by Brock Law
pretended not to notice, but lightened up a little.
Franklin asked the group, “Does anyone have any questions before we go inside?”
A man in the back spoke up. “How did Washington receive his appointment to Commander-in-Chief?”
“The motion was initially brought by John Adams. Washington had made a name for himself commanding Virginian troops during the French and Indian War. Afterwards, his lucrative marriage to Martha Custis, land acquisitions, and an eye for politics catapulted him into the elite category of Southern planters. He was a strong opponent of His Majesty’s taxation events, and, after joining similar conventions in his colony, became a member of the First Continental Congress. That delegation met just next door in Carpenter Hall. It wasn’t until the second installation that we met in this building, which eventually became known as Independence Hall.”
“This guy’s good,” one of the women whispered to her husband.
“Nah,” her husband responded, “that’s just 10 minutes on Wikipedia. I could do that.”
In a ditsy tone, the leopard-printed girl asked, “Wait, I thought the Revolution began in 1776.”
Franklin clarified politely: “Fighting began at Lexington and Concord in 1775, where Massachusetts militiamen were preemptively stockpiling weapons and ammunitions. When the Governor discovered this and sent British troops to destroy the cache, the first battles of the Revolution took place. Previously, the Congress was still warming to the idea of separation, but after those events King George made the decision for us. He decreed that all those involved, militia and legislators, were traitors to the crown.”
Then, in a cute French accent, the petite girl asked, “Monsieur Franklin, I heard that you were friendly with many ladies in France.”
She smiled a cheeky grin at him. The women in the group snickered and looked over at her. Franklin blushed for a second and cleared his throat to indicate to the gentlemen that he was going to feign modesty.
“Mademoiselle, I made friends everywhere I went. It seemed in France that befriending the ladies was the best way to gain favorable opinion at court. Politics, you see. One must observe the local customs.”
The older German man next to Will spoke up. “Herr Franklin, it is said you were a Freemason.”
“I was,” Franklin said, “since 1731. I became Grand Master of my lodge three years after that and continued to develop within the organization throughout my life.”
The old German pressed. “What were your activities with the masons?”
“Well, that remains a personal matter to this day. Generally, at that time, we were a philanthropic and philosophical organization, which promoted the dispersion of political thought throughout our membership.”
“I heard that the masons were the cause of the war here, and in France.”
“Yes, conspiracy theories abound,” Franklin responded calmly. “The organization became an important part of revolutionary life in the colonies. It was a brotherhood that bonded men internationally beyond their monarchs. Thusly, I will say it is likely that it became an early underground vessel of republicanism on both sides of the Atlantic. As legislatures and guilds gained influence and capital throughout the previous generations, people finally began to realize that they were apt to rule themselves. This was not as disingenuous as it may seem, certainly not a coup of any sort.”
“I find this strange,” the old German interjected, “was not the Marquis de Lafayette both a nobleman and a mason?”
Will, who received the popular paranoia with humor, paused as the mood suddenly changed. The Marquis’ name had struck a chord with Franklin. The question was said with such a pointed nature, so as to sound accusatory, almost insulting. The malcontented tone clearly transcended a mistaken emphasis in translation. What bothered Will even more was the expression on Franklin’s face. His eyes flashed, and then contracted very quickly. He gulped, and appeared to have been offended by the question.
“Yes,” Franklin admitted after a moment, “that is correct.”
The group was quiet, awaiting a detailed explanation to the answer. None came and the silence continued. Franklin stared at the Germans, who stared back without relinquishing contact. Will watched the awkward standoff, his brows rising slowly in anticipation of the climax. There was an impending fight and it must be broken up to preserve both parties. His locker room instincts fired up and compounded when he spied the French girl, who appeared as saddened as Franklin.
Will spoke up. “How different was the atmosphere between that meeting and the Constitutional Convention?”
Franklin snapped back and turned to Will. He thought a moment and looked around the group, taking a reanimating breath.
“Very different indeed. The Constitution was also debated and signed here, but why don’t we head inside so that you can better feel the atmosphere for yourselves? I think we’ve been standing in the sun far too long,” Franklin answered.
The group crowded off towards the entrance. Will kept a step behind the French girl, who kept a step behind Franklin. Each shared a wary surveillance of the Germans. As soon as Franklin opened the door, a two-hundred-year-old must wafted out and invigorated their nostrils. He waved everyone through, again donning a fatherly pride.
Will flinched from a little zap of energy as the French girl’s hand grazed his. She casually drifted through the door frame without acknowledging him, her skirt rustling as her hips swayed.
Bricks became planks, which amplified the applause of their heels. Franklin passed them in the entrance and headed down the central hall at a sprightly pace. The troop moved along, admiring the pillared walls and colonial ornaments. Will continued to feel that stir in his chest, anticipating the reveal as each couple disappeared into the next doorway. When he finally made it through, he felt the warmth on his face again.
Only sunlight illuminated the assembly room, opaquely brightening the thick window panes. Olive cloth, bent quills, faded books, walls barren except for the beveled paneling, and uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs almost made the room appear more rustic than it was. However, it was the setting, the dual marble mantles guarding the President’s desk, and the ring of seats concentrated towards the shared initiative being sung out in virtuous chorus that gave the hall its majesty. It was simultaneously understated and grandiose. A place where backwater men forged words immortal, threw down totality, minced a throne, and cleft a world in half.
A woman unceremoniously asked, “Where did you sit, Mr. Franklin?”
“Just over there beside Robert Morris, Benjamin Rush, and the other Pennsylvania delegates.”
Franklin indicated to a cluster of chairs in the middle.
“The Virginians sat on the other side of us,” he continued. “It was those men who garnered much of the popular support while fighting raged around Boston. For months after the Second Continental Congress first met, we positioned ourselves amongst the colonial governments. Presumptuously, we acted as a cohesive central government without the true authority to do so. We petitioned for funds where we could as we had no power to tax, raised militia, and attempted to set up sympathetic fellows in the colonial bodies. The war was happening, yet some of our constituents could not yet recognize that there was such a thing. Many delegates did not immediately have approval to support independence from their home governments. Even some of those bodies were scraped together, and not necessarily elected. The Congress that created and defined this nation was in truth a very loose assemblage of intelligent people in the right place, at the right time.”
The old German asked, “Could the Congress not borrow money elsewhere? They must have had access to money from Europe’s creditors. Masons like Herr Lafayette could have brought much wealth with them.”
Franklin let his brow slide quizzically again and said, “We did find other means. There were plenty of interested parties. That was primarily the duty of my comrade in Pennsylvania, Robert Morris. He designed the original central banking plans, and was chief in acquiring money out
side of state donations. He also gave some of his personal capital to pay the army in times of desperation. France eventually gave generously to the cause. Their graciousness played a part in creating some instability in their debts. This in turn contributed to France’s own revolution, which followed a few years after ours.”
“And you say,” the old German accused, “that was not the goal of groups like the Masons?”
“I’m sure it was not,” replied a temperamental Franklin. “Absolutism was contrary to the conscience of many in the world. This was true of lawyers in the colonies, slighted noblemen in Europe, frontiersmen, and the local militias burgeoning with those who farmed and fought in this new land.”
The old man was strangely addressing the impersonator as though he was Ben Franklin, on trial for crimes uncommitted. Several in the group smiled mockingly as Franklin stayed in character. He even remained genuinely affronted.
A woman asked, “Is it true that the Congress bickered as much as they do now?”
Franklin replied, “From austere paintings and polished manuscripts, people have an idealized vision of the founding of the nation. Really though, we were the original politicians. That was one of the reasons why I was noted for sleeping during many sessions. I had made up my mind a long time before, and had observed all I needed through the actions of
