43

“THE SPIRITUAL TREASON OF FREEMASONRY” COMMITTED BY J. MARQUÈS-RIVIÈRE

This article, which appeared in La Flèche No. 11, March 15, 1932, is a response to a book written by J. Marquès-Rivière,¹ in which he attacked Freemasonry and mentioned (and even quoted) Naglowska’s little newspaper as being representative of Masonic thought. Naglowska, for her part, thoroughly ridiculed Marquès-Rivière and denied (at the end of the next article) that she was a Mason. Technically, she was telling the truth, since as a woman she could not be a regular Mason, but there is evidence that she, like some of her former sisters in the Theosophical Society, may have been a Co-Mason. Marquès-Rivière himself had been originally Catholic, then a Mason, and finally returned to Catholicism. During the Occupation he became a collaborator with the Nazis, who encouraged his continuing attacks on Freemasonry. Naglowska obviously wrote this article herself, but signed it with a pseudonym, “La Flèche.”

That a naive young man, having no personal experience of what is commonly called the mystery, should come to tell us that he has not found, here or there, the spiritual comfort that he was seeking, and that he should pile insults and imprecations on the men who, according to him, should have facilitated his progress toward truth on the dry path of Knowledge—nothing could have seemed to us more nor-mal—for that is how the vulgar person is made: he is never happy with his meager harvest and sincerely imagines that the veritable truth—the one which he cannot gather himself—must be offered to him by another: by a man richer than he . . .

Besides, all the tragedy of the ordinary man comes down to this: he wants to vaunt himself beyond his measure and imagines that the “initiates” owe him the capacities that he does not have. Jesus of Nazareth suffered his share of it, when he was assailed by his compatriots who said to him: “Show us your Father, and we will leave you in peace. But you tell us things that we do not understand.”

Is Mr. J. Marquès-Rivière, the author of the shameful work entitled “The Spiritual Treason of Freemasonry,” is he a naive young man?

We ask this question in order to know whether we should feel pity or horror concerning him.

For if he is naive, if his “more than seven years” of life as a Freemason have not opened his eyes, if after as before he does not understand that men are what they are—jealous, envious, egotistical, evil-doers, slanderers, debauched, gluttons, and fornicators—in spite of the grades and titles that they give themselves, and in spite of the color of their flag, which is never more than a dream and has nothing to do with reality, if Mr. J. Marquès-Rivière did not know yesterday and does not know today that the spirit blows where it will and does not necessarily come to rest upon the chiefs chosen by humans; if J. Marquès-Rivière is a child irreducibly limited to a threshold of twelve years (normal limit of mental development of the European races), he is worthy of pity, and his book should be considered as the error of an unaware scholar, with no reason to blame him except in the hope of correcting him.

But if J. Marquès-Rivière is more than a child, if he has understood what the Triangle and the symbols of which it is the key mean, his work is cowardice and treachery. In this case, his crime is unpardonable.

For it is cowardly to leave a Society from which one has largely profited and which one does not abandon unless it has not given one enough.

It is cowardly and treason by definition to deliver the secrets of an army, of which one has shared the advantages and the dangers, to another army, from which one will profit now . . . moreover with the same result of unassuaged spiritual thirst.

For Mr. J. Marquès-Rivière throws Freemasonry as feed to the imbeciles, so that he can then leave it and seek refuge in the bosom of the Roman Catholic Church.

Now, he is correct in telling us that Freemasonry, where he was “an officer,” combats the Roman Church, and he does not pretend to be unaware that the latter combats the former. He passes, then, from one adversary to the other, where he starts out by betraying.

Should we believe that he has been bought by the priests? Should we believe that he takes this unworthy step out of mere cupidity? Perhaps. We ourselves do not go that far, for having read the 254 pages of the book in question, we wish to believe that Marquès-Rivière is sincere when he says this:

I have not wished to make a “confession”; I have avoided, while speaking as “I,” contributing anything other than affirmations. If the last part of this book is less documented, I apologize. In this area, it is sometimes impressions and oral testimonies that are worth more, for the witness, than books and libraries. I have been a witness of many acts and of many stories.

If Freemasonry had declared that it was a mutual-aid society or a politico-philosophical club, I would have left it in peace, for every social activity can defend its goal. Moreover, I would not have been interested in it, being anti-modern to my very great shame.

But Freemasonry speaks of initiations, of spirituality, of mysticism, of religion, of liberation. It falls therefore within the area of Metaphysics, at least nominally. Now, the practical inside study of this Sect has shown me that its principal goal is a strange reversal of the traditional values that form the very basis of all spirituality. I saw it then in an unhealthy aspect, which only increased after that. I acquired the living testimony, not of an occult plan, which would be inexact, but of the existence of an anti-traditional form of thought, anti-spiritual, anti-Christian. The mask was raised and that is why I have spoken the words “spiritual treason.” That this state of spirit may be unconscious, unrevealed, imperceptible, I am the first to admit; that there may be much good faith, much good will, and that they may be at times quite touching, I recognize. But that is not enough. One does not manage the world by good will; it requires will itself. It is necessary to know what one wants, and where one is going. Freemasonry plays on indecision and imprecision—it is its only strength, and it is great. On top of all that, one must add the sleeping potions of occultism, the opium of extravagant and sterile symbolisms, and one understands the strange results that are obtained.

If the danger of Freemasonry were only the creation of nullities and the deification of its foolishness, this kind of business is so common these days that one would be content to just shrug his shoulders. If this Sect contented itself with politics, one could let the “parties” defend themselves by their own means. But behind the attitudes, the buffoonery, the speeches, and the banquets, there is something else quite redoubtable that pulls the strings of all these puppets, and it is this foul odor that I have smelled in the Lodges.

I understood then that at times there were necessary attitudes, obligatory decisions, just and useful executions. I understood the acts of defense; this book is one of them.”

J. Marquès-Rivière has quit Freemasonry to defend himself from the foul odor that he smelled there, it seems. In the bosom of the Roman Church he will, without doubt, be protected from it.

Anyway, he says himself, after having explained to us in what a subtle fashion the demonic entities have put forth their tentacles to capture the souls that become animated and bend them to the service of humanity.

The Catholic mystical tradition has not fallen into this subtle snare; it has felt that the “creature” had no interest or value except in respect of its relations with the “Creator,” and that these relations must be perceived from within and not dictated by a mental or sentimental ideal, no matter how altruistic and charitable it may seem.

Now, fortunate are the rare Catholics who may understand these lines and find themselves in agreement with them. The others—and they are the overwhelming majority—occupy themselves much more with humans and with charity than with God and Love, which makes the Roman Church in its totality human, and worthy of exactly the same critique that Marquès-Rivière directed at Masonry. People are people everywhere, and their defects are always the same. It is in no way necessary to betray one army, exposing it to attack by the other, which is just as human, that is to say: jealous, envious, perfidious, fornicating, and gluttonous. God and His Truth do not gain anything with the victory of the one or the other, and the Joy of Heaven is not realized except when a pure person exalts it with all his body, with all his soul, and with all his spirit at the same time. And the pure one is not better in this church or that, for where he is, his joy shines out, independently of the wickedness of the vile ones who can certainly be found there.

If you don’t like the room in which you find yourself, go into the other, but don’t condemn those who have received you into the first one. They were not perfect, you say? Foolish one, were you received by the gods?

The human species occupies itself as it can with its public matters; that is its duty, for it is its nature. But you who wish to know the heavens, isolate yourself in your soul and look on High.

Freemason or Catholic, you will understand the same things, if you are worthy of them.

But, to judge by his book, Marquès-Rivière is far from being worthy of knowing, for he is afraid of demons and sees them everywhere.

Now, demons are nothing more than the power that the frightened individual gives them. The Fearless Knight annihilates them with a single look.

We hope that J. Marquès-Rivière will acquire, in the bosom of the Roman Catholic Church, the virtues of a Fearless Knight that he has not been able to acquire in the Masonic Lodges. Then, perhaps, he will understand the symbol of the arrow, which he categorizes as Luciferian, on page 175 of his book.^*27

He will perhaps also understand—when he is no longer haunted by the Evil—that the “very closed” group that presides over the destiny of our Organ of Magical Action has no need to look for its origin  in the Caucasus, for Paris is sufficient for the blooming of all truth.

Concerning the small perfidy of J. Marquès-Rivière, with regard to us, we could have said a lot more, but we prefer to leave this lost soul face to face with his conscience, because we still believe that he has one.

On the other hand, this decorative flower that he has added to the legend that one imagines will drown our young movement, far from harming us, will do us good. The legend, although complete fantasy, adds charm to a sprouting plant, and an evil-intentioned lie is sometimes transformed into truth at the expense of the liar.

We never raise our hand against those who strike us, and it is thus that the blows that are destined for us often fall back upon their author.