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.
