Origins_Revolution

by Mark Henrikson

  He could not do that though. It would be a direct challenge to their infallibility, and if Henry valued his career, then he dared not challenge the king and his advisors directly. Instead, Henry forced a contrite expression to his lips and steeled himself for a stern reprimand as he marched into the king’s presence feeling like a young boy called to the schoolmaster’s office for his misdeeds.

  It was the same featureless room as before, built of stone with a long rectangular table in the middle. King George sat at the head while seven other individuals lined either side of the table.

  “General, have a seat please,” the Prime Minister said gesturing to the only empty seat residing next to him. The words were polite, but his stern tone made it an order to obey.

  That caused Henry to swallow hard. The Prime Minister had done much to promote Henry’s career over the years. If he was not on his side now, then this was going to be a very unpleasant exchange.

  Henry circled the table without a word and felt all eyes in the room on him as he walked with measured strides echoing against the stone walls with each step. He pulled out his designated chair and bowed slightly toward the king before taking his seat. He paid his father, seated to his right, a quick glance before turning left to meet the Prime Minister’s eyes.

  “There is really only one question we need to ask you, General,” the Prime Minister began. “What…the hell…is going on in our Massachusetts colony?”

  “To be clear, it is not just Massachusetts. Charleston, Philadelphia, New York City, Princeton, Chestertown, Annapolis, and Greenwich, just to name a few of the more prominent locals, have all carried out organized protests of the Tea Act,” Henry explained.

  “Yes, the governor already informed us of such, but you were actually in the Boston Harbor aboard the warship Romney when the raid took place. All the chaos in those other cities stemmed from the example set in Boston, one that you let happen right under the barrels of your fifty cannons aboard that ship.”

  Exhibit A of these elitists not having a clue how things work in the real world, away from their heady ponderings in this secluded chamber, Henry thought, but had the good sense not to vocalize. Instead, he said aloud, “Following an organized community meeting, several thousand colonials poured into the streets rioting. I deployed my men to take back the streets of Boston before too much damage could be done to our public buildings.”

  “We succeeded in that effort, but while that chaos reigned for most of the night, men disguised as Native American Indians boarded the ships and dumped the tea. I was not even aware of that specific incident until the next morning,” Henry admitted.

  “Why didn’t you use the Romney and her cannons?” King George asked. “I expect that the thunder of guns would have settled the city straight away.”

  “Respectfully, Your Majesty, the Romney is a weapon of war. It is of minimal use keeping the peace within a friendly city,” Henry countered. “Everyone knows we will not fire into the city on our own citizens. Alternatively, firing warning shots into the harbor would have only served to remind the colonials of the unfortunate Incident on King Street. An incident that they have dubbed the Boston Massacre I might add. The last thing we needed that night was to remind the colonials of those events, the so-called Sons of Liberty do enough of that already.”

  “Is that who boarded the ships and destroyed the shipment of tea, these Sons of Liberty?” the Prime Minister asked.

  “There is little doubt of that fact in my mind, but unfortunately, there is even less proof of it in reality to offer in a court of law. The raiders were disguised,” Henry answered.

  “So there are no individuals to prosecute then?” the king asked and received a quiet nod of agreement from Henry before continuing his thought process. “We must make examples of them all then. I am of the opinion that when once these rebels have felt a smart blow, they will submit; and no situation can ever change my fixed resolution to bring the colonies to due obedience to the legislature of the mother country!”

  In an all too characteristic display of anger, King George slammed his fist on the table and bolted to his feet to issue his proclamation. “Enact measures through Parliament that the entire Massachusetts colony will feel. Lock down Boston from trade, revoke their charter, and find the most intrusive measures possible to weed out these Sons of Liberty. Strike them swift and hard, and they will heel.”

  Henry struggled to keep his jaw from dropping open in horror. This would send things over the edge in the colonies rather than settle things down. He needed to say something. The king needed to hear rational council from someone other than this tribe of yes men. That intent must have been clearly visible as both his father and the Prime Minister placed hands of restraint on Henry’s thighs to keep him settled and quiet.

  Not another word was spoken until the king had left the chamber and pulled his gaggle of advisors with him, leaving Henry alone with two fellow Freemasons. Henry was ready to explode in protest, but allowed his elders to speak their minds first.

  “I know you disagree with that order,” Henry’s father began, “but part of having the maturity to handle an audience with the king is knowing when his mind is made up. You saw his state. Nothing was going to change it, and anyone who tried would feel his spite going forward. We must now do as we’re told.”

  “I’ve been around the block long enough to know that challenging the king directly when he’s like that is unwise, father. I also know that you and your fellow 34th degree members have been handling the king and his anger issues long enough to steer him straight when needed. All of us know that the colonies are about to erupt in chaos and his order will only make things worse,” Henry insisted.

  “Suppose we do nothing, what then?” the Prime Minister asked. “Will things suddenly get better?”

  Henry gave the question some thought and had to admit, things were only getting worse. The protest movement was like a snowball rolling down hill, picking up size and speed as it moved. He said nothing, but Henry did shake his head to concede the point.

  “You have been at the epicenter of his rebellious movement for some time now, General. What do you really think is going on?” the Prime Minister asked.

  “The colonies were always irritated by the taxing and trade issues, but it was just idle talk in back rooms and bars up until a few months ago,” Henry said. “I don’t know which particular straw broke the camel’s back, but things quickly moved from talk to protest.”

  “It started when you arrived with the Romney in Boston Harbor,” Henry’s father offered as explanation.

  “No, it was a little before that,” Henry quickly countered. “I went to Boston in reaction to ships being unloaded without paying the import duties. When I came ashore that day, the crowds attack seemed oddly focused on me. It almost felt…personal.”

  That last word caused the Prime Minister and Admiral Clinton to exchange a knowing glance that Henry did not miss. “What is that? You know something. Do I have an enemy in the colonies of which I am unaware?”

  A slight nod from the Prime Minister gave Henry’s father leave to explain. “You might actually be very aware of the enemy who is pushing the American rebellion forward from behind the scenes if you’re feeling a personal edge to the activities.”

  “Oh you need to explain that to me then.”

  “Before you and I left for the Americas I told you there was a great evil in the world that we, the inner circle, are fighting against,” the admiral began. “An element of that evil was your friend who died in Edinburgh. I told you as much years ago, but what I didn’t tell you was that you may have to face that evil again.”

  “What, that man who fell out the window? You’re saying he might have come back from the grave to haunt me in the American colonies?” Henry asked with a laugh at the preposterous notion.

  “No, that man is dead. We know that for certain, but we also know that the evil we fight is able to retain knowledge and carry it forward to others who serve its purp
ose,” the Prime Minster explained. “If the rebellion in the Americas feels personal to you, then it might very well be personal because of what happened in Edinburgh.”

  “How is that even possible?” Henry sneered. He knew the 34th degree Freemasons had their secrets, but this was just ludicrous. “You think this is some supernatural being fighting us?”

  Again, his father and the Prime Minster exchanged a curious look. This time there was a slight headshake to the negative before his father explained. “Not necessarily. It could be a vast network of agents sharing intelligence with each other, the same as we do. The point is, our enemy is at work in the colonies. There can be no doubt of that fact now, and we have plans to handle it.”

  “You have a plan, great!” Henry exclaimed with mock enthusiasm. “Can I please be let in on that plan seeing as I will be the one most directly impacted by it.”

  “Rest assured, you will be informed of things when the time is right,” the Prime Minister said in the process of standing. “Now, would you care to accompany me in a pending meeting in the House of Commons? Some of our Freemason brethren have new Acts to propose.”

  Chapter 24: Intolerable Acts

  henry woke up this morning with a genuine smile on his face. He spent the last week in London forcing a false grin to his lips while navigating the pretentiousness of high society events. The Prime Minister introduced him to countless Lords, Dukes, and many other men with grand titles - oh these men and their titles.

  He saw value in the influential contacts he made, but every minute spent with these people inside their little London bubble convinced him further they did not have a clue. The attitude was as if everything away from the banks of the River Thames existed for the sole purpose of providing for the Londoners, and the longer the title the stronger the belief. Everyone else in the world should simply feel privileged to be in their service.

  Today, instead of attending another pointless gala with the Prime Minister, they were going to the House of Commons. It took all week, but their fellow Freemasons in that governing body were finally ready to present their proposals addressing the king’s wishes. Henry enjoyed fine wine, dancing and making small talk as much as the next man, but at his core, he was a man of action. Today would be a day of action, and that made him smile.

  Henry had the privilege of riding with the Prime Minister in his open-air carriage to Parliament that morning. He took in the grand sight as they approached, and for a moment felt himself drawn toward the mindset that this was indeed the center of the universe.

  The Palace of Westminster originally served as the royal residence in London. It ceased in that capacity following a fire in the early 1500’s during the reign of Henry VIII, yet the structure retained the aesthetic grandeur of that purpose. The massive building made of stone ran parallel to the River Thames for several city blocks with gothic gables and archways abounding. It stood four stories tall facing the street, yet above that dominating height rose Westminster Hall. Though constructed in the early 1100’s, to this day it still stood as the largest meeting hall in all of Europe and saw many royal coronations take place between its walls.

  Once inside, the Prime Minster led them to St. Stephen’s Chapel where the House of Commons congregated. From the moment Henry stepped foot into the long, rectangular chamber, he could feel how the former chapel’s original layout influenced the way this body of government conducted its policy debates. The members sat facing one another in the medieval choir stalls on benches running the full length of the long walls, creating the adversarial seating plan.

  The old choir screen, with its two side-by-side entrances, was also retained and formed the basis of their voting system with ‘aye’ voters passing through the right-hand door and ‘no’ voters passing through the left-hand one.

  The speaker’s chair sat on the altar steps with its placement spawning the tradition of members bowing to the Speaker as they would formerly have done to the altar. Where the lectern once stood, the Table of the House now sat straddling a thick line on the floor dividing the room in half between the two choir stalls. Debating members on either side of an issue were not allowed to cross that line on the floor, no matter how impassionate and personal the words exchanged became.

  Above the main floor, there was an observation deck ringing the entire perimeter that allowed visitors to view the debates from on high without being a part of them. Henry took his seat next to his father among those in the observation deck, and from his elevated vantage point looked down on the governing body as it discussed punitive measures to enact against the American colonies.

  It was difficult for Henry to remain still as things got under way. He was the man charged with maintaining order in the colonies. That job would be made much easier or far more difficult depending on this outcome. He feared it would be the latter considering the colonies were half a world away, definitely outside the little London bubble these House of Commons members valued.

  Henry spent all week lobbying voting members to legislate with a light hand, but he feared the throwing down of an iron gauntlet instead. His only hope was the Prime Minister’s assurance that the Masons had a master plan and that they carried enough influence over voting members to enact that plan.

  The Speaker brought the chamber to order and stood to address those gathered. “Gentlemen, we are here today for one purpose and that is to debate our legal reaction to the lawlessness displayed from our colonies in the Americas. Specifically, we will discuss and vote on a response to the destruction of three shiploads of tea sent to Boston by the East India Trading Company under the recently enacted Tea Act.”

  “Before opening the floor for proposals and debate, I will yield the floor to a representative from the American colonies so that we may also view the issue with their perspective in mind. Mr. Benjamin Franklin, the floor is yours,” the Speaker concluded before stepping aside to allow a portly man wearing circle-framed glasses on the end of his nose to take the floor.

  Henry considered this an encouraging sign as the balding American colonial drew every eye in the chamber. Hearing the grievances from the colonies read aloud was well and good, but putting a face to their position had the potential of actually moving things their way.

  “Esteemed members of Parliament, I will keep my remarks brief out of respect for your valuable time,” Mr. Franklin began. “Most of you already know me, and know me well. I was dispatched to London by the colonies some twenty years ago to espouse their interests. I am a colonial and a proud British subject.”

  “Not only that, I am a Londoner along with most of you; my primary residence sits just a few blocks down Craven Street. I mention that to you now in a show of solidarity since my home back in Philadelphia was burned to the ground by protesters when I appointed a friend as Stamp Distributor following the passage of your Stamp Act. They thought I was complicit in its passage and as a result I have, in a very personal sense, felt the sting of their protest.”

  That admission widened some eyes and straightened many spines in the room as Mr. Franklin continued. “You might think me bitter following that incident, but I stand before you now to say in no uncertain terms that I am not! The destructive act of a few colonials made me see their cause through their eyes once more.”

  “Heightened taxation of the colonies gained traction in this chamber following the French and Indian War. The war was expensive, and all British subjects should share equally in that expense. No one denies that, even in the colonies, but here are the facts of those costs,” Mr. Franklin said in an instructive manner.

  “Local colonial governments raised, outfitted and paid for 25,000 soldiers to fight France in the colonies – a count equal to what Great Britain sent to defend the colonies. They paid their share up front and now are made to pay extra without any voting voice in this chamber to challenge this double taxation. That is the source of their, and my, discontent.”

  “Then along came the Tea Act,” Mr. Franklin went on as if the very mention of
those two words caused him physical pain. “It may not be politically correct to point out the obvious, but I will do so nonetheless. This act is a government-sponsored monopoly for the East India Trade Company, and will ruin the livelihood for tens of thousands of colonial merchants.”

  “That is a simple statement of fact. The colonies felt betrayed by their government and again, a few of them took to destructive protest in order to make their voice heard in this chamber since they have no other means. I do not condone their actions, but I do understand them.”

  “I, and other merchants, also understand that the colonies must make amends for this,” Mr. Franklin went on. “Ninety thousand pounds of tea was destroyed in Boston, cargo valued at approximately £9,000.”

  Mr. Franklin paused for a moment, removed his glasses as if to speak with the chamber on a more personal level. “Let’s be honest. This is not a lot of money. A prosperous merchant can earn that in a year’s time. In fact, a consortium of merchants led by Robert Murray has offered to pay this sum to cover the losses in full.”

  “I ask that you accept their offer, and then move on to consider the virtues of this body’s governing policies toward the colonies. They are your subjects after all, please treat them as such,” Mr. Franklin concluded with a bow and returned to his chair along the wall and away from the voting choir stalls.

  The Speaker wasted no time getting to his feet and reclaiming the speaking floor. “Thank you, Mr. Franklin, for sharing your colonial perspective on the matter. Now, we have four measures up for vote before this body. They are all conjoined, so I will read them all and you will take your positions for or against the entirety of the four measures.”

  “First is the Boston Port Act. This measure will close the port of Boston until colonists in that city have paid for the destroyed tea and the king is satisfied that order has been restored.”