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Short Talk Bulletin Vol 01 No 10
SHORT TALK BULLETIN - Vol.I October, 1923 No.10
MASTER'S PIECE
by: Unknown
In the olden time it was no easy matter for a man to become a Freemason.
He had to win the right by hard work, technical skill, and personal worth.
Then, as now, he had to prove himself a freeman, of lawful age, legitimate
birth, of sound body and good repute to even be eligible at all. Also, he
had to bind himself to serve under rigid rules for seven years, his service
being at once a test of his charac-ter and a training for his work. If he
proved incompetent or unworthy, he was sent away.
In all operative lodges of the Middle Ages, as in the guilds of skilled
artisans of the same period, young men entered as Apprentices, vowing
absolute obedience, for the lodge was a school of the seven sciences, as
well as of the art of building. At first the Apprentice was little more
than a servant, doing the most menial work, and if he proved himself
trustworthy and proficient his wages were increased; but, the rules were
never relaxed, "except at Christmastime," as the Old Charges tell us, when
there was a period of freedom duly celebrated with feast and frolic.
The rules by which an Apprentice pledged himself to live, as we find them
recorded in the Old Charges, were very strict. He had first to confess his
faith in God, vowing to honor the Church, the State, and the Master under
whom he served; agreeing not to absent himself from the service of the
Order save with the license of the Master. He must be honest and upright,
faithful in keeping the secrets of the Craft and the Confidence of his
fellows. He must not only be chaste, but must not marry or contract
himself to any women during the term of his Apprenticeship. He must be
obedient to the Master without argument or murmuring, respectful to all
Freemasons, avoiding uncivil speech, free from slander and dispute. He
must not frequent any tavern or alehouse, except it be upon an errand of
the Master, or with his consent.
Such was the severe rule under which an Apprentice learned the art and
secrets of the Craft. After seven years of study and discipline, either in
the lodge or t the Annual Assembly (where awards were usually made), he
presented his "Masterpiece," some bit of stone or metal carefully carved,
for the inspection of the Master, saying, "Behold ny experience!" By which
he meant the sum of his experiments. He had spoiled many a bit of stone.
He had spent laborious nights and days, and the whole was in that tiny bit
of work. His Masterpiece was carefully examined by the Masters assembled
and if it was approved he was made a Master Mason, entitled to take his kit
of tools and go out as a workman, a Master and Fellow of his Craft. Not,
however, until he had selected a Mark by which his work could be
identified, and renewed his vows to the Order in which he was now a Fellow.
The old order was first Apprentice, then Master, then Fellow - Mastership
being, in the early time, not a degree conferred, but a reward of skill as
a workman and of merit as a man. The reversal of the order today is due,
no doubt, to the custom of the German Guilds, where a Fellow Craft was
required to serve two additional years as a journeyman before becoming a
Master. No such custom was known in England. Indeed, the reverse was
true, and it was the Apprentice who prepared his Masterpiece, and if it was
accepted, he became a Master. Having won his mastership, he was entitled
to become a Fellow - that is, a peer and Fellow of the Craft which hitherto
he had only served. Hence, all through the Old Charges, the order is
"Masters and Fellows," but there are signs to show that a distinction was
made according to ability and skill.
For example, in the Matthew Cooke MS, we read that it had been "ordained
that they who were passing of cunning should be passing honored," and those
less skilled were commanded to call the more skilled "Masters." Then it is
added, "They that were less of wit should not be called servant nor
subject, but Fellow, for nobility of their gentle blood." After this
manner our ancient brethren faced the fact of human inequality of ability
and initiative. Those who were of greater skill held a higher position and
were called Masters, while the masses of the Craft were called Fellows. A
further distinction must be made between "Master" and a "Master of the
Work," now represented by the Master of the lodge. Between a Master and
the Master of the Work there was no difference, of course, except an
accidental one; they were both Masters and Fellows. Any Master could
become a Master of the Work provided he was of sufficient skill and had the
fortune to be chosen as such either by the employer or the lodge, or both.
What a rite or ritual, if any, accompanied the making of a Master in the
old operative lodges is still a mater of discussion. In an age devoted to
ceremonial it is hard to imagine such an important event without its
appropriate ceremony, but the details are obscure. But this is plain
enough; all the materials out of which the degrees were later developed
existed, if not in drama, at least in legend. Elaborate drama would not be
necessary in an operative lodge. Even today, much of what is acted out in
an American Lodge, is merely recited in an English Lodge. Students seem
pretty well agreed that from a very early time there were two ceremonies,
or degrees, although, no doubt, in a much less elaborate form than now
practiced. As the Order, after the close of the Cathedral-Building period
passed into its speculative character, there would naturally be many
changes and much that was routine in an operative lodge became ritual in a
speculative lodge.
This is not the time to discuss the origin and development of the Third
Degree, except to say that those who imagine that it was an invention
fabricated by Anderson and others at the time of the revival of Masonry, in
1717, are clearly wrong. Such a degree could have never been imposed upon
the Craft, unless it harmonized with some previous ceremony, or, at least,
with ideas, traditions and legends familiar and common to the members of
the Craft. That such ideas and traditions did exist in the Craft we have
ample evidence. Long before 1717 we hear hints increase as the office of
Master of the Work lost its practical aspect after the Cathedral-Building
period. What was the Master's part? Unfortunately we cannot discuss it in
print; but nothing is plainer than, that we do not have to go outside of
Masonry itself to find the materials out of which all three degrees, as
they now exist, were developed.
Masonry was not invented; it grew. Today it unfolds its wise and good and
beautiful truth in three noble and impressive degrees, and no man can take
them to heart and not be ennobled and enriched by their dignity and beauty.
The First lays emphasis upon that fundamental righteousness without which a
man is not a man, but a medley of warring passions - that purification of
heart which is the basis alike of life and religion. The Second lays
stress upon the culture of the mind, the training of its faculties in the
quest of knowledge, without which man remains a child. The Third seeks to
initiate us, symbolically, into the eternal life, making us victors over
death before it arrives. The First is the Degree of Youth, the Second the
Degree of Manhood, the Third the consolation and conquest of Old Age, when
evening shadows fall and the Eternal World and its unknown adventure draw
near.
What then, for each of us today. is meant by the Master's Piece? Is it
simply a quaint custom handed down from our ancient brethren, in which we
learn how an Apprentice was made a Master of his Craft? It is that indeed,
but much more. Unless we have eyes to see double meaning everywhere in
Masonry, a moral application and a spiritual suggestion, we see little or
nothing. But if we have eyes to see it is always a parable, an allegory, a
symbol, and the Master's Piece of olden time becomes an emblem of that upon
which every man is working all the time and everywhere, whether he is aware
of it or not - his character, his personality, by which he will be tested
and tried at last. Character, as the word means, is something carved,
something wrought out of the raw stuff and hard material of life. All we
do, all we think, goes into the making of it. Every passion, every
aspiration has to do with it. If we are selfish, it is ugly. If we are
hateful, it is hideous. Williams James went so far as to say that just as
the stubs remain in the checkbook to register the transaction when the
check is removed, so every mental act, every deed becomes a part of our
being and character. Such a fact makes a man ponder and consider what he
is making out of his life, and what it will look like at the end.
Like the Masons of old, apprenticed in the school of life, we work for "a
penny a day." We never receive a large sum all at once, but the little
reward of daily duties. The scholar, the man of science attains truth, not
in a day, but slowly, little by little, fact by fact. In the same way, day
by day, act by act, we make our character by which we shall stand judged
before the Master of all Good Work. Often enough men make such a bad botch
of it that they have to begin all over again. The greatest truth taught in
religion is the forgiveness of God, which erases the past and gives us
another chance. All of us have spoiled enough material, dulled enough
tools and made enough mistakes to teach us that life without charity is
cruel and bitter.
Goethe, a great Mason, said that talent may develop in solitude, but
character is created in society. It is the fruit of fellowship. Genius
may shine aloof and alone, like a star, but goodness is social, and it
takes two men and God to make a brother. In the Holy Book which lies open
on our Altar we read: "No man liveth unto himself; no man dieth unto
himself." We are tied together, seeking that truth which none may learn
for another, and none may learn alone. If evil men can drag us down, good
men can lift us up. No one of us is strong enough not to need the
companionship of good men and the consecration of great ideals. Here lies,
perhaps, the deepest meaning and value of Masonry; it is fellowship of men
seeking goodness, and to yield ourselves to its influence, to be drawn into
its spirit and quest, is to be made better than ourselves.
Amid such influence each of us is making his Master's Piece. God is all
the time refining, polishing, strokes now tender, now terrible. That is
the meaning of pain, sorrow and death. It is the chisel of the Master
cutting the rough stone. How hard the mallet strikes, but the stone
becomes a pillar, an arch, perhaps an altar emblem. "Him that overcometh,
I will make a pillar in the Temple of my God." The masterpiece of life, at
once the best service to man and the fairest offering to God, is a pure,
faithful, heroic, beautiful Character.
"Oh! the Cedars of Lebanon grow at our door,
And the quarry is sunk at our gate;
And the ships out of Ophir, with Golden ore,
For our summoning mandate wait;
And the word of a Master Mason
May the house of our soul create!
While the day hath light let the light be used,
For no man shall the night control!
Or ever the silver cord be loosed,
Or broken the golden bowl,
May we build King Solomon's Temple
In the true Masonic Soul!"
