Origins_Revolution

by Mark Henrikson

  They rose up, assembled armies from their enraged masses, and defeated Henry’s unsupported forces on the field of battle. Now the Americans negotiated from a position of strength to formalize their independence from the British Empire. The rightful state of the world was literally turned on its ear. The colonies rebelled, and defeated the most powerful empire on earth. Up was down and down was up at this point, and all of the blame landed squarely on Henry’s shoulders. He had his father to thank for that.

  Despite the circumstance, Henry found his father looking rather pleased with himself. This stood in stark contrast to the American delegation pacing across the ornate foyer several yards in front of him. Those men were not happy, and who could blame them. These negotiations, started in April 1782, had dragged on for a year and a half now with no end in sight. Perhaps this was the inner circle’s plan, have the rebels die of old age rather than battle wounds?

  “I can’t even imagine what provokes that satisfied grin on your face,” Henry began when he met up with his father along the periphery of the massive room. The retired admiral offered Henry a handshake, but he was not about to entertain a cordial greeting between them.

  “What do you mean?” the admiral asked with genuine curiosity at the rebuff. “Why wouldn’t I be satisfied with today’s progress?”

  “Progress?” Henry snapped in disbelief. “Our great empire is brought to its knees by an upstart colony, and you declare that progress?”

  “Look around you,” the admiral insisted with an abruptly stern order. “Who do you see in this room?”

  “I see the American delegation looking rather dejected. Is that what has you in such a fine mood?”

  “They are angry with the French who keep insisting that no territorial gains come from this peace accord for the colonies. The French demand that the new American nation stops at the Appalachian Mountains.”

  “It seems you have an unlikely ally in these negotiations then,” Henry reasoned. “The Americans are in a position to demand much more. Without the French interceding on your behalf, I’d wager the Americans could get British territories all the way west to the Mississippi River if they pressed hard enough.”

  “That’s exactly what we want to happen,” the admiral said with a quiet voice in Henry’s ear.

  “Are you mad?” Henry declared while managing to keep his own voice quiet. “You want to give those rebels more of our territory rather than as little as possible?”

  “Those Americans over there have names, who are they?” the admiral asked.

  “The fat one with round glasses is Benjamin Franklin. Next to him is John Adams. On his right side is John Jay, and Henry Laurens is the one bringing up the rear,” Henry answered with annoyance at having his memory tested like he were a schoolboy again.

  “All of whom are proud members of Masonic lodges in the Americas,” the admiral revealed with his grin broadening to a full-blown smile of satisfaction. “Tell me, did you ever bother to look at who signed that American Declaration of Independence document?”

  Henry rolled his eyes and let out an exacerbated huff. What did this have to do with anything, he asked himself before giving his father an answer. “No I didn’t, but let me guess. All of the signatures belong to Freemasons. So what? None are in your inner circle, are they? To them it’s just a social club.”

  “Fifty-six men signed the Declaration of Independence, and all but twenty-four are publically or privately Freemasons. Eight are even Grandmasters of their respective lodges,” the admiral answered. “To your point though, none of them are 34th Degree masons. That would be too obvious, and that is not what we do. Like yourself and many others however, those Americans serve the inner circle’s wishes out of loyalty to the order and a desire to be a part of that secret society within a society one day.”

  Henry managed to contain a laugh, but only just barely. “You seriously expect me to believe that this debacle of American independence was a part of your inner circle’s grand strategy?”

  “Not part of the strategy, it was the strategy,” his father corrected. “Think about it. Throughout Europe, the Masons carry influence over the ruling monarchies, significant influence in some cases, but we lack direct control because the monarchs think themselves above all influence. Their leadership is ordained by God. Now in America, a government of the people will be formed, and we will own it.”

  That last declaration turned Henry’s cynical mood on its head. He looked out across the room with a fresh perspective. He no longer saw the American delegation as loathsome opponents, but fellow Freemasons. In that moment, he allowed all the resentment and hatred stirred up during the war years to fall away. He recalled the simple, elegant brotherhood enjoyed between men in the Freemason lodges. He remembered that it was a brotherhood that stretched beyond borders to accomplish a grander mission, one he still did not fully comprehend, but trusted nonetheless.

  Before he spoke again, Henry spotted the Duke of Newcastle, the sitting British Prime Minister and fellow Freemason, pulling aside John Adams for a discrete conversation. Even from across the room, Henry could tell it was not an exchange of usual pleasantries. That conversation was serious business.

  “What is going on over there?” Henry asked of his father.

  “The Prime Minister is inviting the American delegation to his residence at Lansdowne House for a separate negotiation, away from the French,” the admiral answered.

  “An internal, Freemason’s negotiation,” Henry prompted with a grin growing across his lips. The big picture was coming into focus for him, and the world was coming around to right side up again.

  “Now you’re getting it,” his father said with a reassuring pat to his son’s shoulder. “I have a feeling the American nation will soon extend to the waters of the Mississippi in exchange for exclusive trade rights with certain men and companies we favor. All achieved while sticking it to a French government we currently hold no influence over; I hear they are on the verge of financial ruin though. A result that was also part of the plan I might add.”

  “Our own nation, rich trade agreements, and all accomplished while weakening our opponent - brilliant,” Henry declared.

  “France is not our opponent,” the admiral corrected.

  “Of course it is,” Henry insisted. “France has been a thorn in the empire’s side for hundreds of years. They are enemy number one.”

  “They are England’s enemy, not the Freemasons; we have no borders. The inner circle simply seeks to dislodge the currently unfriendly government of France in favor of one we can influence like the rest of Europe. That way their resources may be brought into the fold to fight the real enemy, an unnatural, unholy enemy that mankind faces.”

  “Why are you telling me all of this?” Henry asked. “These are secrets of the inner circle. They are secrets you’ve kept from me at the expense of my reputation as a military leader.”

  “That can all be repaired,” his father instructed. “General Cornwallis lost the southern army at Yorktown, not you. Blame can be reassigned; we might even be able to work out a knighthood for you.”

  “Does this mean I’ve earned a seat at the 34th Degree Freemason table?” Henry asked, his tone sounding more like a demand.

  The admiral held off answering Henry’s question, and instead let his eyes drift upward. Henry followed his gaze to a man standing alone along the balcony railing. It was Minister Walpole, the architect of this entire Freemason scheme, and he lorded over his achievement with glowing pride. His eyes eventually met Henry’s, and the man dipped his head and tipped his hat to acknowledge a job well done.

  “I’d take that as a yes, and with that you will have your answers about the evil you faced in the colonies,” Henry’s father finally answered before walking away to join the sidebar discussion taking place between the Prime Minister and Mr. Adams.

  Chapter 44: The Enemy Within

  “I can sum up the trouble with this Congress of the Confederation in a single word – money,
” Valnor declared inside the capital building of Philadelphia. “Or I should say the lack thereof. The fighting with muskets and cannons is over, but the financial battle rages on for our new nation. The war cost nearly £100 million. It is now time to pay up, but we have no means to do it.”

  “We have the authority to make requisitions from the states,” a representative from Georgia challenged.

  “True. We can make requests for money from the states, but so far we have received little more than a giggle for our efforts when we do,” Valnor countered and earned a chorus of light laughter from most of the chamber.

  The representative from Georgia was not among those laughing. He got to his feet and struck a rigid pose, looking as if he had been slapped in the face by a glove issuing a challenge to his honor. “The state of Georgia has given generously in the past. We all contribute what we can, and I will not stand here and have you belittle those sacrifices…”

  “The states contribute what they are willing,” Valnor shouted back to cut the man off. “From 1781 to the end of 1784 the General Government received not quite half a million pounds from the states. In 1783 alone, we asked for two million. This system of government that lacks even the most basic ability to levy and collect taxes is not working!”

  “Why in the world would the General Government need so much money? This Congress of the Confederation is all there is to it, and none of us receive pay for our representation. The honor of being elected is payment enough,” the Georgia representative shouted back. “Where would all this money go if given?”

  “To pay what we owe. Farmers and manufacturers lent us food, supplies, and weapons. We owe back salaries for army officers and soldiers,” Valnor listed. “The states owe private citizens some £60 million while the General Government owes foreign nations another £20 million.”

  “All concerned seem to be doing quite well without receiving payment so far. Why don’t we wipe the ledgers out and start over with a clean slate?” the challenger from Georgia asked.

  That question drew a low rumble from the room as men shifted uneasily in their chairs while whispering amongst themselves. The clamor soon grew to a noise approaching a primal growl. The line of thinking was not a popular one.

  John Adams eventually stood and gave voice to the displeasure in the room. “All of us, nearly to a man, have given financially to the cause with the promise of future repayment. What you propose is nothing short of robbery from your fellow man. You may as well pull out a pistol and demand we empty our pockets.”

  The man from Georgia looked rather sheepish for a few moments before settling on a path out of his humiliating predicament. “I meant the debts that the General Government owes to foreign nations, of course. The states will naturally handle their own balances with their citizens however they see fit.”

  “You propose to stiff our allies? Need I remind you that without those loans from France and the Dutch, all of us would still start our days declaring ‘god save King George.’ We owe them everything. The least we can do is pay them back what we borrowed. Anything short of that would be a stain on our nation’s honor,” John Adams bellowed to loud cheers of agreement from around the chamber.

  While resounding applause still echoed between the walls, Valnor looked around the room and took note of those clapping. He recognized most as representatives from the northern states. He also noted another similarity. They all wore tiny buttons fashioned from silver on the lapel of their jackets.

  “Further to Mr. Adam’s passionate argument, defaulting on our loans from foreign powers might invite another war. That event, I assure you, would be the end of this government. We all would then greet one another in the morning saying ‘bonjour’ with our best French accent,” General George Washington concluded with a polite smile that also conveyed the seriousness of his warning.

  “Fine, the General Government needs to repay the Dutch and French, what about the states?” someone challenged. “Some states owe significantly more than others.”

  “Some states have economies more prosperous than others, too. They can handle paying those debts more easily,” another man added.

  “I propose the General Government assume responsibility to repay all of the war debts, domestic and international,” Valnor answered. Based on the glowing smiles that took shape on every single man’s face, he surmised this was a very popular notion. Of course, why would they not considering the states were getting something for nothing in return? He was about to change that with the second part of his proposal.

  “In exchange for assuming all debts, the states will agree to their current borders and give up any disputed rights to new lands acquired to the west,” Valnor added and saw many of those bright smiles dim. The new western territories were the great unknown. They could be worth untold riches or nothing at all. Still, the offloading of a profound debt burden was a guaranteed benefit that most in the room quickly came around to with a nod of their heads.

  “How will the central government pay for those debts?” the Georgia representative asked. “What will be the basis of taxation?”

  “Our former British masters had many faults, for which we made them pay dearly, but they are still the envy of the world in one regard. Their tax collection system is unmatched in both its simplicity and efficiency for their economy,” Valnor instructed.

  “It is based on land ownership,” he went on. “Whether the land sits fallow or gets worked matters not, it gets taxed alike. As a consequence, landowners have every incentive to work their holdings to the fullest extent possible, thus driving the economy forward at a breakneck pace. It is simple and efficient, and that is what I propose.”

  “What you propose is not supported by the Articles of Confederation, and may not even be legal,” John Adams announced. “Debt consolidation, taxation, and even judicial review of such actions all require a much stronger central government than we have.”

  “Agreed,” John Hancock declared from his chair next to Valnor in the Massachusetts delegation section. His friend had remained silent to this point, but now rose to his feet. He straightened his coat, which also featured the familiar silver button on the lapel.

  “I make a motion that the Articles of Confederation, which served us well during a time of war, but no longer, be scrapped in favor of a comprehensive Constitution to be drafted by a convention convened as soon as possible.”

  “I second the motion,” John Adams declared before anyone else could speak. The measure passed with an overwhelming majority, most of whom wore a silver button, which Valnor was able to get a good look at given his close proximity to John Hancock. He knew the emblem imprinted upon it, and felt his heart sink a little in recognizing the Freemason’s emblem.

  Chapter 45: One Big, Happy Family

  Valnor carried his sinking feeling with him to dinner that evening. The more he pondered the issue though, the less concerned he became. This was America, not Europe. The Freemason’s inner circle that conspired against the crew had no ties here.

  In fact, the Sons of Liberty who almost single handedly provoked the Revolutionary movement came from a Masonic lodge. They wrested control of this new world away from the European Freemasons and their 34th degree masters. These pin wearing Masons were not cut from that dark and conspiring cloth.

  With that soothing thought, Valnor stepped through the tavern door held open by a man exiting the establishment. He made his way over to a quiet corner and found his dining partner already seated.

  “Quite a turn of events during today’s session,” George Washington said as a greeting. “It’s not every day you get to witness the dissolution of a government and see sixty million pounds of debt passed around like a hot potato.”

  “It was eventful,” Valnor agreed on descent to his seat. Before he could get another word in, Washington poured both of them a tall glass from a bottle of 1724 Cognac. The same expensive vintage they shared many years earlier.

  “You remembered,” Valnor said.

&n
bsp; “Oh one never forgets their first encounter with el Diablo,” Washington confirmed.

  “The devil?” Valnor translated before clinking glasses and enjoying a taste. “Is that your nickname for this vintage? I tend to think on it with a more…angelic reverence.”

  “We’ve come a long way, you and I, since we last shared this drink together,” Washington commented.

  “I’d say every person on this continent has come right along with us on that long journey to forge a new nation,” Valnor tacked on before taking another sip from his glass. “Did anything about today’s session concern you?”

  “We just voted to dissolve a government I fought very hard to create. That certainly concerns me.”

  “Well, there’s that of course, but did you also notice during the congressional session how many men were wearing silver pins on their coats?”

  “Pins? Men’s fashion choices? That is what caught your attention today?” Washington managed to ask between soft chuckles.

  “It wasn’t just fashion,” Valnor countered. “They all had a symbol stamped on them, the emblem of the Freemasons, and there were a lot of them.”

  “I’m familiar with the organization,” Washington announced before casting a dismissive wave of his hand through the air between them. “It is a social society where men help their fellow man and share a few drinks. Why the concern?”

  “It’s a large voting bloc,” Valnor cautioned. “Didn’t you notice they got their way on every measure voted upon?”

  “Yes, I noticed that too,” George Washington admitted before taking his time turning over the lapel of his overcoat to reveal his own silver button. “Your boy, Paul Revere, is a very talented silversmith. I commissioned him to make these for our members and I think he made a fantastic rendering of the emblem. Don’t you think?”