The Scots Greys were beaten on that day by the French under Marshal Maurice de Saxe, much assisted by the “Wild Geese,” the famous itinerant brigade of Irish cavalry who fought on the side of Bonnie Prince Charlie when and wherever possible, usually on the continent.
Sir James Campbell of Aberuchill, my five times great-grandfather, had two large families. With his first wife, Margaret, whom he married in the same year in which he inherited the baronetcy (sensible), he had at least two sons who survived infancy, (1) Jane’s brother Colin, a captain in the 19th Regiment of Foot, a brevet major and eventually lieutenant-colonel of the Perth militia, who died “unmarried” in 1811, and (2) Alexander, the future fourth baronet (1757–1824).
Sir James remarried (to Mary Ann, daughter of Joseph Burn, who was evidently a good deal sturdier than my poor five times great-grandmother), and presented him with another eight children, viz. four sons: (1) Thomas, 1769–1799, gentleman, who died “unmarried”; (2) William, 1774–1849, a writer to the signet; (3) Frederick, 1779–1816, of the 42nd Highlanders; (4) John, 1785–1867, a surgeon; and four daughters, about whom, thanks to the meticulous suppression by Burke’s Colonial Gentry of any available detail, we know absolutely nothing.
According to Burke’s Colonial Gentry, “in 1800 he executed an entail of the barony and estate of Kilbryde,” the Regency equivalent of taking out a double mortgage. At his death these passed in the manner of a bad check to Jane’s brother Alexander, for whom the baronetcy was at best a consolation prize.
They must have made friends when Gran was living in England shortly before and during World War I.
In 1975 Mum and Aunt Anne, who kept in touch with Lucy, took me, aged eleven, to visit her in the comfortable but slightly forlorn flat where she lived in genteel poverty, just off Knightsbridge. We had tea, and sardines on soggy toast.
The high point in Lucy’s career was the invitation in about 1963 to sail out to Melbourne as a semi-official “companion” to Joyce, Lady Delacombe, whose husband, Sir Rohan, a former military governor of the British sector of Berlin, was lately appointed Governor of Victoria.
Although nothing at all was explicitly stated to me by Loris Callander or Charlie Curwen, who were both very much in evidence at Government House during the Delacombe era, I gather that Lucy Pearson’s tour of duty was not an unqualified success, and before long she flew back to London.
Within the vice-regal household, Lucy was known, no doubt affectionately, as “Juicy Lucy,” and the sense was quite definitely ironic.
This portrait of old Mrs. Pearson, our common ancestor, was probably painted in Edinburgh around 1828–30, when she was an old lady of about seventy, presumably around the time of her husband’s death, and she was obliged to vacate Kippenross.
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