Louis Blanc, himself a Freemason, writes thus: “It is necessary to conduct the reader to the opening of the subterranean mine laid at that time beneath thrones and altars by revolutionists, differing greatly, both in their theory and their practice, from the Encyclopedists. An association had been formed of men of every land, every religion, and every class, bound together by mysterious signs agreed upon amongst themselves, pledged by a solemn oath to observe inviolable secrecy as to the existence of this hidden bond, and tested by proofs of a terrible description.… Thus we find Freemasonry to have been widely diffused immediately before the outbreak of the Revolution. Spreading over the whole face of Europe, it poisoned the thinking minds of Germany, and secretly stirred up rebellion in France, showing itself everywhere in the light of an association resting upon principles diametrically opposed to those which govern civil society.… The ordinances of Freemasonry did indeed make great outward display of obedience to law, of respect to the outward forms and usages of profane society, and of reverence towards rulers; at their banquets the Masons did indeed drink the health of kings in the days of monarchy, and of presidents in the time of republics, such prudent circumspection being indispensable on the part of an association which threatened the existence of the very governments under whose eyes it was compelled to work, and whose suspicion it had already aroused. This, nevertheless, did not suffice to counteract the radically revolutionary influence continually exercised by the craft, even while it professed nothing but peaceful intentions.”[32]
In the work from which the above and the greater part of our materials in this article are borrowed, we read as follows: “It was precisely these revolutionary designs of the secret society which induced its Provincial Grand Master, the Prussian Minister Count von Haugwitz, to leave it. In the memorial presented by him to the Congress of Monarchs at Verona, in 1830, he bids the rulers of Europe to be on their guard against the hydra. ‘I feel at this moment firmly persuaded,’ writes the ex-grand master, ‘that the French Revolution, which had its first commencement in 1788, and broke out soon after, attended with all the horrors of regicide, existed heaven knows how long before, having been planned, and having had the way prepared for it, by associations and secret oaths.’”[33]
And the following:
“After the events of February, 1848, the ‘craft’ sang songs of triumph at the open success of its secret endeavors. A Belgian brother, Van der Heym, spoke thus: ‘On the day following the revolution of February a whole nation rose as one man, overturned the throne, and wrote over the frontal of the royal palace the words Liberty, Fraternity, Equality, all the citizens having adopted as their own this fundamental principle of Freemasonry. The combatants had not to battle long before the victory over their oppressors was gained—that freedom won which for centuries had formed the theme of Masonic discourses. We, the apostles of fraternity, aid the foundation-stone of the Republic.’”[34]
And another master of the Freemasons, one Peigné, said about the same time: “In our glorious Revolution of 1792 the Lodge of the Nine Sisters gave to the world such men as Garat, Brissot, Bailly, Camille Desmoulins, Condorcet, Champfort, Petion; the Lodge of the Iron Mouth gave to it Fauchet, Goupil de Prefeln, Sieyès; the Lodge of Candor, Custine, the two Lameths, and Lafayette.”
The horrors of that Revolution occasioned a temporary reaction and checked the triumphs of the Freemasons. But well they know how to repair their broken fortunes, bide their time, and reappear with renewed force.
Barruel, who was an eye-witness of the events of the period, and also himself intimately acquainted with many Freemasons in Paris, relates that the brethren, considering that the time had come when they were free to publish the secret they had sworn to keep, shouted aloud: “At last our goal is reached; from this day France will be one vast lodge, and all Frenchmen Freemasons.”
A strong reaction of disgust and terror at the satanic orgies of Freemasonry in the ascendant, moderated for a while this shout of triumph. But in the disasters inflicted on France by the conquering Germans, the “craft” thought to find a recurring opportunity. If the Communist attempt at Paris in 1871 was not originally planned by the Freemasons, they openly and officially joined it. “A procession composed of at least five thousand persons, in which members of all the grades took part, wearing their insignia, and in which one hundred and fifty lodges of France were represented, wended its way to the town hall of Paris. Maillet, bearing the red flag as a token of universal peace, headed the band, and openly proclaimed, in a speech which met with the approval of all present, that the new Commune was the antitype of Solomon’s temple and the corner-stone of the social fabric about to be raised by the efforts of the craft. The negotiations carried on with the government of Versailles on behalf of the socialists, and the way in which they planted the banners of the craft on the walls of the capital, accompanying this action with a threat of instantly joining the ranks of the combatants if a single shot were fired at one of those banners (of which a graphic account appeared in the Figaro at the time), was all of a piece with the sentiments they expressed” (The Secret Warfare of Freemasonry, p. 172).
Figaro closed its account of these strange events with the following reflections: “But when posterity shall be informed that in the middle of the XIXth century, in the midst of an unbelieving generation, which openly denied God and his Christ, under the very guns of an enemy in possession of all the French fortresses, hostilities were all at once suspended, and the course of a portentous and calamitous civil war interrupted because, forsooth, Brother Thirifoque, accompanied by two Knights Kadosch, went to offer to M. Thiers’ acceptance the golden mallet of supreme command (in the craft)—when, I say, this story is told to those who come after us, it will sound in their ears as a nursery tale, utterly unworthy of credence.”[35]