‘May all be happy.’

     
May all be happy.
May all be without disease.
May all creatures have well-being.
None should be in misery of any sort.

- Vedic Prayer


This week, the School of Practical Philosophy on East 79th Street commences its fall semester, and those like myself who completed Level 1, Philosophy Works, naturally would continue to Level 2, titled Happiness, which addresses these:

• What is happiness?
• Is happiness natural or do we need to find it?
• What gets in the way of being happy?
• How does happiness relate to others?
• How may happiness be experienced fully?
• Learning to observe without prejudice.
• Living life in the present moment.

Sorry to say I will have to catch up at a later time, but I did return to New York University last Thursday for Mindful NYU’s presentation of The Habit of Happiness: An Evening on Mindfulness with the Blue Cliff Monastic Community. Located in the Catskills, Blue Cliff was founded by Vietnamese Zen Buddhist Master Thich Nhat Hanh. Read a bit about his amazing life here. A small group of monks are touring the United States this month to impart some of the very useful techniques of mindfulness exercise. They spoke for more than two hours that night inside the Kimmel Center on Washington Square South, and, rather than risk inaccurately reporting all of what they said, I will share a few key points instead.

Monks from Blue Cliff Monastery appearing last Thursday at NYU.

Introducing themselves by name—their names, in Vietnamese, are chosen for them by their teacher—and sharing some of their life stories, the monks of Blue Cliff quickly engaged the audience in a Singing Meditation. Lest anyone think meditative exercises have to be silent and motionless, this is proof that happiness can be achieved through a transparently silly activity. I wish I had video recorded it because it is a lively technique that I guarantee will demolish the most agitated or torpid state of mind at any time, and it must be seen to be believed. I don’t want to leave it at that teaser, so I’ll try to explain:

Fortunately the song can be heard here, courtesy of Thich Nhat Hanh’s Plum Village Mindfulness Practice Centre. In addition to the harmonizing, the monks employed descriptive hand gestures to complement the lyrics, which of course heightened the levity. So you’ve clicked that link, and heard the song—try getting it out of your head—but the point is not humor exactly; it is, in the words of one monk, “to live happily in the present moment.” But what is the present moment? It is not a construct of lineal time connecting past to future. It is, if I understand, a oneness of things physical and metaphysical. Singing the song is a way to practice breathing, a tool to relieve stress, and the lyrics present a method for us to express gratitude for all that we have, and to bring awareness of the things we do all day every day.

Sister Purification and Sister Brightness
demonstrate the Singing Meditation.

I think the monks imparted this lesson better in the Tangerine Meditation. All of us in the audience found small tangerines awaiting us on the seats upon our arrival, and were instructed to not eat them. At the appointed time, we were guided through a simple exercise of just seeing the piece of fruit; and smelling it; feeling it; and contemplating the planting of the tree that yielded it, and its growth; and considering the sunshine that ripens the fruit and makes it grow sweeter; and the rainfall; and the laboring hands of those who pick the fruit for our enjoyment. It is a gift of the whole universe—sky, sun, rain, earth, people—that instills in us a feeling of great gratitude. (You alchemists out there are smiling knowingly in recognition.)

And then it was time to eat the tangerine. The Eating Meditation teaches us to be present with our food, appreciating the love and hard work that goes into producing it, so that we truly may be nourished by the food. Peeling the tangerine with a neighbor, pairs of us shared the pleasures of eating the fruit together.

That all may sound simple, but as the monk named Sister Brightness explained, these exercises affect a very complex change in the psyche. Mindfulness, she explained, originally was known as “right mindfulness.” Right, not as in value judgments, but meaning a oneness of mind and body that produces great understanding that we can cultivate in ourselves, as we come to a level of concentration and joy with each breath in and each breath out. The breathing allows us to sustain awareness, “and every moment is a Friday, a weekend.”

Brother Jewel with tangerine.

All of this helps me as I prepare to present “Come to Your Senses!” at Inspiratus Masonic Lodge in New Jersey on the 28th. This will be a new and improved version of the talk I gave before the Masonic Restoration Foundation last month in Philadelphia—which reminds me I haven’t posted news and photos from that weekend yet—before an audience of about 70 Freemasons from all over the country. The lecture, which is informed by proprietary instruction from the School of Practical Philosophy, ran 20 minutes, and the Q&A required another half hour, which was great because it showed me how much information I neglected to address in my 20 minutes. I am hardly experienced in the ways of mindfulness, so I am looking forward to getting back to NYU for a special event for alumni on the afternoon of October 24 for more instruction.
     

‘Consecrating the stone’

    
The Magpie got scooped by the Dummies blog! Fair enough. I’ve been a negligent blogger in recent weeks.

It’s rare that Freemasonry gets to display its timeless traditions in public, but the afternoon of Sunday, September 19 was one such occasion, as the Grand Lodge of New Jersey and the brethren of the local lodges in Union County performed the ceremony of consecration and cornerstone-laying at a church in Cranford.


Trinity, an Episcopal church that has stood in the center of town since 1875 (the church had been incorporated three years earlier) on land donated by parishioners, has renovated and modernized its building and grounds several times during its history. Hopefully this remodeling endeavor will serve the faithful for many years to come. The congregation will hold its first service in its newly renovated building on December 5, and on January 15, The Right Rev. George E. Councell XI, Bishop of New Jersey, will re-consecrate this sacred space.

This affair immediately brought to mind the 2009 Prestonian Lecture by Bro. John Wade, whose “Go and Do Thou Likewise” explained the purposes and history of English Masonic processions from the 18th to the 20th centuries. His title is borrowed from the King James Version of Luke 10:37, when Christ relates the parable of the Good Samaritan as the right thinking and right action rewarded with eternal life, so the connection to this ceremony on the grassless front lawn of Trinity Church is natural.

And we indeed had a procession. A century ago there would have been hundreds, if not thousands, of Masons and Knights Templar marching through town to celebrate an important cultural event for the town, but we do what we can these days. I’d say there were about 65 Masons present, with church congregants and other citizens drawn to the curious sight. The local police and fire departments were extremely helpful, closing off streets and hoisting an enormous 48-star flag for the occasion.

Templar honor guard leads the procession.

Members of local lodges approach the church.

An officer of the Grand Lodge of New Jersey addresses the audience.

The ceremonial Working Tools

and the Elements of Consecration are ready.

The Cranford Fire Department hoists

an enormous, antique 48-star flag over the site.

The Rev. Dr. Gina Walsh-Minor, Rector of Trinity Church,

sprinkles holy water onto the stone.

According to Bro. Wade’s research, there traditionally are three types of public Masonic processions: Display Processions, in which the brethren show themselves and their regalia; Ceremonial Processions, where Masons celebrate religious or civil occasions in public; and Building Processions, at which Freemasons demonstrate the operative origins of the Craft by inaugurating buildings. This occasion encompassed all three varieties.

“Processions are where we are most obviously in the public sphere,” Wade’s lecture concluded. “I suggest that we should explore the possibility of a return of these activities. I am concerned that, with regard to our public image, we have lost that civic association that we have had for hundreds of years. As we move further into the 21st century, we surely need to be proactive about our civic identity. For the man in the street, we should be demonstrating that we have a civic association with the community, and that we are not a secret society or private members’ club. Certainly we have our private space – and that is what distinguishes us from other charitable organizations – but we also have a rich heritage of moral integrity with its allegorical ceremonies and symbolism that has continued in unbroken tradition for close on 300 years. With such a sense of display, we can restore confidence in the genuine meaningfulness of what it is that makes us Masons.”

No argument here.

‘Daniel D. Tompkins remembered’

“The Best of the Rest of 2009” continues on The Magpie Mason. I’d better wrap this up before the end of the month, eh?


On Monday, November 9, the New York City Chapter of U.S. Daughters of 1812 hosted its service of commemoration and grave-marking to honor Daniel D. Tompkins (1774-1825). The U.S. Daughters’ interest in Tompkins stems from his service as Governor of New York, and Vice President of the United States, and as a crucial financier of the American war effort of 1812. This historical society had held a similar ceremony 70 years earlier, almost to the day, when it dedicated a bronze bust of Tompkins in the yard at St. Mark’s Church-in-the-Bowery, where he is laid to rest.

Was Tompkins a Freemason? Not only was he a Mason, he was Grand Master of New York, and the first Sovereign Grand Commander of the Ancient Accepted Scottish Rite of Freemasonry (Northern Masonic Jurisdiction).

Freemasonry became involved, if I understand it correctly, almost by accident. Bro. Isaac Moore of Mariners Lodge No. 67 in New York City happened upon Tompkins’ gravesite one day. Struck by the neglected condition of the burial place, he let the brethren know how this illustrious Mason’s final resting place could benefit from some rehabilitation. One of the Masons Isaac had spoken to was Cliff Jacobs, 33° of St. John’s Lodge No. 1 and the Valley of New York City. Ill. Cliff discovered the U.S. Daughters’ project to fix up the gravesite, and the Daughters welcomed the brethren into the endeavor.

The affair on November 9 was a very special and memorable occasion, as I hope these photos will convey.

The final resting place of Daniel D. Tompkins. Governor of New York. Vice President of the United States. Grand Master of New York. Sovereign Grand Commander of the Ancient Accepted Scottish Rite of Freemasonry.

The Veteran Corps of Artillery, State of New York, founded in 1790, served as the color guard for the ceremony.

Freemasonry was represented in numbers that day. That is John Mauk Hilliard at left, accepting a presentation from Anne Farley, Mary Raye Casper, and Emily Malloy of U.S. Daughters of 1812. Also present were Peter Samiec, 33°, Deputy for New York; RW Vincent Libone, Deputy Grand Master of New York; W. Kenneth Lorentzen, Master of Tompkins Lodge No. 471; and several dozen others. Malloy was chairman of U.S. Daughters’ Tompkins Commemoration Committee.

Participants and guests gather outside the church at the gravesite for prayer and the rededication.

Left: Brian G. Andersson, Commissioner of the New York City Department of Records and Information Services, presented a proclamation from Mayor Michael Bloomberg. Right: Dr. George Hill is a descendant of Daniel D. Tompkins.

The Rev. Michael Relyea of St. Mark’s Church-in-the-Bowery reflected on the life of Daniel Tompkins, crediting him with outspoken support of Abolition, scores of years ahead of the Civil War, which Relyea attributed to the reversals of fortune Tompkins suffered at the end of his life.

Ill. John William McNaughton, 33°, Sovereign Grand Commander of the AASR-NMJ, saluted his predecessor’s service to the American people and to Freemasonry.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

St. Mark’s Church-in-the-Bowery is located in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Its yards contain the burial places of a number of early Dutch settlers of New York, most notably Petrus ‘Peter’ Stuyvesant, Captain General and Governor in Chief of Amsterdam in New Netherland (New York) and the Dutch West India Islands (1612-72).

Grand Master’s Day at Tappan

   

DeWint House, located in Tappan, New York, is owned and operated by the Grand Lodge of New York. During the Revolutionary War, it repeatedly served as a headquarters of Gen. George Washington.

Today was the big day at Tappan, where the Grand Lodge of New York hosted its annual Grand Master’s Day at DeWint House, the historic site preserved by the brethren in New York for its significance as a repeated headquarters of General George Washington during the Revolution.

Most notably, this modest home was used by Washington during the trial of Major John André, to whom General (and Freemason) Benedict Arnold had passed secret information to help the British capture the American garrison at West Point, the strategic artery that gave its owner control of the Hudson River. André was captured, tried, and, on October 2, 1780, executed. Arnold would escape capture, be commissioned a brigadier general in the British army, and lead British troops in Virginia and Connecticut.

RW Vincent Libone, Deputy Grand Master, at far right, presided over the reception today in lieu of Grand Master Edward Gilbert, who is recovering from an ailment.

The colors were presented by the Masonic War Veterans, led by RW John Borycki, Commander General.

Bro. Karl Best receives an honor from Grand Lodge. From left: Deputy Grand Master Vincent Libone, Bro. Karl Best, and RW Manuel Abad, vice president of the Board of Trustees of the Masonic Hall.

One of the more enjoyable moments of the day was the presentation of a proclamation from the Grand Lodge to Bro. Karl Best, who serves DeWint House as assistant superintendent. Best and his wife work with RW Harold Jones, superintendent, and his wife, to keep everything operational at the historic site. From greeting visitors to managing the priceless property, the two couples work hard in the service of Freemasonry and the public.

RW Dom Grippo is a trustee of the Masonic Hall,
and was secretary of Garibaldi Lodge No. 542 for many years.

There were many different aprons worn by the VIPs today. Plenty of purple and gold, and a diversity of styles and symbols. I had to get a shot of this one, worn by RW Bill Maurer, chairman of the DeWint House Committee.

Anyway, the attractions of DeWint House are numerous, and vary from the architecture of the house itself, which is Dutch Colonial; to the beautiful landscape, with its diversity of trees, and historic embellishments; and the many historical artifacts on display in the museum.

The earliest owners of this property owned slaves. These headstones once were in a cemetery several miles away, on land where the Palisades Parkway now stands. They are marked only with one to three letters.

This flag is a reproduction of the personal flag of Gen. Washington,
as commander-in-chief, during the Revolution.

This Japanese Maple is one of many exotic trees on the grounds.

A copy of the historic print titled ‘The Unfortunate Death of Major André.’

An antique painting of the house as it looked long ago.

A scale model of the HMS Perseverance,
a 36-gun frigate built in Britain in 1781.

I suspect the face on this clock is not original, because I have seen it on others, but there is no denying the beauty of the case of this clock. A marvelous example of craftsmanship, in, I think, mahogany.

Wall space is maximized with artworks of various kinds and vintages.

There are many more items on display at DeWint House, too many to show here. The site is closed Mondays, but is open the other six days a week for visits. Highly recommended.
     

Trevor teaches at 'Those Without Breeches'

     

Host Bill Thomas and guest speaker Trevor Stewart at Les Sans Culottes,
New York City, October 6, 2008.

So this Scotsman walks into a French restaurant and starts talking about a novella set in Italy.

No, this isn’t the set-up to a punchline. It is essentially what happened Monday night in New York City. It’s the details that count.

So there we were: Fifteen luminaries in the field of Masonic education (and me) gathered – or maybe “huddled” – inside the intimate upstairs dining room at Les Sans Culottes on Second Avenue to hear W. Bro. Trevor Stewart discourse on “St. Irvyne or the Rosicrucian” by Percy Bysshe Shelley, a work of short fiction in the Gothic genre written when the author was still a college student.

Our teacher, in the middle of a whirlwind speaking tour of the U.S., was none other than the very same Trevor Stewart of Quatuor Coronati fame; Past (2004) Prestonian Lecturer; Past Master of Inverness Lodge No. 6; the Deputy Master of Robert Moray Lodge of Research in Scotland; &c., &c.

His presentation is titled “Enlightenment in the Alps: Shelley’s Forgotten ‘Rosicrucian’ Novelette, ‘St. Irvyne’ ” Since this is what Trevor did for a living, no one was surprised by his dexterous delivery of biographical fact, plot summary (which actually was more compelling than the story itself) and esoteric context, which, naturally, is what brought us together that evening.

“Shelley’s “St. Irvyne: or, The Rosicrucian” was one of his youthful excursions into literary creativity,” Trevor began. “It was written even while he was in his final year at Eton.” His ambition to author a three-part novel did not materialize, so what remained of the story was published in 1811 pseudonymously by “A Gentleman of the University of Oxford.” The young author may have hoped that the Oxford pedigree would have lended it credibility and boosted sales – not that he needed the money – as the market for Gothic tales was burgeoning at that time.

“The language of the opening paragraph gives readers some idea of the events to expect later,” Trevor explained, reading:

Red thunder-clouds, borne on the wings of the midnight whirlwind, floated, at fits and starts, athwart the crimson orbit of the moon; the rising fierceness of the blast sighed through the stunted shrubs, which, bending before its violence, inclined toward the rocks whereon they grew; over the blackened expanse of heaven, at intervals was spread the blue lightning’s flash; it played upon the granite heights and, with momentary brilliancy, disclosed the terrific scenery of the Alps, whose gigantic and misshapen summits, reddened by the transitory moon-beam, were crossed by the black fleeting fragments of the tempest-clouds … In this scene, then, at this horrible and tempestuous hour, stood Wolfstein.

I have to confess a few things. When it comes to English literature, I am, always have been, and likely always will be, an Elizabethan guy, and not a Romantic. And I’ve always had a bias against Shelley in particular, mostly for the way he lived his life. (An atheist. Can you imagine?!) And as I began to read this novelette during the summer, I forgot to read it for pleasure, and instead tried to decode every sentence, looking for the keys to Rosicrucianism. And I thought I’d found a treasure in that opening paragraph. Actually just that first sentence. That’s the longest run-on sentence I’ve read in some time. This guy could have written Masonic ritual! Anyway, I had thought I’d found the Four Elements packed into that lengthy introduction, but Trevor reminded us that this style of writing is the hallmark of the Gothic genre.

But there is more to this opening scene that perhaps the initiated eye may see without reading too much into it. Trevor did not read this aloud, probably in the interest of time, but that ellipsis in the excerpt above represents, in part, this description of our hero Wolfstein: “without one existent earthly being whom he might claim as friend, without one resource to which he might fly as an asylum from the horrors of neglect and poverty.” Hey, we’ve all been there.

And it is at this time, with thoughts of death about to overwhelm him, when Wolfstein is spared a desperate suicide upon being discovered by a band of monks passing by. The monks in turn find themselves surrounded by number of mountain bandits who, for reasons not defined at that point, take in Wolfstein and welcome him, penniless, friendless and hopeless, as one of their own (after robbing and dispatching the monks).

The “banditti troop” retires to its cavern lair. “Over the walls of the lengthened passages putrefaction had spread a bluish clamminess.” Putrefaction!

Shortly the bandits assail other mountain travelers, taking captive the beautiful Megalena, a femme fatale who beguiles both bandit leader Cavigni and newcomer Wolfstein alike. Fearing losing Megalena to Cavigni, Wolfstein murders his leader with poison. The deed is witnessed by Ginotti, a mysterious and respected member of the bandit group.

For reasons not revealed at the time, Ginotti spares Wolfstein the retributive death duly earned, and abets his and Megalena’s escape. The couple flees to Genoa.

Ginotti follows the couple. An expert in disguise, he is able to appear suddenly and unexpectedly to Wolfstein’s repeated shock. Ginotti “manages to extort from the young man a promise that, at some future date, he will accept a solemn duty which he, Ginotti will place on him,” Trevor related. It is at this time when we realize Ginotti is our story’s eponymous Rosicrucian, a Magus in search of an apprentice: Wolfstein.

Ginotti: think alchemical sun (giorno/day) and moon (notte/night).

And here’s why it’s great to have your English literature professor double as a IX° Masonic Rosicrucian.

“The image of the Magus has spread far and has lasted long in most literatures and legends,” said Fratre Trevor, just getting warmed up. “There has scarcely been a people who have not cherished the idea that certain very select men, who after profound and prolonged study undertaken in self-imposed isolation, have become thereby custodians of secret wisdom and wielders of mysterious powers.”

“Interestingly, one of the best accounts, by Francis Barrett, titled simply ‘The Magus: or, The Celestial Intelligencer,’ appeared in 1801, merely nine years before Shelley began his novel,” he continued. “More recently, Professor Elizabeth Butler of Cambridge wrote the standard modern ‘expose’ titled ‘The Myth of the Magus’ (1948) in which she identifies 10 principle features of the Magus figure throughout the centuries.”

Those 10 are:

He usually has a mysterious origin he cannot disclose to anyone. (Certainly the case with Ginotti.)

His birth is marked by celestial portents. (I’m reminded of the Nazarene.)

His infancy is menaced by enemies who seek his death. (Ibid.)

He undergoes a kind of initiation into ancient mysteries. (Luke Skywalker.)

In pursuit of further knowledge, he travels far and wide.

Usually he’ll undergo a contest that tests his abilities.

He endures a trial and persecution at the hands of the ignorant and/or the authorities.

There would be a sacrificial farewell, involving a confession or repentance to others.

He meets a violent or mysterious death.

Ultimately, he experiences resurrection and/or ascension into heaven, achieving divine justification.

So, how did the young Shelley know all of this?

“He was an omnivorous reader and must have been acquainted with the Faust legend, especially with Goethe’s famous version,” Trevor said. “He may have been aware of the careers and writings of well-known British Magi, like Dr. John Dee, Robert Fludd, Simon Forman, Thomas Jones, Edward Kelly and Robert Turner.

“From extensive European alchemical literature, he may have known about the many engravings of Magi at work in their ‘laboratories.’ We have only to recall the example of one of Jan Diricks von Campen’s plates in Heinrich Khunrath’s ‘Amphitheatrum Sapientiae Aeternae’ (1602) which shows a solitary sage kneeling in adoration and ecstasy before a tented sanctuary surrounded by all of the paraphernalia of an alchemical workshop.”

More importantly, there were men in recent memory who had well documented international fame, “or as some would say, ‘infamy,’ in Masonic or quasi-Masonic circles,” Trevor explained. “There was Count Cagliostro, who traveled Europe and founded a mysterious type of initiatic rite called ‘Egyptian Masonry’ that enjoyed enormous but brief fashion, for such was the spirit of the age.

“His contemporary was the Count de St. Germain, who was a genuine nobleman, but equally eccentric. His reputation among the salons rested upon his ‘mesmeric’ powers, and his equally mysterious ability to appear simultaneously in at least three places, far distant from each other.” (A joke was inserted here about grand officers desiring that secret ability.)

“Both of these ‘charlatans’ claimed to enjoy youth that was renewed perpetually by the Elixir of Eternal Life. Both claimed to be able to dispense this to others at need. Both claimed enigmatically to have sources of unlimited wealth. They certainly did not seem to suffer from any shortage of funds. Both claimed to have undergone some form of initiation which had bestowed adeptship.

“And,” Trevor continued, “these trailblazing careers across Europe occurred at the same time as the various sects of ‘enlightened’ ones were making their presence felt in various other quarters.” Pasqually’s Elus Cohens in France, Weishaupt’s Illuminati in Bavaria, and others. “Indeed from the mid 18th century to the beginning of the 19th, the whole of Europe seemed alive with secret initiatory rites, all claiming to possess ‘the true light.’”

And last, but not least, is Dr. James Lind, FRS, who had great influence over his young “disciple” Percy Bysshe Shelley. “Lind was tall, thin, white-haired, and solitary, of serious demeanor, very knowledgeable about obscure sciences and the Far East,” Trevor said. “He was an ideal figure for a Magus for any inquisitive schoolboy such as Shelley” who in turn followed that model. “His hands were always stained with the chemicals that he used in his solitary experiments” at Eton. “There is the well known report of him being discovered alone, surrounded by a circle of flames on the bare wooden floor.”

“He explained that he had been trying to raise the Devil,” Trevor added, “but only managed to raise a very irate master armed with a cane!”

So it is within this historic context that we also see the rise of the Gothic novel.

Defined by our speaker as “hugely popular in the 1790s and early 1800s, especially in England,” it usually featured a medieval building, “a ruined abbey or castle, with labyrinth secret passages underground,” and a villain who “pledged himself to esoteric purposes known only to himself until the end of the tale,” and a persecuted innocent hero. “There were charnel houses, tombs, graveyards, and Nature itself usually conspired to produce effects of gloomy terror at midnight,” Trevor added. “For Shelley, the image of the Magus fitted neatly into this context.”

Simultaneous to all of this is the growing fame of the alchemist. “Until about the late 17th century, alchemy was comprised of two parts: a secret knowledge of the functioning of the universe, and actual work in the laboratory,” said Trevor. “The latter was a prolonged and arduous attempt at a physical transformation of matter that was a mirror image of the simultaneous transformation of the alchemist’s own psyche.” In time, the lab work was supplanted by the inner work of a “spiritual chemistry” that, for literary purposes, could be depicted as a tampering with nature or even a challenge to deity.

St. Irvyne is not a person, but a place, a ruined, cavernous structure of significance to several characters for different reasons where our story climaxes. Early in the plot, Ginotti saves Wolfstein from certain death for his poisoning of the bandit leader Cavigni; aiding in Wolfstein’s escape, Ginotti obligates Wolfstein to agree to a solemn, but unspoken oath. This obligation is made clear at the tale’s end.

“Wolfstein arrives at the darkened vaults of the ruined Abbey of St. Irvyne to meet Ginotti, as per their prior arrangement. Ginotti has disclosed to Wolfstein that he has acquired the secret of eternal life, along with other arcane powers,” Trevor explained. “He is anxious to pass this wisdom to a specially chosen disciple – Wolfstein – so he can die in peace.”

But Wolfstein, at this moment of truth, balks. He will not go along with Ginotti, because doing so would defy nature and deity. “Suddenly, a Devil appears from Hell and drags Ginotti screaming into the eternal fires of his justified damnation,” as Trevor puts it. “Wolfstein, terrified at what he just witnessed in the blackness of the vault, drops dead!”

If you have progressed beyond the Sublime Degree, you know the value of a good vault.

“St. Irvyne” ends quite abruptly.

“Deeper grew the gloom of the cavern. Darkness almost visible seemed to press around them; yet did the scintillations which flashed from Ginotti’s burning gaze, dance on its bosom. Suddenly a flash of lightning hissed through the lengthened vaults. A burst of frightful thunder seemed to convulse the universal fabric of nature; and borne on the pinions of hell’s sulphurous whirlwind, he himself, the frightful prince of terror, stood before them. ‘Yes,’ howled a voice superior to the bursting thunder-peal, ‘yes, thou shalt have eternal life, Ginotti.’ On a sudden Ginotti’s frame mouldered to a gigantic skeleton, yet two pale and ghastly flames glared in his eyeless sockets. Blackened in terrible convulsions, Wolfstein expired. Over him had the power of hell no influence. Yes, endless existence is thine, Ginotti – a dateless and hopeless eternity of horror.”

Shelley concludes with an admonishment: “Let then the memory of these victims to hell and malice live in the remembrance of those who can pity the wanderings of error. Let remorse and repentance expiate the offences which arise from the delusion of the passions, and let endless life be sought from Him who alone can give an eternity of happiness.”

“This connects to Bob Davis’ thoughts on the handing on from father to son of that which we have acquired,” Trevor continued, referring to Bro. Bob’s writings on the importance of responsible men, especially Freemasons, initiating the young into lives of right thinking and right acting. “The tragedy here is the wisdom is lost.”

▲▼ ▲▼ ▲▼ ▲▼ ▲▼ ▲▼ ▲▼ ▲▼ ▲▼ ▲▼ ▲▼ ▲▼ ▲▼ ▲▼

The air upstairs at Les Sans Culottes was nearly as alive with electricity as the lightning-sparked skies over St. Irvyne itself. A question and answer period ensued, with great minds like John Mauk Hilliard and Ted Harrison and others trading their impressions of this novelette in the context of Masonic ritual and symbol. For the sake of privacy, I feel enjoined not to write of that.

From left: John Mauk Hilliard, Ted Harrison and Fred Waldron.

The Brothers Harrison. From left: Robert, Ted and George.

However I cannot close without praising our host, Bro. Bill Thomas of Shakespeare Lodge No. 750, who arranged all of this. Motivated by a desire to enjoy a relaxed evening of great discussion and dining, Bill brought us all together in this charming – in a friendly staff and unpretentious décor kind of way – eatery. He will be elected WM of American Lodge of Research on Oct. 29 at Grand Lodge’s building on 23rd Street.

A toast!

Likewise, the restaurant itself cannot be ignored.

The appetizers were really unlike anything I’ve experienced before. Abundant baskets of raw veggies and fruits, crocks of pâté, piles of fresh bread… all of it was eclipsed by the… well, I suppose I’ll call them “sausage trees!” If you use a banana rack at home, then just picture that device, but laden with an impressive variety of cured and smoked sausages and salamis. Specifically, two garlic sausages, one thick and one thin; one paprika salami; and other delicacies. I don’t know who their purveyor is, but I’ve never tasted meats like this. Similarly the pâté was terrific. If you’re a vegetarian or suffer from gout, this ain’t the place for you.

The entrees varied from salmon (with fish knife actually provided) to beef bourguignon, to roasted duck, to two chicken dishes: cordon bleu and tarragon. Dessert was a choice of either flan or the most decadent chocolate mousse… I can’t even describe it other than to say New York’s nanny-mayor would try to ban it if he knew it existed. Near the corner of Second Avenue and 57th, it is pretty much outside of my usual city orbit, but I’ll be back.

Bill, thanks for a terrific evening. And happy birthday Trevor!