(for those who love Ireland)
Last Tuesday many in Northern Ireland celebrated The Glorious Twelfth.
After a pause for the last two years, due to Covid, hundreds of Orange Order parades marched to the beat of drums through cities, towns and villages across the region – and even in few localities across the border in the Republic.
Following the lighting of massive bonfires the night before, the celebrations regularly stir up heated feelings on both sides: in one incident a man picked up a wheelie bin and threw it at the people marching; the marchers retaliated by smashing his windows.
Thankfully, though, the police on the whole maintain the peace.
What is it all for?
The marches commemorate William of Orange’s defeat of James II, at the Battle of the Boyne, fought on the banks of the river near the town of Drogheda, on 1st July, 1690.
The Glorious Revolution
Two years before, James II had been overthrown in a bloodless (and hence, “glorious”) revolution. An ardent Catholic, he had been seeking to reimpose Catholicism on Protestant England.
The last of the male Stuart monarchs, he also firmly believed in the divine right of the king to exercise ultimate authority. Parliament, whose own authority had been strenuously fought for and won under Oliver Cromwell less than half a century before, were alarmed and invited his Protestant daughter, Mary, along with her husband, William of Orange, to take the throne.
James fled to Ireland to raise an army there. William met, and defeated him, at The Battle of the Boyne, thereby changing forever the course of British history.
Mary was succeeded by her Protestant sister, Anne, the last of the Stuart monarchs.
The Marching Begins
It was more than a hundred years later that the marching began and the victory began to be celebrated by the Orangemen.
For years there had been clashes between rival gangs of Protestants and Catholics. But it was not until 1795, that members of some of the Protestant gangs formed the Orange Order. And only the following year was the first march organised on 12th July to celebrate William’s victory.
Though conducted more peacefully nowadays, from the beginning the marches have provoked, sometimes violent, reactions on both sides.
Writing in 1860, William Gibson[1] observed:
“For many years the anniversary of the Battle of the Boyne had been associated in the minds of the lower class of Irish Protestants with uncontrollable displays of party animosity and hatred. Glorious in itself as was the achievement of William of Orange in breaking the iron dominion of a Papal despot, and in erecting constitutional liberty on its ruins, that illustrious name had with the unthinking multitude become a synonym with ignorant bravado, and with 
unreasoning hostility both to the system and the abettors of Romanism. With the return of each successive Twelfth of July there was an ebullition [boiling over] of political and religious frenzy, often provocative of resistance, and terminating in violence and bloodshed.”
As 12th July 1859, drew near, Gibson goes on:
“Although a marked change had taken place in the feelings of the Orangemen towards their Roman Catholic neighbours prior to the anniversary of the Boyne, the mode in which that anniversary would pass over was a subject of much anxious speculation.”
Revival
But 1859 saw revival sweep through much of Northern Ireland.
“The revival spread out across the whole land family by family, village by village, and town by town. Within weeks 10,000 were converted…
“Everything seemed at a standstill and the noise of people crying for mercy or the singing of praise came from many homes night and day. One Minister said that ‘The difficulty used to be to get the people into the church, but the difficulty now is to get them out.’
“The life changing and society changing results were very evident. A great blow came to the drinking houses of the land as drunkards were convicted and saved. Even whole distilleries were closed. Crime dropped by half within months as the land came under the influences of God’s workings.”[2]
But, what of the Orangemen?
What of the marching?
The Glorious Twelfth?
One observer noted:
“When that gracious movement reached Belfast, I joined an organisation that had come to the help of the Lord, and the field assigned to me was that very famous district called Sandy Row [a traditionally Protestant area, noted for its elaborate Orange Order parades on the Twelfth], and its adjuncts, where the people had been taught ‘to catch the Papist birds by throwing stones at them.’ Yes, the essence of Protestantism, and the conversion of the Romanists in that region, consisted in the abundant use of brickbats and bludgeons.
“But the old war-cries were now hushed by a higher voice, and in few parts of our beloved land was that short sermon oftener preached, ‘Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved,’ than in this very district.
“I had been assisting elsewhere, and my direct road on leaving lay through some of the most intensely Popish and Orange districts in Belfast. On the evening of any similar anniversary I would have performed no ordinary feat to have passed through those districts, but I had no fears now. There were no breaking of lamps and constables’ heads—no flinging of the ‘Macadam’ missile nor of the paving stones. The streets were crowded with the young of both sexes, but good humour and enjoyment were the distinguishing features of the scene…
“I never heard with anything like the same emotion as I did on that occasion, the soul-inspiring strains float on the still calm air of that sweet July evening. There, where one of the principal thoroughfares joins the street, were assembled a large number of young females, and these surrounded by men, women, and children. As I approached, the 23rd Psalm was falling in sweet cadence on the gale.”
And, significantly:
“Throughout the day none of the usual emblems of the Twelfth appeared—no Orange garlands, nor arches flung over the streets. The only regret I heard expressed was, that the past was so unlike the present.”
Furthermore:
“Seven months have passed since then. Time, that great tester, and a winter, one of the most unpropitious we ever saw, have not seen the revival work arrested. In-door has taken the place of out-door worship. In a district where formerly some four or five prayer-meetings could with difficulty be maintained, there are now, I believe, twenty-five.”
William Gibson spoke of how he himself was “visiting, a short time afterwards, in a row inhabited exclusively by mill hands, and meeting a number of girls who had been brought under the influence of the revival”:
“They all exclaimed, referring to the late anniversary, ‘It was another sort of Twelfth than the one before it. You would not have known it was the Twelfth at all.’ ‘You may well say that,’ remarked one of their number, who had been, till a few weeks before, a Roman Catholic. ‘Don’t you remember how you chased me, and others of my sort, through the country for hours that day, till you nearly frightened us out of our wits? But now we are all like sisters of one family, and the head of it is Christ.’”
Another wrote of that day, in Lurgan:
“The Presbyterian church was quite filled with people met for prayer, conducted by a representative of each of the Protestant denominations in town. Not a drunk man was to be seen in the streets. The people continued in their homes, or at their work, and the language of one of them—a young man who used to take a prominent part in the fun and frolic of the occasion, might doubtless have been used by multitudes—‘It was the happiest Twelfth I ever spent.’”
He adds:
“Early in summer, I was called on to give a subscription to the building or providing of an Orange Hall. I refused. The young man, a member of my own congregation, was much dissatisfied. The revival came. Soon after meeting him in the street, I inquired regarding the progress of the hall. ‘O sir,’ said he, ‘it would be better for everyone to try and serve God Almighty, and let party work alone!’ I believe it is the conclusion to which many, by the blessing of God, have been brought.”
Change came to other Orange Lodges also in the use of contributions. In County Monaghan, in a Lodge “composed of some forty young men”:
“They met monthly, and each contributed a fixed sum at every meeting for the purpose of procuring refreshments, which consisted almost entirely of whisky. So much as £13 [about 3,000 AUD today] has been expended in one year in this way.
“But they now meet principally for religious exercises—singing, prayer, or reading God’s Word. They continue their monthly contributions, and twice since July have asked me to expend a very considerable sum in purchase of books for a library which they have established, and which is likely very soon to contain a large and valuable collection of books. Now they never have any intoxicating drinks at their meetings.”
Another, writing from Dundrod, testified:
“I had never been a favourite with the Orangemen of the district. I had been instrumental in suppressing a public-house at the gate of our church, in which they were in the habit of assembling, and which had long been an intolerable nuisance. This house, and the adjoining property, were purchased in behalf of the congregation, and the manse now stands where it stood. In revenge for the supposed injury done by pulling down the public-house, an ‘Orange Hall’ was erected in the immediate neighbourhood as a rallying-point for the brethren, who, night after night, met with fife and drum, and noisy clamour, to annoy the quiet dwellers in their homes in the neighbourhood, and especially myself.
“But the Lord did not pass over them; and they too, as well as others, underwent a great change, and we hope a permanent one. Before the Twelfth came, I was asked by those men, whom I had looked upon as bitter enemies to me, and to the cause of religion and morality, if I would meet them on the evening of that day, and hold a prayer-meeting in their ‘Hall.’ I at once consented to do so, on being assured that there would during the day be no party display, and no intoxicating drink used.
“The morning was ushered in with no firing of guns, no beating of drums, and no display of party banners. All was still and calm as a Sabbath. It was a holiday among the people, all labour being suspended; and early in the forenoon, men and women, in holiday attire, here and there were seen in groups, marching along, not with Orange lilies, but with Bibles in their hands, as if going on a Sabbath morning to the house of God.
“A deputation, including the master of the ‘lodge,’ waited on me in the manse, and requested me to go over to the hall and pray with them, before proceeding to a field at some distance, where they were to meet others, and engage in religious exercises. I soon found myself in strange company, and was put in the honoured seat, and officiated as chaplain to an Orange lodge, reading first their printed prayer, (which I must say is a most admirable one,) and then knelt down in the midst of the brethren, and many others who came to see and hear this new thing, and heartily blessed God for His wonderful works, and prayed that the reign of peace on earth and good-will among men might that day be inaugurated and firmly established in the midst of us.
“With Bibles in their hands, and peace and good-will in their hearts—with no music playing, no flags flying, and with no jar of whisky to refresh them on the march—they walked decently and soberly, and in good order, to the field, where many hundreds met them, and joined them in praise and prayer, and other religious exercises. There could not have been a more attentive and serious congregation, and the different parties retired to their respective districts, wondering, as they went, at the strange things they had seen and heard. In the evening about fifteen hundred persons of all denominations met in the open air, where I preached to them, after which all went quietly to their homes.
“Thus passed the Twelfth of July 1859—a day much indeed to be remembered. Here was another glorious triumph—the name of Jesus was exalted above every other name. The name of the ‘glorious, pious, and immortal’ William was not heard from a single lip; the Pope escaped his usual malediction; the publicans and sinners bit their lips in disappointment, for their ‘occupation’ was gone. Satan seemed to have fallen like lightning from heaven, and the Prince of peace reigned throughout the day. Since then we have had no party strifes, no beating of drums, no ‘Punch dances,’ no drunken revels—nothing to hurt or annoy the tenderest conscience. We have had a fair trial of the gospel here, and we find it has lost none of its essence since the times of Paul. It is indeed ‘the power of God unto salvation,’ pulling down the strongholds of sin; checking, if not eradicating, the worst propensities of fallen nature; and making out of the rudest and most unpromising materials a moral, peaceful, and happy people.”
From other counties: Tyrone, Armagh, Derry, Monaghan, Down – similar testimonies flowed:
- “The month before the revival in this neighbourhood, it was in a ferment—nightly marchings, law proceedings, etc. Since the movement began, not a drum has been struck in the bounds, and the leading Orangemen meet and pray for the Romanists, whom a little ago they hated.”
- “Party spirit, from the moment the revival became manifest disappeared. This is worthy of very special notice, as it prevailed in this locality to a most pernicious extent. It was not worse anywhere.”
- “Newtonlimavady was the Stronghold of Orangeism. On the Twelfth of July, the day was spent in preaching, praise, and prayer ; and since the commencement of the Lord’s work in June, I have not heard the utterance of a party word, nor seen a party emblem displayed.”
- “There is no party spirit; no Orange parade; no beating of drums; no exclamations, ‘to hell with the pope’ no wickedness towards the Roman Catholics.”
In 1859 the marching stopped.
Prayer, praise and the preaching of the gospel took over.
Catholics and Orangemen alike were converted.
The Testimony of Two Roman Catholics
“One Catholic journalist in a Dublin Newspaper said he would accept the movement as from God if the Boyne Celebration passed without trouble in Durham Street, Belfast. This Protestant street each year would indulge in drink and a party spirit which culminated in riots and bloodshed.
“But this year under the influence of the revival such things gave way to prayer and praise and no trouble came forth.”[3]
Chief Baron Pigott, himself a Roman Catholic, took occasion, when sitting on the bench in County Down, a few days after the great Orange anniversary, to refer, in the language of the reporters, “to the religious movement in the north as having extinguished all party animosities, and produced the most wholesome moral results upon the community at large;” and he “expressed a hope that it would extend over the whole country, and influence society to its lowest depths.”
Reliable eyewitnesses testified that more Catholics were converted in 1859 than in the previous 50 years.
. Yes, I remember that I cried
. As I read of this and more beside
. For something stirred up hope inside
. The day the drum-beat died
This truly was: THE GLORIOUS TWELFTH
(for those who love the Lord)
[1] William Gibson was Moderator of the Presbyterian Church of Ireland (PCI) in 1860, when he documented, “THE YEAR OF GRACE: A HISTORY OF THE ULSTER REVIVAL OF 1859”. The original volume ran to 437 pages. An abridged version, running to 256 pages was published by the PCI in 1908, and reproduced by Sprinkle Publications in 1994. All quotes in this post are from William Gibson (unless noted otherwise) and are from the original longer edition. [2] http://www.limerickcitychurch.com/blog/-national-revival-pt-4 [3] ibid.