MASTER'S PIECE
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 character 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!"
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