Its bounding crystal frolicked in the ray,
And gushed from cleft to crag with saltless spray.
_Byron_.
It is probable there are but few individuals residing in the vicinity
of Philadelphia, who have not heard, during some interval of business
engagements, of Wissahiccon creek, a beautiful and romantic stream
that falls into the no less romantic Schuylkill, about five miles
above the city. The stream is visited, statedly, by but a small number
of persons, but as it is neither found on any map, nor marked in any
gazetteer that I have ever examined, there may be some apology
afforded for the indifference to magnificent scenery, manifested by
hundreds and thousands of our citizens, who, though domiciled in its
immediate vicinity, have never deemed it worthy of a visit. So true it
is, that there is a proneness in human nature to undervalue the gifts
of Providence which are placed within our reach, and to admire and
covet those which are located at a distance. Were a fatiguing journey
of several hundred miles necessary, in order to enjoy a ramble along
the banks of the Wissahiccon, we should then, without doubt, view its
placid waters, its sluggish, meandering course, its richly covered
banks, and its imposing precipices, with the admiration and enthusiasm
which scenes of this character never fail to inspire in the minds of
those who passionately love the untouched works of the hand of nature.
But the delightful little stream courses along within a few miles of
our doors, and a ride to its most picturesque views, is but an hour's
excursion; hence, except to a few, whose researches have discovered,
and whose good taste enabled them to appreciate, the beauty, sublimity
and majesty of this stream, it is almost unknown.
But there are persons who have not been thus negligent of nature's
treasures in this vicinity, and to these a visit to the fascinating
Wissahiccon, calls up remembrances and associations of the most
delightful character. To those who enjoy Nature in her majesty--free,
uncontrolled, undespoiled of her beauty by the effacing efforts of
human skill--there is no spot, within a circle of many miles, so rich
in imagery, so imposing in appearance, so fascinating in attraction,
as the banks of the Wissahiccon. The stream takes its rise from
several springs in the upper part of Montgomery county, and flows, for
a short distance, through a limestone country, remarkable for
fertility and a high state of cultivation. Thence it passes,
south-westernly, "a sweet smiling stream sleeping on the green sward,"
into more undulating land, until it reaches the Chesnut ridge, from
which it progresses, at times indolently, and at times with an
impetuous current, through a narrow valley, hedged in on either side
by high hills, steep and craggy cliffs and precipitous mountains,
until it strikes the Schuylkill, about a mile above the falls. Along
its whole course the scenery of the Wissahiccon is beautiful, but it
is the portion lying within six or eight miles of its mouth, that is
generally regarded as the most attractive, as it exhibits, in bolder
relief than any other portion, the peculiar sublimity and grandeur of
the stream, and the imposing and majestic ledge of rock work through
which it passes. It is along this distance that I have been accustomed
to ramble during leisure moments, for years, and it is under the shade
of the forests of brilliant hue that line its banks, that I have often
reclined, and enjoyed, undisturbed, the sweet melody of nature,
issuing from the bursting green foliage around me. I love nature with
enthusiasm, and whether standing on the bank of a running stream and
listening to the sweet gushing sound of its waters, or seated on an
eminence overlooking the waving fields of golden fruit that bless the
labor of the husbandman; whether enchanted by the Siren song of
nature's minstrels in the spring, or watching the many-colored leaves
of the {25} forest, as they are borne through the air by the whistling
winds of autumn--there is, in the scene before me, absorbing
attraction, calling forth reflections which never fail to mellow down
the selfish and unkind feelings of the heart, and to shed a peaceful,
consoling, and happy influence--all-pervading and lasting in its
impressions--over the heart.
The wild and majestic are, however, the scenes to which I am most
strongly attached, and which invariably elicit, to a greater extent
than those of a softer character, passionate emotions of wonder and
admiration. I love to stand at the base of a mountain whose summit
reaches the clouds, and to clamber among rocks and under precipices
whose projecting cliffs threaten destruction to the hardy
adventurer--I love to explore the dense forests of our bold and
beautiful hills, and to bury myself in the hidden recesses of nature,
where the foot of man has never trod, where the sound of civilization
has never been heard--I love to stand at the foot of Niagara, and
watch the mighty torrent of a mighty inland sea hurling its
concentrated power into the gulph below, and to gaze deep, deep, into
that awful abyss--unfathomable, destructive, appalling--I love to see
the elements at war, to hear the rush of the tornado and whirlwind,
laying prostrate in their furious course every impediment to their
destructive progress, and to witness the fall of the powerful oak and
the whirlings of its cleft branches in the sea of matter above,
crushing and overwhelming the most formidable obstacles of art. These
are scenes in which the spirit of the enthusiast revels, and they are
scenes which strike the soul with awe, speaking trumpet-tongued of the
presence of an Almighty power, of the omnipotence of his authority, of
the insignificance of human effort, and the frailty of human life.
The scenery near the mouth of the Wissahiccon is of a wild, romantic,
and imposing character, beautiful in its ever-varying aspect, and
interesting in its mystic associations. High hills, occasionally
assuming the appearance of mountains, rise on either side, covered
with a dense and beautifully-variegated foliage. The dogwood, with its
beautiful flowers, the chesnut, the locust, the melancholy willow, the
sumac, the gum, with its vermillion leaves, and the gloomy hemlock,
flourish here in all their native grandeur; and the lofty oak, the
father of the forest, stretches out his thickly-covered branches to
afford shade and shelter to the weary pedestrian. Wild flowers, in
great number and varieties, rivalling each other in loveliness, are
found in the underwood, giving effect to the drapery of the verdant
trees, by enlivening the dark hues of the thickly-growing and
overshadowed forest. Some of these flowers and plants are of rare
quality and surpassing beauty, and far eclipse in attraction many that
are cultivated with care and pride in our gardens; but here they
spring up, year after year, in silence and solitude, being literally
"------Born to blush unseen,
And waste their fragrance on the desert air."
In the valley of the stream, along the eastern side of which, for a
mile or two, a convenient road has been chisseled and scooped out of
the sides of the stony hill, the vision is completely obstructed by
the imposing banks, and hills rising above hills, on either shore; and
but for the unpoetic noise of a laboring mill, and the span of a rude
bridge which crosses to a small cavern or cleft in the rocky slope,
there would be nothing to betray the presence of man, or to mark the
contiguity of human enterprise. Alas! that not one spot--not even the
glorious Wissahiccon--bearing the undoubted impress of the hand of the
God of nature, can escape the desolating depredations and officious
interference of the onward march of civilization.
The carriage road commencing at the mouth of the Wissahiccon, crosses
the stream on a covered bridge, about a mile and a half above, winds
up a hill of considerable elevation, and passes over to the ridge.
From the covered bridge access along the creek is obtained by means of
a foot path, on the western side, which is marked through the forest,
over crags and cliffs, rugged rocks and rooted trees, until it reaches
a beautiful green lawn, a little parlor in the wilderness, celebrated
as the resort of occasional pic-nic parties of young ladies and
gentlemen from the city, and where, on the grassy floor, youth and
beauty have often mingled in the graceful dance, and joined in the
merry song of innocence and gay hilarity. It is a sweet spot, and
surrounded, as it is, by scenery of the wildest and most romantic
character, may very appropriately be designated the "oasis of the
Wissahiccon." Near this place, immediately on the water's edge, the
ruins of an antiquated stone building are discovered, scattered over
the ground, and as no trace of the original appearance of the edifice
can be found, the imagination is permitted to enjoy free scope in
dwelling upon the character and pursuits of its ancient founders. On
the opposite side, the banks rise up, in many places almost
perpendicularly, to the height of mountains, and but few have the
temerity to attempt a passage along the course of the stream, as a
single false step might hurl them among the dangerous rocks and
jutting cliffs below. Here, as well as on the western side, several
clefts and caverns in the granite rocks may be found, but it does not
appear that they extend to any great depth under the massive
structure; and here, upon the edge of a hill, may be seen the point at
which it was sometime since proposed to throw a bridge over the
stream, to carry across the rail road from Philadelphia to Norristown.
The projectors of the scheme reached thus far in their onward
progress, but in casting a glance over the precipice into the gulph
below, were struck with dismay at the formidable obstacles which
appeared, and prudently abandoned the hazardous and wildly-conceived
undertaking.
Near Garsed's flax mill, the foot-path crosses to the eastern shore of
the stream, on a rude log chained to an adjacent stone, and passes up
through a forest overhanging the sluggish waters, and through a thick
underwood, which, in some places, is almost impenetrable. Occasional
openings in the dense foliage, which become more frequent as the
pedestrian progresses up the stream, afford highly picturesque and
enchanting views of the surrounding hills, such as those who
appreciate Nature in her majesty, would journey miles upon miles, and
endure pain and fatigue without murmuring, to behold. In every
direction the scenes unfolded to the eye are rich and enchanting
beyond description, and remind the writer who associates therewith
ideas of intellectual pleasure and enjoyment, of the beautiful lines
of the poet: {26}
"Dear solitary groves, where peace doth dwell!
Sweet harbors of pure love and innocence!
How willingly could I forever stay
Beneath the shade of your embracing greens,
List'ning unto the harmony of birds,
Tun'd with the gentle murmur of the stream."
One of the most interesting spots on the Wissahiccon, is in the
immediate vicinity of the great perpendicular rock of granite,
opposite Rittenhouse's mill. Here the dark shadows of the hill fall,
with beautiful effect, upon the gurgling stream, and the rich and deep
woodland foliage, the tangled and fragrant shrubbery, the towering
cliffs on the one side, and imposing hills and dales on the other,
give to the place a charm and fascination, which the reflecting mind
may enjoy, but of which it is impossible to convey with the pen, any
accurate description. It was near this enchanting place, on the sun
side of a high hill, as is currently believed, that Kelpius and his
friend, scholars of Germany, located themselves about the close of the
seventeenth century, and where for years they dwelt in quiet and
religious meditation, awaiting, with anxious prayer, the coming of the
"Lady of the Wilderness," and where they died, as we now know,
"without the sight." It was here, that, at a period long anterior to
the arrival of Kelpius, the untamed monarch of these wilds came to
enjoy the rich treasures of nature, and to worship, in silence, the
goodness and bounty of the Great Spirit. It was here, perhaps, on the
summit of this very hill, that the original owners of the soil
convened for the war dance and to make preparations for a furious and
bloody contest; or mayhap it was here that the chiefs of different
tribes assembled to bury the hatchet of war, and to smoke the calumet
of amity and peace. Perhaps it was here that the noble young warrior,
flushed with the honors of victory, stole silently at the midnight
hour, to breathe his tale of love and his vows of devotion, into the
ear of his blushing and affianced bride; and surely no spot can be
found, in the whole range of our wide-spread territory, so suitable
for scenes of this character. Here is the abode of romance, here the
spirit of nature holds undisputed sway--and here, among these rugged
rocks, and in this dense foliage--by the side of this poetic stream,
with its associations of woody heights and shady dells, it is fitting
that pure and holy vows of love should be uttered, where Heaven, in
every leaf of the forest, in every blade of grass, may be called upon
to bear witness to their sincerity and truth.
But the Wissahiccon has fallen into other hands. The untutored savage
no longer strolls over these silent mountains and vales, for his abode
has been removed far away, beyond the western waters. The bones of his
warrior fathers lie bleached and neglected in the depths of the
valley, for the high-bounding spirit of the son is tamed, by the
contaminating influence of his civilized brethren. The active deer no
longer bounds over the hills and dales of the Wissahiccon, for he has
been driven to more sequestered abodes. The stream is, however, much
the same--its placid waters are still beautiful as mirrors--its shores
are still romantic--its groves are still enchanting--and so may they
ever remain, undisturbed, untouched by the dilapidating hand of man!
The place should ever be reserved as a refreshing retreat, where the
soul may be uplifted in devotion, and the heart gladdened in sweet
contemplation--where no sound shall be heard but the notes of melody
and joy, in delightful unison with the tones of the murmuring rill.
"To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell,
To slowly trace the forest's shady scene,
Where things that own not man's dominion dwell,
And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been;
To climb the trackless mountain, all unseen,
With the wild flock that never needs a fold;
Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean;
This is not solitude--'tis but to hold
Converse with nature's charms, and see her stores unroll'd."
Two or three miles above the perpendicular rock, on the eastern shore
of the stream, and in a spot equally beautiful and romantic, stands an
edifice of great antiquity, connected with which there are a number of
interesting associations. It is built nearly on the summit of a slope
that stretches into a ravine, walled in on three sides by elevated
hills, thickly covered with foliage. The building is of stone, three
stories high, with numerous windows, four to each chamber, of uniform
size, and appearance; sixty years ago there was a balcony around the
second story, and the old-fashioned eaves, plastered in semi-circular
form, still to be seen, exhibit the architectural taste and style of a
past century. The date of its erection is supposed to be the year
1706, and its founders a society of religious Germans, probably known
as _Pietists_ or _Seven day Baptists_, who no doubt selected this
secluded situation in order to secure peace and quietness in their
religious devotions. Many of the aged inhabitants of the neighborhood
remember this monastery, as a building of unchanged appearance, even
from the days of their boyhood, and some have connected therewith
curious traditions of romance and legends of mystic tale.
Notwithstanding the edifice has lately undergone a thorough
alteration, and is now the permanent residence of a highly respectable
and very intelligent family, it still bears the reputation of being
visited by spirits.
The fact of this building having been occupied as a monastery, by a
brotherhood of Germans, is, however, involved in doubt. One tradition
alleges, that it was tenanted for sometime, by a fraternity of
Capuchins, or White Friars, who took upon themselves vows of
abstinence and poverty, and who slept upon wooden or stone pillows,
with places scolloped out for the head. In confirmation of this
tradition, an ancient burial place near the premises, now under
tillage, is pointed out, where repose the remains of many of the
brotherhood. Another and more probable story is, that the building was
actually erected for a religious society, professing a faith similar
to that of the Seven day Baptists at Ephrata, near Lancaster, but
never occupied, as those for whom it was designed deemed it expedient
to leave the neighborhood, and join the settlement at Ephrata. The
Chronica Ephrata expressly states that, previous to the formation of
that community, in May, 1733, they had dwelt in separate places as
hermits, and "the hermits of the ridge" are frequently mentioned. That
there was a feeling of affection between these hermits and the
brotherhood in Ephrata, is beyond all doubt, as the Chronica, in
another place, speaks of some brothers of single devotedness at
Roxborough, "who subsequently fell in with the spirit of the world and
married."
Kelpius, probably the first of the hermits, on the Wissahiccon, died
in the year 1708. He was succeeded by {27} Seelig, who survived him
many years, and who was contemporary with Conrad Matthias, another
recluse, whose cave was near the Schuylkill. Tradition speaks of these
Germans as being men of undoubted piety and great learning. Kelpius
wrote several languages, and his journal, in Latin, is now in the
possession of a distinguished antiquarian of Philadelphia. He waited
the coming of the "Lady of the Wilderness,"--the "woman clothed with
the sun, and the moon under her feet, and upon her head a crown of
twelve stars," spoken of in the scriptures, as having "fled into the
wilderness, where she hath a place prepared of God, that they should
feed her there a thousand two hundred and threescore days." (Rev.
xii.) We may wonder that such a man as Kelpius should labor under a
delusion of this character, but those who will visit the spot he
selected for his "prayerful waiting," will agree with me in opinion
that it was singularly well chosen to harmonize with and foster his
eccentric views, and romantic religious expectations.
There is another interesting legend, connected with the monastery on
the Wissahiccon, which I feel inclined to allude to, if I may do so
without being held responsible for its veracity. It is a tale of
unhappy love, and relates to a young, beautiful, and accomplished
French lady, who followed her lover to the Indian wars, who fought in
disguise by his side, and who closed his eyes when he fell at her
feet, mortally wounded. Being subsequently admitted, for temporary
shelter, into the monastery, she passed a year or two in unavailing
grief, and died, heart-broken at the loss of all she held near and
dear on earth. The particulars of the melancholy fate of the beautiful
Louisa I may hereafter unfold to the reader, but I beg my young
friends who may discover the mound which covers her remains at the
foot of a weeping willow, washed by the gurgling stream, to shed a
tear to the memory of one whose beauty and virtues deserved a happier
fate.
I have thus attempted to give a sketch of the ever-delightful
Wissahiccon, and to cast a hasty glance at a few of the prominent
incidents with which it was once associated. If I have failed to
excite interest in the mind of the reader, let him not hesitate to
attribute the circumstance to the feeble powers of the writer, rather
than to the poverty of the subject to which his attention has been
called. Beautiful and magnificent beyond comparison are the
picturesque views of this romantic stream, and for ages to come may
its crystal waters continue to course through the valley, affording
peaceful enjoyment to the pedestrian on its banks, and unqualified
delight to those who may ramble through its attractive forests.
_Philadelphia, October 1835_.