All men possess some measure of intrinsic worth, but genius , like int he case of Robert Burns, is a rare and singular gift bestowed upon humanity. The word genius denotes originality, deriving from the Latin gignere, meaning “to be born,” and, earlier still, from the Greek gennaō, “to generate” or “to produce.”
A man may be an able soldier or a skilled politician, yet only a man of genius becomes an inventor, a poet, or an original thinker. Whenever we encounter individuals of exceptional intellect, shaping their own destinies and rising above their contemporaries, we recognise the presence of such minds. They have appeared in every age and among all races of humankind. They belong to no single class or creed and are often deeply religious in their own distinctive way.
Robert Burns, Scotland’s greatest son, was indeed such a man. He taught the world through his poems the difference between religion and faith.
"The rank is but the guinea's stampThe man's the gowd for all that."
THE MAN HE WAS
Possibly no poet ever lived who possessed that original style and uniqueness of composition as Robert Burns. He was the poet of the rights of the common people. His qualities were fire, tenderness, humour, simplicity and all so nicely and rarely blended together.
He touched with delicate and joyful hands the deep and noble feelings of old Scotland and the life, the faith, the genious and hope of his native land.
This is why we love Robert Burns, for it was he who taught us the brotherhood of man, that which lives in his songs and always will live while human nature is the same. He saw the nature with the eyes of a child, saw beauty in the fold of hills, in the trees, in the flowing waters and the sound of the wind filled him with a sad joy.
Such was Robert Burns, a man full of passion and pity.
If he could have its way with us, every injustice, every cruelty, every despotism would fall and every man would have a more fulfilled life and superior soul.
“Then let us pray, that come what may As come it will, for all thatThat man to man, the world over Shall brothers be, for all that”
The Solicitor, a Forensic Scientist, and the Shadow of the Ardlamont Murder
In Scottish law, the unique Murder Not Proven verdict exists alongside Guilty and Not Guilty. Dating back to the 18th century, it allows jurors to express that, though they suspect wrongdoing, the evidence falls short of removing reasonable doubts. Jack House, author of the book Murder Not Proven—later adapted for television by the BBC—argued that Victorian trials were not only shaped by evidence, but by respectability. In his view, social standing often protected the accused. The more respectable the defendant was or even looked, the greater the chance of escaping justice. A telling example of this was the 1893 trial known as the Ardlamont Case (12/12/1893 – 22/12/1893), in which Arthur Toovey, a solicitor and Middlesex Freemason, was called to testify.
The Ardlamont Case: Murder or Misadventure?
The trial commenced on 12th December 1893 at the Edinburgh High Court. It centred on the suspicious death of Cecil Hambrough, the simple-minded son of an English aristocrat family weighed down by financial difficulties, who died during a shooting trip at the Ardlamont estate in Argyllshire, Scotland. Hambrough, in his early twenties, was accompanied by his tutor, the 33 years old Alfred John Monson, and a man introduced as Edward Scott who was later unmasked as a career criminal.
Alfred John Monson (left) – Photo from Murder Not Proven by Jack House and Cecil Hambrough (right) – Photo courtesy of the Worcester College
Just two days before he left for Ardlamont, Monson had secured a £20,000 life insurance policy on Hambrough’s life—naming himself the sole beneficiary and funding the initial premium by drawing on other fully assigned policies. It was a sophisticated confidence trick.
On August 10th, Hambrough was found shot in the back of the head while out game shooting with Monson and Scott—just a day after the duo’s attempt to drown him in the estate’s lake had miserably failed.
Monson claimed the rifle the young man was carrying had discharged accidentally as he was attempting to climb a fence. But suspicion mounted rapidly when Monson’s dubious past, and his questionable financial deals came to light.
The case presented a classic situation: a motive, no eyewitnesses, circumstantial evidence, but no incontrovertible proof. Ultimately, Monson was acquitted—with the jury returning a verdict of Not Proven.
TheTestimony of Brother Arthur Toovey
Among those called to give evidence at the trial was Arthur Toovey (11 December 1852 – 6 April 1915), a well-regarded solicitor based at 18 Orchard Street, Marylebone, London. In 1890, he had taken up residence at Mount Cottage, Pinner, shortly after the Metropolitan Railway had been extended from Baker Street—just a stone’s throw from Marylebone—making commuting from places on the outskirt of London, both practical and convenient.
Photo of A. Toovey from the Uxbridge & W. Drayton Gazette of Friday, 16 April 1915
In Pinner, Toovey quickly emerged as a force for change and in 1894, he led a successful campaign to preserve its rural status, fending off a proposal to place Pinner under urban powers. As a mark of merit, the following year he was elected Councillor and Vice-Chairman of the newly independent Parish.
In the 18th century, actors were known as “His Majesty’s Servants”, and were entitled to wear the royal livery of scarlet. The most talented English Shakespearean actor of the time was David Garrick, whom Alexander Pope described “a young man who has never had an equal as an actor and never will.” Garrick became famous also as a playwright, producer and manager of the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane, London.
EARLY LIFE
He was born on February 19, 1717, at The Angel Inn in Hereford Town the grandson of David de la Garrique, a French Huguenot wine merchant, and the third child of Peter, a British Army recruiting officer who had emigrated from France in 1687. The family lived in Litchfield, Staffordshire, where David met Samuel Johnson while attending the local free grammar school. They became friends for life. The year 1717 is coincidental.
David travelled to Lisbon, Portugal, with his brother Peter Jnr in 1728 to learn about the wine business from their paternal uncle and returned to Litchfield a year later to continue his education.
When Samuel Johnson closed his failing Academy in Edial, near Lichfield in 1737, which David sometimes attended, he travelled to London in search of better fortune. David accompanied him. They set out in March, sharing one horse and a little money on the journey. In Rochester, the well-known mathematician Rev. Colson, had offered to give him free education, but then left for a post at Cambridge soon after David arrived. The young man returned to London and, with a little family inheritance, started a wine business jointly with his brother Peter running the venture from Litchfield. Much of the time as wine merchant was by necessity spent socialising and transacting business in taverns and coffee-houses, an occupation that young Garrick found quite agreeable. He focused his business calls at the Bedford Coffee-house in Covent Garden, an establishment plagued by scandals, but also crowded every night with actors, playwright and theatre managers. The likeable Garrick was soon accepted within that circle and when in March 1741, a player at the Goodman’s Field Theatre fell unwell, Garrick dashed onto the stage to anonymously play the part of Harlequin.
David Garrick always wore a five-curled wig. He was a charmer with large eyes, stocky, short, with a soft voice and initially spoke with a strong Staffordshire accent that made him mispronounce words like “firm” as “furm”. In short, he was not considered suited for the theatre, but he proved everybody wrong.
Rising temperatures and poor sanitation in the capital during the summer caused the theatres to shut down for a few months, the wealthy to flee to their country homes, and the actors to tour the provinces.
In the summer of 1741, Garrick joined the Giffard & Dunstall theatre company and went to Ipswich where, under the stage name Lyddal, he became known as a talented young actor. in October the same year, he played Shakespeare’s Richard III for the first time under his own name at the Goodman’s Fields Theatre in Whitechapel, London. His performance was a hit and for seven months the nobility and gentry filled the road to Goodman’s Fields with their carriages to see him act.
Garrick had a long relationship with the scandalous Irish actress Pegg Woffington, but in June 1749, he married Eva Marie Veigel, a famous Viennese dancer and Lady Burlington’s protégée. John Fielding wrote of David’s lifetime devotion to Marie, “the chastity of Mr Garrick… and his exemplary life as a man has been a great service to the morals of the dissipated age.” The couple were childless, and even though Eva Marie outlived David by a record 43 years, she never remarried.
One individual whose reputation lies far from that of the archetypal Huguenot is John Jean Misaubin (1673-1734). It has been estimated that there were some 470 Huguenot refugee who practised the profession of medicine in England, from the beginning of the Reformation until the Huguenots ceased to seek refuge under the reign of George III. Dr John Misaubin was a fashionable ‘quack’ known to posterity thanks largely to the famous image of him by William Hogarth (1697-1764). He has been identified since contemporary times as ‘the thinner of the two doctors in Plate V of ‘A Harlot’s Progress’ published in 1732‘.
Here they are arguing the merits of their respective pills and potions whilst their patient Moll Hackabout, the Harlot, is dying of venereal disease, the reward of their calling.
Unsurprisingly, in the light of Hogarth’s striking and damning portrayal of medical incompetence, veniality and lack of humanity, all succeeding commentators over the years have repeated a pejorative refrain and called Misaubin a “notorious quack”.
Misabubin has a presence in another of Hogarth’s great modern moral subjects’ series, his ‘Marriage a la mode’ of 1743-45.
The meaning of this scene, the third in the series, has always been particularly obscure. The impoverished Count with his young girl friend is visiting a quack who has been said to be Misaubin with his ‘Irish wife’. But not only the image is not a physical representation of Misaubin, his wife Martha (Marthe) Angibaud, was too a French Huguenot. Hogarth’s reference to Misaubin lies in the setting, thought by some commentators to represent Misaubin’s museum at 96, St Martin’s Lane. Here are shown two machines; one for pulling corks and the other for reducing dislocated shoulders! The open folio on the machines reads: ‘Explication de deux machines superbes l’un pour remettre l’épaules l’autre pour servir de tire bouchon inventés par Mons de la Pillule… — vues at approuvées par l’academie des Sciences a Paris’. The other specific reference to Misaubin is the dummy with the long wig in the cabinet indicated by the Count’s cane. Misaubin lived at this address only from 1732 until his death there in 1734.
Comte de Cagliostro, an enigmatic figure of the Age of Enlightenment, whose identity and motives are still up for deliberation, inspired both Alexander Dumas to write the novel The Memoirs of a Physician and Goethe’s five-act play Deer Gros-Cophta.
The world is divided over whether he was an adventurer, a compassionate individual who used his profound knowledge of alternative medicine to help the sick, a teacher of the occult, or a charlatan who preyed on gullible rich people. Some identify the Comte de Cagliostro with the Jesuit raised fraudster Giuseppe Balsamo from Palermo, Sicily; others think he was the Comte de Saint-Germain, an alchemist who had discovered the secret for ubiquosity–being in more places at the same time – and eternal life.
Whatever you may believe, there is little doubt, however, that Cagliostro’s power to seduce has lasted the test of time. He said: “The truth about me will never be written because nobody knows it”.
As for whence he came, he declared: “I am not of any time or any place; beyond time and space my spiritual being lives an eternal existence (…) my country is wherever my feet stand at that moment.”
On December 27, 1789, the self-styled Comte de Cagliostro was arrested in Rome and taken toCastel Sant’Angelo, where he was held until his trial before the Holy Inquisition Tribunal. He received the death penalty, which was later commuted to life imprisonment at the Forte San Leo, where he passed away on August 26, 2006, six years later. However, neither his grave nor body has ever been found.
The Holy Inquisition and Comte de Cagliostro
The self-styled Count was the founder of a new Masonic Order he called Egyptian under whose roof he attempted to bring both the Masonic movement and Christianity.
He founded the Mother Lodge of Egyptian Masonry in Lyons in 1784/86.
Cagliostro, the Grand Priest (Copt) of the Order, promised that he could lead his disciples to perfection and heal their bodies and souls. The philosopher’s stone would give his adepts immortality, the sacred talisman of the Pentagon promised them the obtain that innocence of spirit and perfection that belonged to Adam, the primal man.
THE TWO PROPHETS
According to legend, Comte de Cagliostro’s Egyptian Rite was inspired by the belief of immortality held by the prophets Enoch and Elias. Enoch, the seventh descendant of Adam (Jude 1:14), is said to have been “translated (by God) (so) that he should not experience death and he was never been found” (Heb. 11:5).
The term translated implies that Enoch was taken somewhere other than Heaven, which is a place where God dwells and where only a soul of the highest purity, such as Jesus Christ’s, can be allowed access.
London was the 18th century wonder capital of Europe. It had been rebuilt following the Great Fire of 1666 and had an extremely new look. The merchants had withdrawn from the City and moved into fashionable terrace houses in the parishes of Soho, Mayfair, and in St. James, which had broad streets and paved squares.
And yet, London continued to be surrounded by miasma and be a city broadly tarnished by horse-dung. In the absence of an adequate sewerage structure, many servants still discharged their master’s chamber pot upon the heads of passersby and because of the coal burning in the fireplaces, layers upon layers of black soot coated the buildings and made the air not healthy to inhale. Violence and street crime were rampant.
THE WORLD OF THE OPERA IN LONDON
It was in this almost surreal habitat that deep connections were established between Freemasonry and the world of music, and they have never been stronger than during those years.
With the upper social classes having so much available time in hand and a strong love for entertainment, London turned into a Mecca for foreign artists. Since 1708, the Italian Opera had been constantly performing, with varying fortunes, at the Queen’s Theater in Haymarket, London, which is now called Her Majesty’s Theater. Built in 1705 and renamed the King’s Theater in 1714 upon the ascension to the throne of Great Britain of the German born George I (1626-1727), the theater also became identified for a period as The Italian Opera House.
The ceaseless comings and goings of French, German and Italian musicians, singers and impresarios continued strongly into the following century and the King’s Theater audience was never entertained with as many comic operas as it was in the season 1768-69.
The international artists all detested the English climate, which brought them colds and fevers, but they never regarded this poor factor as a reason for not coming back if awarded a contract. Aliens had also learned to put up stoically with the infamously atrocious English food and an Italian representative of the 1763 King’s Theater recounted his experience of it in these terms:
“In this expensive metropolis, we poor Christians are reduced during Lent to the melancholy alternative of either fasting like our founder, or living on rotten eggs, stinking fish, train-oil, and frost-bitten roots and herbage’’.
The old King’s Theater
The current Her Majesty’s Theater
HOSTILITY TOWARDS FOREIGNERS
The Italian literatus Giuseppe Baretti (1719-1789), compiler of the first English-to-Italian vocabulary, devoted most of his life in London and denounced the poverty that existed among Italian singers in London, which was created by inadequate earnings and exceedingly costly existence. He did so in a letter printed in The Public Ledger of 16 September 1760, which received this response:
“We can now see into the penury and meanness of those who have gained thousands by our folly and extravagance – we know, while in England. how miserably they live, because they will save all they can to spend in their own country; (…) such is their hatred of the nation that caresses them, that if it were possible to live upon the dirt or filth of the streets, they would rather do it than the least farthing should come back again into an Englishman’s pocket“.
The London society, had always harbored animosity towards aliens–the 1666 Great Fire of London was attributed on a French catholic, after all – and accused the Italians of avarice for their meager spending, neglecting that the aristocrats kept artists waiting around without work or payment for days or even weeks at a time. They did not understand the struggles the touring musicians suffered and would not have cared less even if they did.
Samuel Johnson declared that in London one discovered the “full tide of human existence,” and that although the Capital of England was “a place with a diversity of greed and evil (…) slight vexations do not fix upon the heart” of its residents. In my opinion, he never asked them.
THE NINE MUSES LODGE
Networking was an important chore for all the foreigners who visited England, whether they were artists, merchants, aristocrats, or rich gentlemen. At best, it assured admittance into affluent and patrician circles, at worst it guaranteed contracts and even a profitable office.
And what better way to network than by joining a Masonic Lodge?
On January 14, 1777, these individuals convened in the Thatched House Tavern on St. James’s Street, Westminster–which at the time was regarded as being part of the County of Middlesex – and on the 23rd, after securing a warrant, formed the Lodge of the Nine Muses No. 502.
Among the most celebrated visitors to Italy of the 18th c. was the German poet, playwright, novelist, scientist, statesman and theatre director, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe who dedicated a significant part of his work Italienische Reise (The Italian Trip) to his journey to Sicily, and left us a vivid impression of its inhabitants’ way of life.
Freemasonry officially appeared in Sicily, part of the Kingdom of Naples, in 1768 when England’s leading Grand Lodge in Naples conceded a warrant to the Perfect Union N. 433, which met in Palermo. The Lodge had been established by and for the benefit of military Irishmen under the command of Col. Francis Everard, but in order to survive it soon began to also admit civilians, culminating in Carlo Cottone, Prince of Villermosa, being its Worshipful Master at the end of 1785. There was another lodge in Palermo that operated under the rival National Grand Lodge of Naples, working on the rituals of the Rite Rectifié, successor of the Rite of Strict Observance, but it was in decline.
The Danish philosopher Friedrich Münter and Goethe were among the many Freemasons who in the 18th century visited the enchanting Mediterranean island. They were both disciples of Neo-Templarism and members of the Illuminati sect and had met in Rome. It is unquestionable that Goethe’s eagerness to broaden his Italian experience by visiting Sicily, rose directly from the description that Münter gave him of that captivating place. Goethe claimed he scheduled his trip to Palermo around the middle of March and that he delayed it on at least two occasions, only sailing from Naples on March 29th after he had learned that the vessel’s captain, Filippo Cianchi, was also a Freemason. Turbulence hampered the sea crossing, but Goethe safely arrived in Palermo on the bright afternoon of 2nd April. In Italienische Reise, he described the marvelous sensation he felt when he saw the gulf with on the right the Mount Pellegrino – “the most beautiful promontory in the world,” he called it – and the Conca d’oro on the left (The Golden Shell).
View of the gulf of Mondello and Monte Pellegrino, Palermo, Sicily island, Italy
In Palermo, Goethe checked in at Mme. Montaigne’s hotel with the alias Philip Moeller. He hoped that by not revealing his true identity he would stay away from prying eyes, but to his surprise one evening, two men in uniform came to escort him to the Palace of the Viceroy, Francesco d’Aquino Prince of Caramanico. This nobleman had left the Dutch Lodge Les Zelés in Naples in 1769 to become a founding member and first Master of the Well Chosen Lodge, sanctioned by the Grand Lodge of England. He became also the Grand Master of the newly formed National Grand Lodge of Naples in 1773, but he resigned and withdrew from the Craft in 1775, when King Ferdinand IV banned Freemasonry in his realm.
It is unknown who had notified Prince Caramanico of the presence in Palermo, under an assumed identity, of the important German Brother; but it is reasonable to suspect the tip-off came from the Naples Freemasons. Other potential informers are the German landscape painter Jacob Philipp Hackert, who had met Goethe in Naples and had been Prince Caramanico’s guest at Palermo, the English Ambassador in Naples, Sir William Hamilton, and the ship’s Captain Cianchi himself.
Count Statella, the Viceroy’s Master of Ceremonies and a Knight of Malta, greeted Goethe on his arrival at the Palace. According to an anecdote, the Count – believing the visitor was a German called Philip Moeller – made an embarrassing blunder and casually mentioned that he had just finished reading “Werther,” a novel by another German named Goethe, whom he then talked about in derogatory terms. At this point Goethe revealed his true identity much to the dismay of the Count, who was even further embarrassed when the Viceroy, requesting him that Goethe be sat next to him at the table, grinned back at his Master of Ceremonies’ surprised reaction.
Francesco D’Aquino Prince of Caramanico
Joanne Wolfgang von Goethe (Frankfurt 28.8.1749 -Weimar 22.3.1832)
By traveling under a false identity, Goethe wanted to avoid contact with anyone from academic circles or high society and thus remain free to fully absorb and enjoy the island’s natural beauty. Despite his best efforts to remain incognito, however, we know he also met and frequented in Palermo the Baron Antonio Bivona, a lawyer engaged by King Louis XVI of France to investigate Giuseppe Balsamo and his family. Balsamo, a self claimed magician and healer who was using the alias Count Cagliostro on his far and wide travels in Europe, had become famous particularly for his frauds and supposed role in Queen Marie Antoinette’s necklace scandal. We know that in March 1787, the Baron had lent his report on Balsamo/Cagliostro to Goethe, who after reading it, visited Giuseppe’s mother and sister on Via Terra delle Mosche, a street in a much run-down area of Palermo.
This time Goethe introduced himself as an Englishman by the name of Mr. Winton, and informed the Balsamos that Giuseppe had traveled to London after being released from the Bastille. Goethe sympathized with the two destitute women, who had a big family to support and in Italienische Reise, he expressed the remorse for not being able to take care of them right away.
Giuseppe Balsamo akas Count Cagliostro
Via della Terra delle Mosche, Palermo, Sicily
According to one account cited by several sources, on his return to Germany, Goethe showed his Brothers of the Order the letter that Giuseppe’s mother had written to her son, in which she begged for financial help. And those generous and caring men, moved by the tragic story, raised a sum of money and conveyed it to the Balsamo women via the English merchant Jacob Joff. The truth, however, may be that which is found in the memoirs of Brother Karl August Bottiger, a well-known archaeologist who knew Goethe and was a member of the Lodge Der goldene Apsel in Dresden. He wrote:
“(…) the amount delivered to the Balsamos was [just] the honorarium the publisher Unger had paid Goethe for his Der Gross-Cophta,” a satire on Freemasonry that was staged in 1791 and proved a failure.
Whatever version of the events you choose to believe, there is no doubt that the financial gift to the the Balsamos was a noble, generous gesture performed in classic Masonic fashion !
After traveling across the island of Sicily, Goethe came to the following conclusion about the locals , which is a strong testament of their bravery:
Messina, Sunday 13 May 1787 – “I thought how interesting it was to see howgentlemen couldget together and speak freely and with impunity, under a dictatorial government, to protect their own as well as foreign interests.”
Extracted and revised by the Editor from the paper Goethe in Palermo written by Bro. M.R. Maggiore and published in AQC 1985,vol. 98, page 205-207
Sir Bernard Henry Spilsbury was the most distinguished medical detective in England and a Freemason, like some of his colleagues and the criminals he helped bring to jail. Only the imaginary character of Sherlock Holmes exceeds him in popularity.
Spilsbury was responsible, with Scotland Yard, for the introduction of the “Murder Bag” following the “Crumbles murder” case in 1924. Patrick Mahon had killed Emily Kaye, his lover, and then dismembered her body and when Spilsbury arrived on the murder scene, he was surprised to find investigators picking up body parts with their bare hands. As a result, he devised a kit consisting of a collection of instruments – tweezers, evidence bags, and other items -which forensic detectives presently still use.
Spilsbury was also responsible for establishing the character of the “legal expert” by integrating pathology and cause-of-death examinations into the legal criminal context.
— *** —
Bernard Henry Spilsbury was born on January 16, 1877, in Leamington Spa, Warwickshire, England and was one of four offspring from the union between Marion Elizabeth Joy and James Spilsbury, a chemist. Bernard adopted his father’s passion for science but – according to the crime author Michael J Buchanan-Dunne – he also absorbed his coldness, arrogance and lack of empathy. After receiving home education, at the age of nine Bernard was sent to boarding school for three years and at the age of 15, with his parents living in Crouch End in London, he went to study chemistry, physics and biology at the Owen’s College in Manchester.
In 1895 Bernard Spilsbury enrolled at the Magdalen College, Oxford and earned his BA in natural science in 1899. He subsequently attended St. Mary’s Hospital Medical School in Paddington’s Praed Street, London, where he meant to qualify as a general practitioner. Instead, he went on to study pathology and never repented.
Julia Apraxin was initiated into a Masonic lodge called “Fraternidad Iberica” (Brotherhood of Iberia) in Madrid in 1880. Although born in Vienna, she felt also Hungarian, owing to her upbringing in that country and the possibility that his Hungarian foster father was, in fact, her biological parent. “Doña Julia de Rubio y Guillén, Condesa de Apratxin” was admitted into the lodge Fraternidad Ibérica (Brotherhood of Iberia) of the Grande Oriente Nacional de España (National Grand Orient of Spain) in Madrid on June 14, 1880, in accordance with contemporary Spanish Masonic protocol. The letter “t” in the countess’ surname appears to have been a slip of the pen.
Seoane, the Grand Master of the National Grand Orient of Spain, gave his authorization to initiate her by citing the lady’s gallant services for the French army as official chronicles evince. The lodge minutes show a considerable participation of Freemasons to the function and that Countess “Apratxin” adopted for herself the name “Buda.”[1] Julia Buda was merely one of the many aliases that the Countess used in her life; she had been inspired to it by the name of the former Capital city of Hungary, Buda[2], one of her places of residence and activities.
Julia’s mother had met Count József Esterházy in 1828, and after her first husband had divorced her, the two wed in 1841. Count Esterházy – we know from his diary – regarded Julia to be his own daughter.
Julia Apraxin was born on October 16, 1830, in Vienna, the registered offspring of Count Alexandre Petrovich Apraxin, a Russian noble and diplomat, and Countess Hélène (Ielena) Bezobrazova, a Polish-Russian aristocratic. Julia spent her childhood and adolescence in Vienna and at the Esterhazy Castle in Cseklész, near Pozsony (today Pressburg, Bratislava), with her parents and brother Demeter .
On October 15, 1849, she married CountArthur (Artúr) Batthyány. The couple had five children and for about ten years settled in Vienna, where they lived the glamorous life of high society, attending balls, dances, masquerades, and enjoying drives in their private carriage.
The British philosopher, essayist, social critic and Freemason Bertrand Russell, who is best known for his work in mathematical logic and analytic philosophy wrote in “the Scientific Outlook” in 1931:
Lord B. Russell
On those rare occasions, when a boy or girl who has passed the age at which it is usual to determine social status shows such marked ability as to seem the intellectual equal of the rulers, a difficult situation will arise, requiring serious consideration. If the youth is content to abandon his previous associates and to throw [himself] whole-heartedly with the rulers, he may, after suitable tests, be promoted. But if he shows any regrettable solidarity with his previous associates, the rulers will reluctantly conclude that there is nothing to be done with him except to send him to the lethal chamber before his ill-disciplined intelligence has had time to spread revolt.
