Chapter I: A Few Pages From Clide De Winton’s Note‐Book (9)

ORDO DIVINI OFFICII RECITANDI MISSÆQUE CELEBRANDÆ, JUXTA RUBRICAS
BREVIARII AC MISSALIS ROMANI, ANNO 1875. Baltimore: apud Fratres
Lucas, Bibliopolas, via vulgo dicta Market, No. 170.

We beg pardon for having misquoted the title of this work. The title‐page contains the word “Rectandi,” which we have supposed to stand for “Recitandi,” and “Celebrande,” for which we have substituted “Celebrandæ.”

It would be well if the mistakes in this important publication were all on the title‐page, and if they were all merely misprints. We will, however, begin with these. The proofs do not seem to have been read at all.

The following, then, are some of the misprints. Feb. 4, “S. Andræ Corsini.” Feb. 10, “_Dom. Possion_.” Mar. 10, “_A cunctus_.” Mar. 20, “_fucit heri_” and “_præsente Candav_.” Mar. 28, “DOM. RESURECT.” This last is, if we remember rightly, an old acquaintance. Apr. 13, “S. Hemenegildi.” May 2, “S. Anthanasii.” May 5, “_præsente caduv_.” May 19, “S. Prudentianæ.” May 23, “Festum SS. Trinitatatis.” The superfluous “at” here has perhaps come out of “_Matut._,” on June 8, which reads “_Mut._” June 13, “Vesp.”

These will suffice as specimens of mere typographical errors. The following cannot be considered as such:

On January 16 we find the feast of S. Marcellinus. The Breviary has Marcellus. Similarly, on July 13, we have S. Anicetus for S. Anacletus.

The feast of S. John Nepomucen has disappeared altogether. Unless it has been suppressed, it should have the day to which that of S. Francis Caracciolo has been transferred. This requires the following changes:

June 15. For S. Francis Caracciolo read S. John Nepomucen.

June 17. For S. Ubaldus read S. Francis Caracciolo.

June 18. For S. Bernardine read S. Ubaldus.

June 22. For S. M. M. of Pazzi read S. Bernardine.

June 23. For the Vigil of S. John read S. M. M. of Pazzi.

The assigned feast of S. Leo comes, it would seem, this year, on July 3. Until now it has been on July 7. Moreover, we do not find it in the Breviary on the 27th of June, as stated this year, but rather on the 28th, as previously.

We must do the _Ordo_ the justice to say that it has itself corrected one of its mistakes. It put in the feast of S. Justin on the 14th of April, and has inserted a slip saying that this is only for the Roman clergy.

Cannot we have a better _Ordo_ next year? It has been getting worse and worse for some time. And if we have a change for the better, would it not be a good idea at the same time to separate the part peculiar to the Diocese of Baltimore entirely from the rest, for the convenience of the clergy? Since writing the above, our attention has been called to the omission of the anniversaries of consecration of some of our bishops.

There may be some other errors; it is not probable that we have noticed all.

REGLEMENT ECCLESIASTIQUE DE PIERRE LE GRAND. Par le R. P. C.
Tondini, Barnabite. Paris: Libr. de la Soc. Bibliogr., 75 Rue du
Bac. 1874.

F. Tondini has sent us two copies of this curious and valuable document, for which he will please accept our thanks. It contains the text of the _Regulation_ in Russian, Latin, and French, with other pieces and notes, and is prefaced by an introduction. There is a great deal of political talent and skill exhibited in this code of the Russian Peter, which is the foundation upon which the modern schismatical Church of Russia is founded. There are also many things in it most whimsical and amusing. The Emperor Paul wanted to celebrate a Pontifical Mass in vestments of sky‐blue velvet. Peter did not care about performing any such childish escapade as this, but he was resolved to exercise the governing power of a supreme pontiff, and he carried his resolve into execution. The one salient feature of his regulation is the systematic effort to degrade the hierarchy and clergy of the Russian Church, to make them impotent and contemptible. The able despot, aided by his unscrupulous instruments, succeeded but too well. The ultimate result has been that Russia is worm‐ eaten and undermined by infidelity and its necessary concomitant, the revolutionary principle. There is no salvation for it, even politically, except in a return to obedience to the See of Peter, the Prince of the Apostles. Our Episcopalian admirers of the Russian Church will find some wholesome reading in this interesting and learned work of F. Tondini.

SADLIERS’ CATHOLIC DIRECTORY, ALMANAC, AND ORDO FOR THE YEAR OF
OUR LORD 1875. New York: D. & J. Sadlier & Co. 1875.

In the cursory glance we have been able to give this publication, we are glad to notice an evident effort to improve on the issues of previous years. We do not look for perfection in such difficult compilations, and anything approaching it is to be commended.

IERNE OF ARMORICA. By J. C. Bateman. New York: D. & J. Sadlier &
Co. 1874.

This work, reprinted from Father Coleridge’s admirable _Quarterly Series_, was noticed, at the time of its original publication, in THE CATHOLIC WORLD for June, 1873. We have also received from the same house: Moore’s _Irish Melodies_, with memoir and notes by John Savage; Carleton’s _Redmond Count O’Hanlon_, _The Evil Eye_, and _The Black Baronet_; the latter reprints, we believe, of works heretofore published by Mr. Donahoe of Boston.

THE MILWAUKEE CATHOLIC MAGAZINE, January, 1875.

We welcome to our table this new contemporary, an octavo monthly of thirty‐two pages, just come to hand. The editor having beautified the churches and dwellings of his locality with the productions of his pencil and crayon, now takes up the pen professional; though he has heretofore made occasional contributions to the press, which have recently been put into book‐form. He brings to his task a refined, poetic taste, a genuine appreciation of the beautiful in art and nature, and a sturdy good sense, which will doubtless serve him well in his new relations. We wish him all success.

ANNOUNCEMENT.—The Catholic Publication Society has in press, and will soon publish from advance sheets, two very important works in answer to Mr. Gladstone’s late pamphlet; one by the Very Rev. John Henry Newman, D.D., and the other by His Grace Archbishop Manning. The former is entitled _A Letter to the Duke of Norfolk, on the occasion of Mr. Gladstone’s recent Expostulation_, and the latter, _The Vatican Decrees and their Bearings on Civil Allegiance_.

THE CATHOLIC WORLD. VOL. XX., NO. 120.—MARCH, 1875.

Italian Documents Of Freemasonry.

When Elias Ashmole and his literary friends amused their learned leisure at Brazenose in the construction of abstruse symbols and mystic jargon, that passed through their cavalier associates to the first Masonic lodges, they could never have foreseen the result of their invention. In less than two centuries the association that sprang from the union of a few Royalist officers in England, and accompanied the exile of King James’ followers to France, has spread itself over the two hemispheres, a mystery where it is not a terror. Its history has been written by many pens and in many colors. Some have ascribed to it an origin lost in fabulous antiquity, or traced its genealogy back a thousand years before the Christian era. To some it is an absurd system of innocent mystification, without any capacity for the good it promises, and powerless for the evil with which its intentions are credited. But others discern under its mantle of hypocrisy nothing less than a subtle organization for the destruction of all established order, and a diabolical conspiracy for the overthrow of religion. Between the two descriptions our choice is easily made. The voice of the Roman pontiffs, our guardians and our teachers, has been neither slow nor uncertain. Clement XII. and Benedict XIV., Pius VII. and Leo XII., Gregory XVI. and Pius IX., have unequivocally condemned Masonic societies as hot‐beds of impiety and sedition. This judgment was not lightly pronounced. It proceeded from an examination of the manuals, statutes, and catechisms of the order, from undoubted evidence of its practical action as well as its speculative principles. Since the close of the last century many writers, both Catholic and Protestant, have contributed by their researches to justify the sentence of the popes, and nothing has more powerfully aided these efforts than the publication from time to time of the authentic documents of this secret society.

A signal service has just been rendered to the same cause by the publication in Rome of the General Statutes of Freemasonry, and of two rituals for initiation into the first and thirtieth grades of the craft.(176) It would be a mistake to suppose that the organization of Freemasonry is everywhere identical, or that it has been always harmoniously developed to the same extent in the different countries where it has taken root. It has been torn by schisms from the beginning, although its divisions, which concerned rather matters of form and detail than general principles, have never prevented its combining for common purposes of destruction. The two great factions which divide the brethren take their name from the _rite_ which they profess. The orthodox Masons, who are the great majority, give their allegiance to the Scottish rite, which at one time, they say, had its principal seat in Edinburgh. Now, as Domenico Angherà, Grand‐Master of the Neapolitan Orient, tells us in a reserved circular of the 22d of May last, which has found its way to the public papers, the acknowledged centre is established in Maryland under the specious designation of Mother‐Council of the World. In the Scottish rite the grades are thirty‐three: eighteen symbolic, twelve philosophic, and three administrative. The Reform of Orléans, which distinguishes the followers of the French rite, abolishes all the philosophic and higher grades, and reduces the symbolic to seven. The reformers are reproached with clipping the wings of the eagle of liberty, forbidding the introduction of political and religious questions into the lodges, and cancelling at a stroke two‐thirds of the Masonic programme, Equality and Liberty, making Fraternity sole motto of the order.

The documents published are those of the orthodox Masons of the Scottish rite, which is almost exclusively followed in Italy. Of their authenticity there is no doubt. The statutes are printed from the latest edition, clandestinely prepared for Masonic use at Naples (Tipografia dell’ Industria, 1874). They are distributed into five hundred and eighty articles, and in the Roman reprint are followed by thirty‐seven supplementary statutes for Italy agreed to in the Masonic convention held at Rome in May. The rituals, equally authentic, are also copied from the most recent editions. Without the rituals, the statutes cannot be understood. The latter are put into the hands of all Freemasons, and the language, when not positively misleading, is studiously ambiguous, only to be explained as the initiated proceeds in his graduation. It is necessary to give their substance at greater length than the platitudes and general professions of philanthropy they contain would warrant, in order that the commentary afforded by the other manuals may bring the hypocrisy and imposture of the system into full relief. As far as possible these documents shall be allowed to speak for themselves. They are their own indictment.

The General Constitutions of the Society of Freemasons of the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite in their first paragraph declare that the scope of the order is the perfection of mankind. Embracing in its scheme the whole human race, the grand aim of the institution requires its members to devote all their material means and mental faculties to its furtherance. The brethren, whatever be their nationality, to whatever rite of Masonry they owe allegiance, are members of a great family, one as is the species to which they belong, as the globe they inhabit, as nature which they contemplate. For this reason Freemasons of every country are to take among themselves the designation of brothers, and both in and out of their lodges show, in their deportment to each other, true fraternal affection. The _venerable_ president of the lodge is required to see observed that strict equality which ought to exist among brothers. He is never to forget that the simple quality of man in the eyes of a Freemason commands the highest respect, and is to show deference only to such as deserve it by their virtue and superior Masonic acquirements. He must never permit a brother to assume any superiority over another on account of rank or distinctions he may enjoy in the profane world. He himself, on his admission to office, is reminded that he is but _primus inter pares_, that his authority lasts only for a time. He must never make his superiority be felt by the others. He ought to reflect that he is chosen to lead because he is considered possessed of the necessary prudence, and that only gentle and kind demeanor can secure the harmony that should reign among Freemasons.

Every member at his initiation, besides his entry‐money paid to the treasurer, must deposit a sum for the benevolent fund. At every meeting of the lodge a collection is made for the poor. This is so essential that any meeting where this duty has been omitted is declared not Masonic, irregular and null. All fines imposed on delinquents or absentees go to the same fund. The grand almoner is charged with the distribution of the offerings among the more indigent of the fraternity, and even the profane are sometimes admitted to share in the Masonic alms. Every application for assistance must be made through a member, and is discussed in the lodge. Preference is to be given to those cases where distress has not been produced by idleness or vice. Certain circumstances justify the president in authorizing an alms without consulting the lodge, but an explanation is to be given at the first meeting. He has also power to exempt the poorer brethren from the payment of the regular subscription, but this he is enjoined to do with such precautions as may conceal the exemption from the other members of the lodge. Were he to manifest the favor, he would be expelled the order.

In every lodge there is an official styled hospitaller, whose duty it is to visit the brethren in sickness daily, and supply them with medicines and whatever else they may happen to need. All the members of the lodge are obliged to visit the sick brother, one each day by turns, and also during his convalescence. A remarkable provision is added, obliging the sick Mason to receive the visits of his brethren. If the illness is dangerous, the sick man must hand over all his Masonic papers to those who are deputed to take charge of them. The funeral expenses of a deceased member are defrayed by the lodge, when circumstances require it, and he is accompanied to the grave by all his brethren of the same or lower grade in Freemasonry. The lodge orator, where practicable, pronounces a discourse over the tomb, enumerating the virtues and praises of the deceased; within the lodge the oration must never be omitted.

In keeping with the professedly humanitarian scope of the order are those articles of the statutes which regulate the admission of new members: “If the end of the institution is the perfection of mankind, it is indispensable that the Freemason should practise true morality, which supposes the knowledge and practice of the duties and rights of man. He ought, accordingly, to be upright, humane, sincere, beneficent to every sort of persons, and, above all, a good father, a good son, a good brother, a good husband, and a good citizen. A Freemason must be a citizen in full enjoyment of his civil rights, of acknowledged probity, and of at least ordinary intelligence. No one is admitted who has not the age required by the statutes. No one may be admitted or may remain in the order who has once been employed or engages in servile, mean, and dishonorable trades or professions, or who has been condemned to suffer punishment for crime. The expiation of any such sentence gives no claim for readmittance.”

The retiring warden, handing over the keys of the Masonic temple to the warden‐elect, admonishes the latter to exclude from its precincts all who have not laid aside every profane distinction, and who do not seek to enter solely by the path of virtue. Every precaution is taken to prevent the admission of unworthy subjects. The age for reception is fixed at twenty‐one, but the son of a Freemason may be initiated at eighteen, or even at fifteen if his father is of the upper grades of the order. The candidate must be proposed in the lodge by a member. Three commissioners are secretly appointed to separately inquire into the antecedents of the postulant, each inquisitor concealing his mandate from his fellow‐ commissioners.

“The investigation,” it is prescribed, “should chiefly turn on the constant integrity of the _profane_ in his habitual conduct, on the exact discharge of the duties of his position, on the rectitude and safeness of his principles, on the firmness of his character, on his activity and ability to penetrate, develop, and fully understand the profound sciences which the mystic Masonic institute offers to the consideration of its followers.”

The three reports of the inquisitors must agree in recommending the candidate; otherwise the subject drops. But even when the commissioners unanimously approve of the proposal, the question is put to the secret votes of the lodge in three several meetings. Two negative votes in the first ballot are sufficient to delay the next trial for three months, while after three negatives it is put off for nine; and if at the end of that time three black balls are again found in the urn, the candidate is definitively rejected, and communication is made of the result to the Grand Orient, which informs all the dependent lodges of the exclusion, to prevent the admission of the rejected candidate among the brethren of its jurisdiction.

Having secured by these stringent regulations the purity of selection, and put the mystic temple beyond the risk of contamination by unworthy neophytes, it is not surprising that the statutes should tell us (paragraph 444) “that the character of Freemason does not admit the supposition that he can commit a fault.” Nevertheless, considering the weakness of human nature and the force of old habits imperfectly subdued, certain violations of decorum are contemplated in the statutes which constitute Masonic faults, and are enumerated with the penalties attached to each. Among these peccadilloes are mentioned perjury and treason against the order, the revelation of its mysteries, embezzlement of its funds, insubordination and rebellion against its authority, duelling _among brethren_, and breaches of hospitality.

Out of the lodges the conduct of the brethren is to be closely watched. It is the duty of the president to admonish any one whose conduct is reprehensible. This he must do in secret, and with due fraternal tenderness endeavor to bring back the wanderer to the path of virtue. Every corporation has to see that its individual members do nothing to forfeit the good opinion and confidence of the world at large. When, therefore, a brother is subjected to a criminal prosecution and proved guilty, the lodge is to take immediate steps for his expulsion.

Promotion from the lower to the higher grades of Masonry is regulated on the same principles of meritorious selection that govern the first admission of members. Irreprehensible conduct, both in his civil and Masonic capacity, are requisite in the aspirant; and he must have acquired a thorough knowledge of the grade which he possesses before he can be advanced to _greater light_. Certain intervals must pass between each successive step, that the spirit and devotedness of the brother may be fully ascertained and his promotion justified.

Minute rules are laid down in the statutes to regulate the proceedings in lodge. The arrangement of the seats, the order of business, the method of discussion, all is provided for in a way to promote harmony and social feeling. Unbecoming behavior and offensive language are severely punished. “Among Freemasons everything must breathe wisdom, kindness, and joy.” Any brother may signify his dissent from a proposal while it is under discussion; but when it has received the approbation of the majority, he must applaud the decision with the rest, “and not be so foolishly vain as to think his own opinion better than that of the greater number.” When the ritual practices have been observed, and necessary business despatched, the presiding dignitary may invite the brethren to suspend their labors and engage without formality in conversation or amusement. After this relaxation the ceremonial is resumed for the remainder of the meeting, and the lodge is closed in the usual manner.

Prominent among the observances instituted for the cultivation of Masonic feeling are the _Agapæ_ of Masonic banquets. Some are _de rigeur_, as those on the Feasts of S. John the Baptist and S. John the Evangelist, and on the anniversary of the foundation of the various lodges. Others may be given according to circumstances. In the regulation banquets the lodge orator makes an appropriate address. Toasts and songs enliven the entertainment, and dancing is not prohibited. Between the toasts a poet, if there be one, may offer some of his productions. “Mirth, harmony, and sobriety are the characteristics of a Masonic feast.” Officials are charged to maintain order and decorum in these reunions. They are instructed to observe a “moderate, fraternal austerity” in their superintendence. Venial slips may be corrected on the spot, and a trifling penance imposed, which must be accepted with the best grace. A brother who more gravely offends against any of the social decencies is to be rigorously chastised at the first subsequent meeting.

After the claim of Freemasonry to represent a universal brotherhood, and its professed purpose to effect a general diffusion of its principles and influence, we are not surprised to find the statutes enjoin the most absolute respect for all political opinions and all religious beliefs. The 325th article says: “It is never permitted to discuss matters of religion or affairs of state in the lodges.”(177) We are not, however, to interpret toleration into a denial of the foundation of religious truth, or into a wicked connivance at subversive agencies in the body politic. Every Masonic temple is consecrated to the “Great Architect of the Universe.” In the name of him, “the purest fountain of all perfection,” the election of the office‐bearers is proclaimed on S. John’s day. By him they swear when, with their hands on S. John’s Gospel, they promise fidelity to the order. All their solemn deeds are inscribed “to the glory of the Great Architect of the Universe” in the name of S. John of Scotland (S. John the Baptist), or of S. John of Jerusalem (S. John the Evangelist), according to the rite. The Bible is always reverently placed on the warden’s table when the lodges meet, and the proceedings are always opened with an invocation of the Deity. If the craft admits among its adepts men of all persuasions, it professes to do so because it does not search consciences. Its toleration, it declares, does not proceed from atheism, but from enlightened liberality. Nor has the state anything to apprehend from the brethren, if we believe the admonition addressed to a novice at his initiation. “Masons are forbidden to mix themselves up in conspiracies.” The first toast in all Masonic banquets is to the head of the nation. It would be strange indeed if, notwithstanding the enlightened scope of the institution and the jealous care with which it professes to exclude all those who are troublesome to society or have given cause of complaint in their civil conduct, any government should find that the Masonic body was not one of the firmest stays of order. Virtue, philanthropy, benevolence, brotherhood—these are the watchwords of Masonry, and its statutes appropriately terminate in the following paragraph:

“The Freemason is the faithful friend of his country and of all
men. He must not forget that by the oath he took at his initiation
he stripped himself of every profane decoration and of all that is
vulgar in man, to assume no other distinction but the sweet name
of brother. Let his conduct correspond to the title, and the scope
of Masonry is attained.”

We have hitherto drawn on the General Constitutions, which are binding on “all Masonic lodges, and on all Freemasons, of whatever grade, throughout the two hemispheres.” As these statutes, though carefully guarded from the eyes of the profane, are put into the hands of the apprentices or youngest adepts, whose prudence and capacity for _greater light_ have still to be tested, it would be dangerous to make in them more open professions of faith than are covered by elastic and general expressions; yet there is sufficient internal evidence in them to show that the maxims they contain are mere exoteric doctrine compared to the deeper revelation of the inner sanctuary, where only the tried craftsman may dare to penetrate. “Secrecy,” say the Constitutions, “is the first characteristic of the order.”

And this secrecy is to be observed not merely towards the uninitiated, but is equally enforced between the different grades of the brotherhood. The presence of a member of a lower grade regulates the quality of the business to be transacted in the lodge, even if all the others are master‐ masons. And not only the business but the very ceremonial must be accommodated to the imperfection of those present. Each of the thirty‐ three grades has its own ritual, the publication of which is high treason to the order, and which cannot be read without profanation by a member of inferior degree. The books in the lodge library are by no means promiscuous reading, but are permitted according to gradation. Hence the multiplicity of officials with fantastic names who watch over the privacy of the proceedings, verify the certificates of strangers, look out for spies or illegitimate intruders; hence the precautions taken with their documents, and the intricate system of checks and counterchecks on the very office‐bearers through whose hands the correspondence and written documents of an intimate nature have to pass. Why all this secrecy, and why those terrible oaths, which we have still to see, if the end of Masonry is faithfully exhibited in these Constitutions? As they stand, they might almost suit a pious confraternity. Doubtless there are suspicious articles. Their exclusiveness is not a Christian trait.

“Odi profanum vulgus et arceo”

is not the spirit of religion. The visits to the sick, and the obligation not to decline them, receive a dubious commentary in the death‐bed scenes now so distressingly frequent in Italy: when the minister of religion is driven away by the visitors even when sent for by the dying man or his relatives. The solemn decree, “The hand of a Mason shall not be raised against a brother,” throws light on the inexplicable verdicts of juries, judicial sentences, and remarkable escapes of condemned prisoners with which the newspapers have made us familiar. But from the statutes we can learn no more. We cannot discover whether the anti‐Christian and anti‐ social maxims which are unquestionably ascribed to Masonry are the real outcome of its teaching, or an element quite extraneous to its genuine principles. This is to be gathered from other sources, and, fortunately, these are at hand in equally authentic documents, the rituals of the several degrees, and many of the secret instructions that from time to time are issued by the directing lodges. An examination of these leaves no room to doubt the genuine scope of the association. The process may be tedious, but it is conclusive. It brings out the hideous impiety of the sect and its satanic hypocrisy.

Let us follow, Ritual in hand, a neophyte in his first initiation to the grade of apprentice.

A lodge is properly composed of four chambers—a vestibule, the Chamber of Reflection, the middle chamber, and the lodge proper, or temple. In the last the ordinary assemblies of the Masons are held, but for the initiation of a member all the apartments are put in requisition. The candidate is conducted, if possible, in a carriage, blindfolded, to the place of meeting; at all events, he must be blindfolded before entering the Masonic precincts. He is led first into the vestibule, where he is handed over to the Expert. This functionary, who is clothed in a long, black robe, with a hood concealing his features, takes the candidate by the hand, then bids him put his confidence in God, and, after making him take several turns in the outer chamber, introduces him to the Chamber of Reflection. This is described in the Ritual as

“A dark place impenetrable to the rays of the sun, lit by a single
sepulchral lamp. The walls are painted black with death’s heads
and similar funereal emblems to assist the recipient in his
meditations. He has to pass through the four elements of the
ancients, and here he is supposed to find himself in the bowels of
the earth, reminded of his last abode and of the vanity of earthly
things by the spectacle of a skeleton stretched on a bier. In the
absence of a skeleton a skull must be placed on a small table in
the centre of the room. On the table are pen, ink, and paper, a
dish of water, and a piece of bread. A chair completes the
furniture.”

Inscriptions are distributed over the walls; as, “If curiosity has brought you here, depart,” “If you are capable of dissimulation, tremble,” and others, as the lodge may think proper. The Ritual adds: “If it can be conveniently arranged, appropriate voices may be made to proceed from the ceiling.” The candidate is made to sit with his back to the door, and the bandage is taken from his eyes. The Expert addresses him: “I leave you to your reflections. You will not be alone. God sees every one.” Then he quits him abruptly, and, closing the door, locks it behind him.

The length of time to be employed in self‐examination is not prescribed in the Ritual, but is left to the caprice of the Masons, who are now engaged in the temple. When the brethren are bent on a joke at the expense of the recipient, it has been known to extend over four hours. The state of the patient during this time may be imagined. He came with his head full of mysterious fancies about Masonry, and the first surroundings are calculated to crowd perplexing thoughts on an already agitated mind. Some never get past this first essay. They have had enough of the mystic rite at the threshold, and are accompanied to the door with the gibes and laughter of the brotherhood, who then close the evening over a repast prepared at the expense of the candidate with his forfeited entrance money.

In most cases, however, the time for reflection is just so much as is necessary to allow the completion of the opening ceremonies in the temple preparatory to the reception of the neophyte. When these are finished, the president sends the Expert to require of the candidate written replies to three questions: “What does man owe to God? What does he owe to himself? What to his fellow‐men?” The candidate is also to be told that as the trials through which he has to pass are full of danger, it behooves him to make his will. When the Expert returns, the will is laid by to be returned to the candidate at the end of the function; but the answers to the three questions are discussed in public, and the disquisitions in theology, philosophy, and ethics may be fancied. If among the auditors there are junior Masons whose ears are not yet accustomed to unequivocal negations of God and the human soul, the president strives to moderate the language of the disputants, and always sums up with a vague and general declaration of respect for all opinions, and of Masonic toleration.

The recipient is now prepared for further tests. The preparation consists first in having his eyes once more bandaged in the Chamber of Reflection, then in being stripped of his clothes, “left only in his shirt and drawers, with his left breast and arm and his right leg bare, his feet in slippers, and a cord twined three times round his neck.” He is led by this cord to the door of the lodge. Here he is to be subjected to a lengthy interrogatory as to his name, birthplace, age, profession, and other qualifications. “As Masonry receives into its bosom members of all opinions and all religions, the president must not propose political or religious questions to offend the sentiments or belief of the recipient or of the auditory.”

In due time the neophyte may learn that the creed of Masons is to have none, and that its politics are the subversion of all authority; but prejudices must be respected at the outset, and the apprentices are not to be shocked unprepared. When the examination is over, the farce begins. The doors of the lodge are thrown open with a great noise, and as soon as the candidate has been led into the room, the Tiler holding the point of a sword against his naked breast, they are violently shut. “What do you perceive?” the president asks. “I see nothing,” the recipient must answer; “but I feel the point of a sword on my breast.” “That point,” says the president, “is symbolic of the remorse that would gnaw your heart, should you ever betray the society you seek to enter. Think what you are about to do. Awful tests await you. _Terrible_ brother, take this profane one out of the lodge, and lead him through those places which all must pass over who would know our secrets.” The candidate is then led out and made to take so many turns that he completely loses every idea of where he is; and when he has quite lost his bearings, he is again in the lodge, although he does not know it; and the brethren, in breathless silence, await the progress of the comedy.

A large, wooden frame, filled in with paper, has been prepared in his absence, and set up in the lodge before the entrance. “What is to be done to this profane one?” asks Brother Terrible. “Throw him into the cavern,” replies the president. Two Masons then seize the candidate and cast him against the frame. The paper, of course, breaks, and the candidate is caught in the arms of some of the brethren who are in waiting. The doors of the lodge are then closed with noise, an iron ring, passing over a dentate bar of iron, is made to imitate the bolting of the door, and the candidate, blindfolded, out of breath, stunned, and frightened, really may fancy himself at the bottom of a cavern.

The candidate is now seated on a stool, with a jagged bottom and unequal legs which never find a plane, that with its constant and uneven motion keeps the occupant in perpetual terror of falling. From this uneasy seat he must answer all the fanciful questions that the whim of the president or his own condition suggests. Metaphysics, astronomy, natural sciences, may all enter into the examination; and as the questions are asked without previous notice, the replies are not always satisfactory. Although the Ritual prescribes the greatest decorum and gravity to be observed during the ceremony, that the neophyte may be properly impressed, and prohibits all rough usage and buffoonery, this is to be understood by the gloss of another Ritual, which says that “this test of the stool of reflection is instituted for the purpose of discovering how far the physical torture which the candidate is made to suffer in his uneasy seat influences the clearness of his ideas.”

If after this examination the patient still perseveres in his resolution to enter the Masonic fraternity, he is admonished to prepare for other trials. First, he must swear to keep absolute silence on all Masonic secrets. This oath is to be taken over a cup of water. “If your intention is pure, you may drink with safety. If in your heart you are a traitor, tremble at the instant and terrible effects of the potion.” The fatal cup is then presented to him. This is a chalice‐shaped vessel, having the cup movable on a pivot in the base, and separated vertically into two divisions. In one there is fresh water, and this side is presented to the candidate. In the other there is a bitter mixture. When the candidate, still blindfolded, has taken hold of the cup, the president invites him to drink, and at the same time to swear after himself in the following terms: “I promise the faithful observance of all Masonic obligations, and if I prove false to my oath”—here he is made to taste the fresh water, and then the cup is turned so that the next draught must be taken from the side containing the bitter mixture, and the president continues with the remainder of the oath to be repeated by the recipient—“I consent to have the sweetness of this water turned into gall, and its salutary effect changed to poison.” Here the countenance of the candidate undergoes the expected change, and at the sight of the fatal grimace the president, striking a terrible blow on the table with his mallet, cries out, “Ha! what do I see? What means that distortion of your face? Away with the profane!” The poor candidate is removed back some paces, and then the president addresses him: “If your purpose is to deceive us, retire at once. Soon it will be too late. We would know your perfidy, and then it were better for you never to have seen the light of day. Think well on it. Brother Terrible, seat him on the stool of reflection. Let him there consider what he must do.” When the candidate has been on his uneasy seat for some time, the president asks him if he means to persevere. If he persists, the Terrible brother is told to accompany him on his _first journey_ and protect him in its dangers. The Ritual proceeds:

“The Expert shall conduct the candidate through this first
journey, making it as difficult as possible, with thrusts,
ascents, descents, wind, thunder; in such a way that he can have
no idea of the ground he goes over, and all in a manner calculated
to leave a deep impression on the aspirant.”

We really cannot go on without apologizing to the reader for detaining him over this contemptible mummery. It is humiliating to human nature that men who make the loftiest professions of respect for its dignity should debase themselves to such a depth of absurdity. And this, too, when they matriculate in their school of perfection. Out of a mad‐house and a Masonic lodge folly like this is inconceivable.

To return to our journey. It is a farce to an onlooker, but it is a serious matter to the patient. He still supposes himself in the cavern, and is forced to make several rounds of the lodge, passing over boards that move under him on wheels, to boards adjusted to take a see‐saw motion, and from these to others that suddenly yield under his weight in trap‐door fashion. He is perpetually getting directions to stoop, to raise his right foot, to raise his left, to leap; and corresponding obstructions are put in his way at every movement. He is made to mount an interminable ladder, like a squirrel in a cage, and, when he must think himself as high as a church‐steeple, is told to fling himself down, and falls a couple of feet. Perspiring and out of breath, confused, terrified, and fatigued, his ears are filled with the most horrible noises. Shrieks and cries of pain, wailing of children, roaring of wild beasts, are heard on every side. All the theatrical appliances to produce thunder, rain, hail, wind, and tempest are employed in well‐appointed lodges; and in the others the ingenuity of the merry brethren supplies the want of machinery. The first journey is finished when the brethren are tired of the amusement, and then the candidate makes a second journey without the obstacles, and during this he only hears the clashing of swords. A third journey is made in peace, and at last the candidate passes thrice over an ignited preparation of sulphur, and his purification by earth, water, air, and fire is complete.

Now comes a Masonic instruction which we shall quote from the Ritual:

“ ‘Do you believe,’ asks the Venerable, ‘in a Supreme Being?’ The
answer of the candidate is usually in the affirmative. And then
the president may reply: ‘This answer does you honor. If we admit
persons of all persuasions, it is because we do not pry into the
conscience. We believe that the incense of virtue is acceptable to
the Deity, in whatever form it is offered. Our toleration proceeds
not from atheism, but from liberality and philosophy.’ ”

But mark what follows:

“If the candidate in his reply says he does not believe in God,
the president is to say: ‘Atheism is incomprehensible. The only
division possible among candid men is on the question whether the
First Cause is spirit or matter. But a materialist is no
atheist.’ ”

This is a specimen of Masonic theology, expressed in guarded terms, to respect the weaker susceptibilities of an assembly of _apprentices_; for we must remember that we are assisting at an initiation to the first grade, which is conducted in presence of the youngest Masons. Still, no veil can conceal the boldness of the declaration, and the apology of materialism will surely not protect the dullest adept who remembers the first lessons of his catechism from taking scandal at its effrontery. But if he is to graduate in the higher honors, he must sooner or later get an inkling of what is in reserve, and it is as well that from the very first grade he should be able without much help to proceed to the development of the Masonic idea of God—nature and that universe of which he himself is a part—to pantheism pure and simple. Indeed, the _Rivista della Massoneria_ of the 1st of August, 1874, ventures a little further: “All are aware that this formula (Great Architect of the Universe) by common consent has no exclusive meaning, much less a religious one. It is a formula that adapts itself to every taste, even an atheist’s.”(178)

After this it is scarcely necessary to read on in the Ritual:

“ ‘What is deism?’ asks the president. Having heard the answer, he
is to subjoin: ‘Deism is belief in God without revelation or
worship. It is the religion of the future, destined to supersede
all other systems in the world.’ ”

The catechising proceeds in a similar strain through a multiplicity of questions, which are all treated with a studied ambiguity of language, affirming and denying, saying and unsaying in a breath, leaving nothing unimplied, to satisfy advanced impiety, and softening down the bolder expressions that would grate on the ears of a novice.

When the examination is over, the marking of the new brother is to be proceeded with. He is told to prepare to receive the impression of a hot iron on his person, and is requested to mention on what part he would prefer to be branded. The Masons then go through the preparations of lighting a fire, blowing with a bellows, turning the iron with tongs, discussing the redness of the heated instrument, all in the hearing of the patient, who, still blind‐folded, stands pale and trembling, in spite of his resolution to go through the operation. The diversion this torture affords the lodge may well be imagined. Of course there is no branding, but the rituals suggest different methods of producing the sensation. One recommends violent friction of the part indicated for branding, and then the sudden application of a piece of ice. Another directs the hot wick of a candle just blown out to be pressed against the skin. Sometimes the president declares himself satisfied with the resignation of the neophyte, and dispenses with the operation. Generally the ceremonies of the Ritual are considerably curtailed in practice; not even Masons can endure their tedious trifling.

After this the oath is to be administered. The candidate is warned of the sacred, inviolable, perpetual nature of the obligation he is about to assume; and when he has signified his willingness to be bound by it, he is told that as the time is approaching when he will be admitted to the secrets of the order, the order requires of him a guarantee—to consist in the manifestation of some secret confided to him, that he is not at liberty to reveal. If the candidate agrees, he is to be sharply reprimanded; if he does not consent, the president praises his discretion. The latter then proceeds to inform the candidate that the oath he is about to take requires him to give all his blood for the society. When the candidate assents, his word is at once put to the test, and he is asked if he is really to allow a vein to be immediately opened. This proposal usually draws out a remonstrance, and the victim’s ordinary objection is the weakness of his health, or the probable derangement of his digestion by such an operation following so soon after dinner. In the lodge, however, this is provided for. The surgeon gravely advances, feels the patient’s pulse, and infallibly declares that he lies, that the blood‐ letting can do him no harm, and positively assures him he will be the better for it. The bleeding is performed in this manner: The surgeon binds the arm, and pricks the vein with a tooth‐pick or such like. An assistant drops on it a small stream of tepid water, which trickles over the arm of the patient into a vessel held below. The counterfeit is perfect. The arm is bandaged, arranged in a sling, and the poor man, blindfolded, half‐ naked, terrified, wearied, branded, and bled, is at length conducted to the _altar_, or table of the presiding master, to seal his initiation with the final oath. There, on his knees, holding in his left hand the points of an open compass against his breast, with his right on the sword of the president (or, according to another ritual, on a Bible, a compass, and a square), he takes the oath, which we give in its naked impiety, as found in the Ritual secretly printed at Naples in 1869:

“I, N. N., do swear and promise of my own free‐will, before the
Great Architect of the Universe, and on my honor, to keep
inviolable silence on all the secrets of Freemasonry that may be
communicated to me, as also on whatever I may see done or hear
said in it, under pain of having my throat cut, my tongue torn
out, my body cut into pieces, burned, and its ashes scattered to
the wind, that my name may go down in execrated memory and eternal
infamy. I promise and swear to give help and assistance to all
brother Masons, and swear never to belong to any society, under
whatever name, form, or title, opposed to Masonry; subjecting
myself, if I break my word, to all the penalties established for
perjury. Finally, I swear obedience and submission to the general
statutes of the order, to the particular regulations of this
lodge, and to the Supreme Grand Orient of Italy.”

When the profane has finished the oath, the president asks, “What do you seek?” and the other is to answer, “I seek light.” The most merciless trick of all follows. The bandage is quickly removed from his eyes. Unaccustomed for hours to the faintest light, they are suddenly exposed to the dazzling glare of a great artificial flame started before his face. He is blinded once more by the change, and closes his eyes against the pain caused by the brilliancy; and when at last he opens them to look about him, it is to see the fierce attitudes of the Masons, each pointing his sword at his face. Few pass this ordeal without exhibiting signs of terror; some attempt to escape, some beg their lives, and some protest they have done with Freemasonry. But no one who has reached this point is permitted to depart without being received, and the novice is comforted with the assurance that all is over. The president, addressing the new apprentice, says:

“Fear not those swords that surround you: they threaten only the
perjurer. If you are faithful to Masonry, they will protect you.
If you betray it, no corner of the earth will protect you against
these avenging blades. Masonry requires in every Mason belief in a
Supreme Being, and allows him out of the lodge to worship as he
pleases, provided he leaves the same liberty to others. Masons are
bound to assist each other by every means when occasion offers.
Freemasons are forbidden to mix themselves up in conspiracies. But
were you to hear of a Mason who had engaged in any such
enterprise, and fallen a victim to his imprudence, you should have
compassion on his misfortune, and the Masonic bond would make it
your duty to use all your influence and the influence of your
friends to have the rigor of punishment lessened on his behalf.”

Our candidate by this lime has somewhat recovered from his confusion. He is now led up to the president, who, striking him thrice on the head with his mallet, then with the compass, and lastly with the sword, declares him Apprentice Mason and active member of the lodge. He is invested with the insignia, and put in possession of the Masonic signs and passwords. The description of these would be tedious, and we shall only notice the _guttural sign_. This is made by bringing to the throat the right hand, with thumb extended and the other fingers closed together to represent a square; the whole intended to recall the imprecation in the oath. To this allusion is made in one of the drinking songs of the Masons, translated from the French for the brethren in Italy, although the verse has been left out in the Italian edition:

Dedans la barque
Du Nautonnier Charon
Si je m’embarque
Je lui dirai: Patron
A cette marque
Reconnais un Maçon.

Of the sacred word _Jachin_ there will be occasion to speak again.

When the function is over, the lodge is cleared, tables are spread, and the brethren sit down to a refreshment which one, at least, has fairly earned.

Admission to the first three grades of Masonry is easily obtained. Among the Apprentices, Fellowcraft, and Master‐Masons the official language always speaks of charity, toleration, and philanthropy. We have seen sufficient reason to question the sincerity of these expressions in the mouths of the Masons, and the explanations we have heard from themselves are far from reassuring. As the society contemplates the gradual formation of the requisite character in its members, and as most of these at their first entry have not altogether lost every natural sense of duty, as understood by the profane, their advance to _perfection_ is generally slow, and the great bulk never get beyond the symbolic grades. If they are promoted, it is _pro forma_ in the succeeding grades termed _capitular_, which are the perfection of symbolism, and are completed in the Rosicrucian Knight at the eighteenth grade. From this point promotion is difficult. The degrees that follow up to the thirtieth are called _philosophic_, and in them the adept is taught plainly, without symbol or artifice, the practice of true Masonic virtue. Vengeance and death are the passwords, the poniard the symbol of action. After this the other degrees are purely administrative, and the Mason of the thirty‐first, thirty‐ second, or thirty‐third grade learns nothing that was not revealed when he was admitted Knight Kadosh in the thirtieth.

In the nineteenth, or first of the philosophic grades, the Ritual says:

“It is not difficult to comprehend that the society of Freemasons,
speaking plainly, is just a permanent conspiracy against political
despotism and religious fanaticism. The princes who unfortunately
were admitted into Masonry, were not slow in reducing it to a
society of beneficence and charity, and maintained that religion
and politics were foreign to its purpose. They even succeeded in
having inserted among the statutes that no discussion was to be
tolerated in the lodges on these subjects.”

In the Ritual of the twenty‐ninth degree:

“How would not the Masonic mysteries have degenerated, if,
according to the programme of the common herd of Masons, the adept
was never to occupy himself with politics or religion!”