Thurlow | Lucey | Berthelsen | Hanran | Madden | McPherson | Storrie | Dewe
Family history
can be so exciting.
Let’s begin by focusing on two of our Nordic countries: Iceland and Denmark.
I have chosen to begin this narrative with Jørgen and Thuridur as they spearhead the Danish and Icelandic connection.
Jørgen Berthelsen and Thuridur Torina known as “Turid” Magnussen stand as pivotal figures in the story of our family, forming a vital link between our Danish and Icelandic heritage. Through them, the two landscapes—southern Denmark and the rugged coasts of Iceland—are woven into a shared lineage marked by resilience, hardship, and quiet determination.
Jørgen’s beginnings were modest and, in some respects, uncertain. He was the third child of Anna Catharine Berthelsen, born out of wedlock in the village of Hunslev, on the island of Als. Anna never revealed the identity of his father, a silence that has echoed through the generations. She herself was the daughter of Christian Bert(h)elsen, a retired man who supported his family with a few acres of land—enough to live, but not enough to prosper.
Despite these humble circumstances, Jørgen showed promise from an early age. When he was confirmed on 19 April 1824—the second day of Easter—his knowledge was noted as that of “a clever boy with a good head.” Yet this intelligence was tempered by a more difficult trait: his behaviour was described as having an “unstable temperament.” Originally scheduled for confirmation a few days later, the ceremony was brought forward, likely due to the demands of a sailing schedule—a small but telling detail that hints at the maritime life he would soon embrace.
Like many Danes of his time, Jørgen turned to the sea for a living. Denmark’s long-standing seafaring tradition offered both opportunity and peril, and it was this path that eventually carried him far from Als to the distant shores of Iceland. There, on 27 December 1836, at Helgafell in Snæfellsnes, he married “Turid” Magnussen.
Thuridur came from a line of Icelandic farming families whose lives were shaped by the land and its seasons. She was the daughter of Magnus Jonsson, born around 1775, and Thuridur Thordardóttir, herself the daughter of Thordur Thordarsson and Gudridur Thorsteinsdóttir. Their family connections extended across several regions of Iceland, including Keisbakki in Snæfellsnes and areas within the Dala district such as Ljarskogur, Hjardarholt, and Blonduhlid. These were communities defined by endurance, where survival depended on both hard work and close kinship ties.
Together, Jørgen and Thuridur began their own family, welcoming at least two sons: Christian Magnus, born in Iceland in 1837, and another son, Jørgen, born later in Hundslev. At some point before 1840, Jørgen made the decision to move his wife and young son Christian from Iceland to Denmark. As a sailor, he spent long stretches away from home, and this relocation may have been an effort to keep his family closer to his home port and within reach whenever he returned from sea.
Yet fate was not kind to these intentions. Sometime before 1845, Jørgen sailed away and never returned. Neither he nor the ship on which he served was ever heard from again. His disappearance left Thuridur widowed at a young age, with children to support in a new land. The 1845 census records of Notmark parish reveal a stark reality: at just 34 years old, she was living on charity. These were the difficult beginnings from which later generations would rise.
Their son, Christian Magnus Bert(h)elsen, grew up in these challenging circumstances but appears to have inherited both resilience and discipline. Born on 18 September 1837 in Snæfellsnessysla, Iceland, he later arrived in Denmark with his mother and was confirmed in Notmark parish church on 7 March 1852. Unlike his father, his record was exemplary—his knowledge and behaviour both described as “very good.” By this time, his father was officially recorded as deceased.
Christian went on to marry Kirsten Christensen, and together they had two known children: Ellen Magnus, who lived only briefly from 1867 to 1868, and Jørgen Magnus Bert(h)elsen, born on 10 November 1871. Christian’s life, however, was not untouched by the wider conflicts of his time. In the war of 1864 between Denmark and Prussia, he was wounded in the hindquarters. Family lore recounts that his injury required him to sit on a cushion ring, and in typical fashion, relatives teased him, joking that he must have been “running away” to have received such a wound. Though light-hearted in tone, the story reflects the ever-present shadow of war in 19th-century Europe.
An interesting detail that emerges through these records is the evolution of the family name itself. Earlier documents consistently record it as “Bertelsen,” without an ‘h’. Whether this variation arose from differences in literacy, pronunciation, or simple transcription errors remains uncertain. However, by the time later generations appear in official documents—such as shipping records to Queensland in 1871 and subsequent naturalisation papers—the spelling “Berthelsen” had taken hold. It is this version that has endured among Australian descendants.
The story of Jørgen and Thuridur is, in many ways, a story of movement—across seas, between nations, and through hardship. It is shaped by absence as much as presence: an unnamed father, a husband lost at sea, a widow struggling to survive. Yet it is also a story of continuity. From uncertain beginnings grew a family that carried its heritage across continents, preserving traces of both Danish and Icelandic roots.
Through them, the past remains connected to the present
—a reminder that even the most fragile beginnings
can echo across generations.