Address of R.W. Bro. James F. Kirk-White
On His Official Visit to Strong Lodge, November, 2003

Brethren, Meet a 700 Year Old Master Mason

Brethren, tonight I would like to share with you a letter written in 1272 by Robert of Beverley to his brother Gilbert. Robert was a Master Mason and Master of the Work; in to-days terms, he would be the architect and the general contractor. It was a detailed letter, full of interesting gems, however being quite lengthy, I had to severely shorten it for to-nights speech. Hopefully the similarities of character, and philosophy of this Operative Master Mason of 1272, and yourself are still in tact.

My Dear Gilbert,

My heart is warm within me this summer evening. I have finished my tasks of building the Choir, the Crossing and the Transepts of this cathedral Priory at Edgeley in the Archdiocese of York. Tomorrow I leave for London to join the household of one of the King's Master Masons.

I have come far since I left the Abbey school at Citeaux, to so plague the quarryman with my questions, and importunities, that he found me a place among his stones.

I was always in love with stones, with what they could do to them, and remained five years with the quarryman -asking questions, always asking questions and dreaming dreams. He was a good master and he taught me well.

Thirty years ago I found myself in England, and made my way to the Cathedral at Lichfield where the south transept was being repaired. From a rough mason I was soon passed to finer work - for I know my craft. I was made Free and of a band of English Freemasons, and received into their fellowship; I was made privy to their secrets. Soon I was no longer Robert of Burgundy, but Robert of Beverley.

I was still a questioner, still reaching out beyond the present task. And so at last to Westminster where Henry the Third was rebuilding the Abbey. The Master Mason was an Englishman, Robert de Freyns, his assistant was John of Gloucester. When John of Gloucester succeeded Robert de Freyns, he chose me as his assistant, and at the close of the work I was myself the Master Mason.

From there the King sent me to Edgeley to build a Cathedral Priory dedicated to St. Wilfrid who had been the Patron Saint of the old Saxon Diocese, vacant since the Conquest. The Saxon church at Edgeley was fallen into ruins, the Saxon Monks scattered and the Abbey buildings were rebuilt and now occupied by a Cisterian Foundation from Fountain Abbey.

And so I was to build a Cathedral for them with the Cisterian Abbot of Edgeley as my Superior. The Abbot was as full of friendship to me, as he was humble to himself. He had in hand a generous amount of money from the King - a token of the King's contrition. The Abbot also sent me twenty lay brothers.

The Cisterian lay brothers are untonsured, they take vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. They do all the outside work of the Abbey and possess many skills. They are excused the stricter usages and customs of the Order. I put these twenty to work in making shelter for myself and my assistants, and for our gear. Two of them I put in charge of the pack train which brought our food each day from the Abbey.

The other eighteen lay brothers I talked with one by one, drawing from each his particular skills and experiences. I had carpenters, smiths, and masons and also an infirmarer. I found one lay brother whose hobby had been carving wood. Him I put carefully aside and saw that his hands remained protected.

And now came my master quarryman, Simon of Norwich, my master smith, Hugh of York, and my master carpenter, Alexander, who had been with me at Westminster. Simon approved of the quarry, and of the red sandstone.

I had marked out the High Altar, and as the Saint's day was coming near we prepared to set the axis of the church. Accordingly on the morning of St. Wilfrid's Day, I stood with a pole at the centre point of the High Altar, Ralph and Geoffrey stood before and behind me - and as the sun rose we set our poles so that each year, when the sun rose on the Saint's Day, its rays should shine directly down the line of the church.

Freemasons and rough masons, smiths and carpenters came looking for work, many of them with their own tools. In a few weeks the whole force was settled in.

Simon, the quarryman, and Hugh, the smith worked well together; it needed to be so, for each depended on the other. They soon sorted out the craftsmen, or fellows, from the rough smiths and the rough masons.

Freemasons already had some loose country-wide organization. They moved freely about the country; and when word of a new building was in the air they collected their tools and singly, or in bands, made their way to the site.

Freemasons, fellows, craftsmen, they were called; they had means of identifying themselves as fully trained, to myself and my assistants, to the quarrymen, and to one another. They brought learners with them younger brothers, sons, friends, who in due course would qualify as fellow freemasons.

I remembered my own career, and I was determined that we should be a company of teachers and of taught. Those who wanted to learn, those who asked questions should be drawn out; those who had higher skills should be ready to teach.

Simon, Hugh, and Alexander, quarryman, smith and carpenter were of a like mind. Not so all the workmen, but in these six years we did fashion some future master tradesmen and even some future masters of the work. My assistants, Ralph and Geoffrey will very soon be masters in their own right.

The Freemasons were my special care, for I was fellow and brother to them all. They had adopted a learned lay brother, and drew from him not only the principles of arithmetic and geometry, but stories of Euclid and of the Egyptians, of Athelstan and his love for the mason craft.

These and more of the history and legends of the craft he wrote down for the Freemasons, also usages and customs, articles and points for the government of their fellowship. The Freemasons who could write copied for themselves and for the others, so that over the five years they had a good store of charges.

My dear brother, you must be tired of all this gossip, and gossip it is, written partly to tell you what sort of life I have lived, partly to go over and set firmly in my mind memories of these past six years. I can truly say that I have worked well, by the help of God, and the support of a loyal band of artificers and craftsmen.

On Corpus Christi Day when the last of the clearing up was being done, but the workmen not gone away, the Freemasons made a pageant at the high end of a meadow up against a wood. There they played their own mistery play. I had never heard of this play in the south of England. I was told that a squire had brought the story back from the Holy Land. The story spoke of King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba.

The workmen, the lay brothers, the country people, gathered before the pageant. King Solomon came on to the pageant dressed in all his glory, paint, fur, feathers, coloured cloths. He called for his master mason.

This player had been made so like me that for a moment, my breath stopped. The same clothes, the same crooked gait, (three times that leg had been broken), the same restless hands. There was a howl of recognition from the crowd, then a tempest of laughter and cheering.

Solomon handed a scroll to his master mason and left the stage. Three outlaws from the wood came on to the stage, demanded the scroll, were refused, and after much mummery and violence, they laid the master dead - struck by one of his own instruments. As you may imagine, the crowd jeered, hissed, and booed.

The body was immediately discovered by the craftsmen, Solomon summoned, and a hue and cry ordered. Noise and shouting from the crowd followed the freemasons as they rushed into the wood.

Presently they returned with the three ruffians whom the King ordered to be thrust into Hell, which had opened on one side of the pageant, complete with demons and pitch forks. The dead master mason was carried reverently away and the play was over.

The play was over, but not quite, for I found myself taken up on the pageant, and presented to the throng, which was cheering and weeping at the same time. King Solomon presented me with the scroll, the Abbot appeared, and we all knelt, to receive his benediction.

The scroll was a letter of gratitude and affection, signed by the dear Abbot, the lay brothers, the master craftsmen, and all, on the fabric Roll. It is beside me as I write, and my eyes fill with an old man's ready tears of pride and satisfaction.

Robert of Beverley
Master Mason and Master of the Work
Anno Domini 1272.

Brethren I trust you enjoyed meeting our 700 year old Master Mason friend tonight. And that you too found our ancient brother to be a man that you would gladly sit with in open lodge. I particularly appreciated his inclination for the teaching of others, which is the embodiment of Freemasonry today.

Before I conclude, I would like to comment on statements made by our Grand Master, Donald H. Mumby, during his message last October, at the 100th anniversary of North Entrance Lodge in Haliburton, regarding Masonic education.

The Grand Master was referring to his interview in the London paper and the public’s image of the Craft. And how secrecy is the first, and often-times the only, image that enters the public’s mind when they are asked about the Craft.

We all know there is much more to Freemasonry then a few secrets. Yet, often, when a brother is asked about the Craft, he responds that he cannot speak about the Craft as it is a secret, thus amplifying the misconception.

The Grand Master stated that he would like to see this corrected, and that with guidance emanating from the G.L. Masonic Education Committee, we will soon be enlightened on this very important subject. It will be interesting to see what develops and I will certainly keep you informed.

Thank you brethren for that wonderful meal, your warm hospitality, and most importantly, your friendship.

This speech was derived from a paper:
Presented by R.W.Bro. G.H. Robertson, P.G.W., P.M.
Published in Selected Papers,Vol.3,
United Masters Lodge, No. 167, Auckland, N.Z.

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