T D Carroll

 

 

Okay, maybe the Kelpius thread on this blog has a little more life remaining than I'd thought. I've mentioned Jim Green at the Library Company in a previous post, but failed to mention that Jim has been very supportive of the Kelpius Society. He's hosted meetings and programs of TKS, gathered Kelpius-related materials in the collections of the Library Company and displayed them there, and has always been responsive to requests for information or guidance in doing research on Kelpius. My aforementioned meeting with Jim involved a project I was attempting to organize that would explore the multi-faceted Kelpius story in conjunction with scholars, museum professionals, librarians, archivists, and interested others, resulting in an evolving schedule of programming -- exhibits, symposia, special events -- that would tell that story in more detail, and with more authority than has been generally available to the public.

 

To that end, we organized a meeting which was hosted by Dan Richter, director of the McNeil Center for Early American Studies (MCEAS) at the University of Pennsylvania. Here's the major portion of the letter of invitation I sent out prior to that meeting, which provides an outline of the scope and the potential for an in-depth exploration of the Kelpius story. I should add that the project was initially conceived as a transatlantic exhibit project with counterparts in Germany, as I note in the first paragraph of the letter:

 

Dear Friends and Colleagues,

 

During the past few months I've met with a number of you, and reached out to others, to discuss a project that we at the Kelpius Society are planning with a group of scholars and art historians located in Bonn, Germany, that would be devoted to Johannes Kelpius and his community. Our ostensible, initial objective had been more narrowly focused on developing a trans-Atlantic exhibit (with related programming) that would address Kelpius's early years and education in Transylvania and his later activities in Germany before emigrating to North America, while we for our part would clarify the historical experience of the Kelpius community on this side of the Atlantic, touching on the significance of that group in the historical development of Philadelphia and on related matters.

 

As you know, Kelpius as historical figure suggests many and varied subjects, beginning with his establishment of a utopian community along Wissahickon Creek, but incorporating diverse interests such as early music, herbalism and herbal medicine (with possible implications for the Pennsylvania German powwow tradition), art history, astronomy and astrology, pietism and Rosicrucianism, early American millennial movements, alchemy and divination, and so forth. In addition, the Kelpius narrative may also touch the broader domains of Native American studies, German and German-American studies, and religious studies. Given the scholarly and varied

professional identities of Kelpius and his followers, and that they maintained ongoing communications with friends and colleagues in Europe, their history may also align with contemporary scholarly interest in the more encompassing area of Atlantic studies.

 

This broad array of topics — and there may well be others not mentioned here — I think suggests the potential richness of a more systematic exploration and presentation of Kelpius at this time. And of course, there is also the broadly folkloric dimension of Kelpius, who, popularly known in his legendary role as "Wizard of the Wissahickon", is a significant component of the more "fabulous" or legendary aspect of Philadelphia history and culture.

 

I'm providing this excerpt here to indicate the scope of a possible Kelpius studies project, and also to affirm that there has been wide interest and support for this idea among the professional community. As I mentioned, the meeting was well-attended, the discussion was productive, and a shared feeling of opportunity and expectation resulted from that exchange.

 

In the intervening period between that meeting and this writing, I relocated to Vermont and found it more difficult than I'd anticipated to continue with the project, what with packing, moving, and resettling. However, I'll make an effort to revive the project in coming months.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Once I'd learned a little more about Kelpius, I determined to find out whether anyone else was interested too. In retrospect, I'd say that I had vastly underestimated this interest. As I soon learned, given the widespread legendary status of Kelpius in the Philadelphia region (and beyond), some people there had in fact formed and organized a Kelpius Society. Indeed, one of their members had recently published a book about Kelpius and his community.That book is Woman in the Wilderness by Jonathan Scott, who as I say was then a member of the Kelpius Society (hereafter referred to as "TKS"). I right away got a copy of the book out of the Philadelphia Free Library, and read it. I also looked for and found contact information for TKS and got in touch with them. And then, of course, I joined the organization and later signed on to their site committee.

 

A word about "Woman of the Wilderness". I'd mentioned in my most recent post that Kelpius and his group were inclined toward mysticism, and believed that the Second Coming was imminent. A key text for them, apart from the work of Boehme and others, was the very last book of the Bible – the Book of Revelation. Chapter 12 of that book has a reference to the "Woman of the Wilderness", or sometimes, "Woman of the Apocalypse", who moreover is often understood to be Mary, the mother of God, but situated within the dramatic and apocalyptic setting of Revelations. In any case, the term "Woman of the Wilderness" was often used to refer to Kelpius and his followers, possibly due to their millennialism.  But they did not apply that name to themselves.

 

I should add that TKS is not a religious organization, though individual members may indeed belong to one or another religion or church community. Nor is it a "secret society" of any kind, though some members do indeed belong to one or another of the contemporary Rosicrucian organizations, or other esoteric groups. My view as president – and yes! I did assume that role several years after becoming a member – was to adhere more or less to the secular version, representing and promoting TKS for the most part as a historical and cultural organization, while also accommodating and at times foregrounding the folkloric Kelpius.

 

At that time, TKS maintained an active meeting schedule, presented various programs around the city and region, and had an active publications and research component. In addition, TKS had identified a site, located in what is now Fairmount Park, as the site of the original Kelpius settlement, and was actively seeking resources and other means to develop and interpret the site. In fact, TKS was successful, after several years of careful preparation and persistent advocacy, in having an historic marker placed at the entrance to the site by the Pennsylvania Historical and Museums Commission. By the way, the three founding members of the Kelpius Society were Dorothy Pinkett, a local activist; Lucy Carroll (no relation to me), a musicologist, and Alvin Holm, a noted architect.

 

TKS had other goals as well – to establish and maintain a botanical herb garden as much like the original as possible, establish effective  interpretive signage throughout the site, further develop the site for visitors by establishing and maintaining a system of trails, along with sitting or rest areas, and schedule regular programming at the site itself. TKS also provided tours of the site and surrounding area of Wissahickon Park, which is rich in history, and made the tours available to all interested parties at their request. Our goal was to promote the site, but also to educate the public about Kelpius and the other members of his community, who in our view had made significant contributions to the historical development of the city.

 

As I mentioned in my first post on this subject, people think of Ben Franklin when they think of Philadelphia. That's fine. Franklin was a major historical figure. But what about Kelpius? His utopian vision was hardly realized – he died young, and his community gradually dispersed following his death. :One of those followers, Conrad Beissel, had emigrated from Germany and sailed to Philadelphia in order to join Kelpius, but arrived after Kelpius had already died. Beissel moved on, settling here and there until finally he established a sectarian community on the banks of the Cocalico Creek, in what is now Ephrata, Pennsylvania. He, like Kelpius and his followers, adopted the life of a hermit, and he too devoted himself to devout preparation for the Second Coming. However, unlike that of Kelpius, Beisell's community grew, and survived. Ephrata Cloister is now an historic site operated and maintained by the Pennsylvania Historical and Museums Commission.

 

The website address for the Kelpius Society is kelpius.org.

 

 

What follows is a truncated, generalized account of the background to the Kelpius story (see my previous post).

 

In 17th century Germany, Kelpius was part of a growing movement of dissent from orthodox Lutheranism, whose members were persecuted as a result of their nonconformity. Self-identifying as "pietists", they were intensely devout, striving to develop a personal relationship to God independent of intermediaries such as the clergy, or the establishment church. Though initially a marginalized movement within Lutheranism, pietism spread rapidly throughout Europe, and would ultimately gain considerable influence in North America, among the various German-speaking immigrant groups who settled there.

 

I might add that Kelpius and company were inclined towards mysticism, and especially the work of the great German mystic, Jakob Boehme. Their plan was to emigrate from Germany and settle in the New World, where they would establish a utopian community. Johann Jakob Zimmerman, their leader, was a noted astronomer who had observed a rise in the frequency of comet activity in the skies over Europe through the 1680s. He concluded that this must portend the imminent Second Coming of Christ, and predicted that the long-awaited event would occur in 1694. On that basis, the group decided to leave Europe post haste, to greet the millenium in America.  

 

They traveled to London to finalize plans for the voyage. Unexpectedly, however, Zimmerman died on the eve of their scheduled departure, and Kelpius assumed leadership of the group. The remaining members – some believe that the first Rosicrucians to arrive in North America were among them – boarded the Sarah Maria of Good Hope, and set sail. The ship docked at Philadelphia in June 1694, and the group set about establishing their settlement on the banks of Wissahickon Creek, near Germantown, which at that time was an outskirt of Philadelphia. At that location they established a medicinal herb garden, composed original music, and built an observatory, all the while watching the skies for signs of the Second Coming. This was the community that Josephine Herbst has described so effectively, in her book on John Bartram.

 

Kelpius died in 1708, but has since become a legendary figure, possibly due to miracles he is supposed to have performed, and partly based on his reputation as a wizard and mystic, meditating in a solitary cave located somewhere above the Wissahickon Creek. It's believed, for example, that Kelpius performed miracles at sea, in one instance saving the Sarah Maria from certain destruction during an especially violent storm. He is also looked upon as a master healer among the braucherei* of the nearby Pennsylvania German community. Indeed, over the years Kelpius has acquired a reputation as the "Wizard of the Wissahickon", or "Hermit of the Wissahickon". Undergirding this legendary status, Kelpius was said to have possessed the Philosopher's Stone, or some part of it  -- that elusive, magical object coveted by alchemists, who believed that, possessing it, they could transform base metals into gold.

 

Also according to legend, as Kelpius lay on his death bed within his hermit's cave among the rocks above the Wissahickon, he asked a follower to throw a small casket into the waters of that creek, or perhaps the Schuylkill River. The follower hastened away, then returned to report completion of the mission. Of course, he hadn't actually thrown the casket into the water, believing that its contents were sacred, or otherwise valuable. Kelpius was not fooled, however, and repeated the command. This time the follower obeyed, and as the casket hit the water there was a powerful explosion and a blinding flash of light. That box is believed to have contained the Philosopher's Stone.

 

For information on the brauche or Pennsylvania German powwow tradition (not related to the Native American pow wow), see materials relating to an exhibit put on recently at the Glen Cairn Museum in Bryn Athyn, near Philadelphia by visiting:

 

https://glencairnmuseum.org/newsletter/2017/3/2/powwowing-in-pennsylvania.

 

I'd add that Glen Cairn museum and associated buildings comprise an important Swedenborgian site.

 

 

 

 

It's not yet clear where to go next with this blog, meaning, which if any thread to develop and follow through with. That may not be necessary, in any case.  But as I noted in my initial post, the term "fourthriver" denotes (and connotes) something important about fieldwork practice, something I know relatively well. I'll certainly take that thread up again soon. But meanwhile, I want to respond to a comment from a reader who, noting my long association with Philadelphia, and more broadly with the state of Pennsylvania, asked whether I'd ever worked with Quaker or Mennonite communities. In fact, I've done fieldwork in Quaker communities over the years – I'd worked with Quaker farmers in Bucks County some time ago; I've also worked with Mennonites in the southern tier of New York, and elsewhere.

 

Generally speaking, the Quakers were of English origin, while the Mennonites were of German origin. In fact, a Quaker community was located at a very early date in the Germantown section of Philadelphia, settling there sometime in the 1680s. They occupied the area in and around Germantown, along with a German community that had settled there around 1690, under the leadership of Daniel Pastorius. Pastorius was an educated man, and a polyglot, who adapted to what were virtually frontier conditions in Philadelphia at that time, learning artisan trades and working with his hands to demonstrate and promote self-sufficiency within his community. Pastorius was the author of an interesting book, written in several languages, which he titled Bee-Hive, and of which he writes, "In these seven Languages I this my book do own", though the books seems to be written mainly in three languages – English, German, and Latin. Pastorius also wrote the first legal treatise in North America, among his many other contributions to the development of American culture and society.

 

When I moved back to Philadelphia after an eleven year sojourn in Pittsburgh, I was determined to become more involved, and to learn more about the city and its history. My guess is that almost everyone thinks of Ben Franklin when they think of Philadelphia. Probably fewer think of John Bartram, the great naturalist (and a Quaker, by the way). But how many people have heard of Johannes Kelpius? (That name Latinized from his birth name, Johann Kelp.)

 

I first learned of Kelpius in a roundabout way – while reading a book, a sort of biography, of John Bartram!  The book, written by an American writer named Josephine Herbst, was New Green World. And in it, she devotes a paragraph to Kelpius which piqued my interest. Here's what she wrote, in a discussion of Bartram's garden:

 

Though his [Bartam's] garden became famous for the variety of its native species, rivaling all other American gardens in that respect, it was not the first botanical garden nor the only one. Probably the first botanical garden belonged to the brotherhood of German mystics, led by Kelpius, who in 1694 built their steep-roofed cloister, Das Weib in der Wüste, on the banks of the Wissahickon. There they studied mathematics, experimented in alchemy, and, while they read the sky with telescopes, awaited the second coming of Christ. In their forest refuge, gardens ran down the glen, with a mainstay of herbs for medicinal purposes. Dr. Christopher Witt, who lived in Germantown, must have taken fire from Kelpius's garden as well as imbibing strong drafts of alchemy. A painter of sorts, he even made an oil portrait of Kelpius shortly after their acquaintance in 1704, the first year of his residence in America. Kelpius died that same year but some of his plants must have found their way to Dr. Witt's garden, and were passed on to Bartram. Dr. Witt's neighbor, Pastorius, cultivated herbs and plants, also, and in his Medicus Dilectus wrote of herbal remedies.

 

Kelpius died in 1708, not in 1704, though Herbst’s description is otherwise correct. That aside, there were a number of features of this passage that stimulated interest – the reference to alchemy, the group's observatory, the botanical herbs, and so on – and I decided to investigate in order to learn more. I'll report on some of what I learned in my next post.

  

 

 

I've been self-employed for many years, beginning in 1983 when as a graduate student at the University of Pennsylvania I set up in business as an antiquarian bookseller and trader, operating under the name Supper of Ashes Books. My intention was to specialize in antiquarian books, and what was then known in the trade as "occult" materials -- but which for me signified ancient and early science (which would naturally include works relating to magic and alchemy too). As I began doing more and more fieldwork, however, I transitioned that business from bookselling and trading per se, to community-based research. I was able to pursue the latter on a full time basis until quite recently.

 

Having relocated to Vermont, I'm focusing much more time on writing, which involves both poetry and any nonfiction written over the years, some published and some not, but which also includes the many field reports and related materials I've generated. That said, I'm also devoting some time and energy to developing a field-based project here, since fieldwork has been my modus operandi for so many years, as well as a source of ideas and inspiration. I'm not quite ready to give that up.

 

I do however want to explain the title of this blog. I moved to Pittsburgh in 1992, and worked for a regional organization there for about a year before leaving to go back on the road as a self-employed fieldworker, working on a contract-by-contract basis. Soon after arriving in Pittsburgh, I learned that the steel city had a special though perhaps less well-known relationship with Varanasi, a religiously significant city in India, on the banks of the Ganges. Simply put, the relationship or correspondence between the two cities involves rivers. Many people are aware that Pittsburgh is known as the city of three rivers. What is less well known is that there's a fourth river, an ancient river that had once flowed beneath the city, and is still flowing underground in some areas. I suppose that this fourth river functions something like an aquafer, much as the great Cohansey Aquafer does in southern New Jersey.  

 

Varanasi, also known as Benares, is a city of three rivers too, but there is also a fourth, hidden river flowing underground, much as in Pittsburgh. Having had a longtime interest in India, especially Indian poetry and philosophy, I quickly decided to name my fieldwork business "fourthriver". I went ahead and registered the name with the state of Pennsylvania, but never registered the domain name since I saw little need for keeping a website at that time.  

 

But why did I adopt the name "fourthriver" so quickly? The answer is simple. I recognized almost immediately that the concept of a fourth or hidden river -- "fourthriver" -- perfectly expressed what I conceived my fieldwork to be all about. Which is to say, it has been about exploring and uncovering the hidden or unexpressed cultural resources in the many locales where I've worked over the years. This is especially so since as a folklorist, I've focused my attention on vernacular rather than on "official" culture; on local practice and local knowledge rather than on mainstream knowledge and practice. There's much more to say about that subject, but I'll leave it there for now.