Redemption - Leon Uris [153]
Despite the fact that the bill posed no real threat to the Unionists of Ulster, the mere words Home Rule were sufficient to open Pandora’s box.
In early April of 1912, the Liberal and Irish Parties passed the Third Home Rule Bill in the House of Commons by 110 votes.
On April 14, the House of Lords rejected Irish Home Rule, 326 to 69.
The Liberals slated a second reading of the bill in Commons for later in the year, but across the sea Protestant Ulster was in a frenzy. Having earlier signed their Act of Covenant, often in blood, the province erupted in massive rallies from end to end. As the Protestant protest lapped up on England’s shores, the Conservative Party leapt on the issue, sensing that any anti-Irish measure would gain popularity.
Protests, well financed from Ulster, swept England and Wales and Scotland. Conservatives fanned the fires with the goal of bringing down the Liberal government.
On cue, Rudyard Kipling penned a heroic new poem, soon memorized and recited with fervor by every Protestant school child in the British Isles.
We know the war prepared
On every peaceful home.
We know the hells declared
For such as serve not Rome.
In terror, threats and dread,
In market, hearth and field,
We know when all is said
We perish if we yield.
Believe, we dare not boast.
Believe we do not fear.
We stand to pay the cost
In all that men hold dear.
What answer from the North?
One Law, one Land, one Throne.
If England drives us forth,
We shall not fall alone.
Orange Ulster had declared war on anything within shooting range: Irish Catholics, Liberals, many of their own, and certainly everybody who disagreed with them.
For Roger Hubble, the Fourteenth Earl of Foyle, it was resurrection time. Armed with a wide-open mandate, Roger revived his Belfast connections. On matters of Unionism, Roger and Sir Frederick were still allies. Bringing in four of the most powerful Unionists in the province along with some high-ranking Ulster military, a series of attacks were concocted, each upping the ante against the British government.
The Ulster Militia, hitherto not quite legal, came out into the open for recruits after a public appeal by Sir Frederick himself.
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than a spokesman for 170 Unionist clubs and Orange lodges with a membership of 17,000 men of military age pledged to enlist their entire membership the minute the Militia’s doors opened.
Lord Roberts, the leading general of India, tendered his resignation, presumably to assume command of the Militia.
Targeted retired British officers were contacted for hire to form a quasi-army with transportation, medical corps, intelligence units, communications, and whatever else the Militia required.
Sir Frederick was peppered with questions at a press conference that followed. Is this not a private army belonging to a political party? Is it loyal to the Crown? Is it legal?
“The Ulster Militia,” Sir Frederick said cheekily, “may or may not be legal, depending on whose bull we are goring. We are only committed to the continued freedom of Ulster as part of the United Kingdom. That is legal! Furthermore, we will shoot anyone who denies us our British heritage.”
“Does that mean the Militia will shoot British soldiers?” he was asked.
“Sir, no British soldier would shoot a kindred Ulsterman. Anyone who would order him to do so is a traitor!”
In England the Conservatives picked up on the word traitor…and the Liberals scrambled to organize themselves against the next assault, lest they go down as being incapable of governing the nation.
With the Liberals on the defensive, the Conservative-Unionist coalition pressed on audaciously.
What was amazing was the civility with which Sir Frederick could work with his loathed son-in-law on Unionist matters. Roger had concocted a scenario that, if successful, might well be the jugular blow to Asquith.
It was a conspiracy of lovely delicacy.
The now Brigadier