Since the pioneering work of Lytton Strachey’s Eminent Victorians (published in 1918), the art of biography has changed dramatically from respectful homage to a searchlight examination of every aspect of the subject’s life - however damaging. It is therefore surprising that in the lives of masons published in the 20th century, little if anything is mentioned of their association with the Order.
    We are proud of the long and illustrious line of men who have been Freemasons, and it is therefore both fascinating and often sad to read of their lives and see how the subject is, or is not, treated.
    In view of the thousands of biographies which have been - and are being - published, it is impossible in a short article to attempt to cover the whole field. Furthermore, new masonic links with famous and great men are being established all the time. For example, how many children are taught that James Watt - of steam-engine fame - was a mason? However, I wrote to the authors of three books, published in recent years, in order to ascertain their response to the masonic involvement of their chosen subjects.
    Anthony Trollope, the famous Victorian novelist, was initiated in 1841. The anniversary of his death in 1982 caused a spate of books, none of which referred to his being a mason. One biographer, Victoria Glendinning, was quite unaware of this fact, in spite of copious research. In a letter to me she declared that “I’ve never heard or read of his being a Freemason and no other book about him seems to mention it. I may be wrong but I feel he was not.” Strange!
    Even stranger is the case of the more recent biography of Prince Arthur of Connaught, Grand Master 1919-1939. No mention of Freemasonry occurs in any of its nearly 500 pages, although the Craft played such an important part in his life. The author, Dr Noble Frankland, says: “I should have mentioned that he was Grand Master but had I done so, I would not have been able to add anything to the bare fact. My book was written from original sources, and in the huge correspondence, journals &c which I read, I came across no reference to Prince Arthur’s activities as a Freemason. Perhaps he felt bound by the rules of secrecy.”
    One further example, Geoffrey Fisher, former Archbishop of Canterbury, was the only Archbishop ever to hold high masonic office (perhaps the only Archbishop to be a mason). Fisher has been the subject of two biographies. Professor Owen Chadwick’s work makes no reference to the Craft; neither does any mention occur in the 800 pages that constitute Dr Edward Carpenter’s biography of the great man. Dr Carpenter had access to all of the Archbishop’s papers in Lambeth Palace Library, of which there were 324 boxes (of which one was devoted to Freemasonry). In our correspondence, Dr Carpenter informed me that he had originally considered writing a two-volume biography, but had been persuaded by his publishers to cut his material. This was partly the reason for the omission of any masonic reference, but the main reason was (I quote) “because it did not seem important (within the context of the whole book). I may have been wrong.”
    From the three biographies considered, it is therefore to some extent understandable that there should be a lack of sympathy and an ability to deal adequately with the subject. Of course, another reason for omission may be that some documentary material has been deliberately destroyed or withheld by private owners. To take the example of one of the most eminent and active Freemasons, King Edward VII, a review of the latest book about him stated that he “went some length to make life difficult for his biography. In his will he dictated that all his private correspondence should be destroyed, and the instruction was faithfully carried out after his death.”
    In another field – that of autobiographies – we find a similar reticence. Two examples are those of Rudyard Kipling and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle – the former offering one sentence and the latter, nothing. (Those interested in Kipling’s Masonry should consult John Webb’s short book, published by Lewis Masonic). There are exceptions, one of these being Hensley Henson, one of the outstanding figures in the Church of England this century. He was another controversial Bishop of Durham who, had it not been for his outspokenness, would have probably been made an Archbishop. Henson wrote a two-volume autobiography, Retrospect of an unimportant life, in which he paid fulsome tribute to the Craft. “Freemasonry” he wrote, “has great merits and must be counted among the soundest factors in the national life. Freemasonry within the nation is a force which makes for cohesion and social stability.”
    This brief survey may appear somewhat disappointing to those interested in the fair and balanced account of the truth of men’s lives. However, there are departures to the general rule. Mozart and Robert Burns - particularly the former - receive from the hands of their biographers proper treatment with respect to Masonry, while royal Freemasons tend to receive fair, if brief, treatment. Ellmann’s life of Oscar Wilde offers a very balanced account of the poet’s initiation when an undergraduate at Oxford, and of the lasting impression that it made upon him.
    Happily, the more open policy adopted by the United Grand Lodge of England might bear fruit and so encourage biographers to use its resources to produce more balanced and informed books.