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Lynn Brunet |Ripping back the veil on Masonic abuse
p. 106–107). He may have been recording flashbacks
of a traumatic event imprinted on the visual memory,
but without a narrative context to explain them. Papal
mockery dates to the Restoration period, where effigies
of popes were burnt at the stake and has continued
since in Twelfth of July celebrations, even to this day
(Gray, 1972 Irish Republican News, 2025). Amongst
the Protestant English in Bacon’s time, the bizarrely
enacted popish figures in the veiled cubicles might
have doubled as both papal mockery and as a means of
shocking a young initiate.
Bacon was fascinated by ancient Egyptian art and visited
Cairo briefly in 1950, but the only reference he made to
it in his paintings was in his depiction of sphinxes in
curtained spaces (Bacon, 1998). In Sphinx III (1954),
this object is surrounded by a haphazard arrangement
of block-like forms. In the Royal Arch ritual, one side
of the hall is set up with a lot of obstacles, such as
blocks of wood or old furniture, to create what is called
the Rugged Road. Here, the Principal Sojourner states:
‘Stoop low, brethren. He that humbleth himself shall
be exalted’ (Duncan, 1866, p. 228, 234). This is where
the blindfolded candidate must negotiate an obstacle
path after having passed through the members forming
a Living Arch, where they knuckle and knead him
hard, even to the floor. This is supposed to symbolise
the many trials on the road to mystical enlightenment.
In Dublin, the Grand Royal Arch room in its Grand
Lodge is furnished in an Egyptian theme and on the
dais are two sphinxes (Curl, 1991 Grand Lodge of
Ireland, n.d.). Bacon’s Sphinx III could be depicting
a flashback to a similar abusive practice in a Masonic
context.
Many more elements in Bacon’s paintings, suggesting
Masonic themes and initiatory ordeals, are covered in
a longer version of this study (Brunet, 2009a). These
suggestions include references to blood-curdling
Masonic oaths and pledges, beef carcasses split in two
set in a ritualistic tableau, such as in Painting 1946 and
Figure with Meat (1954), and crucifixion scenes with
blindfolded figures. Orange Order themes also appear
in Bacon’s paintings, such as figures with bowler
hats and umbrellas. In Ireland, the Orange Order
is a Protestant fraternity representing a resistance
to the presence of Catholicism in the country. It has
modelled its own rituals on Freemasonry, but its focus
is on political matters rather than the more spiritual
and philosophical aspects of the Masonic Order.
Orangemen are colloquially known as the Men of No
Popery. The artist’s favourite colour was orange, and
he used it in many backgrounds, although he could
not explain why he liked it so much (Bacon, 1993, p.
170). Orangemen could have been present in spurious
rituals that Bacon may have been depicting in some of
his works.
Bacon’s many self-portraits suggest an internal sense
of fractured subjectivity, and his notes for paintings
occasionally refer to ‘the scene of the crime’ and ‘bed of
crime’, which have been interpreted as referring to his
homosexuality (Cappock, 2005, p. 187). However, on
one occasion in a short, scribbled note for one of his
paintings, he describes ‘a bed of crime... man pulling
screaming child in centre of circle... man’s figure
against tent’, and then it says how to turn it into a ‘ritual
image’ (Gale, 1999, p. 78–79, emphasis in original).
This note suggests that he might have been starting to
make connections between his childhood, his feelings
of trauma and some form of ritual crime. However,
at that time, there was no knowledge of the existence
of ritual abuse. But by staying true to the imprints on
his nervous system, Francis Bacon may have supplied
us with a detailed visual account of these practices in
Ireland in the early twentieth century.
Samuel Beckett (1906–1989)
This author’s study of Bacon’s art was coupled with
the work of the Irish playwright Samuel Beckett in
response to a brief comment by Gilles Deleuze (2002, p.
40) that the bleak, ritualistic spaces they created were,
in some way, very similar. The argument proposed that
these spaces are those of the Holy Royal Arch rite and
suggested that Beckett might have also been exposed to
an abusive version of this ritual (Brunet, 2009a). Beckett
was from a well-to-do family in Dublin. His father
and grandfather were highly regarded businessmen,
and both were Freemasons (Bair, 1990 Cronin, 1997
Knowlson, 1996).
Beckett claimed that he had an uneventful childhood
but had no aptitude for happiness (Bair, 1990, p. 13).
By his young adulthood, he was suffering from deep
depression, extreme levels of anxiety and night terrors,
which kept him in bed curled up in a foetal position
for long periods (Gordon, 1996). These conditions led

International Journal of Coercion, Abuse, and Manipulation Volume 9, Issue 2 2026 46
him to undergo two years of psychotherapy in London
after his father’s death, but the analyst failed to find
the cause of his symptoms and recommended that he
pour himself into his writing (Haynes &Knowlson,
2003). From then, he became interested in the effects
of trauma and described his own in terms of death and
rebirth: ‘I have always had the feeling that somebody
inside me had been murdered. Murdered before I was
born. I had to find that person and try to bring him
back to life’ (Juliet, 1995, p. 138). He used the term
‘existence by proxy’ and the sense of ‘being absent’ to
describe how he felt (Cronin, 1997, p. 388), suggesting
depersonalisation, one of the classic symptoms of
dissociation (Healey, 1993). At the heart of his literary
voice seemed to be an inner turmoil, which he described
as a ‘big, blooming, buzzing confusion’ (Beckett, 1970,
p. 4), similar to Bacon’s description of his studio.
Like Bacon, Beckett said he did not know where the
writing had come from and was often surprised by it
(Bair, 1990, p. 17, 469). His comments all point to an
unconscious traumatic source to his literary oeuvre.
Waiting for Godot is widely regarded as one of the
most, if not the most important, plays of the twentieth
century, published first in French in 1952 (Beckett,
1990). The author stated that it had emerged ‘full
blown’ in his head in a very brief time, suggesting the
presence of an intuitive element in its creation, and
that he intended it to capture a sense of expectation
for something important that was about to happen,
but in a vaudevillian sense (Bair, 1990, p. 404). Brunet
(2009a) has argued that the setting, characters and
action of the play resemble elements of the elaborate
Royal Arch Degree, where the candidate is introduced
to the concept of a mystical union in which he can
uncover the Holy Name of God (Manasseh, n.d.).
However, the play appears to be a parodied version of
the ritual, filled with abuse.
In Waiting for Godot, the minimalist stage directions
convey a country road in the evening with a single
bare tree and a low mound. Here we meet two poor
vagabonds, Vladimir and Estragon the latter is
struggling to take off his boots, a painful process, and
he reveals that he has been beaten again. ‘The same lot
as usual?’ asks his companion (Beckett, 1990, p. 11).
One of the places where the Royal Arch companions
gather is meant to symbolise the Wilderness of Sinai.
During the rites, the blindfolded candidate symbolically
travels along the path taken by the Hebrew sojourners
and is led around the room to contemplate a number
of symbols one of these is the Burning Bush (Cryer,
2002, p. 19). In the ritual, the candidate is reminded
of Moses, who was commanded to take off his shoes
before this sacred bush. In Estragon’s case, the entry
to the sacred is a painful and humiliating experience,
recalling the Royal Arch practice of the Rugged Road.
As Deirdre Bair (1990) notes, Beckett suffered from
recurring trouble with his feet since childhood and
endows Estragon with a similar affliction. As van der
Kolk (2014) observes, the body will remember those
traumas that the mind forgets.
Two more characters now make their entrance: Pozzo
and Lucky. After a cry offstage, Lucky appears with
a long noose-like rope around his neck, and he is
carrying a suitcase and a bag. His cruel master, Pozzo,
follows him, cracking his whip and jerking the rope
until he falls over with all his baggage. In the Royal
Arch ritual, the candidate enters the initiatory space
wearing the Cable Tow, a long rope tied around his
waist, and the Principal Sojourner leads him by it in
the First Degree, it is around his neck (Duncan, 1866).
The Masons who set up the room for the Royal Arch
meeting are known as janitors and porters (Wells,
1984, p. 18). Lucky acts as a porter throughout the play
he is meek and browbeaten and treated like a slave.
Vladimir and Estragon are appalled by this, describing
it as a scandal and a disgrace. The name Pozzo may also
confirm a connection to the Royal Arch ritual. One
of the three Principals is meant to represent Prince
Zerubbabel, who led the Jews out of Babylon. His name
is abbreviated in the ritual to Z or PZ (Wells, 1984, p.
33). Pozzo can be seen as a linguistic diminutive of the
Masonic term, mocking his solemn role in the ritual,
while his treatment of Lucky is a contravention of the
role of the PZ in Royal Arch rites, which is to exalt his
neophyte and impart to him the sense of the mystical
union.
There are many humorous elements in this play,
particularly in relation to the whole notion of a mystical
experience. Vladimir and Estragon decide that they
must wait for Godot near the tree Estragon calls it a
bush, but it looks dead, and they think that they have
come to the wrong place. Later, they realise that this
tree will be of no use to them at all. In the Royal Arch
ritual, one of the members impersonates the Deity and