The societies of both sexes were intended to compensate women for their

exclusion from the Freemason lodge. The “Order of Woodsplitters”

(fendeurs), founded in 1747 by the Chevalier Beauhaine, a distinguished

Freemason, took its symbolism entirely from the work of the woodsplitter

or woodchopper; the lodges were yards (i. e., woodyards, chantiers), the

members were cousins (cousins, cousines; i. e., male and female

cousins), the candidate was a Steel (used to strike fire from a flint),

and so forth. The “Order of Hope” (esperance) was founded expressly for

the behoof of Freemasons’ wives, and they alone were admitted; but

masons of the higher degrees could visit the lodges without initiation.

The president was a woman. There were Esperance lodges in several cities

of Germany; at Goettingen the university students joined the order for

the sake of the refinement of manners got from association with the

ladies. There is some doubt as to the true character of the “Order of

Saint Jonathan” (afterward of Saint Joachim), qualified as “for True and

Perfect Friendship,” or “for the Defense of the Honor of Divine

Providence.” Its end would seem to have been to propagate belief in the

Trinity, to refrain from the dance (especially the waltz), and from

games of chance; also (this for the female members) to nurse their own

children. It was founded by some German nobles, and its first

grandmaster was Christian Francis, Duke of Saxe-Coburg. Though

Protestants and Catholics were members of the order, it took on a

strongly Catholic character, and in 1785 adopted the style of “the

knightly Secular Chapter of the Order of Saint Joachim, the blessed

Father of the Holy Virgin Mary, Mother of Our Lord and Savior Jesus

Christ” (ritterlich-weltliches ordenskapitel von St. Joachim, etc.) The

society passed quietly out of existence. The “Order of the Pilgrims’

Chain” (Kette der Pilgrime), in Germany and Denmark, whose members

belonged to the higher classes, had for its motto “Courtesy,

Steadfastness, and Silence” (Willfaehrigkeit, Bestaendigkeit,

Stillschweigen), and wore in a buttonhole a white ribbon bearing the

initial letters of those three words. The members, male and female, were

called Favorites (favoriten); to admit a new member was “to add a link

to the chain”; and any member could add any “link” whom he might have

known for half a year. The symbolism was borrowed from travel. The

“Order of Argonauts” was founded in 1772 by Conrad von Rhetz, a

Brunswick Freemason. On an islet in a pond leased to him by the state he

built a temple in which the members were initiated. They approached the

temple in barges and there were entertained by the Grand Admiral, as the

founder was styled. There was no fee for admission. The motto was “Long

Live Gladness”; the badge of the order was a green-enameled anchor of

silver. The officers, besides the Grand Admiral, were the Pilot, the

Ship’s Chaplain, and so forth, and the members were Argonauts. After the

founder’s death the order went to wreck, and the temple disappeared,

leaving no vestige. The renowned Fenelon founded at Douai an order

called “the Palladium,” its secret dialect was taken from his romance

“Telemasque.”

The “Order of the Mustardseed,” said to have been founded in England in

1708: it spread over Holland and Germany: it assumed the form of a

Protestant clerico-knightly order, and concerned itself chiefly with

religious affairs: its emblem was a gold cross, with mustard tree in the

middle. This society was reputed to be connected with the Herrnhuters

(Moravian brethren).

The “Order of the Leal” (Orden der Echten), founded in 1758, at

Landeshut, by Bessel, a Prussian military officer, had for its end

simply good-fellowship: it labored to win over to Prussia the Silesian

nobility.

The “Society of the Ducats” (Dukatensocietat) had for its founder (1746)

Count Louis of Neuwied, colonel in the Prussian Army. The members

contributed one ducat a month; but when a member induced outsiders to

join the society, then for the first outsider his own contribution for

the month current was remitted; for the third, fifth and each following

odd-numbered new accession procured by him he received a ducat. This

vulgar swindle, which was the sole end of the society, worked finely,

and the membership grew rapidly: but the Society of the Ducats was

suppressed by the government after an existence of two years.

Attempts to establish other fraudulent orders were made by a swindler

who understood the foible of his contemporaries for mysteries. Matthew

Grossinger, or as he styled himself, Francis Rudolf von Grossing, son of

a butcher, born 1752, at Komorn, in Hungary, would seem to have been

once a Jesuit. After the suppression of his order, he offered to sell to

Frederic the Great some Austrian official documents, but met with a

repulse; then he represented himself to Joseph II. as a victim of the

reactionary policy of the preceding reign, and in 1784 founded in the

interest of his own pocket the “Order of the Rose,” and again in 1788,

donning women’s clothes, the “Order of Harmony,” both orders admitting

members of either sex. He named “Frau von Rosenwald,” a non-existent

personage, as head of the order, with the title Stiftsrose (The

Institute’s Rose). The several local societies were known as Roses, and

their presiding officers as Rosylords and Rosyladies (Rosenherren,

Rosendamen). But in fact Grossing was all in all, and he appropriated to

himself the very liberal contributions and all other income: for that

end alone were the societies established. He died in wretched

circumstances, having always squandered his gains in luxury and

extravagance.

2. OBSCURANTIST INFLUENCES.

The daybreak of illuminism in the 18th century gave to the partisans of

the ancient despotism of creed and privilege matter of most serious

concern. They saw all their contrivances for keeping the people ignorant

and submissive baffled. For them, as for the Papacy at the daybreak of

the Reformation the question was, To be or Not to be. But theirs was a

war with a far more redoubtable foe than Protestantism ever was.

Illuminism did not aim merely at separation from the Roman Church: it

declared a war of extermination against Rome, it aimed at abolition of

all authority that presumed to determine the beliefs of men or to

dictate their opinions. To down this hateful spirit of illuminism with

one blow—what satisfaction that would afford to the obscurantists of

that time! But where should they begin? It was vain to think of

silencing the literary champions of illuminism. The age of witch trials

and courts of Inquisition was past. The problem was to find an organized

institution in which the odious spirit of illuminism was, as it were,

incorporated, and that could be no other than the society of the

Freemasons. But the experience of the Popes and the Inquisition had

shown that Freemasonry was not to be overmastered by persecution, by

prisons, or by the stake. Hence, other champions must take the place of

the Dominican inquisitors: the Freemasons must be won over to the good

cause by flatteries and cajoleries. Among the illuminists of that day

the Jesuits were regarded as the agents chosen for carrying out this

plan; and though it cannot be demonstrated that they had an actual part

in the business, the scheme surely was one quite consonant with the

spirit of their order. The plan was shrewdly contrived. It dealt with

political considerations affecting England, the native home of

freemasonry; and thus the conspiracy aimed, so to speak, at capturing

the den of the “dragon” of illuminism. The Stuart dynasty, which had

returned to the Catholic fold, was in exile from the end of the 17th

century, but, aided by France materially and by Rome intellectually, was

ever striving to regain the lost throne. The efforts of kings and kings’

sons in exile possess a poetical and romantic quality. It was possible

to win over all sympathetic enthusiasts by exploiting their foibles, the

nobles and legitimists (the Tories) by preaching legitimacy, and the

whole body of the Catholics by appealing to their loyalty to the Church.

Now, the masonic order was a secret society, and as such, of course, was

a rallying point for all enthusiasts, mystics, and dreamers. Besides,

the nobility was strongly represented in the society: after the first

four grandmasters of the Grand Lodge of England, who were all practical

masons (architects), all the succeeding grandmasters belonged to the

highest nobility of the realm. Among them we find dukes of Montague,

Richmond, Norfolk, Chandos, to say nothing of a long series of

viscounts, earls, and marquises. As for the Catholic element, it had

many things in common with Freemasonry—ceremonies and mysticism,

hierarchic degrees, and cosmopolitan extension; hence, with a little

Jesuit finesse, the order might gradually and insensibly be made

Catholic, as had been done with the Buddhist ceremonial in India: in

this way the Society of Saint John might be transformed into a

preparatory school for the Society of Jesus. And now, if we consider

what a scandal it must have been to the coronetted chiefs of Freemasonry

that their order originated among mechanics, we can see how easy it

would be, by dishing up a few fables in proof of a nobler origin, to

make converts of them for any ends whatever. In the event of success,

the stronghold of illuminism would be captured, and with the help of its

former champions the most powerful kingdom in Europe, and a great centre

of illuminism, would be given back to a Catholic King, and thereby the

road to conquest opened for the Church of Rome. Of course, these vast

designs could not be carried out all at once. The work had to proceed by

stages, as thus: 1. Aristocratic sentiment would be gratified by the

institution of higher masonic degrees; 2. These degrees would be

connected with the religious orders of knighthood by a chain of fable;

3. Obstinate Protestants would be quieted by the offer of a cryptic

Catholicism which apparently would be in accordance with their own

beliefs; 4. Persons inaccessible to religious considerations would be

influenced by hopes of riches to be acquired through the secret arts of

alchemy, and the like; 5. The whole purpose of the order would be

directed toward spiritual and Catholic ends; finally, 6. when the

process was completed, there would stand forth in all its nakedness the

savage fury of the Inquisition.

3. THE “HIGH DEGREES” SWINDLE.

Without any sufficient reason assigned, there arose in England between

the years 1741 and 1743 a new degree, Royal Arch, at first as a higher

division of the master’s degree afterward as an independent degree. Its

content was a hotchpotch of New Testament passages, religious dogmas,

and masonic, or, rather, unmasonic fables. Its tradition went back to

the building of the second Temple of Jerusalem, after the return from

Babylonian captivity; hence the president of a Royal Arch lodge took the

name of Zerubbabel, and wore a vesture of scarlet and purple. The

meeting was called a “chapter”; the three masonic degrees were dubbed

“probationary degrees”; and soon, on the title page of the rules of the

degree was represented an ark, with the inscription “Nulla Salus Extra”

(no safety outside), whereby we are reminded that according to Catholic

doctrine the ark of Noah was a type of the Church. Afterward the Royal

Arch degree published a program of its work, in which masonry is divided

into Operative and Speculative, and the former subdivided into manual,

instrumental, and scientific; the aim of the “order” was defined to be,

to gather the human race in one fold under the great Shepherd of souls.

For the rest, the work of this degree was childish play.

Even before this fruit was borne in England, there came into circulation

in France, how or why nobody knows, a statement that Freemasonry arose

in Palestine during the Crusades, and was there consolidated with the

Knights of St. John (Hospitalers), wherefore the lodges came to be

called Saint John’s lodges; that after the Crusades the order was

established in Scotland, was thence afterward introduced into England,

and later into other countries. This historic lie was, of course,

welcomed by the nobles who were members of the order; as for the many

uneducated members who had been admitted into the French lodges, they

were easily deluded. Thenceforward there were High Degrees of all sorts

in France. And as the fable assigned to Scotland the foremost place in

the history of masonry, the highest degrees began to be known as

Scottish, or, after the name of Scotland’s patron, Saint Andrew, Saint

Andrew’s degrees, and the lodges Scottish or Saint Andrew’s lodges. In

their rites of admission they adopted from the traditions of the English

and French stonemasons a lot of myths about the death of Hiram, and

taught the aspirants for admission to avenge that death, the meaning

being that they were to avenge the expulsion of the Stuarts, and the

wrongs done the Catholic Church by the Reformation and by illuminism.

But as degrees were multiplied the Hiram myth no longer sufficed, and

for the higher steps it was necessary to have recourse to other myths.

Meanwhile it was seen that the story of the consolidation of the

Freemasons and the Knights of Saint John would not work, for that

knightly order was still in existence; therefore, if the aristocratic

brethren were to have their vanity flattered, recourse must be had to a

suppressed order of knighthood. True, that was not pleasing to strict

Catholics, but there was no alternative—and a bond of connection had to

be formed between Masonry and the order of the Templars—the heretical

Templars.

So here is the story of the relation of the Freemasons to the Templars:

A few Templars, fleeing from papal and royal persecution—among them

Grand Comptroller Harris and Marshal Aumont—reached Scotland, and in

that country, in order to gain a livelihood, worked as common masons.

Advised of the death of the Grandmaster Molay, and of his last will,

wherein he had directed the brethren to perpetuate the order, these

fugitive knights that same year established the “Freemasons’ league,”

and on the Scotch Isle of Mull held the first “chapter” in 1314. Now, to

say nothing of the fact that, as we shall see, the story took more than

one different shape afterward, it is on other grounds quite unworthy of

belief. It is beyond question that documentarily the Freemason league

can assign for itself no other origin but the constitution of the Grand

Lodge of England in 1717. But, besides, the story is ridiculous, not

only in that Harris and Aumont are purely fictitious personages, but

also in that the Grand Lodge of Scotland and the oldest lodges of that

ancient kingdom know nothing of any such creation of a society; and,

furthermore, the objects and the sentiments of Templarism and masonry

differ too widely for any unification to take place between them. In the

one body free thinking through levity of temperament: in the other

repudiation of odium theologicum out of love of fellowmen; on one side

egotism: on the other regard for the general weal; on one side pride of

aristocracy: on the other regard only for the dignity of manhood.

And yet the most eminent men of the 18th century were fooled into

believing that the Freemasons are descended from the Templars. The first

serious and formal introduction of spurious Templarism into masonry took

place in France. The Chevalier de Boneville, on November 24, 1764,

founded at Paris a chapter of the high degrees called (apparently in

honor of the then grandmaster of Freemasons, Louis de Bourbon, count of

Clermont) the “Clermont chapter”; its members were, for the most part,

partisans of the Stuarts, and therefore of the Jesuits also. Here it was

that the story of the wondrous transformation of Templars into

Freemasons in Scotland was invented, taught, and employed as part of the

ceremonial of admission to the higher degrees. The members wore the

masonic togs, and in their ritual the death of the Grandmaster Molay

took the place of that of Hiram; and, in fact, by Hiram, as some

asserted, Molay was meant. From this chapter the influence of the

Jesuits extended soon over the whole field of French Freemasonry.

Surely, it was not by accident nor out of patriotism that the very next

year the French Grand Lodge, till then dependent on England, declared

itself independent, and adopted statutes according to which the

“Scottish Masters” (unknown both in England and Scotland) were to have

oversight of the work.

4. APOSTLES OF NONSENSE.

Soon the craze spread further still, and first, of course, through

Germany, where, in those degenerate days, whatever bore the French stamp

was received with reverence and conscientiously aped. The Scottish

lodges got entrance into Berlin as early as 1742. The dubious honor of

this importation belongs to Baron E. G. von Marschall, who had been

initiated into the new Templarism at Paris. Dying soon afterward, he was

succeeded by a man who presented the curious spectacle of noblest and

most strenuous endeavor toward a fantastic goal, of the nature of which

he knew nothing. Charles Gotthilf, Imperial Baron of Hund and

Altengrottkau (so he was styled), born in 1722, was a nobleman of

Lusatia and actual privy councilor of the Emperor; he was a man of

narrow mind, without high education, but he was an idealist, a

chivalrous, hospitable and kindly gentleman. At Paris he was received

into the Catholic Church and into the spurious order of Templars, to

which he was devoted heart and soul: he was commissioned “Master of the

Host” in Germany. He founded a lodge on one of his estates, which bore

the ominous name of Unwurde (unworth), and soon had several subordinate

lodges under his jurisdiction.

“About this time,” says a contemporary writer, “the Seven-Years War

broke out. The French troops came into Germany, and with them many

Jesuits. With the French Army, and particularly in its commissariat,

were a great many Freemasons of the higher degrees, and some of those

gentlemen had calculated to make a good deal of money by the sale of

merchandise in Germany. I knew one French commissary who had a whole

wagonload of decorations for some forty-five degrees, and these he

peddled all the way from Strasburg to Hamburg. Thereafter no German

lodge was any longer content with the three symbolic degrees, but nearly

every one of them had a series of higher degrees of one brand or

another, according to the particular windbag each fell victim to; and so

they dropped one system and took up another when a new apostle came that

way and reformed them.”

Such an apostle of fraud was the Marquis de Lernais or Lerney. Taken

prisoner of war to Berlin, he there made known the Jesuitical doctrine

of the Chapter of Clermont, and even founded a chapter in the Grand

Lodge of the Three World-Spheres. To spread these chapters over the rest

of Germany, or, in plain terms, to give the whole country into the hands

of the Jesuits, a character by no means ambiguous, one Philip Samuel

Rosa, once a Protestant clergyman, counsel to the consistory, and

superintendent, but afterward deposed for immorality, was employed.

Rosa’s whole endeavor was to make money. Joining the Chapter of Clermont

he got the title “Knight of Jerusalem and Prior of the Chapter of

Halle.” As he traveled up and down the land, the lodge at Halle paid his

expenses. The eyes of the deluded brethren were at last opened, on the

discovery of the relations between Rosa and another swindler, one

Leuchte, who palmed himself off as an Englishman, Baron Johnson, and who

founded a Grand Chapter, admitted novices and knights, boasted of armies

and fleets at his command, and sent forth to all Templars in Germany an

encyclical letter summoning them to his standard. Many were his dupes,

among them Rosa, who visited him at Jena, humbled himself before him,

and consented to the expulsion of the Berlin chapter from the “order.”

But as Rosa was loth to admit at Halle his submission to Johnson, and

counseled the “knights” there not to recognize Johnson, his

double-dealing was betrayed to his dupes at Halle by the “Baron,” and he

was dismissed from their service in disgrace. The “Baron” himself, after

the discovery of his frauds, was repudiated by his followers, and in

1765 was imprisoned in the famous castle of Wartburg, and there remained

till his death in 1775.

This was the opportunity of the Baron von Hund, the Don Quixote of the

18th century. He became now the acknowledged head of the “order,” and

ruled it as his fancy dictated. He always spoke of “Unknown Superiors”

of the order as though his policy was guided by them; but the

“Superiors” who imposed on the guileless gentleman were the intriguants

at Paris. Because of the unconditional obedience required of the

members, Hund called the system of the order that of “Strict

Observance,” in contradistinction to the “lax observance” of ordinary

Freemasons. The Strict Observance comprised seven degrees; viz., the

three masonic degrees, the degree of the Scottish Master, that of the

Novice, that of the Knight-Templar, finally the degree of the Eques

Professus, or Professed Knight (one who has “professed” or taken the

monastic vows!). All knights assumed Latin names or surnames. Hund was

Eques ab Ense (Knight of the Sword); others were Knight of the Sun, of

the Lion, of the Star, even of the Whale, of the Chafer, of the Golden

Crab, of the Mole, etc. Soon Strict Observance was dominant in the

German lodges, while genuine Freemasonry was forgotten. No less than

twenty-six German princes joined the order, and so puffed up were its

directors in consequence that forthwith they divided Europe up into

provinces, after the manner of the Templars and the Jesuits, naming for

each province a Master of the Host. The subdivisions of provinces were

called, as among the Templars, Priories, Prefectures, Comptrollerships,

etc. To give these subdivisions something more than an existence on

paper, Hund dispatched the Baron G. A. von Weiler, Knight of the Golden

Ear (of wheat, barley, etc.) to France and Italy, where he founded

several chapters: even the Grand Orient of France united itself with the

Strict Observance. Toward those German lodges which held aloof from this

bastard masonry the Hundian Templars were supremely disdainful, and but

few of the lodges had the spirit to speak out against the “obscurantist

innovations.” Chief among the few was the gallant old Lodge of Unity, at

Frankfort-on-the-Main, which declared itself an English provincial

lodge, to show its independence of pseudo-Templarism.

A zealous apostle of the Strict Observance was John Christian Schubart

of Kleefeld, Knight of the Ostrich, who was constantly on the road

converting lodges to that system. Schubart devised a plan by which the

order was to acquire great wealth. Hund’s financial affairs were in

confusion, in consequence of the war, and he proposed to bequeath his

property to the order, in consideration of a certain sum in cash: but

the order had not the money. Schubart now proposed to exact enormous

fees for initiations and admissions to high degrees (for example, 350

thalers for admission). But the scheme could not be worked, and Schubart

withdrew from the order.

The order had no longer any use for Hund. The time had come for the

Jesuit influence to assert itself: it would have no more fooleries with

helmets, swords, accoutrements, and Templar’s mantles. It was seen by

the original projectors of the “order” that if they would succeed in

their design of winning over Freemasonry to the plan of catholizing

Germany, they must betimes provide a clerical directorate for the

organization, which till now had worn the mask of knighthood. They found

a convenient instrument in the person of the Protestant theologian, John

Augustus von Stark, born at Schwerin in 1741. While a student in

Goettingen Stark was admitted (1761) to the masonic order; then he was a

teacher in Petersburg, where he adopted the mystic system of one

Melesino, a Greek. The ceremonial of Melesino’s system comprised a

number of prayers and genuflections, and even a mass; the high-degree

meetings were called Conclaves, and the members wore surplices. Later,

at Paris, Stark took an interest in Oriental manuscripts, and joined the

Catholic Church, but all the same, on his return home he served as

professor of theology at Koenigsberg, and then as court preacher and

general ecclesiastical superintendent in the same city, and afterward in

Darmstadt. Through some acquaintances, who were members of the Strict

Observance, he got an introduction to Hund, to whom he revealed the

great secret which he had learned at Petersburg, namely, that the grand

mysteries of the Templars were revealed not to the knights, but only to

the clerical members, and that these mysteries had been kept and handed

down to that time; further, that the true chief of the order of Templars

was none other but the Knight of the Golden Sun, Charles Edward Stuart,

the Pretender, then resident in Florence. Delighted at the prospect of

an enhancement of what he fancied to be his sciences, Hund recognized

Stark and two of Stark’s friends as Clerics of the Order of Templars.

These clerical Templars thereupon drew up a ceremonial and created

degrees of their own, and as a special favor initiated some secular

knights into their mysteries. But because Hund declined to accommodate

Stark with a loan of two hundred thalers to defray the expenses of a

journey to Petersburg, where Pylades, head of the Templar clerics,

resided, the two fell out, and Stark announced his purpose to keep the

“Clericate” independent of the “Order.” Nevertheless, he begged a friend

to negotiate on his behalf with the secular Templars. This friend was a

noble personage, Ernest Werner von Raven, Knight of the Pearl, a wealthy

landowner, “prior” in the “order,” member of a Chapter under Rosa and

Hund, and also an initiate in Stark’s own clerical order of Templars.

Like Hund, he was a man of honor, but vain and narrow-minded, a mystic

and an alchemist. Raven, in 1772, attended a convention held at Kohlo,

in Lusatia, for the purpose of bringing about an understanding between

the Knights and the clerics. He appeared in the costume of the Templar

clerics, viz.; white cassock with red cross on the breast and a hat like

that of a cardinal. He presented to the meeting a project of union drawn

up by Stark, which the knights received with plaudits of satisfaction.

Hund was deposed from his high office, and appointed one of the Masters

of the Host, while Duke Ferdinand of Brunswick was made Grandmaster, and

other princes were named to be Superiors and Protectors under him.

Mysteria · 第 14 / 17 段