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The Red Hand of Ulster
Birmingham, George A. The Red Hand of Ulster. Introduction by R. B. D. French. Shannon, Irish University Press, 1972. 23 cm. xvi, 277 pages. Original Hardcover with original dustjacket. The dustjacket with some fraying and a minor tear. Excellent condition with only minor signs of external wear. Name of preowner on endpaper.
277 pages, Hardcover
First published July 13, 2015
About the author
George A. Birmingham
149 books8 followersReverend
James Owen Hannay
(1865-1950) was born in Belfast and educated at Haileybury and Trinity College, Dublin. He wrote some of his books under the pseudonym George A. Birmingham. His most famous works include: The Spirit and Origin of Christian Monasticism (1903), The Seething Plot (1905), Hyacinth (1906), Benedict Cavanagh (1907), The Northern Iron (1907), The Bad Times (1908), Spanish Gold (1908), The Search Party (1909), Lalage's Lovers (1911), The Major's Niece (1911), The Red Hand of Ulster (1912), The Simpkins Plot (1912), The Adventures of Dr. Whitty (1913), General John Regan (1913), Gossamer (1915), Inisheeny (1920), Send for Dr O'Grady (1923), Found Money (1923), The Great Grandmother (1923), King Tommy (1924), Goodly Pearls (1926), Fidgets (1927), The Hymn Tune Mystery (1930), Wild Justice (1930), and Elizabeth and the Archdeacon (1932).
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
May 3, 2020
Joseph Peterson Conroy, an American plutocrat and possibly the richest man in the world, arrives in London in 1908 and enjoys all the fame and luxury that his money entails. However, by 1911 he is bored and looking for a cause to inspire him when the idea of financing an Irish revolution presents itself.
Only not in the south but in the north, in Belfast.
Assisted by his secretary, Bob Power, and inspired by a keen, ancestral hatred for the English, the non-religious Conroy teams up with Gideon McNeice, a zealot of 'violent Protestantism'. An Irish peer joins the enterprise and narrates the satire, 'the short struggle between north-eastern Ulster and the rest of the British Empire.'
For a satire it is, and a fairly nimble and amusing one too for the early 20th century, full of the same spirit and irony that later characterized the Ealing comedy movies of the 1950s. Passport to Pimlico comes most readily to mind.
Like those, it's told primarily through the upper-middle classes, but there are plenty of choice working class characters too, such as small businessman Cahoon and labourer McConky, firebrands with 'a common taste for making domestic pets of machine guns'.
Much of the irony is achieved through the narrative of the peer, Lord Kilmore, whose detachment lends an absurdity to the fanaticism of the Orangeman. Kilmore is repeatedly misconstrued a Liberal when he is in fact non-partizan, which is considered impossible.
The Unionists try to enlist him as a mascot for moderation. But as he points out, 'Moderation has never been of the slightest use anywhere in Ireland'.
Also worthy of amusement for any reader who, like me, grew up in the 80's under a steady diet of depressing news coverage featuring unrest in Belfast, is the fiery character of Babberly the orator, a fictional precursor to Ian Paisley:
'If his speeches were set to music, the orchestra would necessarily consist entirely of cornets, trumpets and drums. No one could express the spirit of Babberly’s oratory on stringed instruments. Flutes would be ridiculous.'
As for the idea of a millionaire running a war, that's a ripely satirical one that wouldn't look out of place today. Can you imagine the fun a Russian oligarch could have in Scotland if he fancied sticking it to the English because he had a grudge against them for something? Maybe he failed the Premier League's (ahem) 'fit-and-proper-person test' and the government stepped in to prevent him buying Manchester United?
Whatever his own sympathies, the writer George A. Birmingham, a clergyman, seems to have had a pretty full understanding of the nature of his native Belfast and where the traditional passions of its people lay:
'In England or Scotland a countess who gives an invitation for “the 12th” is understood to mean the 12th of August, and her guest must be ready to shoot grouse. In North-Eastern Ulster “the 12th” meant the 12th of July, and the party, in this case at all events, was likely to end in the shooting of policemen.'
Only not in the south but in the north, in Belfast.
Assisted by his secretary, Bob Power, and inspired by a keen, ancestral hatred for the English, the non-religious Conroy teams up with Gideon McNeice, a zealot of 'violent Protestantism'. An Irish peer joins the enterprise and narrates the satire, 'the short struggle between north-eastern Ulster and the rest of the British Empire.'
For a satire it is, and a fairly nimble and amusing one too for the early 20th century, full of the same spirit and irony that later characterized the Ealing comedy movies of the 1950s. Passport to Pimlico comes most readily to mind.
Like those, it's told primarily through the upper-middle classes, but there are plenty of choice working class characters too, such as small businessman Cahoon and labourer McConky, firebrands with 'a common taste for making domestic pets of machine guns'.
Much of the irony is achieved through the narrative of the peer, Lord Kilmore, whose detachment lends an absurdity to the fanaticism of the Orangeman. Kilmore is repeatedly misconstrued a Liberal when he is in fact non-partizan, which is considered impossible.
The Unionists try to enlist him as a mascot for moderation. But as he points out, 'Moderation has never been of the slightest use anywhere in Ireland'.
Also worthy of amusement for any reader who, like me, grew up in the 80's under a steady diet of depressing news coverage featuring unrest in Belfast, is the fiery character of Babberly the orator, a fictional precursor to Ian Paisley:
'If his speeches were set to music, the orchestra would necessarily consist entirely of cornets, trumpets and drums. No one could express the spirit of Babberly’s oratory on stringed instruments. Flutes would be ridiculous.'
As for the idea of a millionaire running a war, that's a ripely satirical one that wouldn't look out of place today. Can you imagine the fun a Russian oligarch could have in Scotland if he fancied sticking it to the English because he had a grudge against them for something? Maybe he failed the Premier League's (ahem) 'fit-and-proper-person test' and the government stepped in to prevent him buying Manchester United?
Whatever his own sympathies, the writer George A. Birmingham, a clergyman, seems to have had a pretty full understanding of the nature of his native Belfast and where the traditional passions of its people lay:
'In England or Scotland a countess who gives an invitation for “the 12th” is understood to mean the 12th of August, and her guest must be ready to shoot grouse. In North-Eastern Ulster “the 12th” meant the 12th of July, and the party, in this case at all events, was likely to end in the shooting of policemen.'
February 8, 2020
Excellent. Great dry humour and a good imagination on the passions and what they might lead to in the loyalist Ulstermen. A pity it neglects doing the same for the Nationalist side.
An important work, originally written in 1912, before the actual history of the time imagined here.
An important work, originally written in 1912, before the actual history of the time imagined here.
February 2, 2012
I loved the satirical ironic tone, laughed aloud sometimes, chuckled regularly, and smiled frequently. As with satire at its best, this novel deals with some very weighty issues behind the humour.
October 26, 2014
Very funny in parts. Dragged at the end for me. Not about inter religious tensions at all.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews