In researching pre-18th century Freemasonry in its various guises, it becomes clear that its constituent parts were more romantically exciting as individual subjects than they have become beneath a masonic umbrella which veils them with allegory. Most notable is the science and nature of alchemy—the art of material transposition, which is most commonly associated with gold—along with the manipulation of light waves and, not least in the equation, the techniques of levitation. As recorded in texts from Mesopotamia, Egypt and other countries from the 3rd millennium BC, there is abounding evidence that the technological capabilities of ancient civilizations were far superior to anything credited to them by latter-day educational establishments. The study of such documents not only confirms a good deal of biblical scripture, but sheds a whole new light on the history and origins of Freemasonry. It is time, therefore, to put aside conventional dogma and preconceptions, and to look afresh at the archival material that supports the masonic ideal. To help us in our quest, we should first look at Freemasonry as it exists today and, in particular, at what its formative Constitution has to say about the masonic secrets themselves.
The Riddle of the Lost Archive
Freemasonry is described by the United Grand Lodge of England as ‘a peculiar system of morality, veiled in allegory and illustrated by symbols’. It is associated with the funding of schools, hospitals and care centres. But, worthy as these activities might be, it appears that they were introduced to give meaning and purpose to a brotherhood which apparently had no access to records of the tradition which it endeavoured to emulate. When the Presbyterian mason Rev James Anderson compiled and published The Constitutions of the Free-Masons in 1723, he wrote:
Very little has come down to us that testifies the English masonic tradition before the latter 17th century. Many of the Fraternity’s records of Charles II’s and former reigns were lost in the next and at the Revolution of 1688; and many of them were too hastily burnt in our time for fear of making discoveries.
Anderson’s reference to the ‘English masonic tradition’ is important because it reflects a commonly held view that Freemasonry is English by design. In loose terms, this is fair comment since the first Grand Lodge (as against separately run independent lodges) was instituted in London in 1717. Just six years after this, Anderson commented on the fraternity’s records of a previous generation—an archive that had seemingly been lost. Were those records English, or were they perhaps Scottish, given that King Charles II Stuart (whom he mentions) was of the royal line of Scotland? The Knights Templars certainly had been prevalent in Scotland after being banished by the Pope from England and Europe in 1307, but the 12th-century origin of the Templars was a matter of French historical record before it was Scottish.
If Freemasonry evolved into England from Scotland, and prior to that from France, an interesting scenario would be presented. But it would still not explain how centuries of chronicles from before 1723 had been lost. It may be that they were not lost—merely that it suited the new style of English Freemasonry to pretend this was so. But since Freemasonry is founded on the principles of honesty and integrity, it would seem incongruous for the establishment to be constituted with a pointless falsehood from the outset.
Our task, therefore, is to search beyond Anderson’s Constitutions and the founding of the first Grand Lodge of England—to look back as far as possible, tracing the story of Freemasonry as it evolved to become the secretive, charitable institution that exists today. In this regard, our search for the lost records must begin with Anderson’s own statement that they went missing in the reign following King Charles II, and during the Revolution of 1688.
Setting the Stage
Freemasonry is officially described as a ‘peculiar system of morality’, conceived as a neighbourly institution of fraternity and goodwill—and it rests upon well-defined codes of ‘brotherly love, faith and charity’. Indeed, these are all perfectly valid and admirable ideals, but they can exist perfectly well outside Freemasonry. No doubt there are other organizations which claim to support the same principles, but they are not covert and secretive. Any individual may aspire to the same codes of practice, but it does not take knowledge of secret signs and handshakes to make them possible. So, does Freemasonry confer some great and privileged secret to its members over and above these aspirations? Not according to James Anderson. He made it plain enough in the Constitutions that the secrets (whatever they were) have been lost. More than that, he said they had been burnt ‘for fear of making discoveries’.
From this it is evident that there is a distinct difference between pre and post-1688 Freemasonry, and that the earlier movement held secrets which are not apparent in the modern lodge workings. Candidates are advised on initiation that they will be ‘admitted to the mysteries and privileges of ancient Freemasonry’, but in fact they are not. They are admitted to the workings (and perhaps privileges) of modern Freemasonry. Some quaint rituals and entertaining ceremony have been preserved (or newly invented), but anything which made the brotherhood worthy of a code of silence, with secret signs and passwords of recognition, has long since been sidelined or forgotten.
So what happened in England in 1688 that was so dramatic as to change everything? Anderson specifically mentioned ‘the Revolution’, and it is with this that we should commence our investigation. From 1603 until 1688, the monarchy of Britain was the Royal House of Stuart. They had previously reigned in Scotland for 232 years from 1371, beginning with King Robert II, the grandson of Robert the Bruce. When Queen Elizabeth I Tudor of England died childless in 1603, her supposed nearest relative, King James VI Stuart of Scots, was granted dual crown status and invited to London to become James I of England.
James was succeeded by his son, who became Charles I of Britain in 1625 but, following the puritanical uprising of the parliamentary rebel, Oliver Cromwell, and the resultant Civil War, Charles was executed in 1649. There ensued a short period of Commonwealth, during which the late king’s son and royal heir was crowned King Charles II of Scots, at Scone, Perthshire, on 1 January 1651. Later that year, Cromwell’s army defeated the new King’s troops at Worcester in England, and Charles II fled to safety in France. Oliver Cromwell then decided to rule the nation by martial force alone, establishing his Protectorate in 1653 and dissolving Parliament to facilitate his military dictatorship.
In 1660, Charles II was restored to the British crowns, taking his hereditary seat in London. Although a popular and diplomatic monarch, Charles died without a legitimate heir, and was succeeded in 1685 by his brother, the Duke of York, who became King James II of England, while also being James VII of Scots (see Masonic and Monarchical Timeline, page 412).
In collaboration with such famed colleagues as the diarist Samuel Pepys (then Secretary to the Navy), James had previously revitalized the British Fleet after its abandonment by Oliver Cromwell. And, as James, Duke of York, he had named the American settlement of New York in 1664.1 But, despite all his expertise and former glory, James became a very unfortunate king. Plagued in the first instance by a challenge for the throne from his illegitimate nephew, the Duke of Monmouth, James ultimately fell foul of his old trading enemies, the Dutch. He and Charles II had declared war against Holland in 1665 and, during his reign as King James II of England (VII of Scots), this loomed large to confront him in 1688.
At that time there was a religious upheaval in Britain—mainly because of Quaker and Presbyterian movements whose popularity in the rural areas was undermining the supremacy of the Anglican Church. It was also not long since England had been a formally Catholic nation, and Catholics still constituted about a seventh of the population.2 In addition to this, there were many Jewish people in Britain and, throughout the reign of Charles II, everyone had been treated with due accord. His reign had been such a relief following