SHORT TALK BULLETIN - Vol.VIII   January, 1930   No.1

THE SWORD IN THE CRAFT

by: Unknown

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!

