Our moral and political world is undermined with passages, cellars,
The pontificate of Pius XII (1939-58) found the Church in a highly
flourishing condition. It was exerting its legitimate effect upon
the Western world. More and more people were acquiring a fuller
realization, or at least a glimmering, of the Catholic ideal. In
England an average of ten thousand people yearly, and in the United
States some seventy thousand in one year alone, were said to have
‘gone over’ to Rome; and these converts included not a few who could
be classified as prominent in various walks of life.
Entire houses of Anglican religious, who had favoured High Church
practices, sometimes followed suit. The record number of those
training to be priests and nuns promised well for the Church’s
future. The tide of opposition, resulting from the Reformation was
on the turn. The signs of Catholic revival were spreading throughout
a most unexpected quarter – the Englishspeaking world.
Those things, strangely enough, coincided with the rise of
Communism, and the widespread collapse of moral and social values
that followed the 1939 war. During that war, which left Communism in
the ascendant, the Vatican had been one of the few completely
neutral centres in the world, which caused it to be adversely
criticized by Communists who interpreted that attitude as latent
partisanship for the other side; and that criticism was strengthened
when the Pope passed sentence of excommunication on Catholics who
joined, or in any way aided, the Communist Party.
This was an extension of the warning conveyed by the previous Pope,
Pius XI, in his encyclical Quadragesimo Anno:
‘No one can be at the same time a sincere Catholic and a Socialist
Those words had doubtless been written with an eye on continental
rather than English-speaking exponents of
democracy. But they nonetheless implied condemnation, not only of
revolutionary principles, but also of the milder forms
of political expression that, when put to the test, encourage
There it was. The dividing line between Rome and her enemies had
been firmly drawn. Both sides had issued their challenge and
flourished their blazon. One was inspired by a Messianic though
non-religious fervour that promised better things once the existing
form of society had been dissolved; the other, secure in its
reliance on a supernatural promise which meant that it would not,
could not, compromise.
The bishop in question was Angelo Giuseppe Roncalli. Born in 1881,
and ordained in 1904, he soon attracted the notice of the Vatican,
as a Doctor of Theology and a Professor of Ecclesiastical history.
In 1921 he was assigned to the Congregation of Propaganda, and after
being consecrated Bishop, in 1935, he entered the diplomatic service
of the Church.
His first appointments were in the Balkan, a part of the world that
was far from being favourably disposed towards any Catholic
influence, as Roncalli discovered. As Apostolic Visitor, or Chargé d’affaires of the Holy See at Sofia, he became involved in
diplomatic difficulties with the King, and these took on a more
petty, but personal aspect when in 1935, he was transferred as
Apostolic Delegate to Istanbul.
There the current fervour for modernization, under Mustafa Kemal,
was in full swing. Some of his laws came down heavily on religion,
Islamic as well as Christian, and the wearing of any kind of
clerical garb in public was strictly forbidden. The use of
ecclesiastical titles was also proscribed.
Roncalli was made to feel that he was in a kind of straitjacket,
never really free but watched and spied on, and his moves reported.
Any contacts he might have developed were few and far between, and
his invariable habit, and the end of the day, was to go home
quietly, a foreign and anonymous passer-by.
One evening he felt unusually tired, and without undressing or
putting out the light, he flung himself on the bed. On the
walls were reminders of his earlier life, the photographs of
relatives, and of the village on the Lombardy plain where they had
grown up together. He closed his eyes and murmured his usual
prayers. In a kind of vision he saw the faces of people, those he
had heedlessly passed on the street that day, float out of a mist
before him. Among them was the face of an old man with white hair
and an olive skin that gave him an almost oriental look.
What followed may have been a dream, or so it appeared to have been,
when daylight came. But in the quiet room Roncalli distinctly heard
the old man ask: ‘Do you recognize me?’ And without knowing what
prompted him Roncalli answered: ‘I do, always.’
His visitor went on:
‘I came because you called me. You are on the
way, though you still have much to learn. But are you ready?’
Roncalli never experienced the slightest doubt. It had all been
prepared for him. He said: ‘I wait for you Master.’
The old man smiled and asked three times if Roncalli would
recognized him again; and Roncalli answered three time, that he
Even the coming of morning did not make the experience seem unusual.
It would, Roncalli knew, be repeated, in a way that would give it no
He knew that time had come when he found the same old man waiting
outside his lodgings; and he also felt that a more familiar
situation had developed, which caused Roncalli to ask if he would
join him at table.
The old man shook his head. ‘It is another table we must dine
tonight.’ So saying he set off, with Roncalli following, into a
quarter of quiet dark streets that the latter had never entered. A
narrow opening led to a door at which Roncalli stopped, as if by
instinct, while the old man told him to go up and wait for him.
Beyond the entrance was a short staircase, and then another.
There was no light but in the almost total darkness there seemed to
be voices from above, directing Roncalli’s footsteps to go on. He
was brought to a stop by a door, smaller than the others, which was
slightly ajar, and Roncalli, pushing that open found himself in a
wide room, pentagonal in shape, with bare walls and two large
windows that were closed.
There was a big cedar wood table in the centre, shaped like the
room. Against the walls were three chairs one holding a linen tunic,
three sealed envelopes, and some coloured girdles. On the tables was
a silver-hilted sword, the blade of which, in the partial light made
by three red candles in a three-branched candelabra, appeared to be
flaming. Three other candles in a second branched holder had not
been lighted. There was a censer about which were tied coloured
ribbons, and three artificial roses, made of flimsy material, and
with their stalks crossing each other.
Near the sword and the censer was an open bible, and a quick glance
was enough to show that it was open at the Gospel of St. John,
telling the mission of John the Baptist, passages which had always
held a peculiar fascination for Roncalli.
‘A man appeared from God
whose name was John…’
The name John acquires a special significance
in secret societies, who make a point of meeting on December 27th,
the feast of the Evangelist, and on June 24th, feast day of the
Baptist. They frequently refer to the Holy Saints John.
Roncalli heard light footsteps behind him and turned from the table.
It was someone he was to hear addressed, as Roncalli had called him,
the master. He was wearing a long linen tunic that reached to the
ground, and a chain of knots, from which hung various silver
symbols, about his neck. He put a white-gloved hand on Roncalli’s
shoulder. ‘Kneel down, on your right knee.’
While Roncalli was still kneeling the Master took one of the sealed
envelopes from the chair. He opened it so that Roncalli was able to
see that it contained a sheet of blue paper on which was written a
set of rules. Taking and opening a second envelope the Master passed
a similar sheet to Roncalli who, standing by them, saw it was
inscribed with seven questions.
‘Do you feel you can answer them?’ asked the Master.
Roncalli said that he did, and returned the paper.
The Master used it to light one of the candles in the second holder.
‘These lights are for the Masters of the Past1 who are here among
us’, he explained.
He then recited the mysteries of the Order in words that seemed to
pass into and through Roncalli’s mind without remaining there; yet
he somehow felt they had always been part of his consciousness. The
master then bent over him.
‘We are known to each other by the names
we choose for ourselves. With that name each of us seals his liberty
and his scheme of work, and so makes a new link in the chain. What
will your name be?’
The answer was ready. There was no hesitation.
‘Johannes’, said the disciple. Always ready to his mind, was his
The Master took up the sword, approached Roncalli, and placed the
tip of the blade upon his head; and with its touch something that
Roncalli could only liken to exquisite amazement, new and
irrepressible, flowed into every part of his being.
sensed his wonder.
‘What you feel at this moment, Johannes, many others have felt
before you; myself, the Masters of the Past, and other brethren
throughout the world. You think of it as light, but it has no name.’
They exchanged brotherly greetings, and the Master kissed the other
seven times. Then he spoke in whispers, making Roncalli aware of the
signs, gestures that have to be performed, and rites to be carried
out daily, at precise moments, which correspond to certain stages in
the passage of the sun.
‘Exactly at those points, three times each day, our brethren all
over the world are repeating the same phrases and making the same
gestures. Their strength is very great, and it stretches far. Day
after day its effects are felt upon humanity.’
The Master took the remaining sealed envelope, opened it, and read
the contents to Johannes. They concerned the formula of the oath,
with a solemn undertaking not to reveal the Order’s secrets, and to
promise to work always for good, and most important of all, to
respect the law of God and His ministers (a somewhat ambiguous
stipulation in view of what their surroundings implied.)
Johannes appended his name to the paper, together with a sign and a
number that the Master showed him. That confirmed his degree and
entry into the Order; and once again a feeling of unearthly strength
welled through his being.
The master took the paper, folded it seven times, and requested
Johannes to place it on the point of the sword. Once again a sudden
flame ran down the length of the blade. This was carried over to the
candles that were still giving light ‘for the Masters of the Past’.
The flames consumed it, and the master scattered the ashes. He then
reminded Johannes of the solemnity of the oath he had taken, and how
it would convey a sense of freedom, real freedom, that was known in
general to the brethren. He then kissed Johannes, who was too
overcome to respond by word or gesture, and could only weep.
A few weeks later Johannes (or Roncalli, as we must again continue
to call him) was told that he was now sufficiently versed in the
Cult to figure in its next conclusive phase – that of entering the
The master prepared him for what, he never disguised from Roncalli,
would be an ordeal; and Roncalli’s apprehension increased when he
found that no one like himself, an initiate of only the first
degree, was allowed to enter the Temple unless a task of great
importance was about to be entrusted to him.
What could be ahead for Roncalli? Did the vision of a certain Chair,
or throne, take shape in his mind as he made his way to the Temple?
There the brethren were assembled, another indication that Roncalli
had been picked for some special mission. On the
walls were the mysterious words, Azorth and Tetrammaton. The latter
stands for the terrible, ineffable, and unpronounceable name of the
creator of the universe, which was said to have been inscribed on
the upper face of the cubicle, or foundation stone, in the Holy of
Holies in the Temple at Jerusalem.
It figures in the pattern that is used for the evoking of evil
spirits, or sometimes as a protection from them, a pattern that is
known as the great magic circle is drawn between the two circles,
which are composed of endless lines as symbolizing eternity, various
articles such as a crucifix, some herbs, and bowls of water, which
is said to influence evil spirits, are placed.
Also in the temple was a cross, picked out in red and black, and the
number 666, the number of the Beast in the Apocalypse. The
Societies, aware of the general ignorance regarding them, are now
confident enough to show their hand. The American people are being
made familiar with the mark of the beast on forms, brands of
advertised goods, public notices: and is it mere coincidence that
666 is part of the code used in addressing letters to the British
now serving (May 1982) in the South Atlantic (during the war with
Argentina)? Those numbers, said to be all-powerful in the working of
miracles and magic, are associated with the Solar God of Gnosticism.
The Gnostics, a Sect that flourished in the early Christian
centuries, denied the divinity of Christ, disparaged revelation, and
believed that all material things, including the body, were
essentially evil. They held that salvation could only be achieved
through knowledge (their name is derived from the Greek gnosis –
knowledge). The Gospel stories they taught are allegories, the key
to which is to be found in a proper understanding of Kneph, the sun
God, who is represented as a serpent, and who is said to be the
father of Osiris, and so the first emanation of the Supreme being,
and the Christos of their Sect.
Roncalli, in his final and more elevated role for which the
initiation prepared him, was to wear the image of the sun God
surrounded by rays of glory, on his glove.
"Cardinal" Angelo Roncalli a.k.a
Anti-Pope John XXIII, was a Documented Freemason
Angelo Roncalli [with hand on right knee]
seated next to his "confidant," Edouard Herriot, Secretary of the
whom he (Roncalli)
hosted, along with other officials of the Masonic "Fourth Republic"
of France, in 1953
The colours red and black were held in reverence by the Gnostics and
have been much in use by the diabolists. They are also the colours
of Kali, the divine Mother of Hindu mythology; thus providing one of
the several resemblances that occur between deviations from
Christianity and pre-Christian cults. It may be noted that they
figured on the banners of the International Anarchist Movement,
whose prophet was Mikhail Bakunin (1814-1876), a pioneer of
libertarianism as opposed to State socialism.
While Roncalli was noting the details of the room the brethren
advanced from their places near the walls until they were drawing
slowly and almost imperceptibly, closer, and closer to him. When
they had formed a chain they pressed forward touching him with their
bodies, as a sign that their strength, which had been tried and
proven in earlier ceremonies, was being transmitted to him.
He suddenly realized that, without consciously framing them, he was
being given words of power that streamed from him in
a voice that he failed to recognize as his own. But he was able to
see that everything he said was being written down by one
who had been referred to as the Grand Chancellor of the Order. He
wrote in French. On a sheet of blue paper that bore
the heading ‘The knight and the Rose.’2
Judging by that and other signs, it would appear that Roncalli was
affiliated with the Rose-Croix, the Rosicrucians, a society founded
by Christian Rosenkreutz, a German, who was born in 1378. But
according to its own claims,
‘The Order of the Rose and Cross has
existed from time immemorial, and its mystic rites were practiced
and its wisdom taught in Egypt, Eleusis, Samothrace, Persia,
Chaldea, India, and in far, more distant lands, and thus were handed
down to posterity the Secret Wisdom of the Ancient Ages.’
That its origin remains a mystery was
emphasized by (Prime Minister)
Disraeli, who said of the Society, in 1841, ‘Its hidden sources defy
After travelling in Spain, Damascus and Arabia, where he was
initiated into Arabian magic, Rosenkreutz returned to
Germany and set up his fraternity of the Invisibles. In a building
they designated as Domus Sancti Spiritus they
followed such varied studies as the secrets of nature, alchemy,
astrology, magnetism (or hypnotism as it is better known as),
communication with the dead, and medicine.
Rosenkreutz is said to have died at the over-ripe age of 106, and
when opened, his tomb which had been lost sight of for many years
was found to contain signs and symbols of magic and occult
At first glance, Turkey may seem to be a country off the map, so far
as the operations of a secret society are concerned. But in 1911,
Max Heindel, founder of the Rosicrucian Fellowship and the
Rosicrucian Cosmo-Conception, wrote of that country in a manner that
showed it was not escaping the observations of those who work with
an eye on the religious, political, and social future.
said, ‘has taken a long stride towards liberty under the Young Turks
of the Grand orient.’
During the last few decades we have learnt much, that was previously
hidden, about the rites, passwords, and practices of the secret
societies. But there are few indications of the way in which they
choose, from their mainly inactive rank and file, those who are
looked upon as capable of furthering their designs. One of their
simple instructions runs:
‘You must learn to govern men and dominate
them, not by fear but by virtue, that is by observing the rules of
But an occult writing, which appeared in New York, is
rather more explicit:
‘Experiments are being made now, unknown oft
to the subjects themselves … people in many civilized countries are
under supervision, and a method of stimulation and intensification
is being applied by which they will bring to the knowledge of the
Great Ones themselves a mass of information that may serve as guide
to the future of the race.’
This was accompanied by a pointed remark that was also a pledge for
one who had been judged to be suitable:
‘You were long the object of our
observation and our study.’3
In the last days of December, 1944,
Roncalli was preparing to leave
Turkey for Paris, where he had been appointed Papal
Nuncio to the Fourth French Republic. The war was still on, and the
difference between Right and Left in politics, which
had split France, was violently on the surface; and it became soon
clear to observers whose judgment was not affected by
ecclesiastical titles that Roncalli’s innate sympathies were with
It was on his recommendation that Jacques Maritain was made French
Ambassador to the Holy See. Maritain was generally regarded as a
world thinker, certainly as one of the most prominent Catholic
philosophers. The full impact of his ‘integral humanism’ had so far
been tempered by his Aquinian perspective. But later it was overcome
by such contemptuous promulgations as that the social kingship of
Christ had been good enough for medieval minds (and Maritain’s
mentor, Thomas Aquinas, had been a medieval), but not for a people
enlightened by such ‘instruments’ as the French and Bolshevist
His status as a Catholic philosopher again causes doubt since, on
his own testimony, he had been converted not by any spiritual urge,
not by any theological or historical argument, but by the writings
of Leon Bloy (1846-1917).
In spite of its flowing musical style, Bloy’s writing is hardly the
sort of stuff to convert one to Christianity. He identified the
Holy Ghost with Satan, and described himself as prophet of Lucifer, whom
he pictured as seated on top of the world with his feet on the
corners of the earth, controlling all human action, and exercising a
fatherly rule over the swarm of hideous human offspring. Compared to
this vision of an affable Lucifer, God is seen to be a relentless
master whose work will end in final failure when Satan displaces Him
According to his own confession, Bloy was converted to what he and
his disciples called ‘christianity’ by the ravings of a poor
prostitute who saw visions, and who after her affair with Bloy, died
in a madhouse.
In 1947 Vincent Auriol was named President of the French Republic.
He was an anti-Church plotter, one of those
hardened anti-clericals who find a natural home on the continent;
yet he and Roncalli became, not only cordial
associates as their offices demanded, but close friends. This was
not due to the Christian charity on one part and to
diplomatic courtesy on the other, but to the ceremony that Roncalli
had undergone in Istanbul, which established a bond of understanding
between the two men.
This was given tangible expression when, in January 1953, Archbishop Roncalli was elevated to Cardinal and Aural insisted on exercising
his traditional right, as the French head of State, to confer the
red biretta on the newly created Prince of the Church. This occurred
at a ceremony in the Elysée Palace when Roncalli, seated on the
chair (loaned by the museum) on which Charles X been crowned,
received the plaudits of men who had sworn to bring him and all he
stood for into dust, a design in which Roncalli was secretly
pledged, though by more devious methods to assist them.
Three days later he was transferred, as Patriarch to Venice; and
during the five years he was there he again showed, as in Paris, a
certain sympathy for Left-wing ideologies that sometimes puzzled the
It was during the pontificate of Pius XII that a number of priests
then working in the Vatican became aware that all was not well
beneath the surface. For a strange kind of influence not to their
liking was making itself felt, and this they traced to a group who
had come into prominence as experts, advisers, and specialists, who
surrounded the Pope so closely that he was spoken of, half
humorously, as being their prisoner.
But those priests who were more seriously concerned set up a chain
of investigation, both here and in America, where their spokesman
was Father Eustace Eilers, a member of the Passionist Congregation
of Birmingham, Alabama. This led to establishing the fact that
Illuminati were making themselves felt in Rome, by means of
specially trained infiltrators who came from near the place in
Adam Weishaupt had boasted of his plan to reduce the
Vatican to a hollow shell. That the hand of the Illuminati was
certainly involved became clearer when Fr. Eilers, who announced
that he was publishing those facts, was suddenly found dead,
presumably one of those sudden heart attacks that, when dealing with
secret societies, so often precede promised revelations.
Pius XII died on October 9, 1958, and on the 29th of that month.
Angelo Roncalli, after Cardinals in conclave had voted eleven times,
became the two hundred and sixty-second pope of the Catholic Church.
He was seventy-seven, but with a build well able to sustain the
sixty pounds of ecclesiastical vestments with which he was weighed
down for his coronation on November 4th, 1958.
Roncalli’s ‘election’ was a signal for outbursts of welcome, often
from the most unexpected quarters, to echo round the world.
Non-Catholics, agnostics, and atheists agreed that the College of
Cardinals had made an excellent choice, the best, in fact for many
years. It lighted upon a man of wisdom, humility, and holiness, who
would rid the church of superficial accretions and guide it back to
the simplicity of Apostolic times; and last but not least among the
advantages that promised
well for the future, the new Pope was of
Seasoned Catholics could not account for the warmth and admiration
that greeted him as journalists, correspondents, broadcasters, and
television crews from almost every country in the world swarmed into
Rome. For very little had hitherto been known to the outside world
about Angelo Roncalli beyond the fact that he was born in 1881, had
been Patriarch of Venice, and that he held diplomatic posts in
Bulgaria, Turkey, and France. As for his humble background, there
had been peasant popes before. The Church could absorb them as
easily as it had her academic and aristocratic Pontiffs.
But the secular world, as evidenced by some of the most ‘popular’
publications in England, insisted that something momentous had
happened in Rome, and that it was only the promise of still greater
things to come; while informed Catholics, who for years had pleaded
the Church’s cause, continued to scratch their heads and wonder. Had
some information gone forth, not to them who had always supported
religion, but to those who have served up snippets of truth, or no
truth at all, to titillate and mislead the public?
An Irish priest who was in Rome at the time said of the clamour for
intimate details regarding Roncalli:
and radio, television, and magazines, simply could not get enough
information about the background and career, the
family and the doings of the new Holy Father. Day after day, from
the close of the conclave to the coronation, from his first
radio message to the opening of the Consistory, the remarks and the
activities of the new Pope were dealt out in
flamboyant detail for all the world to see.’4
Speculation was added to interest when it became known that the new
Pope wished to be known as John XXIII. Was it in memory of his
father, who was named John, or out of respect for John the Baptist?
Or was it to emphasize his readiness to outface or even to shock the
traditional outlook? John had been a favourite name for many Popes.
But why retain the numbering?
For there had been an earlier John XXIII, an anti-pope, who was
deposed in 1415. He has a tomb in the baptistry at Florence, and his
portrait appeared in the Annuario Pontifico, the Church’s yearbook,
until recent years. It has since been removed. We know nothing to
his credit, for his only recorded achievement, if the word of such a
precious reprobate as himself can be believed, was to have seduced
more than two hundred women including his sister-in-law.
Meantime there was a general feeling abroad that the Church was
approaching a break with the traditional past. It had always evinced
a proud refusal to be influenced by its environment. It had been
protected, as by some invisible armour, from the fashion of the
time. But now it was showing a readiness to undergo a self-imposed
reformation as dramatic as that which had been forced upon it in the
sixteenth century. To some it was anticipated as a bringing up to
date of Christian doctrine, a desirable and inevitable process of
re-conversion, in which a deeper and ever expanding catholicity
would replace the older and static Catholicism of the past.
Such a change was guardedly foreshadowed in an early statement by
John XXIII when he said:
‘Through east and
west there stirs a wind, as it was born of the spirit arousing the
attention and hope in those who are adorned with the name of
The words of ‘Good Pope John’ (how quickly he acquired that
complimentary assessment) were not merely prophetic. For they spoke
of changes in the once monumental Church that would be initiated by
American collectors of ecclesiastical mementoes would have noticed,
soon after Pope John’s election, that certain objects were being
offered for sale in some of their papers. They were described as
copies of the personal cross chosen and sanctioned by John XXIII.
These crosses had nothing to do with the pectoral cross that is
worn, suspended from the neck, by every Pontiff and Bishop as a sign
of episcopal authority. They are made of gold, ornamented with
precious stones, and each one contains a holy relic. Before wearing
it the prelate says a prescribed prayer in memory of the Passion,
and begs for grace to overcome the wiles of the Evil One throughout
But the cross that was put before the American public, under
Roncalli’s patronage, had very different associations. For its
centre, instead of holding a representation of the crucified Figure,
contained the all-seeing Eye of the Illuminati, enclosed in a
triangle or pyramid; and these crosses, advertised in The Pilot and
The Tablet, the diocesan papers of Brooklyn and of Boston, were, in
keeping with the lack of dignity and reverence that was becoming
proverbial, on sale at two hundred and fifty dollars each.
Those who understood the meaning of the mystic symbols, and how
profoundly they affect us, again had their attention drawn to the
sun-face that was depicted on John’s glove. It was reminiscent of
the design used by pagan sun worshippers; while his gesture of
extending a hand, with fingers spread over a congregation, could
also be recognized as an invocation to the white moon, part of an
esoteric code that has always claimed followers.
To those who think that such suggestions verge on the ridiculous, it
need only be pointed out that thousands of sedate, bowlerhatted
businessmen have, in the course of furthering their careers,
performed rituals and adopted symbols that make the above seem very
To people in general, however, the pyramid, without resigning one
jot of its original significance, now passes as a thoroughly
respectable and harmless sign. It is merely a decoration. But it is
one that goes into general circulation whenever an American one
dollar note changes hands.
For on the reverse side of the note is the secret Eye, enclosed in a
pyramid, and the date 1776. There are also the words Annuit Coeptis,
Novus Ordo Seclorum.
The date 1776 may indicate no more to the unsuspecting than that it
was the year of the Declaration of American Independence, drawn up
by Thomas Jefferson.
True enough. But what of the symbols, which also figure on the
reverse side of the Great Seal of the United States – why choose
them? And 1776 was also the year in which Adam Weishaupt founded his
brotherhood. And Thomas Jefferson, like his fellow politician
Benjamin Franklin, was an ardent Illuminist.
The words quoted above may be translated as meaning:
‘He (God) has
approved of our undertaking, which has been crowned with success. A
new order of the ages is born.’
It has been demonstrated, time and again, that the future of the
world is in the hands not of mere politicians, but of those who have
the power, occult allied to international financial power, to
manipulate events according to their plans; and we of the present
time have witnessed the coming of their new order in several
departments of life, including the religious, political, and social.
Before the current propaganda that emphasises the role of women
became popular, the occult authority Oswald Wirth spoke of woman
‘not being afraid’ to adopt masculine rites and customs, and of how,
when she has obtained her full power, men will comply with her
directions. That process is being actively carried out before us.
The term ‘new’ is being propagated as though it necessarily implies
a marked improvement in whatever has existed before. It attained
political prominence in 1933, the year in which Roosevelt’s New Deal
was instituted; and it was in that same year that the Illuminati
insignia, with the words referring to the ‘new order of the ages’,
appeared on the reverse side of the American dollar bill. Their
enactment is now taking shape in the formation of a
new One World
Order in which, it is anticipated, different nations, races,
cultures, and traditions will be absorbed to the point of eventually
1. The Masters are said to be perfect beings, the masters of
humanity, who have passed through a series of initiations to a state
of higher consciousness.
2. A full account of Roncalli’s initiation is given in Les
prophéties du pape Jean XXIII, by Pierre Carpi, the pseudonym of an
Italian who may have entered the same Order as Roncalli. It was
translated into French, but is now very hard to find (Jean-Claude
Lattes, Alta Books, 1975).
3. Letters on Occult Meditation. By
Alice. A. Bailey. She was the
High Priestess of an occult school and was associated with the
Society of Illuminati minds.
4. John XXIII, the Pope from the Fields, by Father Francis X.
(Herbert Jenkins, 1959.)
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