Notes |
- John Lorne Stewart succeeded his father in the Glenbuckie estate and also as Chamberlain and Provost of Kintyre and as Factor to the Duke Argyll. John sold the lands of Glenbuckie in 1848 at which point Glenbuckie passed out of Stewart hands. John was ruthless in his eviction of tenants in Kintyre on behalf of the Duke of Argyll and embodied the worst of the Highland Clearances. So reviled was John that in 1852 he became the subject of an anonymous biting satire entitled "Bubly Jock". The satire was so offensive that the Duke of Argyll offered a £50 reward (an enormous reward, roughly equivalent to about $10,000 in Canadian funds today) for the identity of the author.
Gordon MacGregor, The Red Book of Scotland, says, "John Lorne Stewart of Glenbuckie and Coll, born on 12 June 1800, succeeded his father and sold the lands of Glenbuckie to David Carnegie in 1849. He afterwards purchased the Island of Coll from Hugh MacLean, in 1856, where he was an active in the clearance of the native tenantry, whom he supplanted with dairy farmers from Lanarkshire. He married at Edinburgh, on 6 November 1831, to Mary, daughter of Archibald Campbell of Ardmore, (she died at Lisbon, on 30 June 1840, while returning from Maderia), and died at Breachacha Castle, Coll, on 3 July 1878, having had issue."
In 1841, John was residing at Limecraigs (House), Campbeltown, Argyll, Scotland, employed as an independent, with his children, Duncan, 7, Archibald, 5, John, 4, and Helen, 3.
In 1861, John was residing at Breachacha Castle, Coll, Tyree and Coll, Argyll, Scotland, as a land proprietor, age 60, born in Campbeltown, Argyeshire, Scotland, with his son, Archibald, and a plethora of servants.
In 1871, John was residing at Argyll Street (Stremar), Campbeltown, Argyll, Scotland, employed as the Chamberlain to Argyll, residing with his niece, Alice Charlotte Stewart, age 26, and granddaughter, Florence Stewart, age 9, as well as several servants.
31 May 1865, The Belfast Newsletter
Tarratt and Stewart - May 26, at St John's Episcopal Church, Edinburgh, by the Rev. D. F. Sandford, Daniel Fox Tarrait, Esq., late of H.M's 63rd Regiment, younger son of Joseph Tarrait, Esq., late of Endford Park, Herefordshire, to Mary, eldest daughter of John Lorn Stewart, Esq., of Coll, Argyleshire.
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BUBLY JOCK
- Anonymous (but attributed to Capt. Charles McKay, Seaside Cottage, Campbeltown)
"BUBLY JOCK, YOUR MOTHER'S A WITCH
AND A' YOUR WEANS ARE WARLOCKS."
YOU miserable miser bitch,
Sin' ye ha'e made me use the switch,
I mean to gie you sic a twitch,
Athwart the hurdies,
Ye'll wish ye had a thicker breech
Upon your sturdies.
Your conduct weel deserves satire,
Frae end to end o' braid Kintyre,
For ye've been poutrin' in the mire
Full forty years:
An how ye're than your maister higher
The people speirs.
Ye aye ha'e been on mischief bent,
Sin' up amang the crews ye went,
To grind the poor and rise the rent
O' mony a farm:
The deil his aid has surely lent
To plot sic harm.
A hundred cotter-bodies poor,
Ye caused to turn outside the door:
And for to make their ruin sure,
Ye tax'd the peats,
Quist, dried and drawn frae moss and moor
Wi' toilsome sweats,
The very wreck, by tempest driven
Upon the shore of Skerrie's Riven-
A blessing sent the poor by Heaven-
Ye e'en must tax,
And a' to Kelp-contractors given,
To swal your packs.
How many folks ha'e ye brak doun ?
That's seen this day in Campbeltoun
Wi' runty auld nags crawling roun
To win their bread,
An shov'd some lousy Lallan loon
Right owre their head,
Fy ! BUBLY JOCK ! fu' weel we ken
(When ye was laird o' Bucky Glen)
How ye came by the but and hen
Of Gowan Bank,
And kept somebody in your den
Till he was crank.
But a' that e'er was said or sung,
Or cramm'd in folks heads to the bung,
Completely in the shade is flung,
JOCK, by your loups,
When ye contrived to save the d--g
Frae bodie's doups.
The auld Town-Council interfer'd;
And dang the biggings that ye rear'd.
For every honest body fear'd
Some plague or trouble:
Aud oh ! but ye was unco sweart
To burst the Bubble.
A hantal mair I ken abont you,
But honest language winna suit you;
The Duke himsel' began to doot you-
Now-did he not ?
And sairly, man, aboot it put you,
When he sent S---tt.
Now, BUBLY JOCK ! tak my advice,
Your dealins' ha'e na been sae nice,
Altho' ye hear a Judas twice
Upon a Sunday,
Auld Nick can grip you in a trice
Upon the Monday.
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