There is no reason to doubt the existence of the Dionysian Artificers. They were, in fact, cited by the Greek geographer Strabo in the 1st century BC. He wrote that they acquired their name because Dionysus was reckoned to be the inventor of theatres. Whether Solomon’s artificer, Hiram of Tyre, was associated with this group is another matter. He might well have been if they had a presence in Phoenicia, but there is no mention of the Hiram connection that can be discovered prior to the 1820 treatise.
Another addition to the said masonic pedigree comes in the form of a college of architects called the Comacine Masters, who were based at Lake Como in Northern Italy during medieval times. The masonic link to this guild was said to have been referenced by a Lucy Baxter (pen-name Leader Scott) in her book The Cathedral Builders, published in 1899. The theme of a link between the Comacines and Freemasonry was subsequently taken up in a booklet called The Comacines that was serialized in the masonic journal, The Builder, in 1910.
From the architectural records of Lombardy, it can be deduced that the Magistri Comacini were indeed prominent in their day, and they made a good contribution to Italian design between the years 800 and 1000. But there is nothing whatever to associate them in any way with English masonic history. In fact, not even Leader Scott (who is widely misquoted) said there was a connection. Having investigated the possibility, she stated: ‘There is no certain proof that the Comacines were the veritable stock from which the pseudo Freemasonry of the present day sprang.’20
The Key
The net product of all this research into the origins and history of post-1688 English Freemasonry is that it is about as weak and insubstantial as it could possibly be. Taken chronologically, the story begins with the biblical metal-worker Tubalcain of Mesopotamia (c. 3500 BC) and the wisdom of his father Lamech—a story that incorporates the later Hermes Trismegistus (Thoth of Egypt), and eventually the Greek philosopher Pythagoras.
From Tubalcain and his siblings, the history skips to King Nimrod of Babylon, who apparently instituted the masonic Charges (c. 3000 BC), and then leaps 1,000 years to Abraham, who somehow met with Euclid (c. 300 BC) in Egypt. Moving from Egypt to Israel with Moses (c. 1360 BC), we arrive with the Dionysian Artificers and Hiram of Tyre, who built Solomon’s Temple in Jerusalem (c. 950 BC). After that we are in England with St Alban (AD c. 260); then with King Charles II of France (c. 850), and back again to England with Prince Edwin of York (c. 926), and King Athelstan of Mercia (c. 930).
At the end of all this, there is the unfortunate Sir Isaac Newton trying to fathom what he can from this chaotic mire. And to cap it all, James Anderson—the man responsible for most of the chaos—admits that there were no legitimate records to speak of, but then lays the blame for the lack of available literature on the recently deceased Sir Christopher Wren!
Whether the stories of Tubalcain, Nimrod, Athelstan and the others are correct or not is of no real consequence. There is, in fact, a measure of historical substance in some aspects—but these are all accounts of operative artificers, craftsmen and builders. Chronologically, the last account in the series of tales is that of King Athelstan and his stonemasons. Then, quite suddenly, around 800 years later there emerges a charitably based group of nobles and businessmen who support boys’ and girls’ educational foundations and meet in taverns. Nothing, it seems, happened in between, except that the latter fraternity was said to have inherited its secret signs and passwords from the former.
Something is drastically wrong here. There would be small likelihood of high-ranking nobility becoming involved in a tavern club with such little substance or pedigree. Nor indeed would Prince Edward, Duke of Kent, and Prince Augustus, Duke of Sussex, (the sons of King George III) have taken positions as Grand Masters of the Antients and Moderns respectively if Freemasonry were just an everyday fraternity of moralists and benefactors.
James Anderson said at the outset that the meaningful records had been lost when the Stuarts were exiled. So that is the key to understanding the real course of events. King George I was the son of Electress Sophia of Hanover. She was the daughter of Frederick V, Elector Palatine of the Rhine, whose wife was Elizabeth Stuart, a daughter of King James I (VI). John Wilkins, chaplain to the Palatinate in the middle 1600s had been the man who had founded the masonic group that became the Royal Society of King Charles II, for which Isaac Newton later became president in 1703. Another original founder of that Society was its professor of astronomy, Sir Christopher Wren.
Being the grandson of Frederick and Elizabeth, Britain’s King George I was well aware that there were masonic traditions in the maternal branch of his family, but they had not formed part of his Hanoverian education. His successors were also conscious of the heritage, but they were similarly unaware of the detail. Their only hope of discovery rested with Christopher Wren, who did not die until 1723—the year of the first Anderson Constitutions.
What Anderson really meant when he blamed Christopher Wren for the chaotic state of English Freemasonry was not that Wren had been responsible for losing anything—but that Wren’s loyalties were not with the new Hanoverian establishment. They were with the Stuarts and the Palatinate. Anderson was convinced that Wren, a founder member of the Royal Society, was fully aware of secrets that the Hanoverian fraternity wanted to know—but he died without revealing anything.
The Transition
It is on record that the first mason to be installed south of the Scottish Border was the statesman Sir Robert Moray. Knighted by King Charles I, this eventual close friend of Charles II was made a Freemason at Newcastle in 1641.1 Freemasonry was very much a part of the Stuart tradition and, in 1601, King James VI of Scots had been initiated at the Lodge of Scone two years before his arrival in London as James I of England. His son and grandson, Charles I and Charles II, were also both patrons of Freemasonry.
Moray’s initiation does not strictly qualify as an English installation because the lodge concerned was a travelling branch of the Lodge of Edinburgh, and Moray was himself a Scot. But Elias Ashmole, the antiquarian and founder of Oxford’s Ashmolean Museum, was subsequently initiated into Freemasonry at Warrington, Lancashire, in October 1646. Hence, he is officially regarded as being England’s first home-grown Freemason. His diary, however, gives the names of those present at his induction and, as pointed out by the Curator of the United Grand Lodge of England some years ago, the seven men who formed this lodge must have been Freemasons before Ashmole.2 It is, therefore, clearly incorrect to claim that Freemasonry in England began when four gentlemen’s tavern clubs amalgamated to form a Grand Lodge in 1717.
Ashmole’s keen interest and involvement in hermetic magic is not generally mentioned in masonic works concerning him, since a practising alchemist is not the desired image of England’s first Freemason. In contrast, however, the Ashmolean Museum has no problem with the subject, and makes the point that Ashmole used the pseudonym James Hasolle for his first book on alchemy, Fasciculus chemicus.3 The fact that Ashmole was also Windsor Herald and Treasurer of the College of Arms holds a far greater appeal for idealized masonic society, but in Restoration times these two seemingly diverse facets would have been unremarkable. His Theatrum chemichum Britannicum, published in 1652, was of primary importance to the Rosicrucian movement (see page 49) in that it was a collated synthesis of English alchemical texts, and became a valuable reference source for manuscripts otherwise hard to access.
It is beyond dispute that Freemasonry of a ‘speculative’ style came into England from Scotland when the two Crowns were united in 1603. But it is also apparent that in ‘operative’ terms the London Company of Freemasons was granted a coat of arms as far back as 1472. Equally interesting is the fact that in 1655 the name was changed to the London Company of Masons. This appears to indicate that the word Freemason had taken on a new connotation—relating now more to a speculative craft, rather than to a particular form of operative stonemasonry. This still does not explain why the word Freemason is not found in etymological dictionaries of