Sunday, September 26th, 1875.
The procession that had been warned of or threatened with violence occurred without incident and on time on Sunday morning. Accounts of the procession, and indeed, accounts of all the events that took place on this day, vary widely, depending on our source. Some sources say the procession was stripped of all its ‘offensive’ accoutrements, as Archbishop Lynch said, and it was sparsely attended. The Irish Canadian, on the other hand, reports a different view of the stripped-down ceremony. The Bishops were wearing their cope and mitre, each attended by his priests, one bearing the crozier, while the episcopal cross was borne before the archbishop. No mention is made of banners, thurifers, singing, nor bands. Yet for all that, the paper described the procession as “the grandest and most impressive ever held in Toronto,” and, unlike the reports of sparse attendance from The Mail, “was attended by at least 5,000 people, every inch of standing or sitting room in the cathedral being occupied, while many persons were unable to obtain entrance.”1 It is impossible to reconcile the two claims, and difficult to choose between them. Both papers had their allegiances and their agendas, both were prone to hyperbole. However, the council had been advertised, and many Catholics were likely to try and attend. Five thousand people may be an exaggeration, but it may not be an extreme one.
The presence of several thousand people at the Cathedral may also explain why nothing happened at that time: the Orangemen and Young Britons may have found themselves outnumbered and unwilling to start anything. A fair few of them may even have been counted among the ‘5,000’. However, if any of them had slipped into the Cathedral to witness the service there, they may have had a rude shock. Bishop John Walsh of London, Ontario preached the opening sermon of the council, which would be reprinted in full the next day in The Globe and on Wednesday in The Irish Canadian. Bishop Walsh’s choice of subject matter was on the authority of teachers, and how Christ did not write a book to be read, but set up an institution with duly appointed teachers and leaders to guide the flock. Those who discard the teachers and pursue the book for themselves, he said, were grievously wrong. The night before, and that very morning, the bishops and leaders of the council had avoided offending the Protestants of Toronto. Had any Protestant heard this sermon, however, it would have been as pouring gasoline on a fire.
Even so, there were no reports of any incidents that Sunday morning. Perhaps the Archbishop and all his suffragen bishops may have thought the danger had passed. They were, sadly, terribly mistaken. They had overlooked something terribly important, and it is now time to reveal what that was: by a mere coincidence, the procession proposed for the morning of Sunday the 26th of September was not the only Catholic procession that was to happen that day.
Pius IX had declared 1875 to be a Jubilee year and as such was to be marked by special celebrations and also special Jubilee indulgences. As Archbishop Lynch explained in a letter to the faithful: they could gain “full remission of all temporal punishments due to your sins after you will have obtained forgiveness for them in the sacrament of penance.” One of the conditions was fifteen visits or pilgrimages to parish churches or the Cathedral to pray for special intentions. The Archbishop asked the faithful of Toronto to visit four churches (their parish, the cathedral and two others-Toronto did not have fifteen Catholic churches in it at that time) multiple times. The pilgrimages had begun in June and July of that year and had occurred without incident. The pilgrimages were halted in July and August due to the oppressive heat of the summer and were to be taken up again when the weather cooled somewhat. One of the renewed Jubilee pilgrimages was scheduled for this very Sunday, September 26th., with the congregations of St Paul’s, St. Basil’s and St Mary’s taking part. It is for this reason, the second procession that was to happen on this day, that the events that were about to unfold would become known as The Jubilee Riots.
Whether it was because they were too late for the first procession, or didn’t wish to cause trouble with that many people present, those opposed to the procession did not disturb the procession which marked the opening of the first provincial council, but some of the young men appeared to have stayed by the Cathedral, and, according to The Globe, “were heard to utter threats that no procession would be permitted, and if one was attempted, they would break it up.”2 And then, the Jubilee procession came into view.
The parishioners of St Paul’s had formed up at their church near Queen and Power Streets, and began their march along Queen St towards the Cathedral. They were at this time in old Corktown, the most Irish part of the old city. Whether or not they were marching behind a processional cross and a banner of the Blessed Virgin Mary became a matter of some debate in the week to come- some would say yes, others no, and both would claim to be eyewitnesses. Their march was quiet, as they turned up Church Street, and turned again onto Shuter Street. When they reached the Cathedral at Shuter and Bond Streets there was a crowd of young men watching their progress. There were no incidents before the Cathedral, though, and the pilgrims went inside to say their prayers, devotions and receive their blessing from the bishops. When they came out, the crowd that had been watching them when they went in had increased a little in size.
The procession formed up on Bond Street, marched south to Queen Street and turned west on Queen. They were leaving the Irish Catholic part of the city as they made their way towards, ironically, St. Patrick’s church on Dummer Street (now St. Patrick’s street). The crowd of young men followed them and were joined by others on the way. Some ran off to tell their friends. As they made their way along Queen Street some young boys amused themselves by shouting “To hell with the Pope! To hell with the Pope!” at the procession. The young men stayed in step with the procession. More joined them.
The procession reached St. Patrick’s, and, as at the Cathedral, they went inside to say their prayers and perform their devotions. When they left the church about fifteen minutes later, again reformed and headed south on Dummer Street. When they reached Queen they found their way blocked by a throng of several hundred Young Britons and Orangemen. The situation was tense as the two groups glared at each other. Then someone threw a stone.
Very quickly both sides were throwing stones and fighting. Pedestrians not involved quickly removed themselves from the danger of the fight. Some sought the police. Most of the procession tried to continue along towards St Mary’s at Adelaide and Bathurst. About half a dozen Police officers showed up and began trying to separate the warring factions, and immediately found themselves targeted by both sides. More police arrived, and they managed to disperse the crowds enough that the women and children and some of the men, particularly the older ones, were able to continue on their way towards Bathurst. At this point, someone drew a pistol and fired a shot.
The pilgrims pushed their way through the running stone and now gun fight to make their way to St Mary’s. There they rested while more police were sent for. When the pilgrims were allowed out of the church, there was a large number of police separating them from their attackers, who had formed themselves up on Adelaide Street near Portland to block the way of the procession back to St Paul’s and home. The police instead directed the procession South to King Street, which the processionists would take back to St Paul’s. But their assailants ran parallel to them along Adelaide, and would take the southbound side streets to attack the procession again and again at every intersection.
For a small time the police managed to cut off the attackers and push them back. The processionists were safe briefly, until they reached Brock Street (now the south end of Spadina Avenue.) More stones were thrown. The police pushed back, and now the women and children and elderly among the procession made their best escape. The men continued on. More stones were thrown where King crossed Peter Street, and again at John Street, and again at Simcoe Street in front of the old Government House. More shots were fired. The police now charged what was left of the rioters and broke them up.
By this time it was about five o’clock in the afternoon. The riot was effectively over, though scuffles and fighting amongst isolate groups continued for some time. By eight o’clock the streets were their usual quiet for a Sunday evening.
Incredibly, perhaps even miraculously, no one was killed. There were many broken heads and other hurts from the stones thrown, but no one had been hit by any bullets. There were only two arrests made, both from among those who attacked the procession: William Corcoran and Arthur Crawford.
Word of the riot quickly spread throughout the city. In newspaper rooms writers were quickly hammering out their version of events for the morning press. The Mayor and the Archbishop would both have been told of the events, and began composing letters. The Irish Greens and Orange Lodge both heard of what had happened. There was something within all this talk that lent an urgency not usually seen in the common disturbances of the city: This was not the only pilgrimage. There was another one scheduled for the next Sunday, October Third. What was going to happen then?
I did mention that these events are now called the Jubilee Riots, plural, did I not?
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