The heirs of Ratcliffe and Cormac

 

The heirs of Ratcliffe and Cormac

In 1933, the old Stormont Parliament in Belfast purchased a large painting by the Dutch artist Peiter Van Der Meulen for the princely sum of £209 and four shillings. The large painting was said to show the arrival of  William of Orange in Ireland and its unveiling in front of members was eventful to say the least. The large painting did indeed seem to show William astride his horse but the cheers of the assembled unionist members of Parliament turned to uproar as they inspected the painting more closely. In the top left-hand corner, sitting on a cloud appeared to be Pope Innocent XI, blessing William. In front of his horse stood a Dominican Friar, replete with rosary beads.

Of course, any cursory reading of history will tell you that the Williamite wars in Ireland were part of a wider conflict in Europe at the time, known as the ‘Nine Years War.’ It pitted the French against a ‘Grand Alliance’ which included Germans, Austrians, William of Orange and the Papal States under Pope Innocent XI, all of whom all wanted to curtail French expansionism. Pope Innocent was on the side of those who opposed the French and as William of Orange was an ally in that struggle, he naturally wanted him to defeat King James in Ireland. Indeed, it has been noted that upon hearing of William’s victory, Pope Innocent ordered the bells of Rome to be rung in celebration.

The painting unveiled in Stormont that day in 1933 appeared to show this Papal support for William and it was a little too much for some to take. The mythology of 1690, the Boyne and Aughrim would have us believe that the Protestant forces of King William defeated the Catholic army of his father-in-law King James, but in reality, both armies had soldiers from both denominations among their troops. That a painting on display in the self-proclaimed, ‘Protestant parliament for a Protestant people’ demonstrated the Catholic church supporting William caused what some describe today as cognitive dissonance; that feeling that one’s thoughts and beliefs may not be based on firm evidence.

The painting was vandalised by Scottish visitors to the Parliament in May 1933. Mary Ratcliffe, wife of the leader of the Scottish Protestant League, Alexander Ratcliffe and Charles Forrester attacked it for its ‘Papish content.’ Mrs Radcliffe slashed it with a knife and Forrester threw red paint over the image of Pope Innocent. Both were arrested and fined £65. (Over £3000 in today’s money) The painting was restored, although mysteriously the Dominican Friar’s rosary beads were painted out during that process. It was then quietly stored away out of sight for decades.

Alexander Ratcliffe, the husband of the woman who slashed the painting, was the founder and leader of the Scottish Protestant League, a Glasgow based  political party which between the wars gained as much as 23% of the vote in local elections. He wrote such ‘classics’ as ‘The truth about the Jews,’ ‘Evolution: Hell with the lid off,’ and came from that dour Calvinistic tradition which saw life as a test to be endured. His abiding hatred though was of Catholicism and the Irish population of Scotland who he petitioned to be expelled from the country. In the end he became a fully-fledged fascist after visiting Nazi Germany in the late 1930s. He was still writing anti-Catholic and anti-Jewish pamphlets during the war and was among the first Holocaust-deniers in Europe.

In Edinburgh a sister party, the ‘Protestant Action Society arose with similar aims although the British Union of Fascists support for Irish unity saw the PAS attack their meetings. Their leader, John Cormac, became something of a rabble rouser and used the press to mobilise his supporters onto the streets. He also had a knack for self-promotion and when the Town Council bestowed the Freedom of the City to, among others, Australian Premier, Joseph Lyons, Cormac, realising Lyons was a Catholic disrupted the ceremony by shouting, ‘No Popery!’ and ‘Down with the Papes!’ He was ejected from the hall and a disapproving press described his outburst as ‘unseemly.’

When it was announced that the Catholics of Edinburgh were organising a Eucharistic Congress in the city in the summer of 1935, Cormac found a new avenue for inciting the mob. He forewarned what might happen and even wrote to the newspapers in advance saying…

‘When, and where the Popish Authorities openly propagate their blasphemous doctrine, we, the Protestants of Edinburgh will turn out in Protest. We are Protestant “Actionists” not jelly fish. If the papists are allowed to hold a Eucharistic Congress in June, 30, or 40 thousand, Protestants will know the reason why.’

After one of his rallies in the Usher Hall in Edinburgh, his audience were so roused by his fierce anti-Catholic rhetoric that some left the hall in an angry and confrontational mood. One newspaper reported their actions with the following words…

‘After the meeting the most disgraceful scenes were witnessed. Concerted attacks were made on a number of buses. Stones were thrown at them and their windows broken - and their occupants injured. One of the oldest and most respected Priests in the diocese was a passenger in one of the buses along with a number of his school children. All the windows of that bus were smashed and he himself was struck by a stone and narrowly escaped serious injury from a second missile. Other buses containing women and children were also attacked. A Priest walking on the street was struck by a man with a knuckle-duster or similar weapon and his face cut.  He took refuge in a passing motor car which was stoned and a lady passenger struck. An English Priest, a guest of Lord Moncrieff, was assaulted earlier in the evening, and a number of others were only saved by the intervention of Police or civilians.’

A letter from a Protestant clergyman to the Scotsman newspaper laid these outrages at the door of Cormac. He wrote…

‘Those actions aroused the lowest form of bestial hate in the tatterdemalions (raggedly dressed folk) of Edinburgh who acclaim superiority to ‘Popery’ by howling foul blasphemy, attacking women, isolated groups of Catholic men and even Priests.’

When the Eucharistic Congress began on a fine June day, 170 buses brought Catholics to the city. It is estimated that some 15,000 attended the Congress in the leafy suburb of Morningside. They were met by a crowd of 20,000 demonstrators led by Cormac. Buses were stoned, people assaulted and Edinburgh’s Police force had their work cut out defending the men, women and children attending the religious gathering. The ensuing riot, in which the Police were not slow to deal with trouble makers, is one that modern, cosmopolitan Edinburgh would like to forget.

Archbishop McDonald wrote to the Secretary of State for Scotland and was himself clear that the mob had been incited by the ‘inflammatory language used by speakers like Cormac. He informed the Secretary of State that the Catholic men of Edinburgh were already forming defence committees and would defend their people. In fairness, the Police, the majority of the press, the courts and the civil authorities were hard on the bigots and many were brought to book. The Lord Provost, Louis Stewart Gumley, himself born in Dublin before moving to Edinburgh in his youth, said of the mob…

‘The sectarian spirit is a heady thing and some people seemed to have lost their moral and mental balance over this subject. Every honest minded British citizen deplores the Jew baiting in Nazi Germany, we want no baiting of Roman Catholics here. There is enough ill will in the world, and even in our own country without adding the fires of religious fanaticism to it.’

It was interesting to note that during an Orange Parade in Edinburgh in 2014, a Channel 4 news reporter asked Orangemen why the words ‘No Popery’ appeared on one of the banners. He was told, rather unconvincingly, that whilst the Orange Order abhorred the doctrine of the Catholic Church, it did not hate Catholics. A senior Orangeman then said that the banner should not have been there. Had the news reporter known his local history, he would have seen that the man pictured on the banner was none other than John Cormac, Orangeman and chief rabble rouser at the time of the Edinburgh riot of 1935.

The Orange Order has a somewhat uncomfortable time explaining its attitude towards Catholics and those of Irish extraction in Scotland. For the average Catholic in the street to see banners portraying men like Cormac or Bill Campbell, a Scottish UVF bomber who blew up Catholic pubs in Glasgow, is disconcerting. As is the playing of tunes at parades which pander to the element described as ‘tatterdemalions’ in 1935. Some may well be decent, evangelical Christians with no hate in their hearts for anyone but each year their parades lead to tasteless scenes it’s hard to reconcile with Christian love and tolerance.

I spoke to a Catholic friend recently who was caught up in one of this month’s parades in the Partick area of Glasgow. She found it both sad and intimidating. That’s the reality for some of our fellow Scots as the heirs of Ratcliffe and Cormac march through our streets.