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BACK NEXT Summer 2008 Issue 45 Letter from the Editor Grand Lodge News News and Views On The Level International News Beyond the Craft Perambulating the Lodge Masonic Dining and Celebration Interview: The Grand Chancellor The Orator Walking the Way of Saint James Abd el-Kader: Algerian Nationalist and Freemason Province of Cambridgeshire Library & Museum Brother Lightfoote's Journal Review: Committed to the Flames Review: The Mythology of Secret Societies Review: The Dawn of Astrology Letters to the Editor Internet Library & Museum of Freemasonry Grand Lodge Quarterly Communication Convocation of Supreme Grand Chapter RMBI Masonic Samaritan Fund Grand Charity RMTGB Canon Richard Tydeman: Looking unto the Rock Copyright 1997-2008 Grand Lodge Publications Ltd Designed and Maintained by: Cyberpoint Limited

MASONIC HUMOUR An Eighteenth-Century Gentleman of the Craft Brother Lightfoote's Journal Saint Laurence is the patron saint of cooks. This honour appears to have been bestowed on him because he was, according to tradition, martyred by being roasted on a gridiron. That claim is, however, highly suspect. Laurence was a Roman, and Romans were invariably put to death by the sword, indeed they often put themselves to death by the sword! Laurence’s gridiron appears to have been borrowed from Saint Vincent of Saragossa; the Spanish, as we know, being depressingly inventive when it comes to torture. By coincidence, Saint Vincent ... Brother Lightfoote's Journal Simon was a simple fisherman, known to his friends as Peter, from the Greek, Petros – a rock. He was obviously a sturdy fellow. Our Lord, punning on his nom-de-poisson, as it were, declared, ‘Upon this rock I shall build my church,’ and so it came to pass, for Peter, as we are all aware, became the first Pope. I recently directed my course to the West, to Cornwall, to be more exact, to Helston to be perfectly precise, to witness the ancient custom of the Furry Dance (Furry, pronounced to rhyme with hurry, from the Latin feriae – a festival) ... Brother Lightfoote's Journal Homobonus, as his name implies, was a good man. Trained by his father in the craft of tailoring, he earned an enviable reputation for skill, precision and integrity. He never cut corners, neither did he pad his part – or his accounts. On top of his professional probity he was renowned for his piety, his generosity in alms giving and his care for the needy and the sick. During the Gloria at Mass, on this day in 1197, he stretched forth his arms like Christ crucified and fell dead. He is the patron of Cremona, though he was never guilty of fiddling. I have always felt ... Brother Lightfoote's Journal Perpetua and Felicitas, I read, were Carthaginian Christians persecuted by Septimius Severus (a good name for a persecutor) at the beginning of the third century. Perpetua had a little baby and Felicitas actually gave birth whilst they were imprisoned, awaiting the advent of the Games at which their deaths were to form part of the entertainment. During this period of anxious anticipation, Perpetua experienced many visions, the most striking of which was one in which she saw herself in the arena, before the baying mob, naked, transformed into a ... Brother Lightfoote's Journal Saint Wulfram was much admired for his rigorous regime of self mortification. He was much given to starvation, prostration, the wearing of chain mail and frequent immersions in cold water. Sounds like school to me, without the flagellation. The point is that school puts one through hell for a few years when life would probably be hell anyway but that brief experience prepares one for the rest of one’s life, and one is sustained, whilst under the rod, by the thought of how nice it will be when it stops. The same could be said of Lent, of course, by those who keep the fast ... Brother Lightfoote's Journal They were all right, of course, and they were all wrong. The first had got hold of one of the legs, the second the trunk and the third a tusk. They each had a firm grip on a detail but no grasp of the Grand Design whatsoever. I know some Freemasons like that… Saint Hilary had a very firm grasp of the Grand Design. Though born of pagan parents, patient scholarship led him to be convinced that man was obliged to put his knowledge of good and evil to positive use, and if he did so, he would be richly rewarded. I am in agreement with Saint Hilary on this point, though ... Feast of St Pelagia Pelagia was a very bad girl who became a very good boy. Following a moment of divine rapture she abandoned being a painted harlot and became a plain hermit. Dwelling, dressed as a man, on the Mount of Olives, she/he became known as Pelagius, not to be confused with the well-known heretic who upset the Roman Church hugely and was therefore probably not all bad. His heresy, coincidentally, was the suggestion that humanity was not all bad. He is not to be confused with Pope Pelagius, of whom more at a later date, perhaps. Though the weather ... Feast of Saint Ursula And they’re welcome to them so far as Lightfoote’s concerned. If man’s Creator had intended him to live a life aquatic He would surely have equipped him with gills and fins. At the very least He would have made him palmipedous but, except in some odd cases He did not. I have heard it put forward, usually by one who has imbibed enough to float a battleship, that man is somehow descended from creatures of the deep that have, over eons, crawled up on to the land, learned to walk upright and gone on to write sonnets and open bank accounts. Frankly I find ... Feast of St Luke Saint Luke wrote the third gospel and the Acts of the Apostles, and was, it is said, an accomplished painter being credited with an icon of the Virgin. His writings are filled with compassion and his paraphrases of the parables of the Good Samaritan and the Prodigal Son still have the power to move. Thus far, he appears to be a Saint among Saints, but no man is perfect and Luke was a doctor. The medical profession, like the teaching profession and the legal profession, is largely, if not wholly, fraudulent. Surgeons, schoolmasters and solicitors rely on their patients ... Feast of St Budoc Saint Budoc was born at sea, in a barrel, his mother having been cooped up and cast into the English Channel as punishment for infidelity – of which she was innocent. Seems awfully harsh to me, but the story ends happily as they eventually reached Ireland and lived there, happily, ever after. There is more than an echo of Greek mythology in this tale. I recall that Acrisius, King of Argos, sealed his daughter, Danae, up in a chest and thrown into the sea for having been impregnated by Zeus who came upon her as a shower of gold. She gave birth ... My Kingdom for a Horse I’ve never had that much love for horses, though some, I note, are quite infatuated with the silly, smelly creatures. Whilst I am content to be drawn by them in a carriage, I generally avoid sitting astride them as the act demeans both parties and tempts providence. The best way to avoid falling off an ‘oss is not to get on it in the first place, just as the most efficient way to avoid being eaten by sharks is not to swim where they are. I have little sympathy, therefore, for those who complain about having fallen off horses or having been eaten by sharks; their misfortune ... Feast of Saint Gwen Saint Gwen was a remarkable woman: she had three breasts. The reason for this mammary exuberance was revealed when she gave birth to three saints: Wethnoc, Iacob and Winwaloe. She decamped to France to escape a pestilence that was ravaging the countryside but was twice captured by English pirates and carried back to England. Undaunted, on both occasions, she calmly walked back across the Channel. At the end of her life, however, she decided to return to Canonicorum (Dorset) where sculptures at Whitchurch (to the French she is St. Blanche) ... Feast of Saint Mary of Egypt I met a traveller from an antique land, who said: I’ve just seen some quite remarkable masonry! Our visitor’s remark was hardly surprising as we’d just come from the Installation meeting of the Stonic Lodge – an event at which some quite remarkable masonry is usually guaranteed – but, sadly, this was not what he was alluding to... The man had been recently in Egypt. Lightfoote’s heart grew heavy for he had met such men before. The prospect of being subjected to an agonizing account of grotesque gods and impenetrable inscriptions ... Feast of Saint Nicholas Saint Nicholas was a Turkish Bishop. He is reputed to have saved three orphaned sisters from prostitution by filling their stockings, hung out to dry, with gold coins. This pleasant practice is recalled in the tradition of children hanging their stockings up on Christmas Eve in the hope of similar reward. He is, understandably, the patron saint of unmarried girls. He is also the patron of pawnbrokers, apothecaries, perfumers, sailors and schoolboys. Some contend that the three gold balls hung up outside pawnbrokers’ shops allude to his generosity ... Feast of St. Augustine of Hippo He who is tired of London is tired of life. So says Doctor Samuel ‘See what a Big Dictionary I’ve got’ Johnson. If one might suggest the first addition to the second edition, let it be: According to Johnson, Lightfoote is suicidal, yet it is not myself that I am desirous of doing away with, rather the legion of louts and low life who currently make living in the metropolis unbearable. Until recently, our capital city was a capital place to be. Now, suddenly, London is full to bursting with a plethora of pultrons, pantaloons, pimps and pigwidgeons ... Feast of Saint Elizabeth of Portugal Upon this day in 1187, a Crusader force, commanded (badly) by King Guy of Jerusalem, was utterly destroyed by a Saracen army, led (brilliantly) by Saladin, at the Horns of Hattin. This decisive battle led, ultimately, to the return of the Holy Land to the people who lived there. The Fourth of July is also, as every schoolboy knows, the date upon which the rebellious American colonists declared themselves independent of the British Motherland. One must be careful saying it these days, but I rather admire Brother Washington’s initiative in securing the government ... Feast of Saint Longinus Good advice from Master Shakespeare, which Master Lightfoote would have done well to heed but did not. There are some days and some people that are best addressed by avoidance and today has witnessed both of them. Saint Longinus, I read, was the name of the Roman Soldier who, standing at the foot of the cross, pierced Our Lord’s side with his spear. The name is probably derived from the Greek word for lance – probably – possibly – it could safely be assumed – these words shall evermore put me on my guard! Anyway, our Centurion ended up ... Feast of Saint Cecilia I once danced with a girl who’d    danced with a boy who’d danced with the Prince of Wales. Strange days indeed, but none stranger than a recent one, at the close of which, by candle light, Lightfoote encountered Dark Forces… The Festive Season is upon us, seeming to begin earlier every year. The holly and the ivy are put out almost before the harvest is gathered in these days – and what have the holly and ivy got to do with Christmas, one asks. Nothing, one replies, they are but the echoes, or more appropriately the embers of savage, pagan rites ... Feast of Saint Senzi Saint Senzi is the patron of Sithney, in Cornwall, close to Helston, where they do the Furry Dance, whatever that is. William Worcestre saw his tomb and he has a strong following in Brittany, but his main claim to fame is that he turned down the Almighty’s offer to make him the patron saint of girls. His grounds for so doing were, in my opinion, exceeding firm. He feared that he would never have a moment’s peace but suffer the purgatory of perpetual petitions for hats and shoes and handsome, well endowed young men ... Feast of Saint Lanfranc William of Normandy, known as William the Bastard but promoted, following his victory at Hastings in 1066, to William the Conqueror, appointed Lanfranc Archbishop of Canterbury in 1070. Lanfranc was consecrated in the roofless wreck of the recently incinerated cathedral and subsequently supervised its rebuilding, so there was a bit of masonry in him! Today is also the anniversary of the Fall of Acre in 1291, when the great tower of the Templars finally collapsed under the weight of the onslaught of the Mamelukes ... Feast of Saint Caradoc Caradoc! There indeed is a name with which to conjure images of a glorious past. I spent some of the happiest years of my boyhood in the county of Shropshire- Floreat Salopia! - and many of those were spent in careless play upon the slopes of that great Caer that bears the name of another Caradoc: a legendary chieftain who, the story goes, resisted the onslaught of the mighty legions of Rome. The saint's life also was not without incident. He was employed, as a lad, as a harper, in the service of Rhys ap Tewdyr, but blotted his copybook indelibly by ... Saint Agnes' Eve Saint Agnes, blessings be upon her, laid down her life rather than give up her purity and that one must admire. She refused marriage at the age of thirteen as she had dedicated her life to Our Lord and for this she was placed in a brothel. A man who gazed upon her nakedness was instantly struck blind, which served him right! The similarity of her name to the Latin agnus has given rise to the association of the lamb with which her and lambs are still blessed, on her feast day, in Rome. I read also, in Hutton's Curiosities of Christendom, that the wool from these creatures is woven ... Feast of Saint Felix of Thibuica Saint Felix was as faithful as his name implies, having chosen to be beheaded, during the persecution of the Christians under Diocletian, rather than surrender the Holy Scriptures that were in his care for incineration. The annals of history afford numerous examples of such sacrifice, where individuals have laid down their lives to keep that which they deem sacred from the hands of the profane. I am sure that we can all think of at least one… Is Lightfoote's name about to be added to that illustrious roll? We shall see. I attended a Lodge meeting recently ... Brother Rat Catcher Saint Andrew, as I've said before, is a great favourite of mine; I named a son after him, so I did. It is recorded that he was Our Lord's first disciple, a fisherman by trade, who, when summoned, didn't simply abandon all and follow, but ran and told his brethren. By his actions, the saint demonstrated two of the traits that Lightfoote most admires in a man: he failed to do as he was told and succeeded in spreading joy, for when offered a great gift – the greatest gift of all – his first thought was to share it ... Feast of Saint Sylvester Sylvester, as every schoolboy knows, was made bishop of Rome in the year 314 and is credited with having baptised the emperor Constantine. Other than this highly improbable feat, almost nothing is known about him but that has not deterred a lodge of Freemasons naming themselves after him on the grounds that their inaugural meeting was held on his feast day. It seems odd to me that a lodge should meet on New Year’s Eve, but if one insisted on so doing, one might have expected them to call themselves the Auld Acquaintance or the Neo Annum or something ... Feast of Saint Paphnutius There is great consternation in the Lightfoote household this day. A neighbour of mine, close both to my house and to my heart, has suffered a grievous attack. He is a man of substance, a wealthy merchant, an importer of tobacco and a pillar of the community. I regard him as a brother, even though he isn’t, either by blood or by bond. The point is this: early today two great storehouses that he owns, down by the Tower, were set alight and razed to the ground. As if his precious leaf was not sufficient loss, a number, as yet unknown, of his workers perished in the conflagration, together with some of the volunteers who had turned out to fight the blaze which had been started ... Feast of St Homobonus Homobonus is the patron saint of tailors. Sadly, my tailor passed away earlier this year. Like Homobonus, he was a good man, and he is sorely missed by all who knew him. Homobonus is also, by the by, the patron saint of the city of Cremona, where the violins come from, but no-one was ever fiddled by Bilgorri; let light perpetual shine upon him. Mrs. Lightfoote has been most disagreeable of late, I know not why, I find myself easy enough to agree with. She, on the other hand, finds nought but fault in me: if I stand, I should go, if I go I should stand. On Wednesday evening last ... Feast Day of St Robert of Newminster St. Robert of Newminster, I read, was accused of "excessive familiarity with a pious woman." A perfect example of ecclesiastical hypocrisy if ever there was one: either he wasn’t that familiar or she wasn’t that pious but one simply cannot, as the actress said to the bishop, have it both ways. I regret the recent lacuna in the hitherto uninterrupted flow of this journal. It is due to my taking a tour of the north country from which I am newly returned. Scotland proved to be most stimulating, perhaps a little too stimulating, and I refer not only to the effect of the local produce ... Brother Lightfoote's Journal I am only just returned, and only just intact, following a visit to Hereford: that lonely outpost on the wild, Welsh Marches, where I slept little but changed much. It was The Messiah that bade me go there. I refer not to a summons from the Lord but to one from an old school fellow, to attend a performance of the late Mr. Handel’s wonderful oratorio in the cathedral and a Third Degree ceremony in the Ethelbert Lodge, of which he is currently master: my old friend, that is, not the late Mr. Handel. The season of Lent is, appropriately, gloomy, but Lightfoote’s spirits ... Brother Lightfoote's Journal St. George, I am informed, was probably a Greek. Shakespeare, who was undoubtedly an Englishman, was also, by general consent, the greatest poet and dramatist as ever lived. This is the received opinion of every scholar and critic as has lived since Shakespeare died, having been passed down from one generation of blatherskites to the next, unchanged, unchallenged and unrevised. Lightfoote, however, is unimpressed. I first advanced the opinion that most of Shakespeare’s plays are about as pleasurable as a dose of the pox when I was a schoolboy ...   Brother Lightfoote's Journal © Grand Lodge Publications Ltd 1997-2008