eral centuries before Christ we find them bound
together in corporations called _Collegia_. These lodges flourished in
all parts of the Roman Empire, traces of their existence having been
discovered in England as early as the middle of the first century of
our era.

II

Krause was the first to point out a prophecy of Masonry in the old
orders of builders, following their footsteps--not connectedly, of
course, for there are many gaps--through the Dionysiac fraternity of
Tyre, through the Roman Collegia, to the architects and Masons of the
Middle Ages. Since he wrote, however, much new material has come to
light, but the date of the advent of the builders in Rome is still
uncertain. Some trace it to the very founding of the city, while
others go no further back than King Numa, the friend of
Pythagoras.[61] By any account, they were of great antiquity, and
their influence in Roman history was far-reaching. They followed the
Roman legions to remote places, building cities, bridges, and temples,
and it was but natural that Mithra, the patron god of soldiers, should
have influenced their orders. Of this an example may be seen in the
remains of the ancient Roman villa at Morton, on the Isle of
Wight.[62]

As Rome grew in power and became a vast, all-embracing empire, the
individual man felt, more and more, his littleness and loneliness.
This feeling, together with the increasing specialization of industry,
begat a passion for association, and Collegia of many sorts were
organized. Even a casual glance at the inscriptions, under the heading
_Artes et Opificia_, will show the enormous development of skilled
handicrafts, and how minute was their specialization. Every trade soon
had its secret order, or union, and so powerful did they become that
the emperors found it necessary to abolish the right of free
association. Yet even such edicts, though effective for a little time,
were helpless as against the universal craving for combination. Ways
were easily found whereby to evade the law, which had exempted from
its restrictions orders consecrated by their antiquity or their
religious character. Most of the Collegia became funerary and
charitable in their labors, humble folk seeking to escape the dim,
hopeless obscurity of plebeian life, and the still more hopeless
obscurity of death. Pathetic beyond words are some of the inscriptions
telling of the horror and loneliness of the grave, of the day when no
kindly eye would read