\\\THE TEMPLE AND THE LODGE
MICHAEL BAIGENT AND RICHARD LEIGH
THREE
The Origins of Freemasonry
10
The Earliest Freemasons
In its present form, Freemasonry dates specifically from the seventeenth century. Indeed, it is a unique product of seventeenth- century thought and circumstances, a synthesis of the multifarious ideas and perceptions brought about by the convulsions in Western religion, philosophy, science, culture, society and politics. The seventeenth century was a period of cataclysmic change, and it was as a response to this that Freemasonry crystallised. Freemasonry was to act as a kind of adhesive, a binding agent which served to hold together , in a way that the Catholic Church no longer could, the diver se elements and components of a fragmenting wor ld, a fragmenting world- view.
It is to the seventeenth century that Freemasonry itself generally looks for its own origins — or , at any rate, looks for the first emergence of the structure that has f iltered down to us today. Thus, Freemasonic writers and historians have delved exhaustively into seventeenth- century affairs, endeavouring to trace the gradually spreading network of lodges, to chart the process whereby certain rites spawned other rites and various illustrious personalities became involved. Of necessity, we will have to address our selves, albeit cursorily, to the same material. It is not the purpose of this book, however , to attempt any such catalogue. We have no wish to overlap what can readily be found in the copious histories of Freemasonry, and what, though relevant enough to Freemasons themselves, is irrelevant to non- brethren. Our purpose must be to attempt some species of ‘ overview’ – to trace the ‘ main thrust’ , the general spir it and energy of Freemasonry, as it suffused and eventually, we would argue, transformed English society.
As we have seen, Freemasonry, in the years prior to the English Civil War and Cromwell’ s Protectorate, became closely associated with ‘ Rosicrucianism’ . We have already quoted (p. 119) from a poem, composed in 1638, by Henry Adamson of Per th. If artistic quality is any gauge, Adamson may well have been a preincarnation of William McGonagall, acknowledged master of illiterature. Weirdly enough, Adamson’ s poem also pertains to the collapse of a bridge over the Tay.
It is wor th quoting here in fuller detail:
Just by this time we see the br idge of Tay
O happie sight indeed, was it that day;
A br idge so stately, with elleven great arches,
Joining the south and nor th, and commoun march is
Unto them both, a br idge of squared stone . . .
. . . and in the year threescore thir teene
The f ir st down- f all this Br idge did ere sustaine,
By ruin of three arches nixt the town
Yet were rebuilt. Thereaf ter were thrown down
Five arches in the year f our score and two . . .
Theref ore I courage take, and hope to see
A bridge yet built, although I aged be
More stately, firme, more sumptuous, and more fair ,
Than any f ormer age could yet compare:
Thus Gall assured me it would be so,
And my good Genius truely doth it know:
For what we do presage is not in grosse,
For we be brethren of the Rosie Crosse ;
We have the Mason word, and second sight,
Things for to come we can foreteli aright;
And shall we show what myster ie we meane,
In f air acrosticks CAROLUS REX, is seene . . .1
In 1638, then, Adamson and other self - styled ‘ brethren of the Rosie Crosse’ did not hesitate to ar rogate to themselves ‘ the Mason word and second sight’ , and there is no record of any Freemasons ever objecting to this claim. It is also worth noting in passing the status accorded by the poem to Charles I.
As the Thirty Year s War rocked the Continent, as Catholic victory threatened continental Protestantism with extinction, Britain generally, and the Stuart monarchy in particular , loomed increasingly as a bastion, a bulwark, a refuge. Driven f rom his seat at Heidelberg, Friedrich, Count Palatine of the Rhine, and his wife Elizabeth, daughter of James I, found a haven at The Hague. Here, they established a new ‘ Rosicrucian’ courtin- exile, to which German refugees thronged and from which they were shunted on to England — where the father , and then the brother , of their Stuart protectress seemingly reigned secure, shielded by the moat of the Channel.
Then civil war erupted in England, Parliament aligned itself against the monarchy, a king was executed and Cromwell’ s dour Protectorate was established. Although not as horrific as the Thirty Years War on the Continent, the conflict in England (which can be regarded as a kind of off shoot or tributary of the Thirty Year s War ) was certainly trauma enough. England may not have been threatened with a reimposed Catholic hegemony; but she was subjected to another form of religious control, perhaps even more fanatical, certainly more intolerant, uncompromising and austere. In works such as Paradise Lost, Milton could get away with veiled Neo- Platonism (although even he ran repeatedly foul of the regime). But in the climate of the Protectorate, Freemasonry, with its spectrum of heterodox religious, philosophical and scientific interests, kept a prudently low profile. And the ‘ Invisible College’ remained invisible.
Later Freemasons consistently stress an absence of any political interest or allegiance on the part of their predecessor s. Freemasonry is repeatedly said to have been apolitical, from its very inception. We would argue that this position is of later development, and that the Freemasonry of the seventeenth century — and much of the eighteenth as well — was indeed politically engagé. Its roots lay in families and guilds bound in ancient allegiance to the Stuarts and the Stuart monarchy. It had found its way from Scotland down to England under the auspices of James I, a Scottish king who was himself a Freemason. The old ‘ Sinclair Charters’ explicitly acknowledge the patronage and protection of the crown. And in a manuscript from the mid- seventeenth century, it is demanded of Freemasons:
. . . that you bee true men to the Kinge without any
treason or falsehood and that you shall noe no treason or
falsehood but you shall amend it or else give notice
thereof to the Kinge. 2
By virtue of this injunction, Freemasons were bound in fealty to the monarchy.
The absence of any vociferous pro- Stuart statements during the first three- quarters of the seventeenth century can hardly be taken as proof of political apathy, indifference or neutrality on the part of Freemasonry. Prior to the Civil War , there would have been no need for any such statements: the Stuart claim to the English throne appeared secure, and loyalty to the dynasty would have been too self - evident, too taken f or granted, to require explicit declaration. During the Protectorate, on the other hand, any formal declaration of Stuart loyalties would have been exceedingly dangerous. Specific individuals might, of course, profess their adherence to the monarchy, provided they did not challenge the authority of Parliament or of Cromwell’s regime; but it is scarcely to be credited that Cromwell would have sanctioned a semi- secret network of lodges to disseminate political views which he found inimical. Freemasonry was already under a cloud of suspicion by virtue of the relaxed, tolerant and eclectic contrast it presented to the government’s austere puritanism. To have declared a Stuart allegiance would have been tantamount to institutional suicide, and individual Freemasons would have incurred the attention of the notorious witchfinder - generals. In consequence, Freemasonry, to the extent that it can be traced at all during the Protectorate, is studiously, even strenuously, non- commital.
In short, then, Freemasonry, during the Civil War and the Protectorate, never repudiated its adherence to the Stuart monarchy. It simply remained prudently silent. Behind this silence, the old allegiances remained firmly intact. And it is hardly coincidental that in 1660, with the Stuart restoration and Charles II’ s assumption of the throne, Freemasonry — both in its own right and through the Royal Society — should come into its own.
But if Freemasons remained loyal to the Stuart monarchy, they were still capable of protesting — by force of arms if necessary — against Stuart abuses. In 1629, Charles I had dissolved Parliament. In 1638, annoyed by the consequences of the king’s autocratic action, the leading nobles, ministers and burghers of Scotland drew up what they called the ‘ National Covenant’ . This Covenant protested against the monarch’s arbitrary rule and reaffirmed Parliament’s legislative prerogatives. The signator ies pledged themselves to mutual def ence and began to raise an army. Of particular prominence among the so- called ‘ Covenanter s’ was the Earl of Rothes. In an entry in his diary, dated 13 October 1637, there is the first known ref erence to ‘ the Masone word’ . 3
In August 1639, a Covenanter - controlled Parliament convened in Edinburgh. Provoked by this act of defiance, Charles mobilised his army and prepared to advance against Scotland. Before he could do so, however , the Scottish army, under the Earl of Montrose, moved south, defeated an English contingent and, in August 1640, occupied Newcastle. A truce was concluded, but the Scots remained in Newcastle until June 1641, when peace was officially signed. 4
Against the background of the events of 1641, while the Covenanter s’ army occupied Newcastle, there occurred what Freemasons themselves regard as a landmark in their history — the first recorded initiation on English soil. On 20 May 1641, Sir Robert Moray — ‘ Mr . the Right Honerabell Mr . Robert Moray, General Quarter Mr . to the armie off Scotlan” — was inducted, at or near Newcastle, into the old Mary’s Chapel Lodge of Edinburgh. 5 For Moray to have been inducted into the Lodge implies, of course, that the Lodge, and indeed some species of lodge system, was already in existence and fully operational. As we have seen, this had in fact been the case for some time. General Alexander Hamilton, who was present at Moray’ s induction, had himself been inducted the year before. 6 Never theless, Moray is often regarded by later commentator s as ‘ the first full- fledged Freemason’ . But if he was not quite that, he was certainly important enough to warrant the attention of scholars, and to br ing Freemasonry out of the shadows and into an increasingly intense limelight.
Although the precise date is not known, Moray was born at the beginning of the seventeenth century into a well- established Perthshire family, and died in 1673. As a young man, he saw military service in France with a Scottish unit — believed to have been the by then resuscitated Scots Guard — and rose to the rank of lieutenant- colonel. In 1643, a year and a half after his Masonic initiation, he was knighted by Charles I, then returned to France and resumed his military career , becoming a full colonel in 1645. In the same year , he became a secret envoy authorised to negotiate a treaty between France and Scotland whereby Charles, deposed in 1642, would have been restored to the throne. In 1646, he was involved in another plot to secure the king’ s escape f rom parliamentary custody. Around 1647, he married Sophia, daughter of David Lindsay, Lord Balcarres. Like the Sinclairs, Setons and Montgomeries, with whom they were associated, the Lindsays had long been among the noble Scottish families steeped in ‘ esoteric’ tradition. Lord Balcar res himself was known as an Hermeticist and practising alchemist. His wife was the daughter of Alexander Seton of the SetonMontgomery branch of the family, which was to play a key role in later Freemasonry. It was into this circle that Moray, by virtue of his marriage, entered — though it is worth noting that his induction into Freemasonry pre- dated his marriage by some six years.
On the execution of Char les I, Moray resumed his military and diplomatic career in France. He was a close confidant of the future Charles II and held a number of official posts under the exiled monarchin- waiting. In 1654, he and his brother - in- law, Alexander Lindsay, who had succeeded to the Balcarres title, were with Charles in Paris. Then, between 1657 and 1660, he was in exile at Maastricht, devoting his time primarily, as he wrote, ‘ to chemical pursuits’ .
Shortly af ter the Restoration, Moray’ s brother , Sir William Moray of Dreghorn, became Master of Works — that is, Master of ‘ operative’ masons — to the newly reinstated king. Moray himself returned to London and held a number of judicial appointments, even though he never actually sat on the bench. In 1661, he became Lord of Exchequer or Scotland, and in 1663 the country’ s Deputy- Secretary. For the next seven year s, he, the king and the Duke of Lauderdale were effectively to govern Scotland on their own — although Moray maintained close relations with the Scottish branch of the Hamilton family as well. He remained, until his death, one of the king’ s closest advisors. ‘ Charles had great confidence in him, and his counsels were uniformly for prudence and moderation. ’ 7 The king often visited him privately at his laboratory in Whitehall and described him as ‘ head of his own church’ . 8 Among his associates at this time, all of whom spoke of him in glowing terms, were Evelyn, Huygens and Pepys. According to the DNB, ‘ the disinterestedness and elevation of his aims were universally admitted. He was devoid of ambition; indeed, as he said, he “had no stomch for public employments”.’ 9
According to another of Moray’ s contemporaries, he was ‘ a renowned chymist, a great patron of the Rosicrucians, and an excellent mathematician’ . 10 It was in this capacity that he was to make his most enduring claim on posterity. For Moray was not only one of the founder s of the Royal Society. He was also its guiding spir it and, so Huygens says, its ‘ soul’ . 11 In Frances Yates’ s words, ‘ Moray did more than, probably, any other individual to f oster the foundation of the Royal Society and to per suade Char les II to establish it by patronage . . .’ 12 For the duration of his life, Moray was to regard the Royal Society as perhaps his greatest achievement, and ‘ watched assiduously over its interests’ . Given the f act that so few records of seventeenth- century Freemasonry survive, one can only deduce its interests, activities and orientation by the prominent individuals associated with it. Moray provides just such a gauge. He would appear to be typical and representative of seventeenth- century Freemasonry. If he is indeed so, the Freemasonry of the time can be characterised as a fusion of traditions filtered down through the Scots Guard and through noble Scottish families like the Lindsays and Setons; of ‘ chemistry’ or alchemy and ‘ Rosicrucianism’ filtering across from the Continent; and of the spectrum of scientific and philosophical interests which prevailed in the ‘ Invisible College’ and subsequently the Royal Society.
It might, of course, be argued that Moray was an exception, a highly eclectic and idiosyncratic individual, not, in fact, a typical representative of Freemasonry at all. But the annals of Freemasonry for the time cite one other truly prominent figure, and he displays precisely the same spectrum of interests, influences and preoccupations as Moray. This figure, known today perhaps primarily for the museum which bears his name, was Elias Ashmole.
Ashmole was born in Lichfield in 1617. Dur ing the Civil War , he was active on the royalist side, then, in 1644, retired to his native town, where the deposed Charles I had appointed him commissioner of excise. His official duties broughthim frequently to Oxford. Here, he came under the influence of Captain (later Sir ) George Wharton, who instilled in him a lifelong fervour for alchemy and astrology. By 1646, Ashmole was moving in London’ s astrological circles, but he maintained close contacts with the ‘ Invisible College’ , which began, in 1648, to meet in Oxford. It included at that time Robert Boyle, Christopher Wren and Dr John Wilkins (another founder member of the Royal Society). 13
Ashmole had in his possession at least five original manuscripts by John Dee, and in 1650 edited one of them, a treatise on alchemy, for publication under the anagrammatic pseudonym of James Hasolle. Other Hermetic and alchemical works followed, which influenced both Boyle and later Newton, while Ashmole himself became a well- known frequenter of ‘ Rosicrucian’ circles. In 1656, an English translation of an important German ‘ Rosicrucian’ text was published with a dedication: ‘ To . . . the only Philosopher in the present age: . . . Elias Ashmole’ . 14
Charles II was deeply interested in alchemy, and Ashmole’s work on the subject had impressed him. In the new king’s first appointment as restored monarch, Ashmole was installed in the post of Windsor Herald. His favour with the court steadily increased, and numerous other offices were conferred upon him. So, too, before long, were international accolades. Since 1655, he had been engaged on his magnum opus, a history of the Order of the Garter— and, in passing, of every other chivalric institution in the West. This work, still regarded as the definitive text in its field, was published in 1672, receiving immense acclaim not only in England but abroad as well. In 1677, Ashmole bestowed on the University of Oxford the antiquarian museum he had inherited from a friend, together with his own additions to it. Oxford, in exchange, was obliged to house the collection — which, according to a contemporary source, consisted of twelve wagonloads. Extravagantly praised and eulogised, hailed as one of the sages of his epoch, Ashmole died in 1692.
Ashmole had been initiated as a Freemason in 1646, five years after Moray. The event is noted in his own diary:
1646. Oct. 16. 4H30’ p.m. I was made a Freemason at Warrington in Lancashire with Coll: Henry Mainwaring of Karincham in Cheshire. The names of those who were then of the Lodge, Mr . Rich. Penket, Warden, Mr . James Collier , Mr . Rich. Sankey, Henry Littler , John Ellam, Rich. Ellam and Hugh Brewer . 15
Thirty- six years later , in 1682, Ashmole’s diary records another lodge meeting, this time in London, at the Masons’ Hall, and the list of those in attendance includes a number of prominent gentlemen in the City. 16 Ashmole’s diary thus bears witness to a number of things — to his own continued allegiance to Freemasonry over thirty- six years, to the spread of Freemasonry across England, and to the calibre of the people associated with it by the 1680s.
Frances Yates notes it as a point of significance that, ‘ the two persons of whom we have the earliest certain member ship of masonic lodges were both foundation members of the Royal Society’ . 17 Together with Moray, Ashmole was indeed one of the Royal Society’ s founders. All through the Civil War and Cromwell’s Protectorate, he was, like Moray, a fervent royalist, passionately dedicated to the restoration of the Stuart monarchy. And much more flagrantly than Moray, Ashmole displayed a preoccupation with chivalry and chivalric orders. In his history of the Garter , he addressed himself to the Templars — and became the first writer on record since the suppression of the Order to speak favourably of them. It is through Ashmole — noted antiquarian, expert on chivalric history, prominent Freemason, co- founder of the Royal Society — that one can discern what must have been a prevailing attitude towards the Templars in seventeenth- century Freemasonic and ‘ Rosicrucian’ thought. Indeed, it is with Ashmole that the ‘ rehabilitation’ of the Templars, at least so far as the general public is concerned, effectively begins. But Ashmole was not alone.
In 1533, the German magus, philosopher and alchemist Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa von Nettesheim first published his famous opus, Of Occult Philosophy. This work is one of the landmarks of ‘ esoteric’ literature, and it consolidated Agrippa’ s reputation as the supreme ‘ magician’ of his age — the real prototype, more than any historical Georg or Johann Faustus, for the figure in Marlowe’s play and Goethe’ s dramatic poem. In the original Latin edition of his work, Agrippa mentions the Templars in passing. His comments reflect what, in the absence of any contrary evidence or tradition in Germany at the time, was the prevailing view of ‘ the destestable heresy of the Templars’ . 18
In 1651, the f ir st English translation of Agr ippa’ s work was published. It contained a short dedicatory poem of praise by the alchemist and ‘ natural philosopher ’ Thomas Vaughan — a friend and disciple, as we shall see, of Moray — and was sold in a bookshop in the churchyard of St Paul’ s. Agrippa’ s reference to the Templars had, in the original Latin, consisted of a few words in a text of more than 500 pages. And yet the anonymous English translator was sufficiently offended or embarrassed by this reference to change it. The English edition therefore refers to the ‘ detestable heresy’ not of the Templars, but ‘ of Old Church-Men’ . 19 It is thus clear that by 1651, two years after the death of Charles I, the ‘ rehabilitation’ of the Templar s was already under way. There were certain interests in England, reflected by the translator of Agrippa’s work and presumably by his anticipated reader ship, who were not prepared to see the Templars vilified — not even in passing, not even by so august a figure as the archmagus of Nettesheim.
The Restoration of the Stuarts and Freemasonry
If Moray was the guiding spirit and the ‘ soul’ of the Royal Society, Dr John Wilkins was its driving force and organisational mastermind. Wilkins was closely associated with the ‘ Rosicrucian’ court of Friedrich, Count Palatine of the Rhine, and Elizabeth Stuart. Subsequently, he served as chaplain to their son, who was sent to England for schooling. Eventually, Wilkins became Bishop of Chester . In 1648, he published his most important work, Mathematicall Magick, which drew heavily on the work of Robert Fludd and John Dee and extolled both in its preface. In the same year , Wilkins began to convene the meetings at Oxford, to which the Royal Society itself officially traces its origins. It was at Oxford, as we have seen, that Ashmole made the acquaintance of the group.
The meetings at Oxford continued for eleven years, until 1659, after which they were moved to London. On the Restoration in 1660, Moray approached the reinstated monarch for royal sponsorship. The Royal Society was duly established in 1661, with the king as its official patron, and also a Fellow. Moray was the organisation’s first President. Among the other founding member s were Ashmole, Wilkins, Boyle, Wren, the diarist John Evelyn and two especially important ‘ Rosicrucian’ refugees from Germany, Samuel Hartlib and Theodore Haak. In 1672, Isaac Newton became a Fellow; in 1703, he was elected President and remained so until his death in 1727.
During and immediately following Newton’s presidency, the overlap between the Royal Society and Freemasonry was to be particularly marked. The Royal Society at this time included the famous Chevalier Ramsay, who will soon figure prominently in our story. It included James Hamilton, Lord Paisley and Seventh Earl of Abercorn, joint author of the acclaimed Treatise on Harmony and a Grand Master of English Freemasonry. Most importantly of all, perhaps, it included John Desaguliers, a close friend of Newton’s, who became a Fellow in 1714 and then Curator . In 1719, Desaguliers became the third Grand Master of England’ s Grand Lodge, and he was to remain one of the most eminent figures in English Freemasonry for the next twenty years. In 1731, he was to initiate François, Duc de Lorraine, subsequently husband of the Empress Maria Theresa of Austria. In 1737, he was to initiate Frederick, Prince of Wales, to whom he was chaplain. 20
But the Royal Society, in the years immediately following the Restoration, was only one conduit for Freemasonry and Freemasonic thought. The spectrum of activities embraced by seventeenth- century Freemasonry included science, philosophy, mathematics and geometry, Hermetic, Neo- Platonic and ‘ Rosicrucian’ thought. The same preoccupations are conspicuous in the work of some of the most consequential literary figures of the period — the twin brothers Thomas and Henry Vaughan, for example, and the so- called ‘ Cambridge Platonists’ , Henry More and Ralph Cudworth. No records survive to confirm that these individuals were actually initiated members of specific lodges. At the same time, they could not reflect more accurately and precisely the thrust and orientation of Freemasonry’s concerns. Henry More’ s circle included the distinguished physician, scientist and alchemist Francis van Helmont. Thomas Vaughan, noted as an alchemist and ‘ natural philosopher ’ , became a close personal friend, disciple and protégé of Sir Robert Moray.
Earlier , during the Civil War , Vaughan and his brother had been active on the royalist side. Under Cromwell’ s Protectorate, Thomas Vaughan had translated — using the pseudonym of Eugenius Philalethes — a number of ‘ esoteric’ and Hermetic works from the Continent, including the famous ‘ Rosicrucian Manifestos’ . Vaughan’s close connections with Moray suggest that, even if he wasn’t a Freemason himself , he was close to the mainstream of Freemasonic thought; and his interests were echoed by his brother Henry, who, so far as posterity is concerned, has proved the more eloquent spokesman. Henry Vaughan’ s poetry — which ranks with that of Andrew Marvell and George Herbert — can be regarded as a summation of the cur rents and inf luences which character ised seventeenth- century Freemasonry.
But while More and the Vaughan brother s created lasting testaments in literature, perhaps the most impressive monument to seventeenthcentury Freemasonry endures today in London’s architecture. In 1666, the Great Fire levelled 80 percent of the old city, including eighty- seven churches, and necessitated a virtually complete reconstruction of the capital. This entailed a prodigious and concentrated effort on the part of the ‘ operative’ guilds of stonemasons. ‘ Operative’ masonry was thus catapulted to public consciousness, with its handiwork and skills prominently and majestically on display in such structures as St Paul’s, St James, Piccadilly, and the Royal Exchange. As the new city took shape bef ore the eyes of the populace, a hither to unprecedented prestige accrued to its architects and builders; and much of this rubbed off on to adherents of ‘ speculative’ Freemasonry, who were quick to stress their kinship with their ‘ operative’ brethren. The most important figure in this context was, of course, Sir Christopher Wren. Wren, as we have seen, was an habitué of the ‘ Invisible College’ that met at Oxford and subsequently became a founding member of the Royal Society. He is alleged to have become Grand Master of Freemasonry in England in 1685. 21 At the same time, he was not just a thinker but also a practising architect. He thus constituted a crucial — perhaps the crucial — link between ‘ speculative’ Freemasonry and the ‘ operative’ guilds.
In philosophy and religion, then, in the arts, in the sciences, most manifestly in architecture, Freemasonry, in the period immediately following the Restoration, entered upon halcyon days. But if it prospered during this time, it also exerted a beneficial and constructive influence. Indeed, one could argue that — with its increasing dissemination and its progressively more public nature — it did much to heal the wounds of the Civil War .
This is not to say, of course, that it lacked detractors. In 1676, for example, Poor Robin’ s Intelligence , a short- lived satirical broadsheet, printed the following mock advertisement:
These are to give notice, that the Modern Green- ribbon’ d Caball, together with the Ancient Brotherhood of the RosyCross; the Hermetick Adepti and the Company of Accepted Masons, intend all to dine together on the 31st November next, at the Flying- Bull in Windmill- CrownStreet . . . 22
But such light- hearted lampoons could scarcely do Freemasonry any harm. If anything, they functioned like modern gossip columns, stimulating public interest and probably enhancing the very prestige they purported to tarnish. This applied equally to the work of Dr Robert Plot, custodian of the Ashmolean Museum in Oxford, who, in 1686, published his Natural History of Staffordshire . Plot sought to mock, if not actually condemn, Freemasonry. Instead, he furnished Freemasonry with precisely the kind of advertisement that most conduced to its appeal — and, at the same time, provided posterity not just with a valuable source book, but also with a testimony to how influential the institution had become:
To these add the Customs relating to the County, whereof they have one, of admitting Men into the Society of Free Masons, that in the moore lands of the County seems to be of greatest request, than any where else, though I find the Custom spread more or less all over the Nation, for here I found persons of the most eminent quality, that did not disdain to be of this Fellowship. Nor indeed need they, were it of that Antiquity and honor, that is pretended in a large parchment volum they have amongst them, containing the History and Rules of the craft of masonry. Which is there deduced not only from sacred writ, but profane story, particularly that it was brought into England by St Amphibal, and first communicated to S. Alban, who set down the Charges of masonry, and was made paymaster and Governor of the Kings works, and gave them charges and manners as St Amphibal had taught him. Which were after confirmed by King Athe lstan, whose youngest son Edwyn loved well masonry, took upon himself the charges, and learned the manners, and obtained for them of his Father , a free - Charter. Whereupon he caused them to assemble at York, and to br ing all the old Books of their craft, and out of them ordained such charges and manners, as they then thought fit: which charg e s in the said Schrole or Parchment volum, are in part declared: and thus was the craft of masonry grounded and conf irmed in England. It is also there declared that these charges and manners were after perused and approved by King Hen. 6. and his council, both as to Masters and Fellows of this right Worshipfull craft. 23
Dr Plot goes on, at considerable length, to describe what he knows of Freemasonic rituals, lodge meetings and initiation procedures, as well as the integrity with which ‘ operative’ stonemasons conduct their building. At the very end of his account, in one fragment of an immensely convoluted sentence, he launches his attack:
. . . but some others [practices] they have (to which they are sworn after their fashion), that none know but themselves, which I have reason to suspect are much worse than these, perhaps as bad as this History of the craft it self ; than which there is nothing I ever met with, more false or incoherent.
It is a lame fashion in which to conduct an attack. Most of Plot’ s readers, not surprisingly, ignored (or never reached) his concluding sally and warmed instead to everything that preceded it – the ancient and illustrious pedigree claimed by Freemasonry, the involvement of ‘ persons of the most eminent quality’ , the benefits of membership, the mutual support, the good works, the prestige attached to building and architecture. After all this, the castigation at the end must have seemed a mere spasm of petulance and possibly of pique at not being accepted as a Freemason himself .
As we have seen, then, Freemasonry, in the period between 1660 an 1688, basked in a kind of Golden Age. It had already established itself , perhaps even more effectively than the Anglican Church, as a great unifying force in English society. It had already begun to provide a ‘ democratic’ forum where ‘ king and commoner ’ , aristocrats and artisans, intellectuals and craftsmen, could come together and, within the sanctum of the lodge, address themselves to matters of mutual concern. But this situation was not to last. Within a quarter of a century, Freemasonry was to suffer the same traumatic divisions as English society itself .
