‘Imperialism’ by A Christian Democrat (6 March, 1880)

The following is an editorial that appeared in the ‘People’s Journal’ under the name ‘A Christian Democrat’. The newspaper endorsed the Gladstone’s Liberals in the 1880 general election.

“In their long defence of slavery in the British Colonies; in their open sympathy with the slaveholding confederacy; in their treatment of the black men in Jamacia [sic]; in their defence of the lash in the army for the back of the common soldier; in their constant insulting treatment of Irishmen, this Tory spirit has been manifested.”

Sir,—Imperialism is a hateful word to every true friend of liberty. Events have proved that the change in the style of the Sovereign was only too faithful a symbol of the change in the policy of Britain. Our Government has become Imperial in the very worst sense of that unwelcome word. The Ministers of England used to boast of her justice. Now they parade her power. Our statesmen used to speak of the duty England owed to humanity, of her homage to morality, her sympathy with freedom the world over. Now we hear only of British interests. War is declared, respective of the people. They are only consulted after a policy is adopted; and war is defended, not because the duty of making it could not be denied, but solely because some supposed interest of Britain required bloodshed.

The whole power of England is hurled against barbarous nations. Warriors are sent by express to ravage and destroy, and when they return from their inglorious work of devastation they are sent post haste to Balmoral to receive the congratulations of the Empress of India, and are awarded the honours of the State. Thus the Government ministers to the vainglory of the thoughtless who control elections thus they flatter the army and win favour from a Court which has always felt Constitutional Government, especially in foreign affairs, less to its taste than Imperial sway. More even than blundering misgovernment has this haughty, domineering, Imperial temper alienated and embittered the spirit of the Irish people, and turned millions of men into our bitter enemies. In India this same domineering spirit has now full scope.

Surely justice and wisdom alike should dictate a policy of kindliness, moderation, and goodwill. But this boastful Government, for the sake of displaying military glory and physical force, fling away moral influence, and pursue a course which ever reminds India of her subjection. Young Indian men are being educated in thousands. Their quick intellects will perceive that England desires constantly to remind them of their subjection as a conquered and inferior race. Every public document, every proclamation of the Government, every stamp of the Post Office will tell them that they are not our fellow subjects under a Constitutional Sovereign, herself subject to law, but that they are the conquered races who are dominated by an Empress. Continue reading “‘Imperialism’ by A Christian Democrat (6 March, 1880)”

‘Old Stories Retold: The Cradle of Logie’ (26 November, 1887)

The following was part of a series of historical tales about Dundee which appeared in ‘The People’s Journal’. ‘The Cradle of Logie’ is a sombre piece of Dundee folklore surrounding the dreadful mistreatment of an Indian princess by Fletcher Reid of Logie House, and the brutal revenge carried out by her father. This episode (although many of the details are highly doubtful) demonstrates the significant connection between the east coast of Scotland and India. Many landowners (or rather the sons of landowners) from the region made their fortunes in the East India Company. When they returned flush with the rewards of their plunder of the subcontinent, these nouveau riche were dismissively called ‘nabobs’.

In the earlier years of this century Logie House, near Lochee was the residence of Fletcher Reid, a man who had risen to some distinction in the service of the Indian Government. At that time there stretched in front of the house a large field, and in the middle of the field stood a lofty pole with a gilded ball and spire on the top. Long ago the plough and harrow gave place to stone and brick and lime, and many people, dwellers in the locality and others, will be interested to learn that the street built on this field is called Polepark after the flagstaff. Our illustrations are taken from Crawford’s plan of Dundee published in 1777.

Some ninety years ago the people residing in the neighbourhood of Logie House were surprised one morning at finding a number of workmen commencing to lay the foundation of a cottage within the grounds. What, they asked, could Fletcher Reid of Logie want with a house like that? and why should he erect it within his entrance gates? Great were the curiosity and mystification even among the servants themselves, and thus it is that we find James, the gardener closeted with Mrs Saunders, the housekeeper, on the evening of the day above alluded to. Mrs Saunders, for reasons known to herself, and also to James, has provided that worthy with a hearty meal and something to drink, and the two now settle down for a gossip.

“’Deed, Mistress Saunders,” began Jeems, in his slow, deliberate way; “ think the maister maun be clean daft. That Indian cleemat’s been ower muckle for’m. They tell me noo—”

“Daft,” broke in the housekeeper. “’Od, there wid be some excuse for’m if he wis. Dae ye think sae?”

“I believe it’s that strayaigin’, ne’er-dae-weol Laird of Brechin that pits a’ the mischief intill his heed,” said Jeems. “Did ye hear aboot the twa idyits ridin’ at nicht to the kirkyaird on a hearse an’ blawin’ trumets. It’s eneugh to bring a judgment on the toon.”

“Guidsake, Jeems, dinna speak that way,” said Mrs Saunders, glancing round uneasily. “What wi’ the maister’s cantrips, and that young Indian heathen woman, his wife’s manoeuvres, I’m turnin’ clean nervous. “What dae ye think be married a cratur’ like that for?”

“Faix, Mrs Saunders, he married her for rizzens that shouldna animate the breest o’ ony man when he—ahem—when he gangs about sic business,” rejoined James, with a meaning glance at the buxom housekeeper, who would have blushed if she had been twenty years younger. “Ye ken hoo mony rupees and gowd and jewels he got wi’ her frae her faither, wha’ is the Rajaw o’ some ootlandish place oot there, and a verra big man amang thae heathen blackguards. They say the maister himsel’ was a big man there to; but, losh, Mrs Saunders, that’s no sayin’ muckle, for it stands to rizzen that amang thae puir black heathen cratur’s any man with a heid on his shoothers an’ a pair o’ breeks on—”

Here an imperative ring at the bell, calling for Mrs Saunders, cut the conversation short, and James had to leave, much against his will. James and the housekeeper “understood” one another.

By-and-by the cottage was finished. It was a little ugly stone building with a door and no window. At each corner projected an ornamental pinnacle, resembling the knobs of a cradle and the cottage was dubbed the “Cradle of Logie.” Surely the rich Anglo-Indian must be mad? Yes, he was mad—not mentally, else he might have been forgiven, but morally—mad with evil passions, mad with lust, mad with drink, mad with every conceivable kind of wickedness known to our depraved human nature. In this particular instance his diabolical purpose was soon unveiled. His gentle wife, the daughter of an Indian prince, whom he had married out in India, had grown distasteful to him. So this monster in human shape built this little, close, undrained, unlighted place as a prison for her, and here he shut her up and deprived her of proper food and every necessary, and even decency of life. Starved, beaten, shut up, without ever getting a breath of air or seeing a ray of sunlight, the poor creature soon pined away and died. Continue reading “‘Old Stories Retold: The Cradle of Logie’ (26 November, 1887)”