…and its surprising link to a figure in the American Revolution, but not on the American side.
Hugh Percy was the son of Hugh Smithson, who was actually a descendant of merchants and a born Roman Catholic. If you know anything about religion during this time period, despite both Catholic and Anglicans being Christians, there was a long history of bad blood and bloodshed by this point, and Catholics were not well-respected in England. They couldn’t join the army, among other things.
Smithson converted to Anglicanism upon adulthood, which opened up more doors for him. He also wanted to marry Elizabeth Somerset, the granddaughter of the Duke of Somerset, who was descended from the noble Percy family. There was just one problem: Elizabeth’s family vehemently opposed their match, writing to her that:
You are descended by many generations from the most ancient families in England and it is you who doth add ancient blood to Sir Hugh Smithson’s family. He adds not so ancient blood to your family.
Yikes, the classism. But Elizabeth’s heart was set, so her family caved. Besides, they had a male heir in Elizabeth’s brother.
However, soon after the marriage, Elizabeth’s brother died, making her the only heir to the Percy family. As a result, Smithson changed his surname to Percy and eventually became the Duke of Northumberland. They had two sons together–Hugh Percy, whom we’ve already written about, and Algernon, whose own wife was the sister of Percy’s wife.
Hugh Smithson Percy, however, had a third son. Around 1764-65, he had an affair with Elizabeth Hungerford Keate Macie, who gave birth to an illegitimate son in France, a son she named Jacques-Louis Macie. This was then anglicized to James-Louis. He was 23 years younger than his legitimate brother Hugh Percy, and 15 years younger than Algernon.
Perhaps due to their age differences and also likely due to societal stigmas, if James had much of a relationship with either of his brothers, societal expectations meant that this wouldn’t have been recorded. So, unfortunately, we don’t know if they had much correspondence.
However, his parentage wasn’t a secret either. James had to endure the social constraints of being an illegitimate son. He pursued education and became a pretty accomplished researcher with a wide range of interests, including the chemistry he’s perhaps best known for (analysis of calamine, for one). He traveled extensively throughout Europe, but never to the United States. As an adult, he also changed his surname to his father’s original one, becoming James Smithson.
When Smithson died without having married or had children, he bequeathed his fortune to his maternal nephew, Henry Hungerford. However, Henry apparently wasn’t looking likely to have kids, so Smithson left a provision in the will for this:
I then bequeath the whole of my property, . . . to the United States of America, to found at Washington, under the name of the Smithsonian Institution, an Establishment for the increase & diffusion of knowledge among men.
Henry died about six years later without issue. And that’s how the United States ended up with the so-named Smithsonian, arch-museum of American history, which is amusingly ironic considering Smithson’s lineage and relatives.
Next week we’ll discuss another officer who appears in We Are Not Strangers who was described by his contemporaries as a “good man in a bad cause” and who has two potential resting places. Mostly because there’s a fair chance the body interred as him is not him…
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