to British sensibilities than purported Revolution, and, with all the testimony, from his patrons, witnesses to the matter, and available former shipmates, indicating Jorgensen’s good character [here we see the POD already at work]. Jorgensen renegotiates some trade agreements, including a few with his former partners (giving the explanation for commandeering their ship that circumstances required him to do so in order to fulfill the venture), and promises to return the ship as a token of his goodwill at the earliest possible moment. British merchants, blocked from the Icelandic market for some time, are eager to reestablish links in the codfish trade, and Jorgensen returns to Iceland with ships of grain following effectively in his train, which of course bolsters his support.
The “Protector” returns to Iceland, where he, as intended, formally reestablishes the Althing, recruiting local notables to stand in freeholder elections, which ties the men of authority and influence to the Jorgensen regime. He has the Althing assume its old judicial and legislative functions, which leaves little scope for complaints of Jorgensenian overreach, and essentially defines the remaining functions of his nebulous role as that of a peripatetic ombudsman, principally ousting the more corrupt or indolent Danish placemen, and replacing them with well-regarded locals, endearing himself to the common people by ending the abuses, and to the gentry by offering advancement to the vacant posts. By chasing out Danish merchantmen and other non-British competition, he also bolsters the Icelandic native fishing industry (there was sufficient local expertise in many places, but without any scope for fishing on a commercial level) and tries, with the limited resources at his disposal, to otherwise improve the parlous Icelandic economy. By the spring, British commercial connections have been established, his ship has been returned with amity, and a benign, non-revolutionary, non-despotic government established, almost entirely on local lines.
When the British board of inquiry finally begins its proceedings, sources in Britain, primarily the merchants with whom Jorgensen has dealt, are willing to vouch for his friendliness to British interests, and Jorgensen’s former patrons are once again helpful in advancing his cause. Cannily, instead of coming himself to England, cap-in-hand, Jorgensen sends an “ambassador,” (well technically under the auspices of the Althing) to increase his prestige by claiming the trappings of a sovereign power. While this irks some of the more hidebound British representatives, it psychologically frames the issue as that of a country, not an adventurer. When Icelandic sources are sought, the commission perforce turns to local notables and/or the Icelandic gentry, groups that, due to his patronage of them, are solidly in favor of Jorgensen. Meanwhile, the Danish governor and a few of the diehard Danes remain under house arrest, unable to offer their own account and their patronage networks rapidly atrophying. With Jorgensen’s actions since assuming power resolutely pro-British, and practically all sources on his character resoundingly positive, this goes some way to negate the “unfitness” of Jorgensen’s low birth.
The issue of his character dealt with, Iceland simply becomes a political matter. As feelers extended towards Denmark probing the possibility of a “Iceland-for-neutrality” swap have been resoundingly declined, for Britain, the alternative to treating with the Icelandic regime is to intervene and either try to administer the country directly, or attempt to create a new government, Iceland’s third in as many years, without the assured support of either the old Danish apparatus, or the newly empowered segments of the local gentry. Yet they could hardly let what was still a semi-revolutionary regime headed by a commoner stand. It is unknown which side proposed what seems to be the obvious solution to the impasse; perhaps it was roughly broached by both sides at once. In brief, Iceland would become a Protectorate (not to be confused with Jorgensen’s title) of His Britannic Majesty and a compliment of ships and troops to defend it, with essentially full internal autonomy exercised by the Althing, and Icelandic citizens, ships, and commerce abroad falling under the guarantees of British safekeeping. In exchange, Iceland would cede sovereignty in foreign affairs, promise not to trade with enemies and embargoed nations of Britain (not a real hardship at this point, as Jorgensen’s trade initiatives have already secured this state de facto), and pay for its aforementioned British-supplied defense. To coordinate this relationship, a resident British Governor-General, maintained equally by both sides, is to be appointed. Issues of potential impressment of Icelandic sailors, let alone drafting of its landsmen as soldiers, are not addressed at this stage.
It is likely that the very fact of Iceland’s marginal relation to the rest of the world made its felicitous rebirth possible. Had Iceland been more important, the British would have gone to the trouble of installing a truly satisfactory government, throwing off the strange Danish adventurer and his radical notions of self-governance and enlightenment liberalism. But why should Albion divert ships and men from the great struggle with Napoleon, and invest time, money, and administrative expertise in running a country of 50,000 people? With no possible returns that would justify such an outlay, it was thought acceptable, and far easier, for the pragmatic nation of shopkeepers to simply let sleeping dogs lie, and turn the rough modus vivendiinto a formal settlement. Yet, despite agreeing to everything in principle, the British prevaricate for weeks on actually concluding terms. Although it is left unsaid, the one great stumbling block is, as always and despite all his goodwill, Jorgensen himself. What would his status be now? Would he stay on as a sort of Protector-within-a-Protector? Would he demand to be accorded the respect due to an acknowledged European head of state? Since the delay has now stretched on for over a month, the astute Jorgensen is well aware of the holdup and the unstated reason for it.
With the gift for jarring, decisive action that was among his greatest strengths, the Protector conceives of a solution, and resolutely instructs his diplomats to offer it for British consideration. Jorgenson would resign the Protectorship (the future status of the office to be resolved as circumstances require), and undertake never to hold any sort of executive office for the remainder of his life. In exchange, he would be acknowledged as a legitimate citizen of Iceland, and all the still formally ongoing investigations into his character and conduct (now moribund as they have been subsumed into the diplomatic dance) would be dropped. Jorgensen’s motives in embarking on such a radical step remain mysterious. Perhaps he thought that removing his own awkward person from the situation would be the only way to ensure the freedom of his adopted country. Perhaps the gambler chose to hedge his bets, accepting a loss of status, but retaining his liberty and personal security. It could conceivably have been a mixture of the altruistic and the mercenary.
The British, with the obstacle of Jorgensen removed, readily agree to the treaty, on September 3, 1810. As the wheels of Whitehall grind and the apparatus of British dominance is created on paper, Jorgensen’s representatives return to Iceland and inform their master of the culmination of his grand scheme, one that, paradoxically, sees his status fall from a unrecognized king to a private citizen. Forestalling British arrival, Jorgensen addresses the Althing (disrupting plans for winter adjournment). He resigns the extralegal office of the Protectorship, (with his last act in the position being that of abolishing it, so that no British plenipotentiary could use it to tyrannize the land), devolving its powers to the Althing. Although Jorgensen of course informed the legislature of the progress of negotiations, he takes this moment to present the finalized treaty, including the codicil about his own status. Assenting to treaties with foreign states would of course be the prerogative of the Protector, but, the office no longer existing, that is now solely a matter for the Althing. Seeing that the British offer is the deal of a lifetime, the best thing to happen to Iceland since the Old Covenant, the Althing agrees unanimously, with Jorgensen in the watching Thingvellir crowd. On November 17, 1810, the sloop of war HMS Talbot [I just couldn’t resist], carrying the arriving Governor-General and a small complement of Marines, docks in Reykjavik, where the Althing has moved to in order to receive the British. Speeches are made on both sides, translation provided by a local English merchant, the Union Jack and the scarcely newer Codfish Banner of Iceland (courtesy of Jorgensen) are raised, and Iceland embarks on the next chapter in its history, all because of the impulse of an adventurer, a man who has lost everything he won, but gained much more besides: Jorgen Jorgensen has gone home.
(Disclaimer: All sources I’ve found are extremely vague about the circumstances of Jorgensen’s encounter with HMS Talbotand subsequent events, so apologies if I’ve missed part of my POD)
POD- Jorgensen’s ship is not damaged, HMS Talbot sails by unnoticed. Jorgen Jorgensen returns to England, and represents himself to Banks and other allies as a loyal subject who overthrew a sclerotic enemy regime in the interest of the inhabitants and British trade, installing himself as “Protector” essentially by default and not through Agathoclean impulses. Using the implied non-objections of his British companions as corroborating evidence that his action was not prejudicial to British interests, the Admiralty gives him leave to return to Iceland while his case is sorted out, as confining him would leave a total anarchy even more offensive to British sensibilities than purported Revolution, and, with all the testimony, from his patrons, witnesses to the matter, and available former shipmates, indicating Jorgensen’s good character [here we see the POD already at work]. Jorgensen renegotiates some trade agreements, including a few with his former partners (giving the explanation for commandeering their ship that circumstances required him to do so in order to fulfill the venture), and promises to return the ship as a token of his goodwill at the earliest possible moment. British merchants, blocked from the Icelandic market for some time, are eager to reestablish links in the codfish trade, and Jorgensen returns to Iceland with ships of grain following effectively in his train, which of course bolsters his support.
The “Protector” returns to Iceland, where he, as intended, formally reestablishes the Althing, recruiting local notables to stand in freeholder elections, which ties the men of authority and influence to the Jorgensen regime. He has the Althing assume its old judicial and legislative functions, which leaves little scope for complaints of Jorgensenian overreach, and essentially defines the remaining functions of his nebulous role as that of a peripatetic ombudsman, principally ousting the more corrupt or indolent Danish placemen, and replacing them with well-regarded locals, endearing himself to the common people by ending the abuses, and to the gentry by offering advancement to the vacant posts. By chasing out Danish merchantmen and other non-British competition, he also bolsters the Icelandic native fishing industry (there was sufficient local expertise in many places, but without any scope for fishing on a commercial level) and tries, with the limited resources at his disposal, to otherwise improve the parlous Icelandic economy. By the spring, British commercial connections have been established, his ship has been returned with amity, and a benign, non-revolutionary, non-despotic government established, almost entirely on local lines.
When the British board of inquiry finally begins its proceedings, sources in Britain, primarily the merchants with whom Jorgensen has dealt, are willing to vouch for his friendliness to British interests, and Jorgensen’s former patrons are once again helpful in advancing his cause. Cannily, instead of coming himself to England, cap-in-hand, Jorgensen sends an “ambassador,” (well technically under the auspices of the Althing) to increase his prestige by claiming the trappings of a sovereign power. While this irks some of the more hidebound British representatives, it psychologically frames the issue as that of a country, not an adventurer. When Icelandic sources are sought, the commission perforce turns to local notables and/or the Icelandic gentry, groups that, due to his patronage of them, are solidly in favor of Jorgensen. Meanwhile, the Danish governor and a few of the diehard Danes remain under house arrest, unable to offer their own account and their patronage networks rapidly atrophying. With Jorgensen’s actions since assuming power resolutely pro-British, and practically all sources on his character resoundingly positive, this goes some way to negate the “unfitness” of Jorgensen’s low birth.
The issue of his character dealt with, Iceland simply becomes a political matter. As feelers extended towards Denmark probing the possibility of a “Iceland-for-neutrality” swap have been resoundingly declined, for Britain, the alternative to treating with the Icelandic regime is to intervene and either try to administer the country directly, or attempt to create a new government, Iceland’s third in as many years, without the assured support of either the old Danish apparatus, or the newly empowered segments of the local gentry. Yet they could hardly let what was still a semi-revolutionary regime headed by a commoner stand. It is unknown which side proposed what seems to be the obvious solution to the impasse; perhaps it was roughly broached by both sides at once. In brief, Iceland would become a Protectorate (not to be confused with Jorgensen’s title) of His Britannic Majesty and a compliment of ships and troops to defend it, with essentially full internal autonomy exercised by the Althing, and Icelandic citizens, ships, and commerce abroad falling under the guarantees of British safekeeping. In exchange, Iceland would cede sovereignty in foreign affairs, promise not to trade with enemies and embargoed nations of Britain (not a real hardship at this point, as Jorgensen’s trade initiatives have already secured this state de facto), and pay for its aforementioned British-supplied defense. To coordinate this relationship, a resident British Governor-General, maintained equally by both sides, is to be appointed. Issues of potential impressment of Icelandic sailors, let alone drafting of its landsmen as soldiers, are not addressed at this stage.
It is likely that the very fact of Iceland’s marginal relation to the rest of the world made its felicitous rebirth possible. Had Iceland been more important, the British would have gone to the trouble of installing a truly satisfactory government, throwing off the strange Danish adventurer and his radical notions of self-governance and enlightenment liberalism. But why should Albion divert ships and men from the great struggle with Napoleon, and invest time, money, and administrative expertise in running a country of 50,000 people? With no possible returns that would justify such an outlay, it was thought acceptable, and far easier, for the pragmatic nation of shopkeepers to simply let sleeping dogs lie, and turn the rough modus vivendiinto a formal settlement. Yet, despite agreeing to everything in principle, the British prevaricate for weeks on actually concluding terms. Although it is left unsaid, the one great stumbling block is, as always and despite all his goodwill, Jorgensen himself. What would his status be now? Would he stay on as a sort of Protector-within-a-Protector? Would he demand to be accorded the respect due to an acknowledged European head of state? Since the delay has now stretched on for over a month, the astute Jorgensen is well aware of the holdup and the unstated reason for it.
With the gift for jarring, decisive action that was among his greatest strengths, the Protector conceives of a solution, and resolutely instructs his diplomats to offer it for British consideration. Jorgenson would resign the Protectorship (the future status of the office to be resolved as circumstances require), and undertake never to hold any sort of executive office for the remainder of his life. In exchange, he would be acknowledged as a legitimate citizen of Iceland, and all the still formally ongoing investigations into his character and conduct (now moribund as they have been subsumed into the diplomatic dance) would be dropped. Jorgensen’s motives in embarking on such a radical step remain mysterious. Perhaps he thought that removing his own awkward person from the situation would be the only way to ensure the freedom of his adopted country. Perhaps the gambler chose to hedge his bets, accepting a loss of status, but retaining his liberty and personal security. It could conceivably have been a mixture of the altruistic and the mercenary.
The British, with the obstacle of Jorgensen removed, readily agree to the treaty, on September 3, 1810. As the wheels of Whitehall grind and the apparatus of British dominance is created on paper, Jorgensen’s representatives return to Iceland and inform their master of the culmination of his grand scheme, one that, paradoxically, sees his status fall from a unrecognized king to a private citizen. Forestalling British arrival, Jorgensen addresses the Althing (disrupting plans for winter adjournment). He resigns the extralegal office of the Protectorship, (with his last act in the position being that of abolishing it, so that no British plenipotentiary could use it to tyrannize the land), devolving its powers to the Althing. Although Jorgensen of course informed the legislature of the progress of negotiations, he takes this moment to present the finalized treaty, including the codicil about his own status. Assenting to treaties with foreign states would of course be the prerogative of the Protector, but, the office no longer existing, that is now solely a matter for the Althing. Seeing that the British offer is the deal of a lifetime, the best thing to happen to Iceland since the Old Covenant, the Althing agrees unanimously, with Jorgensen in the watching Thingvellir crowd. On November 17, 1810, the sloop of war HMS Talbot [I just couldn’t resist], carrying the arriving Governor-General and a small complement of Marines, docks in Reykjavik, where the Althing has moved to in order to receive the British. Speeches are made on both sides, translation provided by a local English merchant, the Union Jack and the scarcely newer Codfish Banner of Iceland (courtesy of Jorgensen) are raised, and Iceland embarks on the next chapter in its history, all because of the impulse of an adventurer, a man who has lost everything he won, but gained much more besides: Jorgen Jorgensen has gone home.