THE SWORD IN THE CRAFT
Before the door of all lodges stands a Tiler (Tyler) “with a drawn
sword in his hand.”
Customarily it is a straight blade; such a shining shaft of steel as
was carried by Knights of olden times. According to Mackey it should
have a snake-like shape. Formerly such swords were the badge of
office of the Tiler, so made in allusion to the “Flaming Sword which
was placed at the East of the Garden of Eden which turned every way
to keep the way of the tree of life.”
Properly no Tiler’s sword is ever carried in a scabbard; it’s
symbolism requires it to be ever ready at hand to “keep off cowans
and eavesdroppers.”
Our lectures refer to the sword but twice; we are taught of “the Book
of Constitutions Guarded by the Tiler’s Sword,” and we learn also of
the “Sword Pointing to a Naked Heart.”
“The Book of Constitutions, Guarded by the Tiler’s Sword,” is a
comparatively modern symbol; its introduction has been traced to
Webb, about 1800. Its symbolism is rather obscure, the more so that
it seems so obvious.
We are told that it “Admonishes us to be ever watchful and guarded in
our words and actions, particularly before the enemies of Masonry,
ever bearing in remembrance those truly Masonic virtues, silence and
circumspection.” But the Book of Constitutions is not, in any sense
of the word, a secret work. It was first ordered printed by the
Mother Grand Lodge, and a few original copies as well as uncounted
reprints of the Old Charges and the General Regulations of 1723 are
in existence, to be seen by Mason and profane alike.
Obviously, then, it is not the secrecy of the Book of Constitutions
which the Tiler’s sword guards; neither silence nor circumspection
regarding that particular Masonic volume is necessary.
Some have read into Webb’s symbol the thought that it was intended to
express the guardianship of civil liberties (a constitutional
government) by the Masonic Fraternity, but this seems rather far
fetched. It is a principle of science never to formulate a difficult
hypothesis when a simple one explains the facts. Surely it is easier
to think that the Tiler’s sword admonishes us to brook no changes in
our Ancient Landmarks, to be guarded lest our words and actions bring
the foundation book of Masonic law into disrepute before the enemies
of Masonry, applying the Book of Constitutions as well as to the
secrets of Freemasonry “those truly Masonic virtues, silence and
circumspection.
“The sword pointing to the naked heart” is a symbolical adaptation of
an old ceremony not peculiar to Masonry, but used by many orders and
secret societies, in which the initiate taking his vows is surrounded
by swords with their points resting against his body, ready to pierce
him upon the instant if he refuses obedience. The sword is so used
at the present time in some of the “higher Degrees” of freemasonry
and contemporary engravings of the eighteenth century show swords
were once used in some English and many Continental lodges. How this
comparatively modern symbol became associated with the “All-Seeing
Eye” - which is one of the most ancient symbols know to man, and
borrowed by Freemasonry from ancient Egyptian ceremonies - is too
long and difficult a study for any but the Masonic student with
plenty of time and Masonic sources at hand.
The sword appears in the Grand Lodge as the implement of the Grand
Sword Bearer, an officer found in most, if not all Grand Lodges. It
comes, undoubtedly from the ancient “Sword of State,” which seems to
have begun in Rome when the lictor carried - as a symbol of authority
and power to punish the evil doer - his bundle of rods with an axe
inserted. In the middle ages the rods and axe metamorphosed into the
naked sword, carried in ceremonial processions before the sovereign
as a symbol of his authority and his power over life and death; and
his dispensation of swift justice. The custom in England was known
at least as early as 1236 when a pointless sword (emblematical of
mercy) was carried at the coronation of Henry III.
The second edition of Anderson’s Constitutions sets forth, that in
1731 the Grand Master, the Duke of Norfolk, presented to the Grand
Lodge of England “The Old Trusty Sword of Gustavus Adolphus, King of
Sweden, that was worn next by his successor in war, the brave
Bernard, Duke of Saxe-Weimar, with both their names on the blade,
which the Grand Master had ordered Brother George Moody (The King’s
sword cutler) to adorn richly with the arms of Norfolk in silver on
the scabbard, in order to be the Grand Master’s sword of state in the
future.”
Brother Moody was later appointed Grand Sword Bearer, so the office
has the respectability of an antiquity almost coincident with the
formation of the Mother Grand Lodge.
The idea the Grand Sword Bearer carries his implement to protect the
Grand Master from enemies seems entirely fanciful; the sword is
merely the emblem of his power, the evidence that he is supreme
within the Masonic state over which he rules.
Early prints of lodge meetings on the Continent show the sword in use
in the ceremonies; in this country the sword was never brought into
the lodge room even during that era when a sword was as much a
necessary article of a gentleman’s dress as shoes or gloves. It was
then deemed, as now, incompatible with that “Meeting Upon the Level”
which is so integral a part of all lodge communications; the sword,
either as a weapon, which made its possessor stronger than he who was
unarmed, or as a badge of rank or distinction; was held to have no
place in the lodge. From this development the almost universal
custom of the Tiler requesting all military men in uniform to leave
their swords without the lodge before entering.
This rule, or custom, comparatively little known in this country
because few military men in times of peace go to lodge in full
uniform, was often broken during the recent war when soldiers clanked
up and down lodge rooms with the arms of their profession at their
sides. But it is as Masonically inconsistent to wear a sword in
lodge as to appear therein without an Apron.
It goes without saying that the Tiler’s Sword is wholly symbolic;
whether it was always so or not is a matter lost in the mists which
shroud ancient history. In the operative days of Masonry the workmen
upon a Cathedral held meetings in the house erected for their
convenience - the lodge. Operative Masons possessed secrets of real
value to the craftsmen; the Master knew the geometrical method of
“trying the square;” all those who had submitted their Master’s
Pieces and satisfied the Master’s of the Craft as to their
proficiency received the “Mason’s Word,” which enabled them to
satisfy others, in “foreign countries” (which might be the next town
as well as the adjacent nation) of their proficiency as builders.
When the beginnings of Speculative Masonry made their appearance,
they added, those secrets which only Masons possessed.
Naturally, many desired to obtain those secrets. These were divided
into two classes; the “eavesdropper,” who listened under the eaves of
a building and therefore received the droppings from the roof, and
the “cowan,” or, partially instructed Mason. As early as 1589 (Schaw
Manuscript) appears this passage: “That no Master or Fellow of the
Craft shall receive any cowans to work in his society or company. nor
send none of his servants to work with cowans.”
Mackey traces the word to Scotland. In Scott’s Rob Roy, Allan
Inverach says: “She does not value a Cawmil mair as a cowan.”
Scottish usage of “cowan,’ a term of contempt, an uninstructed Mason;
a Mason who builds dry walls, without mortar, a “dry-diker.” But
there are other possible derivations of the word; for instance, it
may have come from an old Swedish word “kujon” meaning a silly
fellow, or the French, “conyon,” meaning a coward, a base man.
The Tiler of the operative lodge may well have been armed with a
sword for actual defense of himself, or the lodge in which his
fellows were meeting, from the encroachment of the cowans who wanted
the word and the secret of the square without the necessity of
serving a long period as an apprentice and of laboring to produce a
satisfactory Master’s Piece.
The modern tiler keeps off the cowan and eavesdropper by the simple
process of refusing to admit those he does not know; if they still
desire to enter the tiled door, they must either be vouched form or
request a committee. The Tiler’s sword is but the emblem of his
authority, as the Gavel is the symbol of that possessed by the
Master.
Occasionally a lodge member is a little hurt, perhaps offended, if
the Tiler does not know him and demands that some one vouch for him
before he is permitted to enter.
“Why, I’ve been a member of this lodge for fifteen years!” he may
say. “Here’s my good standing card. You ought to know me!”
It is possible that the Tiler “ought to know him.” But Tilers - even
the very best and most experienced Tilers - are just human beings
with all the faults of memory which beset us all. Many of us are
sure that we know a face and are yet unable to say that we have seen
it in a lodge. How much more true this may be of the Tiler, who must
see and memorize so many faces!
To be offended or hurt because a Tiler does his duty is merely to
say, in effect, “Id rather you didn’t do what you are supposed to
than hurt my vanity by failing to remember me!”
Not very long ago a Grand Master paid a surprise visit, all
unaccompanied, to a small lodge. Their Tiler did not know him. The
Master, sent for, to vouch for the distinguished visitor, was highly
mortified and said so in lodge. The Grand Master stopped him. “You
must not be mortified, my brother,” he said. “You are to be
congratulated on having a Tiler who knows his duty and does it so
well. I commend him to the brethren.”
All of which was a graceful little speech, which carried a wholesome
lesson on the reality of the authority and the duty represented by
the shining blade which no Tiler is supposed to put down while on
duty.
No symbol in all Freemasonry but is less than the idea symbolized.
The Volume of the Sacred Law, the letter “G,” the Square, the
Compasses; all symbolize ideas infinitely great than paper and ink, a
letter formed of electric lights, or carved from wood, a working tool
of metal. Consequently the Tiler’s sword (like the sword of state of
the Grand Sword Bearer) has a much greater significance, not only to
the Tiler but to all Masons, than its use as a tool of defense
against an invasion of privacy.
As not all cowans which may beset a lodge come through the Tiler’s
door, every Master Mason should be, to some extent, a Tiler of his
lodge and wear a symbolic Tiler’s Sword when on the important task
assigned to the committee on petitions.
Some “cowans” slip through the West Gate, are duly and truly
prepared, properly initiated, passed and raised; yet, never become
real Master Masons. This happens when members of the committee have
not heeded the symbolism of the Tiler’s sword. All of us know of
some members who might better have been left among the profane. They
represent the mistaken judgment, first of the committee, then the
lodge. Had all used their symbolic Tiler’s sword - made as accurate
an investigation of the petitioner as the Tiler makes of the would-be
entrant through his door - these real “cowans” would not be a drag
upon the lodge and the Fraternity.
The “eavesdropper” from without is longer feared. Our lodge rooms
are seldom so built that any one may listen to what goes on within.
The real “eavesdropper” is the innocent profane who is told more than
he should hear, by the too enthusiastic Mason. In the monitorial
charge to the entered Apprentice we hear: “Neither are you to suffer
your zeal for the institution to lead you into argument with those
who, through ignorance, may ridicule it.” The admonition of the
emblem of the “Book of Constitutions Guarded by the Tiler’s Sword”
applies here - we must “be ever watchful and guarded of our words and
actions, particularly before the enemies of Masonry.”
Constructively, if not actively, every profane who learns more than
he should of esoteric Masonic work is a possible enemy.
Let us all wear a Tiler’s sword in our hearts; let us set the zeal of
silence and circumspection upon our tongues; let us guard the West
Gate from the cowan as loyally as the Tiler guards his door.
Only by doing so may the integrity of our beloved Order be preserved,
and “the honor, glory and reputation of the Fraternity may be firmly
established and the world at large convinced of its good effects.”
For only by such use of the sword do we carry out its Masonic
symbolism. To Masonry the sword is an emblem of power and authority,
never of blood or wounds or battle or death. Only when thought of in
this way is it consistent with the rest of the symbols of our gentle
Craft and wins obedience to the mandates of the Tiler by brotherly
love, an infinitely stronger power than strength of arm, point of
weapon or bright and glittering steel!
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